Elizabeth laughed, the sound carrying clear in the crisp winter air. “We can ask them—and perhaps even Mary and Mr. Sanderson would join us. Imagine! Three weddings at once.”
His look held a shade of doubt. “Is Hertfordshire prepared for such felicity?”
She kissed his cheek, rising on her toes to reach him. “With the right groom, it most certainly is.”
They remained there atop Oakham Mount as the sun climbed in the sky, casting gold and rose across the fields below. The snow sparkled, and a hush lingered, broken only by the soft breath of the breeze and their hushed conversation. Darcy held Elizabeth’s gloved hand in his own, his thumb brushing over her knuckles with idle affection.
“I cannot believe it is real. That this morning began in disappointment and has ended in…this.” At his puzzled look, she explained the delayed delivery of his note.
He nudged her shoulder. “What a beginning! To think your faith in me was almost undone.”
She laughed. “Yes, but all has come right in the end. And with such a treasure—beautiful silk roses. I feared the last gift was not to come after all. And now I can openly display all the tokens of your affection.”
“I noted you were careful to conceal some of the gifts.”
“Yes. Many were so fine, I dared not show them lestsomeonefind a way to relieve me of my treasures. But the locket—” she placed her free hand over her heart “—I wore close. Every day.”
He took her hand and entwined their fingers.
“And the pearls,” she continued. “I wore once or twice, beneath my gown, where no one could see. The risk was too great.”
His lips twitched. “Miss Lydia?”
Elizabeth gave him a knowing look. “Precisely. She would either steal them outright or make the most ridiculous assumptions. I had no wish to explain myself. Mama would have been hysterical, raving about lost reputations and ruined daughters.”
“It grieves me that I could not be more open, but I trusted you would understand. You see, I firmly believed you would have turned me away had I spoken too soon.”
“You are correct. I did not love you then so well as I do now. And tonight, at the Longs’ Twelfth Night celebration, I shall wear your gifts—all of them—in a manner of speaking. It would not do to come draped in nine shawls.”
He laughed, his eyes searching hers, a question lingering unspoken.
She smiled. “The sapphire pins...”
“And the necklace?”
“And the necklace,” she confirmed. “Though which I have yet to decide. I believe the pearls will go best with my gown.”
He lifted her gloved hand to his lips and brushed it with a kiss.
“Perhaps…we might even announce the engagement tonight?”
At her words, she saw joy kindle in him, bright and unrestrained. “If your father consents, then yes. Let the world know I have won the hand of the finest woman I have ever known.”
It was difficult to say whether her cheeks were blushed by his declaration or the the cold air as they stood together in the hush of the morning, but Elizabeth suspected it was both. The world slowly awakened around them, as love bloomed steady and sure—enduring, eternal, like twelve silk roses kept in a box of red.
Chapter Twenty-Six
January 5, 1812
Longbourn
Darcy
Themorningsunfellsoftly upon the windows of Mr. Bennet’s study. He looked up from his desk to find Darcy standing at the threshold, composed yet visibly resolute.
“You asked to speak with me, sir?” Mr. Bennet prompted, setting his spectacles aside.
Darcy stepped forward, posture as upright as ever, yet his address was more earnest than Mr. Bennet had ever heard from him.
