Page 50 of Conundrums & Coincidences

Without as much as a glance in his direction, she told him she was grateful for the information, but she spoke between shuddering breaths.

“What is it? Tell me, and I shall do my utmost to alleviate your suffering.”

Shaking her head, she peered at the ground beneath her feet.

“Elizabeth, look at me.”

She would not, so Darcy stepped round and searched her countenance for signs of distress. As he expected, tears glistened in her dark eyes. Decorum be damned! He enfolded her in his arms. “Whatever it is, you may depend on me. I love you, Elizabeth, now and for evermore. Allow me to share in your troubles. Together we shall banish them.”

She sniffled but remained silent.

“Come now, madam. I shall not go away until you confide in me. I shall cling to you as tenaciously as sugary-sweet comforts stick to Jimmy’s teeth.”

She giggled into his chest, then looked up at him. “Very well. You deserve to know the truth, but prepare yourself for something dreadful. I mean it this time.”

“My constitution is in fine fettle, and I have strong shoulders. Let me bear this dreadful burden of yours.” He touched his forehead to hers.

“My father said you hinted at having formed an interest…in me.”

“Interest is putting it mildly. As recently avowed, I love you.” Darcy held his breath, waiting, hoping, to hear those three little words repeated back to him.

“It may be rather presumptuous, Mr Darcy, but I have been expecting…or, rather, hoping to receive another⁠—”

“Marry me.”

Her eyes grew bigger. “That is what I have been hoping, and dreading, to hear you say.”

“Dreading?” Darcy thought he might be sick, and he took a step backwards. Please, not another rejection!

Catching both his hands, she gave his arms a shake and would not let go. “I would love to marry you, but⁠—”

“But?” It was the worst, the best, the most confusing few moments of his life. But? What condition will be attached to her acceptance? Why was the confounding woman hoping for his proposal but also dreading it? Never had he felt so distressed, then happy, then vulnerable.

“My father may not grant his consent for us to marry.”

He nearly laughed in relief. “What do you mean? Of course he will. I am the sort of gentleman no father would dare refuse, unless he be a duke or a monarch…or mad. In fact, your father wished me good luck, if matrimony was my intent.” He frowned. “Oh. He did not mean it in that way, did he?” He gave her fingers a little squeeze. “No matter. Eventually we shall win him over. Trust me.”

“I do trust you, sir. And only with trust can there be respect. And only with respect can there be love. I trust, respect, and love you, Mr Darcy.”

He was certain his smile grew wider than either Mr Bingley’s or Mr Hadley’s. “Then trust me to make your father change his mind.”

“’Tis doubtful he will.”

“Why is he so opposed to me?”

“Oh, let me count the reasons. And I apologise in advance if what I am about to say causes you pain.”

“Fine fettle, strong shoulders. Remember?”

“You looked ready to swoon a minute ago.”

Darcy drew himself up. “Gentlemen do not swoon.”

“To be on the safe side, perhaps we should sit.” She let go of one of his hands, turned him round, and led him to a bench beneath a massive but lopsided mulberry.

Once seated, she enumerated her father’s objections while counting them upon her fingers. “One, he believes I still dislike you. I tried to convince him otherwise. Two, he thinks that because you could not win the tournament yourself, you intend to seize Miss Armstrong’s legacy by marrying me. He will not give his consent because once I marry, my husband will have control of my property. Three, he remembers that I was not handsome enough to tempt you.”

Darcy tried to interrupt, but she held up a hand, forestalling him.