Chapter 28
Elizabeth expected to not sleep at all after the ball, but exhaustion from both the dancing and anticipation overtook both her body and her mind, and she fell into a deep sleep and only woke up when the daylight tickled her face.
She actually jumped off the bed, startled, and dressed herself in some hurry.
She arranged her hair in a simple style, put in only a few pins to fix it, and tied her bonnet on top.
Jane was still resting soundly, so she closed the door carefully. All the house was still and silent, only Hill met her downstairs, watching her quizzically.
“I am going for a walk,” she explained, and the kind woman, a loyal part of the family for fifteen years, nodded, well accustomed to Elizabeth’s unladylike habits.
It was a cold day, and the ground was frozen; her brisk pace was a danger for her steadiness despite her walking boots, and she almost slipped several times.
She knew her hurry was unjustified. If he had left — or if he had not arrived yet — there would be plenty of opportunity to speak to him again, that day or in the days that followed.
And yet, the need to see him was strong, almost unreasonable, like she feared she would somehow miss her chance.
When she came near the place of their last encounter, she saw him; he seemed to be waiting for her, then stepped towards her, proving his eagerness matched hers.
“Miss Bennet!”
“Mr Darcy! Have you waited long, sir?”
“I have lost track of time. But never have I had a more pleasant wait, I assure you.”
They were facing each other, only inches apart, sharing awkward smiles and a sudden uncomfortable silence that lasted for several moments.
“I am happy to see you again and grateful that you suggested it,” he said.
“I am happy too. But you promised to not speak of gratitude again, sir,” she teased him, resorting to her usual weapon to fight her own nervousness.
“So I did. But it seems I forget myself when I am near you, Miss Bennet.”
“That is unfortunate because I feel anxious and overwhelmed…and I was counting on your self-control to remain composed.”
“I fear I shall disappoint you. My self-control betrays me when I am in your company or when I am simply thinking of you.”
“Oh…” she whispered. “You certainly do not disappoint me, Mr Darcy…”
“I have repeated so many times what I would like to tell you, Miss Bennet, yet words fail me as never before.”
“In less than two months, we have spoken so many times of so many things that most people do not share in years, if ever. We cannot say anything that would embarrass each other more than we have already done, so we should be capable of talking about anything.”
He finally smiled and took another step towards her. “Your logic is as strong as your wit, Miss Bennet. So…may I speak plainly? Unrestrainedly?”
“Of course. You have done so before when some restraint would have been welcome,” she teased him again, and he laughed out loud.
“Will you ever forgive me for calling you tolerable? Especially since you know how drastically my opinion changed soon after that unfortunate moment.”
“I have long forgiven you, sir. But I shall likely never lose an opportunity to tease you about it.”
“That, I can accept, even if I have to hear it for a lifetime.”
The innocent reply, even if said mostly in jest, was a strong statement that came a little too early in the conversation and perturbed them both.
“However, I have not forgiven Miss Bingley’s rudeness,” she jested.
“Ah, yes, Miss Bingley’s rudeness…I am afraid you must blame me for that, too.”
“Blame you, sir? How is that possible?”
He took another step towards her; his countenance was serious, but a glimpse of glee shone in his dark eyes.
“Do you remember that evening at Lucas Lodge, when Sir William suggested I should dance with you and you refused?”
She nodded, confused, failing to understand the connection.
“After you left, I was gazing after you, and Miss Bingley noticed. She asked me what I was thinking of, assuming that I was displeased with the party and that I found the company insupportable.”
“Were you?”
“Not at all. Her conjecture was totally wrong, and my mind was more agreeably engaged. Since she insisted, I explained that I had been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman could bestow. She asked me whose eyes had charmed me so, and I confessed it was yours.”
Elizabeth’s astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured, doubted — so confused that she could not even share his amusement.
“But that evening occurred before Jane and I stayed at Netherfield!”
“Yes. I am sorry that I carelessly exposed you to Miss Bingley’s jealousy.”
“Her impertinence means little to me...but…that evening at Lucas Lodge was almost at the beginning of our acquaintance. All this time you…”
She did not dare ask the questions that troubled her so deeply, and he revealed too little of what she hoped to hear.
“Yes. Almost from the beginning of our acquaintance I was enchanted by you and very soon completely bewitched as never before. So much that it frightened me, and it ruined my confidence in myself.”
“So, during my stay at Netherfield…”
“During your stay at Netherfield, Miss Bennet, I barely slept at all, thinking of you, seeking your presence and fearing your nearness. At that time, I was such a fool that I attempted to conceal my growing admiration and affection from you and even from myself. I did not know that my feelings were already deeply seeded inside me and would not be removed, nor will they fade.”
“Not for a moment have I imagined the nature of your feelings. How could I have been such a simpleton?” she asked again, gulping the lasting lump in her throat.
She lifted her face to look at him, and their gazes locked.
He took her hands in his slowly, allowing her time to reject him — but she did not, although her hands trembled.
In a moment, he took of his gloves, then hers.
It was cold outside, and she shivered, not from the chilly weather but from his burning touch.
He placed both her hands in his left palm — strong, soft, and warm — and covered it with his right one.
“My feelings were born only days after I met you. Despite my struggle to repress them, they only grew and grew, so much so that they became part of my being. I can hardly express myself so you may understand me properly.”
“You have said quite enough, and quite eloquently, and I find I now understand you perfectly, Mr Darcy,” she whispered, licking her lips which were suddenly dry. She moved her fingers within his palm, and chills ran through her.
“There is more to be said, Miss Bennet. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. More than I believed myself capable, more than I imagine a man could love.”
An expression of heartfelt delight suffused her face, matching his yearning gaze.
“Must I, Mr Darcy?” she whispered, with a little mischievous smile twisting the corner of her lips.
“I would gladly allow you, nevertheless. For several weeks now, I have wished and hoped to hear such words from you. And now, when I am listening to your profession of love, more powerful than I expected, my mind still wonders, still fears to comprehend and believe.”
“What about your heart, Miss Bennet? Does it not speak clearer than your mind? Can you not feel rather than comprehend?”
They were standing inches apart, their hands still entwined, their gazes still locked.
“My heart pounds and races too wildly to understand its voice. Until it calms a little, my trust in you will suffice. But to know that you have loved me all that time, that you loved me when you proposed to me and I answered you so unfeelingly… I cannot help asking myself how I won your affection — me, of all women — when I did nothing to deserve it. Have you not wondered yourself?”
“I have, and the answer, once I discovered it, was simple and clear. Your sparkling eyes bewitched me, your generosity and courage aroused my admiration, your affectionate behaviour towards those you love impressed me, and your wit challenged my mind. I felt you completed me, and the longing for you brought me back even when I was not certain that you wished me to return.”
“I did wish you to return — as soon as you were gone. Even if my feelings were unclear and conflicted at that time, it was beyond doubt that I missed you. I have never known the meaning of longing before — but I do now, so very clearly.”
He brought their joined hands to his lips and placed a soft kiss inside each of her palms, then on her wrists. She watched him, mesmerised, overwhelmed by the delightful yet tantalising sensation that burned her skin beneath his lips, then spread slowly inside her.
He ceased the sweet, tender torture, lifting his eyes to meet hers, glistening with strong emotions.
“Miss Bennet…”
“Yes, Mr Darcy?”
“Is this the right moment for the question that was always meant to be but was just asked too soon?”
“It is the perfect moment, Mr Darcy. The perfect time…”
“Then, would you do me the very great honour of becoming my wife, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth?”
She stopped breathing, lost in his gaze. The sound of his husky, tender voice, thick with emotion, calling her name, was a caress to her soul.
“I do. Of course I do. Did your heart not reveal my answer before your mind heard it?” she enquired, trying to tease him, but the tremulous voice and unshed tears betrayed her equally high emotion.
The bliss overwhelmed her, intoxicated her, made her dizzy, and she felt like she was flying, but her knees became weaker and, unconsciously, she leant towards him, looking for support as she feared she would not be able to stand long. She remained still, looking at him. Waiting.