“I would hardly call it a farce, sir,” she said, indignant at this characterization of the unhappiest moments of her life.
“It is not a tragedy,” he said, gently. “At least, I hope it is not.”
They were facing each other now. He stepped towards her and reached to take her hands. Her heart gave a little leap, her knees grew unsteady. She did not know where to look.
“Miss Bennet, when you left, I blamed myself for driving you away. And the fact is, it was my intention to do so.”
At her shocked expression, he raised his hand. “Please hear what I have to say. I did not want you to leave. Never that. I wanted to set up a distance. I—panicked. I worried that my family would not approve. The easiest solution seemed for me to drive a wedge between us. But then when you left, all I could think of was what a fool I had been. To lose someone like you—. I have never felt so miserable in my life.”
Elizabeth stayed completely still, afraid if she moved, she would discover that this was all an illusion.
“I decided I would go to Meryton to speak to you – to entreat you – to come back. I no longer care what my family might think, or what your status in society might be.”
He looked into her eyes.
“I am in love with you, Miss Bennet – Elizabeth – ardently, completely, with all my heart. If you do not share these sentiments, if you left because you did not want anything to do with me, please say so at once, and I will be silent forever.”
Elizabeth was flooded with such a mix of powerful feelings at his words, fell silent, too overcome to form any words of response. But as she lifted her eyes and saw the expression of anxiety on his face, she forced herself to speak.
“I had hoped – nay, dreamed – that you felt for me what I feel for you,” she said. “I was on my way to London, to try and reason with you, because I could not stay away any longer. I have been so miserable these last weeks. I have come to realize what you meant to me— I share your feelings, Mr. Darcy.”
An expression of heartfelt delight diffused over his face. With one quick step, he drew her into his arms and into a lingering kiss that sent her senses spinning.
She groaned in protest when he pulled away. Then, noticing that several of the laborers were watching them with indulgent smiles, she flushed scarlet with embarrassment.
“We have an audience,” she murmured.
“That is the only reason I managed to stop,” said Darcy, his voice unsteady. “You have no idea how much I have dreamt of this moment. And yet, the reality is so much better than the dreams. Sweetest, loveliest Elizabeth, will you consent to be my wife?”
“I will,” she said, simply.
His hand enfolded hers, firm and warm, sending trickles of sensation through her arm. “Shall we go and talk to your father?”
When they arrived in Longbourn, Elizabeth asked Mr. Darcy’s coachman to stop away from the house. She did not want to draw anyone’s attention – especially her mother’s – too soon. She preferred to have things happen in an orderly manner.
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Darcy, I would rather go in first, to prepare the way for you – so to speak. It is all very unexpected.”
When she rang the doorbell, Mrs. Hill came to answer. “Miss Elizabeth! You are back! Has anything happened?”
A great deal had happened, but she did not suppose that was what Mrs. Hill meant.
“No, no. It is nothing.”
“But the state of your clothes! Six inches deep in mud, at least.”
Elizabeth looked down. This is what came of kissing Mr. Darcy in the middle of a field! She had not even noticed that her half-boots and petticoat were wet.
“I suppose I had better change. And I need to warn you. Mr. Darcy is here, and he intends to come inside. Could you notify Mama and my sisters?”
“Mrs. Bennet is not here. She went walking to Meryton with your sisters about an hour ago. Did you say Mr. Darcy is here? Heavens! I had better go and make the parlor presentable.”
“Is Papa in the library?” she asked, fervently hoping that Papa was not out and about, and that Mr. Darcy would not have to wait to speak to him until later.
“He is.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hill.”
She went and knocked on the door of the library. Her father was ensconced in an armchair, his spectacles perched on his nose, engrossed in reading.
