Elizabeth gulped. “Very well.” She sank into a chair and clasped her hands tightly in her lap, praying for the strength to face whatever might come.
“I was pleased to find that you were home alone,” he said haltingly. It would seem he did not know where to begin. “Not that I would not wish to see your sisters and mother.”
“Of course, I would not think that,” Elizabeth replied awkwardly. What had he come to say? If he had come to condemn her, she wished he might get on with it. She could barely look at him; he was so handsome. Her heartbeat quickened when she risked a look into his dark eyes. The kindness she had always loved to see in them was no longer for her. She had betrayed his trust and could not claim to deserve his forgiveness.
“You may well be surprised at my coming like this. Particularly now that I have learned you are alone here. I apologise for the irregular call.”
“There is no need to apologise,” she said breathlessly. “My mother will be very sad that she missed you. As will my sisters.”
“Yes, well —” he let his words trail off, and instead of staying seated, got up and began to pace. Was he just as nervous as she was?
Elizabeth frowned. What did he have to be nervous about? She was the one who had gone and made a mess out of everything. She watched him for a moment, and when he did not speak, she tried to prompt him onward. “Has something happened at Netherfield? Is your sister well?” she asked, suddenly afraid for her young friend.
“Oh, yes, do not concern yourself. She is well. And I am sure she will come to visit you soon,” he replied absently.
Elizabeth frowned in surprise. “You would still permit your sister to come and see me? Even knowing what you know now?”
“Of course,” Mr Darcy replied at once. He stopped his pacing and looked her in the eye. “I can endure no longer. I must tell you the reason I have stayed away for so long. And when I have done so, I hope you will allow me to throw myself at your feet.”
Elizabeth was shocked beyond words for a moment. She had to gather all her composure before she could speak. “I do not know what you mean, Mr Darcy.”
He shook his head, then raked his fingers through his hair, as if he did not know how to go on. “I have been reading your books,” he said.
“You — read my books? Mrs Laurence’s books?” Elizabeth replied in astonishment. She could not think of anything else he could have meant by such a statement. But he had so often dismissed her books as unworthy of his interest. Why would he care to read her work now, especially when he must be furious at discovering her lies? “I do not understand.”
“I have not come to see you before now because I have done little else but read. That is why I have not come since we last spoke.” His eyes softened, and he came to sit beside her. She was undone, unable to believe what was happening. Mr Darcy took her hand. “I was so very wrong about your books, Miss Bennet. These past days, I have been unable to put them down. I have stayed up late into the night until my eyes stung and I could read no more. I would sleep for a few hours and then pick it right back up again. I am no longer surprised at why my sister is such a devoted fan of your work.”
His smile was warm and undoubtedly genuine.
“She finally convinced you to read them?” Elizabeth asked.
“It is true; she urged me to read your first novel. But I found that after I had finished the first one, I had to know what the next held.” He took her hand and pressed it, making her heart beat all the more dangerously. “I could not wait to return each morning to the worlds you had created. I finally understand what my sister was talking about.”
Elizabeth wondered if she were dreaming. Perhaps at any moment, she would wake up and be thrust back into a worldwhere Mr Darcy was angry with her and she would never see him again. She held her breath, searching his face. “I still do not understand.”
“I know. And that is my fault. Forgive me. I was prejudiced against what I considered to be ‘mere popular fiction’, but I was wrong. And perhaps I would have been enlightened a little earlier, had I knownyouto be Mrs Laurence. I might have known that a mind of such wit and depth as your own would write masterpieces.”
He paused, smiling at her. “Your novels are not just entertainment for the masses.” He held up his hand and looked concerned that he had offended her. “I am not saying they are not entertaining. But they hold a much higher purpose. Your books are about hope and new beginnings. They are about finding out who you are, and that integrity is more precious than gold. They are about family and unity and so much more that we cannot live without in this world if we are to overcome the darkness.”
Mr Darcy sighed and smiled broadly. “But most of all, they are about redemption. My sister might one day share a painful experience she was forced to endure. She shared with me that your first book helped her to recover, to find happiness again. You showed her she was not a lost cause, even though she had made so many mistakes. I am glad, very glad indeed that she read such a novel.”
“Miss Darcy said that?” Elizabeth breathed.
“Yes, she did,” he assured her.
Elizabeth’s head was swimming from this surprising turn of events. “Can you ever forgive me for lying to you?” she asked.She knew she was taking a bold step in asking him. But she needed to try. “I would not blame you if you said no —”
“There is nothing to forgive,” he said before she could go on.
In the next instant, Mr Darcy had slid off the settee and knelt in front of her. Elizabeth’s heart all but stopped.
“I have been such a fool, Elizabeth. From the first time we met, I knew, perhaps only subconsciously, that my life would never be the same. And now that you have been a part of my life, I cannot imagine it without you in it. I tried to fight my feelings for so long. But I should have told you long ago that you have become like air to me.” He stopped to catch his breath. “You have bewitched me, body and soul. From this moment forward, Elizabeth, I never wish to be parted from you again. I love you with all my heart.”
Elizabeth’s eyes stung from the tears welling in them. “You do?”
“I do,” he said. “Would you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?”
It was unlike anything she had imagined. Certainly, she had written proposal scenes in her novels before. But there was no swelling music nor any grand gestures. Mr Darcy had simply offered her his heart.
