"I love you," he said. "And if I leave this garden without asking you, I shall regret it for the rest of my life."
Anne's lips parted, but before she could answer, George sank to one knee in the damp grass and took her hand. "I had meant to do this properly," he said, looking up at her. "I had meant to speak to your father first, to choose my words with greater care and to avoid proposing while several of the highest-ranking people in England gawped at me from Lady Hortensia's lawn."
The sight of him there, his breathing still uneven from running after her and one knee already darkening with mud, undid the last of Anne's anger. She moved closer, her fingers tightening around his.
Then George remembered the ring. A sudden look of alarm crossed his face, and he released her hand only long enough to reach inside his coat. The small leather box was still there. He drew it out with such visible relief that Anne gave a breathless laugh.
"I sent Simmins back to Pemberley for this yesterday," he said. "I had hoped to speak to your father this evening."
He opened the box. The emerald caught the afternoon light, deep green at its centre and surrounded by a close circle of small diamonds. For a moment Anne could only stare.
"You had already decided," she said softly.
"I had hoped," George replied. "I would never presume to decide for you."
He lifted the ring between his fingers, though his hand was no longer entirely steady.
"Anne, I do not know what the future will ask of us, but I know I want every part of it with you. I want to spend the rest of my life trying to deserve the happiness you have already given me. Will you be my wife?"
She looked down at him for a long moment, while the sounds from the lawn faded behind them. Then she held out her left hand.
"Yes," she said. "Though you must never let me win again."
The breath left him in a laugh. "I give you my word."
He slid the emerald onto her finger and rose quickly, catching her about the waist when she stepped into him. Anne put both hands against his face and kissed him before he could say anything more.
A cheer rose from the bowling lawn. George glanced back and saw the company gathered along its edge, with Lady Hortensia at their centre and Mr Pritchard still holding the open ledger.
"You had better kiss me again," Anne said. "We may as well give them something worth watching."
Chapter Twenty
By the time the company had finished taking refreshments, the music room had been arranged for the debate.
The pianoforte had been pushed back against the wall and the rows of gilt chairs usually reserved for concerts had been turned to face the shallow alcove at the front of the room. There, two low platforms had been placed several yards apart, each furnished with a narrow table and a glass of water. They faced the company at a slight angle, close enough that the speakers might address one another without raising their voices, though far enough apart to give the proceedings an appearance of proper formality.
Mr Pritchard stood between them beside the Challenge ledger. Lady Hortensia had taken possession of a seat at the centre of the front row, her cane resting across her knees and an expression of bright anticipation upon her face. She had spent the interval refusing to reveal the subject of the debate, though Harriet had attempted to extract it from her by means of extreme flattery. The attempt had only caused the older woman to laugh and bat her away.
The competitors crowded into the chairs before them, the ladies gathering towards Elizabeth's side and the gentlemen towards Darcy's, though the division was no longer particularly orderly. Colonel Fitzwilliam had chosen a seat close to Jane, while Mr Hadley had contrived to sit directly behind Mrs Cartwright. The Blackwood brothers occupied the back row, where they were exchanging wagers in low voices over which captain would speak longest.
Elizabeth made her way towards the front with Lady Frances, conscious of a pleasant flutter beneath her ribs. She had always enjoyed a debate, particularly when her opponent was intelligent enough to make victory uncertain. That Mr Darcy was also looking exceptionally handsome, with only one dark curl disturbed by his recent elevation, was a consideration she attempted to put aside.
He detached himself from the gentlemen as she approached and came to meet her between the platforms.
"I hope you have recovered from your triumph," Elizabeth said, a laugh escaping her. "You bore your honours with admirable dignity."
"I was not aware that you were admiring anything, Elizabeth. You seemed chiefly occupied in laughing at me."
Before she could answer, Darcy took her hand. The gesture was confident enough to surprise her, though there was nothinghurried in it. His lips touched the back of her glove and remained there just long enough to send a rush of warmth up her arm.
The effect upon the company was immediate.
"Steady, Darcy!" called Colonel Fitzwilliam. "The debate has not yet begun."
James Blackwood gave a loud approving whistle, while Mr Hadley called from the second row, "A bold opening argument, sir. I confess myself almost persuaded."
Harriet clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, excellent! Do it again."
