Elizabeth laughed softly at that, though the sound faded almost as soon as it had begun.
“But, my intentions are honourable.”
She looked away before speaking again. “I would not have it any other way. Thank you. You asked me yesterday,” she said quietly, “what I dream of.” She turned back to him.
Darcy regarded her with attentive interest.
“Simply put,” she continued, “I dream of love. I have not yet experienced it, but that is what I hope for. Affection… friendship… something that grows naturally between two people.”
Darcy did not answer immediately. He only looked at her.
Those fine eyes, which he had once admired almost in spite of himself, now held his full attention. There was nothing playful in them now, only sincerity.
And something in him shifted.
Until that moment, he had spoken with composure, with the careful self-command that had guided him through the entire conversation. But Elizabeth’s quiet declaration stirred a deeper feeling than he had intended to reveal.
“Yes,” he said at last, more softly. “That is what I want as well.” He paused, choosing his words. “I would not ask you for anything less.”
Elizabeth held his gaze.
“With time,” he continued, “I should hope that we might discover whether such an understanding could exist between us.” His expression softened slightly. “For my own part, Miss Elizabeth, I cannot pretend indifference. Your company has become… very important to me.”
Elizabeth felt her breath catch unexpectedly.
Darcy added, with quiet sincerity, “I admire you greatly.”
For a moment Elizabeth could not speak.
No one had ever addressed her with such seriousness before. Compliments she had received in plenty – playful, careless, or exaggerated – but never one delivered with such quiet conviction.
She looked down at her hands. When she spoke, her voice was softer than before. “And you believe I might learn to return that admiration?”
“I hope so.”
Elizabeth lifted her eyes again.
There was no impatience in his expression, no attempt to persuade her further. He waited simply and calmly, as though her answer – whatever it might be – would be accepted.
That steadiness affected her more than any declaration could have done.
“At present,” she said slowly, “I cannot promise you what you ask.”
Darcy inclined his head slightly. “I did not expect you to.”
“But,” she continued, “I should not wish you to abandon the attempt.”
Something in his expression changed – not triumph, but unmistakable relief. “You mean,” he said carefully, “that you would permit me to court you.”
Elizabeth felt the warmth return to her cheeks. “Yes.”
Darcy was silent for a moment, as though absorbing the answer. Then he said quietly, “Thank you.”
Elizabeth attempted to smile.
“Charlotte believes happiness in marriage is very much a matter of chance. I should like to prove her wrong.”
At that moment, a cool drop of rain struck the gravel path between them.
