“You must forgive me, but I need sleep. We shall impart this room, the two of us.” Mr Gardiner said at last, looking at Darcy, who nodded.
“I shall lead Miss Elizabeth to her room,” he said, but in the little hall between the rooms, he whispered, “Are you weary?”
“No, let us go outside for a few moments,” she replied, divining his thought.
They sat upon a bench, admiring the sky, shivering from the night air but still more from their emotions. Love encompassed their world. At last, they might permit happiness to overwhelm them—body and soul.
Darcy tried to draw her into his arms, but she slipped aside.
“Be still, my lady, let me hold you. You heard our host: you are my wife.”
“I could live with you anywhere,” she whispered, gazing upon the little garden.
“I know, but you still prefer Pemberley,” he teased her.
“I was only trying to tell you how much I love you, and you are mocking my words.”
“I beg your pardon, my love.”
“Liar—you are not sorry. You delight in teasing me.”
He smiled in the dark as he kissed her brow. “I probably do, but only because I strive to hide the depth of my love for you. It is a trick men practise—”
“Promise me we shall be happy every day of our lives.”
“I promise.”
“Even if we quarrel, we shall never begin a new day angry with one another.”
As he did not answer, Elizabeth turned to look upon him, and without words she perceived his thought, and blushed.
“You degenerate,” she lovingly reproached him.
“What better way to end a quarrel than with love? If we were now at Pemberley, I should take you straight to my chamber—vows or no vows.”
“You would dishonour me?” She laughed within his arms.
“Assuredly—and then I would marry you.”
“Well, as we are in Polegate and not Pemberley, heading to London, you must marry me first.”
It was his turn to laugh with all his heart, until she placed her hand upon his lips, fearful he would wake the hamlet. He kissed her palm, then each finger in turn, and at last—despite her resistance—he pressed his lips gently upon hers.
“Will you be my wife?” he murmured.
“I thought I had already said yes to that question.”
“I know, but I long to shorten the betrothal. Do you think your parents would come to London if Mrs Gardiner invited them?”
“Yes, I am certain my aunt could find the words to persuade them. ‘Pemberley’ would be persuasive enough for Mama, and ‘my happiness’ would content Papa.”
“You mean your mother will approve me because I am wealthy?”
“Yes—why should I dissemble?”
“Because you might desire your husband to esteem your mother.”
“Well, sir, I might say that there is no perfect creature in the world, and even a gossip may occasionally do some good. Mama loves to spread reports and to meddle in the affairs of others. Yet, this time her recollections—together with Mary’s indiscretion—brought this story to its end.”
