“You do not know?”
“No—I have not read it. But I know she has gone home, for I sent her in my carriage this morning.”
“You…you did?”
“She did not mention that?”
“She mentioned very little other than to say that she was sorry.” Elizabeth thought it best not to cite Mrs Bennet’s expectation of her soon bearing Darcy’s children, though she fancied he must have guessed there was more to her letter than she was revealing, for he was regarding her with the most penetrating gaze. “How came she to be in your carriage?” she asked, thoroughly flustered.
“I made a bargain with her. She agreed to be taken home in return for…certain conditions.”
“Conditions?” Elizabeth cried, appalled. “Oh no! No, no, no! She was in no position to demand anything of you! Please know that you are not beholden to anything you have promised.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks as though that might quell her spiralling chagrin. “For heaven’s sake, you will begin to think this is my usual colour! I am doomed to be in a constant state of humiliation whenever I am with you!”
He laughed—an arresting thing, for Elizabeth could not immediately remember him ever doing so in such an open, joyous way before. It accentuated his handsomeness so strikingly that she caught her breath. Which meant she had none left with which to gasp when he replied, “Whereas I am in a constant state of hopeless, tongue-tied admiration whenever I am with you.”
“What?” she asked feebly.
“I am in love with you, Elizabeth! Completely, irrevocably, head over heels in love. And I have been since long before anyone else decided I should be.”
Elizabeth, who usually prided herself on her quick wit and articulate mastery of the English language, replied eloquently, “Oh!”
On hearing how paltry it sounded, she added, “You might have mentioned it sooner.”
“I might have, but I had it on excellent authority that my affections would not be returned.”
“Whose authority?” she asked, offended.
He smiled. “Yours.”
He was right! She had told him—rather emphatically—that she would never marry him. She wrinkled her nose guiltily before uttering a far more contrite, “Oh.”
He stepped closer and took up her hands in his. “I have since had it from an arguably greater authority that your feelings have undergone a material change.”
He must have known from her irrepressible smile that it was true, but she could not resist asking, “Whose authority could be greater than my own?”
“Lady Catherine’s. And as you know, she is never wrong.”
Elizabeth wanted to laugh, but her feelings were soaring such that they smothered her gaiety. Even her smile faltered. “She is certainly not wrong about this.”
Darcy, similarly sobered, regarded her with an extraordinary expression that was somehow both tender and rapacious. “Marry me, Elizabeth. Put me out of my misery, I beg you.”
To hear him declare himself filled her with such joy and relief as she had never felt before. Toseehis affection in his gaze roused other feelings which she could not have named but werenot unfamiliar to her; he had stirred them in her plenty of times before.
“I thought you would never ask.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, neither smiling, neither speaking. Elizabeth’s pulse beat ferociously in her ears as she stood pinned to the spot by his ardent, unblinking gaze.
They gave in at the exact same moment, both springing forwards by unspoken accord, as weeks and months of yearning spilled over into a conflagration of desire. Darcy took her face in both his hands and kissed her hard. Without a thought for modesty, she threw her arms around him and clung to him, craving the contact, savouring the closeness. What was propriety to them, given their recent tribulations?
He mirrored her, wrapping her in his embrace and holding her to him so tightly there was no daylight left between them. After that, it seemed that his touch was everywhere: her waist, her arms, her face, her hair. She was not so brave as he, but her hands were far from still as she explored the broadness of his back and the strength in his shoulders. When she touched the curls at his nape, he tossed his hat to the ground, grinning against her lips in an invitation for her to continue.
His kisses were astonishing, awakening sensations Elizabeth had never known or dreamt of, and driving all rational thought from her head. His hands alighted on her hips, pulling her firmly against him, and he transferred his kisses from her mouth to her neck. She made an involuntary noise in her throat that was somewhere between a groan and a gasp, which might have mortified her had she not been incandescent with pleasure.
Darcy abruptly pulled away. “Good God, Elizabeth, I must stop!” Breathing heavily, he held both her hands and rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed as he observably fought to calm himself. With a deep breath, he stood tall, shaking his head and chuckling lightly. “I suppose I should not be surprised thatthe woman who has taught me the true meaning of gentlemanly behaviour should so easily induce me to forget it.”
Indeed, she had never seen him so discomposed, so wholly without his usual sedateness—so wild. The observation did nothing to check her own ardour. “I cannot have all the blame. You made me forget myself entirely.” She grinned and bent to retrieve his hat. Handing it to him, she said, “It would certainly give them all something to talk about if they knew, would it not?” earning herself another of his bewitching little smiles.
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers. “You have made me the happiest man alive.”
