We did not speak even as I took the lead. We broke out of the warmth of that old Tudor manor and forced our way into a silent, grey landscape. My companion was once again distracted and deeply pensive, and I knew she struggled to speak of something uncomfortable to her.
I had no choice but to be patient, though the waiting was agony. Nor could I adequately gauge her thoughts. She had put the hood of her cloak up and denied me access to her eyes. We walked for an exceptionally long time in this attitude of smouldering anticipation, and I began to wonder whether we were once again going as far as Oakham, now shrouded in fog. When Banditbegan to slow his pace, I knew we had gone too far and must turn back.
“I would like to know what troubles?—”
“What are your intentions with regard to Jane, Mr Darcy?” She interrupted me as though she only needed me to break the silence to explode into her burning question.
I stopped in my tracks while my mind momentarily reeled. Her face, now before me in glorious proximity, came into focus. I had mistakenly thought she was perplexed, irate over one of my ineptitudes, or worried over her youngest sister’s folly. But what I saw in her expression was pure misery.
I took her hand and stepped closer. “I intend to make her my sister,” I said gently.
A sob escaped, her face crumbled, and though she tried, I would not let her turn away from me. “I have never yet spoken these words, Elizabeth, not even privately to myself. I wanted your ears to be the first to hear me tell you of my constancy, of my regard, of my irrevocable devotion. To say I love you would be to cruelly lessen what I feel.”
She threw her arms around my neck and held me so fiercely, I struggled to breathe. “But why are you weeping, love?” I whispered in her ear, and she cried even harder.
I wrapped her in my coat and chuckled at heradorable loss of composure, her storm of relief, the release of feelings I did not know she harboured. She could not have spoken a clearer declaration to me, and when she was spent and sagging in my arms, I held her more gently and with a chuckle, I teased the last of the tears from her eyes.
“Did you think I loved Jane, you idiot?” I brushed a few strands of hair off her cheek before I kissed it.
“You wrote her a letter,” she said irritably into her handkerchief. “And I came upon you in the parlour before you left for Pemberley, making her promise to write with her hand in yours.”
“I made her promise to write to me should she have need of me. I care for her as much as I care for my own sister. And though she did promise, it was you who wrote and not to me.”
She wiped her eyes, took possession of my arm and said, “Would you believe me if I told you I prayed that letter would fall into your hands?”
“It did. Your father handed it to me in a moment of despair.”
“I am glad he did.” She slanted a quick glance at me before looking up and squinting at the clouds. “Will you marry me, Mr Darcy?”
“My word, but you are abrupt, miss. Are you asking whether that is my intention, or are you in fact making me a proposal of marriage?”
She looked away as though annoyed, but I sensed the trepidation beneath her bravado. I could not help but smile when she sniffed and said, “I believe I am telling you what I expect of you, sir.”
“In that case, does Easter suit? I have written to my cousin, who is with his regiment on the Continent, to request he get leave for that time.”
She looked at me in a flash of surprise. “Does he know that we are to marry?”
“I did not know myself until you told me so just now. On hope alone, I asked him to come, because I want him to stand up with me.”
“And had I refused you?”
“I would have needed him to console me.”
“Perhaps you might try not to have an answer for everything,” she said.
“I could but no. I mean to stun you whenever possible, which I expect will be at a rate of one to twenty.”
“Do I stun you so regularly?”
“I have often left here dazzled, blinded, burnt, and insensible. You are a bolt of lightning, my love.”
“I am the least comfortable sister, I am afraid. The neighbourhood will be shocked and disappointed at our news. Any day now, they expect to hear that you are to marry Jane, who is a great favourite with everyone.” She stopped abruptly, her face fell, and I smiled to think I could read her as easily now as she had always read me.
“I have spoken of all this to your sister. She assures me of her regard and nothing more, and also of her imperviousness to the speculations of your neighbours. Our news will not injure her. And more to the purpose, when at the lowest point in my life, I went to your father to tell him I had raised expectations that I must out of duty satisfy, he refused his consent.”
“What?”
“He would not allow me to marry on principle alone and maintained his eldest daughter only held me in esteem. He claimed to have rethought the institution of marriage, and he believes that more is required than mere equity between parties. As for the wild expectations of your neighbours, you have him to thank, for he made a great show of saying farewell to Sir William Lucas and showing me off as though I were already his son.”
