He did not look to be faring much better; she could see a sheen of sweat on his upper lip when he replied. “Yes. Thank you for coming. It is always easier to explain in person than in a note.”
The truth of this statement could not have felt more pertinent when the front door opened, and the recipient of her own wholly inadequate letter stepped into the vestibule.
“Mr Darcy!” Mr Tucker said. “Pray excuse the intrusion. Miss Bennet and I were just discussing some finer details in the library. We were on our way out, though, so we’ll not be in your way any longer.”
Elizabeth could do nothing but stare, and it seemed Darcy was similarly transfixed; his eyes never left hersas he wished Mr Tucker a good day. The foreman made a swift and unassuming departure. Neither Elizabeth nor Darcy turned to watch him go.
“Elizabeth?” Darcy said quietly.
Ridiculously, she nodded, as though confirming that yes, that was she.
His mouth curled at the corners by the smallest degree. He had evidently been feeling the heat as well, for he had removed his coat and held it draped over one arm, his hat in the same hand. He put both on the sideboard, not relinquishing her gaze for a moment, then closed the gap between them.
“I have just come from the Millhouses’.” His smile was small and self-deprecating. “I went directly there from town to see you and was pitifully dejected to be told you were out. But here you are.”
Elizabeth could not think of a single sensible thing to say. What came out of her mouth was, “Here I am.”
“Your sister gave me your note.”
She nodded again, every anxiety about having written to him at all returning with force. “I was worried she might forget. Or that you might wish I had not written it. I am sure it did not say half of what it needed to—I wish I could have spoken to you myself, to explain, but?—”
“It said everything I needed to hear,” he interrupted. He lifted a hand and ran the back of a finger down her cheek, his expression tender and unwavering. “I love you, too. More than you can ever know.” Another roll of thunder accompanied his words, and though he seemed tense enough that it might shatter him, he did not seem to notice. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known, Elizabeth. Here.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “And here.” Hemoved his hand down and pressed the pad of his thumb to the space below her first rib, over her heart. A chaste but poignant touch. “Leaving you standing here for another man to propose afterthatembrace was without doubt the most absurd and foolish thing I have ever done.”
“We were never engaged,” Elizabeth said urgently, desperate for him to understand. “I refused him at once, or tried to, even if he did not quite comprehend the rejection as quickly.”
“I know that now. But I think I might lose my mind if I have to wait another minute without hearing you say that you will marryme.”
“I will!” she blurted, halfway to being out of her mind, too. “I want to! I…yes! Yes, I will marry you!”
Relief and happiness gave such a boyish turn to Darcy’s countenance that Elizabeth laughed with sheer joy to see it. It ebbed quickly when he did not laugh with her and his gaze seemed to grow heavier, weighted with something she thought she might recognise despite having been in a darkened cupboard the last time he looked at her in the same way. His thumb remained over her heart, now gliding back and forth over her rib. She was not surprised, though she grew considerably hotter, when he said, hoarsely, “May I kiss you again…now?”
The door still stood open behind him, and a wicked idea sprang to her mind. Instead of answering him, she put a hand on his chest and pushed gently. He looked confused, but it only took a smile from her, and he complied, walking backwards as she steered him towards the door. His frown deepened with something like alarm when they reached the threshold. “Elizabeth, if you would rather I not kiss?—”
She reassured him with a whispered plea. “Just for a minute. For me?”
Still hesitant, he stepped backwards out of the door. He did not even seem to notice that it had begun to rain. He just kept looking at her, worry warring with confusion on his face. She cast a playful look at the sky. He did the same, then looked back to her, all trace of confusion gone, replaced with a raised eyebrow and an expression so serious that she thought, for a moment, that she had misstepped. Then he backed down another step until he was completely out of the cover of the small portico and raised his arms slightly to the sides, allowing the rain to fully soak his shirt.
“Enough?” he asked when his sleeves were clinging to his arms.
Elizabeth’s cheeks were burning with heat, but she did not shrink from his gaze, instead biting her lip and nodding.
He shook his head and smirked. “You will be the death of me, Elizabeth. One way or another.” He nevertheless seemed very much alive when he reached the top step and swept her into his arms.
EPILOGUE
“Where are you taking me?” Elizabeth Darcy asked her husband. He replied with only a little quirk of his brow and a promise that she would enjoy it.
She snuggled a little closer to him and said, “I enjoy all the time I spend with you.”
“As do I with you,” he said, looking down at her. Inclining his head slightly, he kissed her on the tip of her nose. “Indeed I rather hate the time I must spend asleep. I would much rather remain awake to talk to you.”
A pointed clearing of the throat reminded them that they were not alone. Across from them, Saye peered over the top of the newspaper. “Perhaps you might save those sentiments for aprivatemoment.”
“This was meant to be a private moment,” Darcy informed him. “It was you who attached yourself to our outing. Need I remind you that we have been married but three days?”
“It has been four, actually,” Saye grumbled, raisinghis paper again. “And no, I need no reminder. I was there, remember? Mingling among Bingley’s relations like a commoner.”
The charming autumn day on which Elizabeth had upheld her promise to marry Mr Darcy had been as beautiful as any wedding day could be. Thinking of it always brought a smile to her lips; that smile was generally shared with her husband and, more often than not, another kiss.
