Darcy nodded as though determined to believe this. “I will endeavour to not act so afflicted, at least when I am enjoying your company.”
This made her heart beat a little faster.If only good manners allowed the woman to speak first.She was half ready to disregard all propriety and tell him that she had come to love him, to put her arms around him and finally kiss him as she had wanted to do since they played the parlour game before the storm. “Affliction is the good man’s shining time, so it is said.”
“At one point you did not think I was a good man, or a gentlemanly one.”
This was said with an uncertainty that surprised her. He only needed to believe that she wanted him to repeat the sentiments andrenew the offers she rejected in April. Perhaps she really ought to consider speaking first.
“My dear Darcy, now I think you are everything that is benevolent and good.”
To all appearances,he was sure he had looked perfectly composed when Elizabeth called him “my dear Darcy.”But it still felt like his heart was beating so violently that his pulse could be seen from a distance.
Since the storm on Monday, he had an ever-present feeling of woe, as well as an urgent need to fix everything directly and to do much of it himself. Add to that the pain and grief of Utterson or Balfour being capable of murder, and Darcy knew he was hardly fit to be in company. The guilt he felt whenever he was not acting on behalf of his tenants must be discernible if Elizabeth was prompting him to talk of his cares.
When he returned to Pemberley, he would immediately have demands upon him. There would be letters to answer, his steward to meet with, his banker to write to. Balfour and Utterson would return, and he would somehow find the wherewithal to behave no differently towards them whilst he and Fitzwilliam gathered what evidence against the guilty party that they could find.
And, fool that I am, here I am alone with the only woman I have ever loved, and I am talking about the demands upon my time and my purse.
He would ask her to marry him when they reached the summit. The hope of feeling her heart beating against his chest as he kissed her was now crowding out thoughts of Pemberley and storms and destruction as they ascended Thorpe Cloud. The thought of soon indulging in every possible passion with her made his heart race. He was certain that Elizabeth admired him more than the last time he asked, but he felt far more anxiety than he had at Hunsford parsonage.
“Your sister was right to suggest our seeing this place,” she said, looking all round as the incline grew steeper.
“Do you think Dovedale and Derbyshire beautiful?”
She smiled as though this were a foolish question. “There is a character of wildness to Derbyshire rather than a straightforward beauty, but I like it very much.”
Never had the exquisite sight, smell, sensation of nature—tranquil, enlivening, warm—been more attractive to him as seeing Derbyshire through Elizabeth’s eyes. “The view of Dovedale from the top is said to be one of the most pleasing scenes of the Peak.”
She nodded, but the exertion required now made it a little harder to climb and speak at the same time. When they reached a flatter, grassy bank, Elizabeth exhaled loudly and stopped. “This is quite the excursion!” she cried, looking up at Thorpe Cloud that, from this vantage point, blocked most of the sun. “It looks so steep I fear I shall have to crawl on my hands and knees to reach the top.”
Darcy silently thought that would be pretty near to the truth, but he did not want to discourage her. Instead, he pointed in the other direction for her to take in the view. “There is an immensity to it,” he said quietly.
“There is. It is too magnificent, too interesting a landscape for quiet contemplation.” She seemed to catch her breath, but rather than begin again, she stared at him with deep interest.
“What is the matter?”
“Do you still love me?”
He had never before been simultaneously shocked and made so happy. Elizabeth dropped her gaze and her cheeks were pink, but there was no doubt in his mind that shewanted an answer.
“With all my soul, my heart, and my strength. Do you love me?”
She could not look him in the eye, but her voice was unhesitating when she said, “I do not have words strong enough to tell you with what ardency I love you.”
“Elizabeth,” he said, raising a hand to her chin to lift her gaze to his, “I want to turn to you for consolation when I am melancholy, consult with you when I need advice, make a friend of you to share every experience.” Although she was smiling, he still felt real apprehension and anxiety when he asked, “Will you do me the honour of marrying me?”
“Yes, happily and eagerly, yes,” she said, giving a little laugh beforeputting her arms around him and laying her head against him. Darcy put his arms around her waist and felt a delight at knowing for certain that Elizabeth loved him. Of all the burdens now facing him, to have this uncertainty resolved, this important matter settled in the way that he had long hoped for, was a profound relief.
As he was recognising how wonderful it felt to hold and touch Elizabeth, she pulled away, smiling. Darcy captured both of her hands, unwilling to lose contact with her so soon.
She gave another shy laugh. “I have wanted you to offer yourself again for so long!”
“You cannot have had such feelings when you first learnt that you would be staying in my house,” he said with a laugh of his own. “Part of me wonders if you wanted to hide in Bingley’s carriage for the entire fortnight.”
She blushed, and he suspected that might have been the case. “My first feelings of esteem and attachment were formednot longafter arriving, and have grown steadily and swiftly to a perfect admiration and love.”
Their amusement faded, and a tender look appeared in Elizabeth’s eyes. He was about to ask if he could kiss her when her gaze dropped to his mouth. He gently pulled on her hands to bring her near and leant down to place a delicate kiss on her lips. It was fleeting, but the warmth of it, the meaning of it, made his pulse drum in his ears.
“You are not upset that I spoke first?” she whispered after, still holding his hands.
