Page 8 of Elizabeth Bennet Says Yes to Mr. Darcy

“No.”

“You are becoming adventurous.”

I let him have his irony. Nothing, not even Lady Catherine’s anger, could touch the calm happiness settling within me.

Yet one phrase of Elizabeth’s kept returning: My family is facing a difficulty.

She had refused my help before even knowing I loved her. Her pride pleased me as much as it worried me. I would have to wait for her to confide in me. I had promised to respect her limits, and I intended to keep my word.

“Do you know her well?” Fitzwilliam asked.

“Well enough to wish to spend my life knowing her better.”

He looked at me with unfeigned surprise.

“God be praised, Darcy. So you are capable of poetry.”

“Tell no one.”

He laughed again, then grew more serious.

“She will make you happy, if you allow her to remain herself.”

“I would not want her otherwise.”

This answer was true. She had given me her conditions as other women offer promises. I wanted neither feigned docility nor blind admiration. I wanted her bright eyes when she prepared a retort, her judgment even when it condemned me, her courage to say what others left unsaid.

I also wanted her mouth.

The thought struck me with a force that made me turn away. When I had held her hand, I had needed every ounce of will not to draw her against me. She would be my wife. I would have the right, one day, to discover the softness of her lips, the warmth of her skin, the body hidden beneath her dresses.

But she did not love me.

I would take nothing she did not give freely.

“You are very silent for a happy man,” Fitzwilliam observed.

“I am learning to be one.”

The next morning, I left Rosings before breakfast. I knew where Elizabeth liked to walk. I had the decency not to pretend our meeting was fortuitous.

She appeared at the turn of the path, dressed in a light gown and a brown pelisse. The wind had loosened a lock of hair near her temple. My first impulse was to brush it back. I kept my hands behind my back.

“You’re up early,” she said.

“You gave me reason to hope for this meeting.”

“I didn’t realize Mr. Darcy’s hope was so obedient to the clock.”

“It has waited several months. It feels it has suffered enough.”

Her eyes widened, then she smiled. This smile, softer than her usual ones, confirmed I hadn’t dreamed the night before.

We walked.

“Have you regretted your answer?” I asked.

She turned her head sharply toward me.