“Yes, I do. Most assuredly.” Tipping her head to the side, she asked without hesitating, “Do you?”
“Unequivocally, yes. My darling, I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words. Whether it was at Netherfield Park or Rosings, I do not know. It has been far too long since I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I would have no other as my wife. I love you.”
Every ounce of affection was poured into their kiss. She made him feel alive, capable of amazing feats. She warmed him and soothed him from his head to his toes.
When the need to breathe separated them, he said, “Although you already own my heart, I will not offer you my hand tonight, Elizabeth. The hour is late, and my drawing room is not the setting I want you to remember when we are old and gray. Thus, be prepared for tomorrow, my lady.”
She sighed against his lips. “I will.” Stepping back, her arms fell to her side. “Goodnight, Fitzwilliam.”
The hardest thing he had ever done was to let her go. “Rest well, my love.”
Elizabeth unfoldedthe note that Mrs. Reynolds delivered early in the morning.
My darling,
Meet me in the rose garden by the fountain.
FD
Hurrying to ready herself, Elizabeth could not believe how broad her grin was when she glanced in the mirror.She looked ridiculous!
The housekeeper guided her through narrow passageways until they reached a door. “The path to the rose garden is just beyond. When you get to the border, face the sun and walk until you see the master. He will be waiting for you.”
Trying to slow her steps was impossible. Within minutes, she saw him standing in front of a statue of Venus, the goddess of love and beauty.
The pain on his face vanished at the sight of her. No matter what happened on this day, Elizabeth needed to remember that putting weight on his leg was misery to him.
“Come with me.” Extending his hand, she eagerly joined her palm to his.
His steps were slow. She was awed that he had walked so far for her.
They were almost to the far border when he stopped. There, the ground had been freshly turned. On the edge of the garden was a basket filled with cut blooms. The fragrance wafted up toher. The roses were glorious. Next to the basket was a lone plant with wispy roots at the bottom.
“This shall be our rose, Elizabeth, our portion of Pemberley that belongs solely to us. We will nurture our love here so that it grows stronger and heartier than the tall oaks in the forest.”
He was so sweet. And so handsome. And manly. And romantic!
“What is the rose called?”
“I did not think to ask. But what he told me was that this particular flower has thrived in Derbyshire for centuries. This will be our future, Elizabeth, our heritage rose.”
Carefully leaning down, he pulled a bud from the basket. Standing erect to hand it to her, he moved far too quickly. First, he swayed, then his arms flailed. Grabbing him around the middle, she threw her weight back, throwing them both off balance. They landed hard on the soft earth.
“Elizabeth! Are you…?”
She laughed from her position under him, his weight uncomfortable but not unpleasant. “My dear man, will we ever be able to remain on our feet when we are around each other? Or will we continue to fall?”
Poking his elbows into the dirt, he framed her face with both large hands. “I have fallen for you, Elizabeth. I love you dearly. Marry me, Elizabeth?”
Never could she have imagined a more romantic proposal. There was only one answer. “Since I truly fell for you those many months ago, I can only say, yes, I would love to marry you.”
EPILOGUE
August 1814 – Pemberley
Alexander George Fitzwilliam Darcy wobbled on unsteady feet. His dark hair mussed. His arms outstretched. Darcy adored his son’s silly grin.
Alex bounced up and down instead of stepping forward.
