“No one has ever—”
She stopped.
Darcy stepped closer.
“I could not bear the thought that something you love should remain just beyond your reach,” he said.
Her breath caught.
“You have given it back to me,” she whispered.
“I have given you nothing that was not already yours.”
Elizabeth looked up at him.
Her heart felt too full.
Too unsteady.
And yet—
Entirely certain.
“You asked for my permission,” she said softly.
“I did.”
“And I gave it.”
“You did.”
She drew a breath.
“I think… I have given you more than that.”
Darcy’s expression changed.
Hope.
Clear and unguarded.
“Elizabeth—”
He took her hands fully now.
“I cannot be satisfied with a courtship alone,” he said, his voice low, intense. “Not when I know what I feel. Not when I know what you are to me.”
Her heart raced.
“I have tried to proceed with caution, to allow you every comfort, every assurance—but I find I cannot wish for less than everything you might give me.”
His grip tightened, though not painfully.
“Will you marry me?”
Elizabeth’s world stilled.
“I love you,” he said. “Not with admiration alone, not with gratitude, but with a certainty that has only strengthened with every moment I have known you. You are everything I had not known I sought, and more than I deserve. I do not pity you. I have never pitied you. I admire you. I respect you. I love you.”
