At last he said, "There. It is done now."
I glanced down at my hand, it was full of red sticky lumps that rather looked like pustules. I had never had a pomegranate before and had imagined it would be more appetizing. "Is this the romantic gesture?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Pomegranate seeds?"
"There are twelve of them."
"Yes, I heard you count them." I paused waiting for elucidation, none came. "I think this gesture wants a bit more explaining."
"There aretwelveof them."
Have I told you how frustrating this man is?
"Hades tricked Persephone into eating six seeds."
"Yes, and I am giving youtwelve,"he said, repeating the emphasis.
"I think we're are at an understanding on the twelve bit. The why of it is really where there is still some confusion."
"Persephone ate six seeds and was thus forced to spend half of the year in the underworld. She spent the other half of the year with her mother Demeter, goddess of the harvest, whose despair at losing her daughter made the earth grow cold and the crops die, bringing about winter."
"I am aware of the mythology," I said, still not fully understanding his point. "I am quite certain Mama would bring about a perpetual winter if you tried to give me back so I am not sure the analogy holds."
"Yes, but I gave you twelve seeds."
This again. "So you are saying you like me and you wish to keep me all year?"
"No, I am saying I love you and I would risk worldwide famine in order to keep you with me until the end of my days."
"Oh," I said. I was too stunned to say anything else.
"I said I never would have proposed to you and that is true. I had dismissed you that first evening we met, yes, but within days I was enraptured by you, and by Bingley's ball I was so in love with you I knew if I did not get away from you madness would overtake me an I would beg for your hand. I had planned to escape to London and never see you again. It would have been the greatest mistake of my life. I spoke so flippantly because I thought you knew—I thought you must see how much I felt for you."
"I suppose I should say—I suppose you might like to know. . . ." I trailed off. This was more difficult to say than it ought to be. He had just laid his heart out before me I had only to take it.
"I suppose I should tell you that I love you as well," I finished at last.
"Yes, I know."
Infuriating man. I contemplated shoving pomegranate pustules in his face.
"You are not supposed to say 'I know'!"
"Why ever not? I did know. You were rather obvious about it."
"I was not!"
"Well, no. Not at first. In fact I was convinced you hated me after the Netherfield ball. That was a great wound to my pride. Your continued indifference became a wound to my heart. However, these last few weeks it became apparent your feelings had change dramatically."
"These last few weeks, indeed! I did not even know I loved you until yesterday."
"That does not surprise me in the least. You are not the most introspective person."
"Excuse me," I said, nearly shouting. With more dignity I continued, "That is entirely . . . not false."
Darcy chuckled. "Indeed."
