The Defender
“That is the third time you have defended me when I did not deserve it, Elizabeth,” the Derbyshire gentleman said after the customary civilities of their accidental meeting the next morning.
“What do you mean?”
“Come, come… do not pretend you did not omit a great deal from that evening that would have cast me in a far less favourable light.”
“Not particularly. I omitted a few irrelevant details,” she finally said, feeling slightly flustered by the conversation.
“As you wish, though we both know better, so you may accept my heartfelt thanks or not as you choose,” he said with a charming smile.
Feeling slightly overwhelmed, she attempted to turn the subject to something less fraught. “I will accept your description, but I cannot think of any other examples.”
They were walking along a path that led deeper into the woods than their usual duck pond, and farther and farther from the bounds of propriety, but she was not overly concerned.
He had spent a great deal of time on the estate in his youth and knew it well enough to ensure she was properly protected.
He smiled. “The first time was when your mother took me to task for asserting you had fewer people to study in the country.”
Elizabeth stopped and turned to face him. “I regret to dispute with you once again, but in that instance I had not the slightest care for you. I was defending my mother from herself.”
“And yet, the effect was to redirect her ire away from me. Like many things, I did not realise it at the time and only came to appreciate it later.”
She looked at him in confusion and urged him to resume walking. “You sound like Mr Bingley, trying to make a virtue of a vice.”
He chuckled, and simply said, “You need not agree, but I hope you will at least acknowledge that my position has some merit.”
“I suppose so,” she said archly, “but let us not dwell on it all day. You are one instance short.”
“Delivering Miss Bingley’s letter was the biggest defence.”
She stopped to stare at him again and removed her accursed bonnet, that it might cease impeding her view.
“I was defending your sister. Not only that, but I also thought doing so at your expense had much to recommend it.”
“It amounts to the same thing. You defended the most important person in the world to me. I would feel any harm she suffers acutely, so whatever your motivation may have been, you were defending me.”
“I suppose so,” she said, becoming somewhat disconcerted with his praise.
“May we return to the night of the assembly?”
She frowned. “If we must.”
“That is the night that I, in my hubris and ignorance, took the wrong fork on the road of life. I have been hacking my way through the wilderness trying to regain the path ever since.”
She laughed at that, but then became slightly shy, since there were several ways to interpret such a statement. Did he mean he was simply trying to resume behaving in a gentlemanlike manner that would make his parents proud, or something more.
Not wishing to assume more than there was, she shyly said, “Perhaps the rough journey was required to reach the destination. Who is to say a more polite man at that assembly would not have taken a prettier road in the wrong direction.”
“Yes, who can say?” he whispered.
She gave him an even shyer smile.
“I believe your valiant steed has done his duty. The man I have been walking with seems to be on a road his parents and sister can be proud of.”
“I thank you,” he said, then looking somewhat shy himself, he added, “I am on the right road, but not at my destination yet.”
“What is your destination?” she asked breathlessly.
“Pemberley with you at my side.”
She gasped. It had seemed obvious that was one of the possible outcomes, though no more so than simply befriending her, or even just reducing her animosity, and she had always thought that if he were so inclined, it would take more time to arrive at a declaration.
Elizabeth was stunned by the frank assertion, by its simplicity and elegance, and even more so, by her welcoming reaction.
Even more astonishing, it taught her to hope, as she had scarcely ever allowed herself to hope before.
She had been so incredibly careful not to fall in love with the newly improved Darcy, but she realised it had been a hopeless effort from the beginning, just as his efforts to forget her after the Netherfield ball had been.
For the first time, she comprehended that suppressing a heartfelt love was an impossible task.
“You need but ask, William,” she said shyly.
He did eventually ask in the proper form of a question and answer, but that came after he spent what seemed like a half-hour slowly inclining his head toward hers until she closed the remaining distance of her own volition.
The kiss was sublime, and exhilarating, and left her breathless and weak. She never wanted it to end but end it must… eventually.
Once she was thoroughly kissed, he whispered, “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. Would you do me the greatest honour of accepting my hand in marriage?"
“Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes,” she said happily, and sealed their bargain with one more kiss.