Elizabeth stopped walking and stared at him. “What did you say?”
He looked briefly surprised, then smiled ruefully. “Oh yes. The day we argued on Gracechurch Street, I came to ask for your hand. I had not a doubt of my reception, either. What will you think of my vanity?”
“Never mind your vanity—what of your feelings? You came to propose, and instead I berated you in the street! This is awful—I am so sorry.”
“Do not let it distress you—my conceit was sufficient to see me comfortably through that ordeal. I still believed that you wanted only for a full explanation of what your mother had done to understand that my contempt of all your relations was justified and accept my hand. Indeed, I continued to believe it right up until I dined with your excellent aunt and uncle and had it pointed out to me what an utter fool I had been.” He cupped her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “It was a lesson I needed to learn. I shall do better in future.”
Without hesitation, Elizabeth rose to her tiptoes and kissed him again. He did not require any further encouragement and returned her caress instantly—though with greater restraint than before, which brought them apart rather sooner.
“Not that I shall ever complain about your doing that, Elizabeth, but might I ask how I came to be rewarded so handsomely for a confession of all the worst defects of my character?”
“Because you continued to help me. I all but spurned your offer of marriage, and yet you still welcomed me into your home and gave me the warning you thought I needed. You still followed me to Henrietta Street when you knew I was in no fit state to go there. You still came to Lady Fulcombe’s dinner to help find Mrs Randall’s address. You still rescued me in the Four Feathers—and were kind to me even after I fell asleep on you!”
He broke into a startlingly rakish smile. “You may dothathowever often and for however long you please.”
“I may take you up on that—you are surprisingly comfortable. But that is not the point. I would hardly call it a defect that you continued helping me, even though you thought I hated you.”
“I only continued loving you, Elizabeth.”
“Then be assured that you do not need to do better in future. You are doing perfectly well as it is.”
He looked exceptionally pleased with this answer, grinning complacently as he turned them back to the path. They walked in silence for a short way, until he mentioned Mrs Bennet’s letter. “Will you tell me now what she wrote that embarrassed you so?”
“Oh, that!” Elizabeth said, laughing happily. “I was only embarrassed because I thought she was making assumptions.”
“About what?”
She grinned slyly at him. “The prospect of her soon becoming a grandmother.”
Elizabeth very quickly learnt that her mother’s anticipation for this happy event was nothing to Darcy’s. He left her in no doubt of his feelings on the subject, this kiss making their first seem positively staid by comparison, and revealing to her someof the extraordinary sources of happiness that she could expect as the wife of Mr Darcy.
She did not have time to read the rest of Lady Rothersea’s letter until many hours later, as she lay abed that night.
I advise you not to entirely dismiss the notion of attending the duchess’s ball. She has a good deal of influence; you would not like to vex her. And though I am loath to give you false hope, I feel confident in saying that Mr Darcy might not be as averse to the idea of attending as a couple as you seem to think. Keep your hopes up and your heart open, Lizzy. All is not lost.
Elizabeth hugged the letter to her chest, smiling so broadly her cheeks hurt. Darcy loved her. Every ball she would ever attend from here on out would be as either his betrothed or his wife. So yes, all was far from lost, and her heart was so full it was fit to burst.
35
TO TEACH THE ADMIRING MULTITUDES
Very few people were privy to the news of the Master of Pemberley’s engagement. After such a torrid time, he and Elizabeth preferred to keep the news to themselves for as long as possible, and staying in Kent seemed the easiest way of achieving it. Elizabeth eschewed informing even her own relatives at first. She was obliged to tell Mrs Collins in order to explain her almost constant absence from the parsonage, and for the sake of harmony whilst he was under her roof, Darcy informed Lady Catherine. Anne guessed; Mr Collins did not; and for two weeks, the rest of the world was excluded from their blissful bubble.
Darcy had never known happiness like it. Come rain or shine, they passed every day together, walking in the park, sometimes riding in Anne’s curricle, or occasionally sheltering in one of Rosings’ follies. They picnicked, they read, they laughed, they learnt, and they fell more in love by the hour. Never before had he talked so much, nor ever wished to, but learning to truly know Elizabeth brought him a compelling kind of contentment of which he would never tire. They shared confessions of admiration, admissions of folly, memories of the past, dreamsof the future; she made him laugh more than he thought he had ever laughed in his life; she laughed at him more than he liked and at herself more than she deserved, encouraging him to join in—though he was more inclined to kiss her than laugh at her whenever she did anything even vaguely delightful.
Free from the rules and restraints of polite society, and without any of the restrictions placed on more traditionally engaged couples, there were times when Darcy nevertheless thought a chaperon might have been a good idea. Elizabeth, to his eternal delight, was no less receptive to his attentions than she had been in the dreams that had plagued him for the duration of their acquaintance. It aided him delectably in his object of learning to know her, but it also gave him something of a dilemma: little though he wished to curtail their halcyon interlude, he was in danger of losing his mind if they were not soon wed.
In the end, it was his aunt who pressed the matter, one evening shortly after Easter, when the Collinses and Elizabeth were dining at Rosings.
“Darcy, the Duchess of Gracemont’s ball is in just over a week, and you have made no arrangements to return to town.”
“That is because we shall not be attending the duchess’s ball,” Darcy replied.
Lady Catherine bristled. “Of course you must go. Your reputation—and by extension, this family’s—has been sorely tested of late. Imagine the damage it would do to refuse such an invitation.”
“Judging by recent events, I daresay people will make of it whatever they choose whether or not we attend.”
“Do not be a fool, Nephew. You are about to embark on an exceedingly imprudent marriage. The duchess’s approbation would guarantee that your alliance would be recognised by everyone.”
