Chapter 38
Drawing Room
Thirty Minutes Later
The door opened and Elizabeth, who had been staring blankly out the window at a mostly cloudless sky and thinking hard, turned and rose to her feet instantly.
“Mr. Darcy,” the butler announced and withdrew, though he left the door open.
“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” the visitor said. “I know I have arrived somewhat early, but I was wondering if you would care to take a walk in Hyde Park before it grows too crowded.”
Elizabeth smiled enthusiastically, “I would enjoy that. Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”
Within a few minutes, she had donned pelisse and gloves and hat and was eagerly walking arm in arm with Mr. Darcy toward the park.
A breeze, cool rather than cold, caressed them on its way past, and Elizabeth tilted her face gratefully into it, smiling happily as they walked.
The early sun was lightly warm on her back, the sky above an arch of pale blue as it shook off its coat of the previous day’s clouds.
There were not yet too many people around, and the traffic traversing the road was light.
Mr. Darcy glanced in both directions and stepped off the curb, Elizabeth’s arm snug and secure in his.
They attained the gate of Hyde Park without incident, stepping within that oasis of nature in the heart of the bustling city.
If the activity of the population had been sparse on the road before the park, it was even less so within those graceful acres.
Only a few wanderers meandered along the paths at some little distance from Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, far enough away that it was easy to focus on the singing of the birds in all the full-leafed trees, while humming insects buzzed busily from one massive clump of blossoms to another.
The flowerbeds had exploded in a riot of color, pinks and purples and yellows bright as sunshine or deep as gold, whites and reds, and even hues of blue.
The breeze whispered among the branches of the trees, no longer winter-bare or gowned in the green mist of early springtime buds, but mantled elegant and bright in their unfurled spring foliage.
Elizabeth looked about herself with great enjoyment as the pair strolled the gravel paths.
Through the clustered trunks of the trees, she could see the waters of the Serpentine, glittering in the early morning sun like diamonds in the light of a ballroom chandelier.
Far down the path, another couple crossed and vanished once more into the shrubbery, leaving Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy in blessed solitude.
They proceeded at a slow, companionable pace, Elizabeth grateful for their isolation.
It would not be so that afternoon; all the Tulips and Blades and fashionable young ladies would be out walking and riding and driving and being driven, seeing and being seen, filling the park in a well-dressed swarm.
She glanced up at her companion, who was looking at her, and said, “Thank you so much for bringing me here. It is wonderful to be out in the fresh air, in all this beauty.”
“It is my honor,” he replied, and his tone was so fervent that she felt herself shiver a little.
They walked a few more steps, arm in arm, and then the gentleman stopped and turned to face her. “Miss Elizabeth?”
She frowned in confusion. “Yes?”
He stared at her for a long moment, and then he reached out his gloved hands toward her. She held out her own, and she shivered again at the feeling of those strong fingers through two layers of leather.
“I love you,” he said simply.
The breath whooshed out of her lungs, and she felt the blood drain out of her cheeks.
“What?” she whispered.
His own face was pale now, and he said, with a slight tremor in his voice, “I am sorry. I … I tried to practice what to say, but I was so … let me begin again. Miss Elizabeth, I fell in love with you last autumn. I thought perhaps it was a passing infatuation, and then my steward died, and I was forced to return home to Pemberley. All winter I thought of you and even dreamed of you. But I wondered, really wondered, if I was in love with a lady, or a figment of my own imagination. And then my sisters and I returned to London, and the moment I saw you again, I knew … I knew, that you were the only woman in the world for me, that I want, above all things, for you to be my wife. But when Richard told me of your wealth, I realized that you would have attention, and likely offers, from viscounts and barons, and while I am wealthy, I have no title. I know I am not particularly easy in company and sometimes give offense without meaning to, but…”
She released one hand and lifted it in a staying gesture, and he fell silent, his expression contorted with anxiety.
A small part of her could not believe that she had received two offers of marriage already this morning.
The larger part, though, was aware of a profound feeling of genuine joy.
She smiled up at him, and the anxiety on his countenance shifted to hope.
“Mr. Darcy,” she replied, “I confess to being very surprised at your admiration, but I am also incredibly honored.”
Hope gave way to a blank expression, matched to sorrowful eyes. “But you do not love me.”
“On the contrary, I think perhaps I do,” Elizabeth said a moment later, in a rather surprised voice.
She had not known before this that any man could be quite as handsome as Mr. Darcy when he smiled like that.
“Will you be my wife, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked softly.
She hesitated and then said, “Do you mind if I … that is, you have taken me by surprise. I did not truly know you admired me until this very hour, though I had hoped it might be true. I believed you thought of me only as a friend of your own sisters. I am almost certain that I wish to be your wife, but I would like to speak to my mother about it. Do you mind?”
He shook his head immediately and said, “Of course I do not. But may I ask … is there anyone else whom you, that is … oh, I do not deserve an answer to that question. Forgive me.”
She smiled and said, “There is no one else, Mr. Darcy, I promise you. My cousin Zachary made me a marriage offer this very morning, but he was very honest that it would be a marriage of convenience. I refused, and he was even grateful, as his family had pressured him to make the offer. Although I have been surrounded by suitors, I have no particular admiration for any of them.”
Her companion studied her carefully. “Mr. Rutherford will eventually be Viscount Langdon.”
“Yes,” she agreed, pulling her left hand away to begin walking again. Darcy’s legs were so long that he caught up with her in seconds, and he tucked her arm once more into his.
It felt so good, so very right, that she was tempted to accept his offer instantly, but she wanted to talk to her mother, and to consider, and to pray. She had to be entirely certain.
Even now, she was mostly sure, though she could scarcely believe Mr. Darcy had truly asked for her hand.
“I have no desire to wed based on attaining a certain position in Society,” she said firmly. “I want to love my husband. I want to be a friend to my husband. I want to marry a man who is intelligent, and hardworking, and diligent in the care of his dependents. You are all those things and more.”
His left hand reached over to pat her arm, and they walked on in silence, both smiling joyfully.
***
Mrs. Bennet’s Dressing Room
The Bennets’ Hired House
Midnight
Annabelle Bennet sat at her dressing table brushing her hair.
She had dismissed her maid for the evening to finish her toilette herself, and her nightcap lay conveniently close to her elbow.
She had come to value these late evening moments of reflection, a chance to slow down and ponder after very full days.
It was another late night tonight and would be again tomorrow.
The clock read a few minutes after midnight; this time the previous evening, they had still been at Mrs. Sowell’s ball.
Mrs. Bennet had attempted to have a restful day for herself and the girls today.
They had all slept in and broken their fast fashionably late before sallying forth around noon to visit Hookham’s library.
None of them had much leisure for reading anymore, but all of them, and especially Lizzy, wished to do so when they had a spare moment for it.
At any rate, the hushed atmosphere of the library was a welcome change from the endless chatter and music of balls and parties.
That had been Mrs. Bennet’s idea, at least. In truth, there was no escaping their ever-expanding circle of acquaintances.
Two matrons had recognized the Bennets almost as soon as they had attained the library and had hurried over to greet them.
Elizabeth was universally popular and approved by young gentlemen and their mothers alike.
Mrs. Bennet had met the matrons’ sons, and while they were undeniably eligible, she would not encourage Elizabeth to invite their attentions.
Poor Elizabeth! If Mrs. Bennet found the incessant fascination with her heiress daughter tiresome, how much more did Lizzy find it so!
Extricating themselves at last from that conversation, each of the Bennet ladies had selected a book and proceeded on towards the dressmaker’s shop.
For all they had purchased an entire wardrobe from the dressmaker in Meryton, now that they were in the very heart of the whirl of a London Season, they found themselves in need of additional gowns.
A pleasant hour had been spent picking fabric and being fitted for two more dresses for each lady.