“Well said, Mr Darcy.”
“Fitzwilliam,” he corrected. “Let us not surrender a single step of the progress we have made thus far.”
“Fitzwilliam,” she agreed. She spoke his name in such a manner that he scarcely restrained himself from rising and taking her into his arms. He desired her like a madman, and for the first time since he had known her, he could acknowledge that truth he had refused to contemplate for so long.
Looking at her, at her smile, and seeing the future somewhat more clearly, he allowed himself a little more playfulness.
“What remains, dear lady? What else could you possibly give me?”
“I am an accomplished woman,” she declared with such solemn emphasis that he burst into laughter once more. It did not suit her in the least, yet she was delightful in the role…in any role, in fact.
“I grant you that, but I doubt you would achieve great success in ordering a feast for a hundred guests at Pemberley…if I agreed to marry you, of course.”
“I should have Mama to assist me…”
“No feasts at Pemberley,” he decided. “At least not during the first year. But you, being accomplished, are a gift I gladly take.”
"I will be Georgiana's sister," she said, and his heart ached with happiness at those words.
"That I accept with gratitude," he murmured. "You are a very skilful negotiator, Miss Elizabeth…But still it is not enough."
"My body?" she said, and deliciously blushed, as it was the first time in her life she had dared to be so bold with a man. But looking at him, she finally accepted he was not just any man but the love of her life and the man who would, probably after that interrogation, propose to her.
To her surprise, he failed to answer; her words had shocked him. He looked at her body, nodded then replied in a strange, harsh tone, "We will discuss this point later, Miss Elizabeth…though not much later, this 'body conversation' is essential to me."
Still blushing and yet certain of its meaning, she murmured, "So it is for me."
Looking at her, feeling the promises in those words, he knew for certain that she would be a good wife and a marvellous mother, but also the woman he had never dreamt might one day belong to him, full of passion, the one who would surrender to his love while conquering him at every moment.
"My trousseau?" she finally said, to dissipate, for a few moments, the incredible emotion that had engulfed them both.
And he laughed again, "No, Miss Elizabeth, in that direction I think it is better not to offer anything—"
"What are you saying? That I am not elegant or properly dressed?"
She was falsely angry, but it suited her as well.
"Properly dressed…perhaps, elegantly…well, your future husband, whoever he might be, will have to allocate an important sum to arrive at elegantly."
“Well, then wish for him to be rich.”
He saw her laughing and grinned, for she was mocking him, and nothing delighted him more.
They stood in silence for a few moments, and she murmured, “No trousseau then, but I could bring my father's bookcase and help fill the one at Pemberley.”
Her voice faltered. More than anything, she wished that Mr Bennet could have given her away to this man who resembled him in so many respects. She wished her adored father could have witnessed her happiness and shared in it.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Elizabeth Bennet,” he whispered, “if I see a sole tear on your countenance because you are remembering Mr Bennet, I shall rise from this chair, take you into my arms, and…never discover the whole truth.”
“I offer my love,” she said, and the tears began to fall.
In a single movement, he rose and gathered her into his arms, for that was the only thing he had been waiting to hear.
His arms closed around her with feverish urgency, yet once they stood together, they paused to savour the extraordinary sensation of simply being near one another. Their happiness was all the greater because, in one way or another, both had refused to imagine what it might be like to belong to each other.
The stillness did not last. Suddenly, it was no longer enough merely to touch. They wanted far more. The arms that had first enclosed her tenderly drew her nearer still, until theyreached that impossible point at which love seems to abolish all distance. His lips left burning traces along her neck, and Elizabeth, who until then had only imagined love, discovered that reality was something entirely different and overwhelming. When his lips finally claimed hers, a moment of panic seized her, but he whispered that she need only trust him, and she surrendered herself completely to his care.
