“It is a splendid idea!” Mrs Gardiner said. “I shall ring for Betsy to accompany you.”
“Thank you, Mrs Gardiner,” Mr Darcy said, smiling warmly at her. While they waited, they sat near the hearth and chatted. “I found the shop only last week, and I liked it particularly well. I think it will please you.”
Elizabeth blushed. He was always trying to please her, and indeed, he succeeded. But it would not have taken mucheffort on his part. Simply being in the same room with him, feeling that each meeting brought them closer together, was enough.
Soon, Betsy arrived, and they set out in the gentle sunshine for the shop.
The shop was a pleasant walk, not too far from Gracechurch Street. They talked of the weather and her family news on their way. “I am not sure if you’ve heard the good news yet, but I received a letter from Jane today. She and Mr Bingley are engaged.”
Mr Darcy let out a breath, as if he’d been holding onto something very heavy for a long time. “I am relieved and pleased to hear it,” he said. “I think Miss Bennet will make him an excellent wife, and he loves her so.” He hung his head for a moment. “I am glad my foolish comment did not dissuade him from asking for her hand.”
Elizabeth’s cheerful mood was a little dampened. “Has he still refused to answer your letters, then?” she asked.
“I’m afraid so. If I am to gain his forgiveness, I will have to go in person and throw myself on his good nature and former friendship. Perhaps, now that he has found happiness with your fair sister, he will be more amenable to accepting my apologies.”
Elizabeth nodded. If she could help in any way, she would. Surely Mr Bingley could not hold out against the persuasion of his wife, if Jane joined her in urging forgiveness. And that Jane would wish Mr Darcy forgiven was certain, for Jane’s soft heart could forgive far greater an offence than his.
When they reached the bookshop, Mr Darcy was as gentlemanly as ever, allowing Elizabeth to lead the way and seek out the shelves that most interested her. Yet he was not the same.
Holding a fine edition of Marcus Aurelius’sMeditations,Elizabeth glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Something was surely wrong. Mr Darcy was not one to fidget, yet he was continuously pulling at his cravat as if it were too tight, or clearing his throat and excusing himself. Had she not known better, she could have called his behaviour nothing so much as nervous. Had she said something to put him on edge?
When they had gone through all the shelves and had reached the back of the establishment, Mr Darcy turned to Betsy. “Would you mind standing at the other side of the room, Betsy? I should very much like to speak with Miss Bennet in confidence for a moment.”
“I can’t just leave, sir —”
“You can stand over there, Betsy,” Elizabeth chimed in. “You will still be able to see us and protect my reputation, just as your mistress ordered.”
Betsy nodded and walked to the other side of the room. Elizabeth turned her attention back to Mr Darcy, her stomach a flutter with nerves and excitement.
He cleared his throat again, but did not take his eyes off her. “Thank you. I wanted to find a more romantic way to do this, but I can delay no longer. Your lovely face, your sparkling eyes, your graceful hands as you picked up this book — they are everything to me. I do not think I can go on without telling you all that is in my heart.”
“Go on, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said softly. She smiled at him, unable to do anything else. She was sure he could hear her heartbeat.
He took both of her hands, looking deep into her eyes. “You know how I feel about you, Elizabeth. You are the first person I think of when I awake and the last before I closemy eyes to sleep. You haunt my dreams and my every waking thought. No matter where I turn, you are there: in the gentle breeze, in the scent of the flowers in bloom, and in the sunshine on my face.” He took a deep breath. “I want you by my side always. Will you be my wife, and grant me the joy and privilege of spending the rest of my life with you?”
Elizabeth wiped at the tears dropping onto her cheeks. “Mr Darcy, I did not know you were a poet,” she whispered. She squeezed his hands. “And yes, I will marry you.”
He kissed her hand fervently, and Betsy cleared her throat. Elizabeth sighed in exasperation. Their wedding day could not come soon enough, for words alone did not seem adequate to convey how deeply she loved him.
And where words failed, Elizabeth strongly suspected that a kiss might succeed.
“Congratulations Miss Bennet, Mr Darcy,” Betsy said as she rejoined them.“How happy I shall be to tell everyone downstairs, for I told them it would be soon!”
At this, Elizabeth and Mr Darcy could not help but laugh. Lovers always think their affairs are conducted in secret, only to learn that everyone knows more of the matter than themselves. But as Elizabeth would have gladly shouted her engagement from the rooftops, she could not resent the lack of privacy.
“Shall we return and tell your aunt and uncle the good news?” Mr Darcy suggested. Elizabeth agreed, and they were soon on their way back to Gracechurch Street.
He offered her his arm as they walked. Kindly, Betsy kept a few yards separation between them, so they might have some semblance of privacy.
“I am so glad you said yes,” Mr Darcy admitted as they neared the Gardiner’s home. “Perhaps you can understand why I took so long to ask you. I wanted to be sure there could be no doubt in your mind what your answer would be.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Well, I was sure the night of the assembly. But I understand your hesitation, given how cruelly I received your last proposal. I do not quite know how you could have forgiven me. I am only very glad that it is so.”
“Mr Wickham lied to you,” he said, patting her hand. “But I do not want him to taint this memory for us.”
“Of course. I never wish to think of him again,” Elizabeth agreed. “I hope with all my heart that I will never again see him.”
“There is not much chance of that. I will not allow Wickham to go on with impunity. It seems he is considerably in debt. I have informed his creditors of his presence in London, and in the militia. If he does not wish to confined to a sponging-house, he will need to leave quickly.”
