Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
After her conversation with Lady Acaster, Elizabeth found herself filled with a strange, restless energy.
Unable to remain indoors, she seized her art materials and told her aunt of her intention to walk towards the steward’s cottage.
Not giving herself time to reconsider, Elizabeth’s feet transported her through the gardens, past the gate that led to the perimeter of the shadowy woods until she reached a fork in the path.
She recalled Georgiana at the assembly, bravely standing up after she had fallen, her face determined to overcome her embarrassment.
I have survived far worse. Georgiana’s words echoed in Elizabeth’s ears.
Resolved to conquer her past, Elizabeth made her way, as she had five years ago, towards the clearing where the steward’s cottage stood.
She waited for the overwhelming sense of panic to descend, as it had before, but nothing happened.
Her breath remained steady; her head was clear.
Reaching the red-brick building, she saw, with relief, that it was not precisely as she remembered.
An abundance of flowers filled the cottage garden that lined one side of the house, and there was a new stable to the right of the main building.
Miss McKinnon came out of the cottage to greet her, and by the heaving of her sizeable bosom she was highly complimented by Elizabeth’s request to sketch her home.
Despite Elizabeth’s protests, a chair was fetched from the house, so she drew in silence as a maid went about feeding the chickens that scurried across the modest yard.
Time passed with indiscriminate speed. Light changed from bright to shadowy according to the movement of the scudding clouds, and still Elizabeth drew and drew until finally peace fell in waves over her body and her hands stilled.
There was nothing to fear here. Mr Wickham was gone, never to hurt her again.
In her aunt, she knew herself to be loved; in Georgiana, she had found a sister.
And Mr Darcy… There would be a way to vanquish this strange wild feeling, and one day she would discover it.
Packing up her materials, she thanked Miss McKinnon, awkwardly offering her one of the little sketches of the cottage, which was received with more gratitude than Elizabeth thought necessary.
Making her way back, the path took her through one final turn to the point where the trees ended and the grass began.
A stone wall with an iron gate marked the entrance of the formal gardens.
Deep crimson roses crept up the stones, the petals blanketing the ground with soft colour.
She stopped, considering whether to recommence her drawing.
Footsteps echoed in the space beyond, and the gate creaked to reveal Mr Darcy; his face was flushed, his chest heaving.
He stopped still when he caught sight of her.
Alarmed by his sudden appearance, she exclaimed, “Good heavens, what is the matter? Is Georgiana ill?”
“No.” He caught his breath. “Your aunt told me of your intention to visit the cottage, and knowing of its significance, I could not be easy at the notion of you going there on your own.”
His thoughtfulness alone would have made her cry, but the protective tone of his voice caused tears to spring to her eyes.
“I am just returning.” She held up her drawing books, her breath shaking. “I have been sketching.”
His shoulders eased. “Do you wish for company?”
“Yes, if it is yours,” she said, blinking away her tears and forcing herself to be bold.
His dark eyes gleamed, and he stepped towards her. “What did you sketch?” he said gently.
“The cottage and its grounds,” she replied, willing her voice to remain steady. “The new steward has a beautiful garden, stuffed with more blooms than I thought possible for Derbyshire.”
“And how do you feel now that you have been there?”
“Better,” she said with truth. “Stronger would be the most apt description. I faced my fears and realised that I am not the same lost girl that I once was. I am ready to face the world, whatever my future holds in store.”
“I am pleased to find you in good spirits. I was worried that—” A shadow crossed his face. “I have spoken to my cousin regarding his deplorable conduct. He begs for your forgiveness.”
“We are resolved to be friends. There is nothing but good-will in my heart for the colonel, and I wish him well in his forthcoming marriage. I am glad that he has found his father’s approval, for he has long coveted it. What a shame it is that their bond had to be forged in mutual grief.”
“You are more generous than he deserves.” Light danced in Mr Darcy’s eyes. “A tragedy should not be required to compel people to learn what truly matters to them.”
Elizabeth’s mouth ran dry. “Yes.” She held his gaze.
“We should speak whatever is in our hearts and not wait for the moment to pass us by.” She gestured at the roses, which shivered softly in the summer breeze.
“A rose’s bloom is a delicate and wonderful thing, but it cannot last forever.
You and I have both suffered enough disappointment to know that one must seize every chance of happiness wherever possible. ”
Mr Darcy stared at the twisted vines, tracing his hands across the blood-red petals.
In an arrested voice, he said, “I never realised how many different flowers there were at Pemberley. I perceived them from afar, but I never acknowledged their splendour.” He looked deep into her eyes.
“There was so much beauty in front of me, and I never saw it until you came into my life and forced me to notice.”
Elizabeth made a small murmur of protest, but he held up a hand in a silent plea to let him continue.
“I spent so long being busy living up to my father’s legacy that I did not consider what he truly taught me, which was to find the joy in all things.
For years, I have been like a man half dead, my heart so closed that I had no notion of what I was missing. ”
His voice lowered, and he closed the distance between them. “So many of my painful memories have been locked away that I had forgotten the happier moments also. When you are near me, I am reminded of everything that is precious and wonderful about life.”
“What are you saying?”
“Do not go to London.” His voice commanded, but his eyes begged. “Stay and teach me how to love, for I cannot imagine my existence without you by my side.”
A tear ran down Elizabeth’s cheek. With a gentle touch, he brushed it away, cupping her face with his hand.
“Yesterday, I said that you need not hide your true feelings from me, but in truth it is my feelings that will not be repressed. Allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. Permit me the greatest honour of becoming your family. Respectfully, I request the privilege of your hand in marriage.”
The world around her melted away. It was as though she were in a dream, one that she never wished to be woken from. Unable to contain her happiness, she placed her hand over his. “Even if it meant that Pemberley was full of flowers?”
A smile touched his lips. “I shall order drawing books for every room. Even the larder will not be safe.”
“And would you not mind if your poor feet might be trodden on during every dance?”
“As long as you are my partner, I hardly think it would matter.”
Laughter burst from her. “So you do find me clumsy, then?”
“No, you are ridiculously elegant. I sometimes wonder whether your feet touch the ground, you move so effortlessly.”
“Do you know, it feels as though I am floating now.”
“It does?”
Elizabeth nodded, hardly able to trust herself to breathe. “I did not know it was possible to be so happy. My heart feels as though it might burst.”
“As does mine.”
She raised her other hand and, with a braveness that surprised them both, placed it on his chest. Underneath the soft layers of his clothes and hard planes of muscles drummed an unsteady, racing tattoo.
Raising her chin, she half-smiled, half-laughed through her tears.
He gazed down at her, a lifetime of love reflecting in his eyes.
Reverently, he covered her hand with his, taking her other one until both were in his gentle clasp.
Bending low, he turned them over and placed a lingering caress upon her wrist. “I can feel your heart beating here.” He smiled tenderly before softly kissing the other. “And here.”
“You must be very careful with my heart,” she whispered, her pulse fluttering, her joy uncontained. “For it belongs to you.”
Then his lips touched hers, and she was lost to his embrace.
Darcy could not remember the journey back to the house. All he knew was that in his hand lay Elizabeth’s, and she had consented to be his wife. There could be no better feeling.
As they walked up the gravel towards Pemberley’s entrance, Elizabeth turned to him, mischief in her expression. “What will your servants say when they see us arrive together like this?”
“I imagine they will be speculating what changes will be made now that Pemberley is to have a mistress.”
“Goodness, yes. I must be sure to make a good impression—what a shame most of them have witnessed me climb half the trees on the estate, my hair full of twigs. How am I to instil any kind of deference amongst your household?”
Darcy chuckled. “Only half the trees? I had thought you climbed them all.”
“I cannot decide whether that observation is a compliment or an insult.” Her eyes danced in the way that so bewitched him.
Unable to resist his beloved Elizabeth any longer, Darcy stopped in front of Pemberley; his hands fell about her waist, and he gently pulled her towards him.
She gave a spluttering laugh. “Darcy, what are you doing?”
His name on her lips sent fire through his veins.
“That which I have longed to do for many months,” he replied, his heart leaping as she willingly yielded into his embrace.
Reverently, he kissed her, not caring who saw them, for she was his, just as ardently and as passionately as he was hers.
Almost dizzy with elation, he pulled away, unable to stop his mouth widening into a ridiculous grin.
He cupped her cheek in his hand, revelling in the softness of her skin.
“Besides, I am betrothed to the handsomest woman of my acquaintance—who also happens to be the kindest, cleverest, and loveliest person I have ever met. Is this not an occasion where I might be allowed to show my affections?”
She smiled up at him. “And I thought I was marrying a serious, reserved man! How surprised I am to uncover this new demonstrative side to you!”
“The openness I feel at expressing my joy is down to you, my love. All this elation is entirely your fault.”
Elizabeth’s eyes creased affectionately. “It suits you so well that I shall not apologise for it.” She leant in, whispering, her voice full of tenderness, “How lucky that you inspire the same sentiments in me.”
He kissed her once more, reassuringly, on her forehead. “Much as I enjoy being so agreeably detained, there are many people with whom I wish to share my enormous good fortune. Come, love, and let us tell the others.”
As they reached the main entrance, Mr Talbot opened the door to them both, a merry glint in his eye as he bowed courteously to Elizabeth.
Hand in hand, Darcy and Elizabeth walked along the corridor. He stole a look at her—she had not stopped grinning since they entered the house. “What are you thinking that has put such gladness on your face?”
“Can you not guess?” she replied playfully. “Or do you mean to fish for compliments until I am forced to admit you make me the happiest creature in the world?”
“I would never compel you to do such a thing.” He leant in to place a lingering kiss at the top of her delicate neck, marvelling at how she shivered under his touch.
“But be aware that your happiness is of the utmost importance to me, and I plan to treasure you so dearly that you will have no choice but to be unbearably content.”
A delicious blush blossomed across Elizabeth’s—his Elizabeth’s—cheeks.
“I must admit, you have managed rather well thus far,” she whispered, her dark lashes fluttering.
“However, a marriage is a mutual partnership of willing hearts, and I find myself eager to provoke a smile upon that handsome face of yours.” Raising herself on tiptoe, she placed an equally gentle kiss upon his lips.
“Whom shall we tell first—Lady Acaster or your sister?”
He laughed. “If I do not tell Georgiana of our marriage before anyone else, I shall never be forgiven!”
A dimple peeped above the corner of Elizabeth’s mouth. “And what makes you think I would escape my aunt’s wrath at finding herself second-place?”
They stopped outside the music room, female conversation echoing under the door.
Elizabeth gazed up at Darcy, her eyes shining with anticipation at sharing news that would only bring joy to the loved ones on the other side.
Unable to resist her, Darcy swept Elizabeth into his arms, pouring all the love in his heart into a passionate embrace.
Reluctantly, he pulled away, resting his forehead on hers, their noses nearly touching.
“How fortunate it is that we are able to tell them together.”
And he took her hand into his, raising it to his lips, and opened the door, eager to share his news with the two people to whom it would bring untold delight.