Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
AN EXTRAORDINARY APPLICATION
Georgiana was at Elizabeth’s doorstep earlier than usual the next morning. Elizabeth had been unable to sleep, for wondering how foolish she would feel in the morning, but Georgiana showed no sign of wishing for deep conversation.
“Good morning!” she chirped cheerfully.
Neddy stood, looking up at her happily.
“I wonder if I could take Neddy for a ride up the Oakham Mount trail this morning? The sun is shining, for once!”
“What if he…he misbehaves, when it is time for the ride to be finished?” Elizabeth worried aloud. “He does better when he understands the pattern, and he will not be prepared to ride first thing.”
“What if he does?” Georgiana said, her voice sounding almost defiant.
“We have been trying to help him learn to cope when the pattern is upset. He will make mistakes at times, but I am wearing a coat and gloves. I will talk to him about gentle hands, and go through what we are learning. He has been working very hard, and deserves a treat.”
“Oh…yes, very well. Thank you. Neddy, do you want to ride on the horse?”
His eyes lit up. “Horse!”
“Yes, biggest boy!” Georgiana held out her arms and lifted him high in the air. “Go and get your coat.” She set him down, and he raced into the bedroom for his jacket.
Georgiana seemed unusually jovial. Yet, there was something almost fragile in her air, a forced cheerfulness that disguised some deeper emotion.
Almost, Elizabeth asked her what was wrong.
What could it be? Surely, oh surely, it had nothing to do with speaking to her brother about Mr Morris!
Well, if it did, they had vowed never to speak of it, and she had no intention of bringing the topic up.
A few minutes later, she was waving to an excited Neddy and a smiling Georgiana as Mabel trotted away.
Darcy approached Fox Hollow slowly; he was aware of his heart beating hard within his chest, of the intensity of his eagerness to catch sight of Elizabeth.
At the same time, he had been acting almost purely on emotions these last weeks—or at least in denying that he possessed any.
So intent had he been on overcoming these feelings of admiration and esteem he held for her, that in the process he had nearly crushed his own soul.
He had not seen Mabel tethered anywhere nearby, but possibly Georgiana had found a better spot in the weeks since he had last been here; he readied himself for hostility in reply to his knock. His sister had every right to her displeasure with him.
It was not Georgiana who answered the door, however, but Elizabeth. Her hair was up, but messily so, as if she had barely managed to scrape it back, with scattered curls framing her face. Her eyes were wide and lovely in her surprise.
“Mr Darcy!”
He bowed. “I apologise for coming to you without warning. Is my sister here, by any chance?”
“No…I mean, she was, but she took Neddy for a ride on Mabel. I-I do not quite know when she will return.”
“Doubtless, she feared I would come for her and she was unwilling that I should.”
“Why should she think you would come?”
“We had a bit of a row last night.”
Her cheeks showed faintly pink. He wanted, with his whole heart, to kiss her, to throw himself at her feet. He did not deserve her, but dash it, he wanted to.
“Might I come in? I wish to speak to you, if I may.”
She looked at her feet. “If it is anything to do with the-the business regarding Mr Morris, please, do not trouble yourself, sir. I did not think it wise of her to ask you, but she wanted so much to be helpful. I promise, I expect nothing. And if…if you have come to tell me that you have withdrawn permission for Georgiana to visit, I will respect your wishes.”
What an ass I have been! he thought, half despairing, knowing he had behaved as such, almost since the beginning.
“A few minutes of your time, please,” he entreated.
She moved away from the door, silently permitting him to enter.
As he followed her in, he looked about her humble home with new eyes.
He saw not simply attempts at colour in the embroidery, the crocheted blankets, the cheerful arrangement of greenery, the tasteful display of pots, but at the making of a home.
He would bet that in the spring, she would fill the place with wildflowers, vivifying every dark corner.
The verse, ‘Every wise woman buildeth her house’ came into his mind; Elizabeth certainly fit that descriptor.
As he had expected, Mrs Finch was nowhere to be seen. Elizabeth sat on the settee near the fire but perched upon the edge, as if ready to flee at any second. With a sigh, he seated himself beside her.
“Georgiana told me of your wish to arrange a connexion with Mr Morris,” he began.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand. “Please, let me say my piece. After, you may say whatever you will.” Most likely to deliver me a scathing rebuke, he added, but silently.
“Morris is a good man. If he is who you wish to wed, he would have to be a blind fool to neglect the opportunity. I do not think he is one. I would, of course, ensure he understands his responsibilities towards Edward, should he decide in your favour.”
He looked at her, trying to read her expression, but she was looking intently at her hands; those were white-knuckled—with tension? He soldiered on.
“However, Morris is not your only option. If you would consider my suit, I would regard myself the most fortunate man on earth.”
Her head whipped up as she finally met his gaze, startled. “What?”
He went to his knees before her, taking her cold hands in his own.
“I responded very poorly when Georgiana broached the topic of your marriage to another man. I said things I regret now. I meant none of it—they were the howls of man in pain, a man who had botched every opportunity to pay court to the woman he loves, to convince her of his meagre worth in comparison with her great one.”
“I…I do not understand.” Her bafflement spoke volumes about his past errors. “I heard you are betrothed to an heiress, while I have nothing. I cannot leave Neddy, not even for you. Your wife must be one who meets very different expectations.”
“I am not betrothed, I promise. It is merely a wish of my aunt’s that she has repeated to anyone who will listen, for the last several years, no matter how often I refute it.
You have a remarkable wealth of kindness, loyalty, beauty, compassion, and intelligence.
You have exceeded my every expectation and I am entranced by you.
I would consider it an honour of the highest order to help you raise Edward; I will petition Chancery for guardianship, and for a change in trustees.
We will hold his estate for him until such time as he can manage it himself, and ensure Philips cannot waste any more of it. ”
Her enchanting eyes were filled with bewilderment. “I do not know if…I am not quite sure he will ever be able to manage it by himself.”
“What guarantees do any of us have for the future? Our hopes for our children centre in their happiness and satisfaction and resilience. We can try and teach it, but how often are we able to ensure they learn those lessons? I predict that Edward can and will experience all of life’s goodness.
He will fulfil the measure of his creation, if we have anything to do with it. ”
She stared at him, her lips slightly parted; he hardly dared to breathe, awaiting her answer.
And then she launched herself at him and at last, at last, she was in his arms and his mouth was upon hers and he tasted her for the first time.
It was everything he had only allowed in his dreams, but better.
She was far more passionate than he had dared to hope; she was everything to him, alive and sparkling, and he wanted her more than life itself.
“Is this real?” he implored, spreading kisses across her lips and jaw. “I am afraid I will wake to find you gone with the night.”
“If it is not real, I beg you do not awaken me,” she whispered. He kissed her again so that she would know he was here and that he meant to stay with her for always.