A radiant blossom of hope bloomed inside him. She had returned his kiss, without asking anything in return.
He let go of the swing, releasing his hold on her. She blinked at him in confusion, her lips swollen with passion.
“Elizabeth,” he said, scarcely recognizing the jagged edge of his voice. “We need to talk. You had better get off that swing.”
“I do not know why you are objecting to this swing Mr. Darcy,” she answered, recovering quickly, turning playful. She looked adorably tousled. “I have found it extremely useful these last two days.”
“I have something I would like to ask you, but I cannot go down on my knee if I am worried you might swing forward and kick me in the head.”
Her eyes danced with mischief. “I am now even more convinced of its usefulness. It is an excellent weapon in case of unwanted proposals. If I had been on the swing last Wednesday when Mr. Collins proposed, I would have swung forward and put an end to the proposal, and we would have been spared all the agony of the last week.” She chortled. “I promise not to swing forward, if you promise me that you will not be a clod and give me a rehearsed speech.”
Bingley had been adamant about not preparing a proposal speech, and Darcy could now see why. It seemed the Bennet sisters preferred a more spontaneous approach.
He could only hope he would live up to it.
He went down on one knee. He felt the mud squelch under his pale pantaloons, but it was too late to worry about it, and he soldiered onwards, determined not to let it stop him.
“Miss Elizabeth, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire you and love you,” he said.
The swing creaked and came quickly towards him, threatening to knock him down. He swiftly leaned sideways, moving out of the way just in time.
“That will not do at all, Mr. Darcy. It sounds like something you must have read in a book.”
He felt wounded. He had meant every word.
“I did not read it in a book,” he said hotly. “The words are very much my own. But I see you are determined to make fun of me.”
“I am sorry,” she said, trying not to laugh. “It is just that your clothes are full of mud. Look at your gloves. And your pantaloons.”
He stood up and tried to brush off the dirt from his knee. He only succeeded on making his gloves even dirtier. In the end, he took the gloves off and threw them to the ground. It suited him to have his hands bare, in any case.
“I will not make any speeches, then, Elizabeth.” He reached out and traced the outline of her jaw with the tips of his right fingers. “I have no right to ask anything of you. I have said some abominable things to you. When you accused me of behaving in an ungentlemanly manner, I thought I could never forgive you. But it was not long before I recognized that I deserved every accusation you flung at me.”
He stopped and took a deep breath. “You are too generous to trifle with me, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. If your feelings are still what they were last week, tell me so at once. One word from you will silence me forever. I will ride away and never inflict my presence on you again.”
Apparently he had said the right thing after all, because Elizabeth’s expressive eyes grew dark with emotion.
“We have both said things we regret, and I hope we have learned something from them. I am still learning now. It is very difficult to express how one feels. At least, I am finding it difficult.”
She was shy. His darling Elizabeth was turning shy! He wanted to throw back his head and laugh, but it had to be handled delicately.
“Just say what you feel,” he prompted, gently. “Just tell me the truth. That is all I ask of you. Always.”
She lowered her eyes. He could not see her face, but her ears were burning.
“Very well, Mr. Darcy. Then I will have to tell you that – I love you.”
She looked straight at him then, and the love shining out of her eyes was everything he had ever longed for. His heart felt so full he was afraid he would unman himself and cry.
“Elizabeth Bennet,” he murmured, through a voice choked with emotion, “will you then do me the honor of giving me your hand in marriage?”
She put out her hand. “I will give you my hand, Mr. Darcy, and I will give you my heart and soul as well, if you will have them.”
He took her hand and brought it to his lips, thinking what a priceless gift she had given him. No fortune was big enough to compete with it.
“I love you, Elizabeth. Ardently. Fervently. With every fiber of my being.”
The swing came swinging towards him, but this time, Elizabeth jumped from it and threw her arms around him. He caught her and crushed her to him, his lips grasping hers, his hands greedy for the feel of her body against him. He had dreamt of this moment many times, but the dream was nothing to the reality of holding her and feeling her softness against him.
