Chapter 22 #2
The next day, Mr Bingley returned, informing them that his sisters had returned to London on some urgent matter.
Mr Darcy was still kept away with business, but this time, Elizabeth was not concerned, as she knew the reason.
The news of Jane’s engagement to Mr Bingley spread throughout Meryton, and rumours arrived, through the young Jeffrey Lucas, that Mr Wickham might leave the regiment, but Mrs Bennet dismissed it immediately, proclaiming that the young man drank too much and was too much of a gossip.
In the afternoon, the weather was warm, perfect for another stroll in the garden.
This time, Jane relied only on her betrothed’s support, holding his arm with both hands.
Elizabeth was keeping them company, walking a few steps behind, when Mr Darcy arrived.
He joined their group directly and immediately congratulated Jane on her engagement.
They continued walking together, around the perimeter of the garden, then the betrothed couple expressed a wish to rest a while on a bench, holding hands, while the other two continued their stroll.
“Mr Bingley is indeed impulsive in his actions. Even I was surprised by his proposal,” Elizabeth said. “However, I am certain this decision will ensure him a happy life.”
“I trust you are right. I was surprised too when he revealed his intentions.”
“Did you not object?”
“I promised you I should not if I had proof otherwise.”
“So you trusted my words so much that you based your judgment on them?”
“I did. I am obliged to since I intend to spend the rest of my life trusting your words.”
His tone was teasing, and so was the little smile on his lips. Those lips that had kissed her palm and had been torturing her for days. But the gravity of his words could not be concealed behind a joke.
“You do?” she whispered.
“Did I not express myself clearly enough when we last spoke?”
“No, what you said was clear. But you left out the most important part. The most important question,” she replied, casting another glance at him out of the corner of her eye. He was still smiling.
“Yes, I allowed the rain to interrupt me — a decision for which I have blamed myself ever since. I should have…”
He paused, gazing ahead; she waited for him to continue, then urged him impatiently.
“Yes? You surely will not allow another interruption. You do not even have the excuse of bad weather.”
He turned to look at her. “I was pondering whether I am allowed to speak my mind. We agreed on being honest, but some thoughts cannot be shared until one is at least engaged.”
“Oh…so are we at a dead lock, sir? There are things that must be said in order to become engaged, but you cannot say them because we are not engaged? I dare say Mr Bingley resolved this matter much more quickly and easily.”
He smiled, glancing at her again. They were only steps away from the other couple and in full view of the house.
“Perhaps I am not as good with words as Bingley. Or perhaps I feel too much to say more.”
He paused again, with another dark, meaningful gaze. They were teasing each other; it was a delicious torture, but her enjoyment was mixed with nervousness.
“What I meant, Miss Bennet, is that I should not have allowed the rain to interrupt our previous conversation. I should have found shelter for both of us in that cottage, I should have lit the fire to dry our clothes and warm ourselves…and then I should have told you how ardently I love and admire you and begged you to agree to become my wife. That is, of course, unless you had forbidden such confessions.”
She listened, amazed, thrilled, doubtful that he would tease her in that manner, quivers running down her spine and her cheeks burning.
“Yes, you should have,” she whispered. “I can think of no better circumstance for such a confession. And no, I would certainly not have forbidden it.”
“Then…should we wait until it rains again? Or may we consider that I have already said it? That I have asked you?”
With little consideration that they might be seen, she stopped walking and turned to face him. It was nearly sunset, the daylight had faded, and she felt an impulse to touch his handsome face.
“Mr Darcy, have you thought thoroughly about what such an engagement would mean? Is this proposal not induced by some old sense of gratitude?”
“Miss Bennet, I have done little else but think of it since I arrived in Hertfordshire, day and night. Any gratitude — though still vivid — has been long put aside. The feelings I have been struggling with for a while were born in the present, and I cannot imagine my future without you. But all depends on your feelings, on your desires.”
“Oh…I should answer you, should I not? My feelings… I cannot find words to express them. Maybe I shall — later. But now I am so confused…and so happy. My answer is yes, Mr Darcy, as you must already know.”
His countenance brightened, softened, and a smile spread across his face.
“I cannot believe I dared to begin such a conversation with you here, in your garden. I cannot believe I dared to propose to you without any regard for privacy…”
“We have enough privacy, since Jane and Mr Bingley are not listening to us and the rest of my family would never imagine we are having such a conversation,” Elizabeth said.
“So…what should we do now? I am still feeling dizzy, as if I just woke from a dream. I should go and talk to your father. Would you mind? We must be certain we have his consent, and after that, you must decide when you intend to announce the news to the rest of your family.”
Mr Darcy’s restraint and self-control had vanished; his words and gestures were all hesitant, then he suddenly turned to walk towards the house before turning back to face her and saying, “It is up to you to decide a date for our wedding, Miss…Elizabeth. I am going to speak to your father now.”
He hurried away, while Elizabeth gazed after him, biting her lower lip to be certain she was not dreaming.