Chapter Seventeen #3
He came no closer, though the effort of remaining where he was showed in every line of him.
"Georgiana would love you. Pemberley would become happier for your presence, and I...
" His voice faltered for the first time.
"I would spend the rest of my life trying to deserve the happiness you would bring me.
I cannot promise never to offend you, because you have already proved how easily I manage it, but I can promise that I would never treat your honour lightly or ask anything of you I was not prepared to answer for before the world. "
Elizabeth stared at him, unable to reconcile this man with the cold, proud gentleman she had first met. "Are you asking me to marry you?"
"I am telling you that I wish to." His expression softened, though the strain remained. "But I will not ask tonight. Not while you are distressed and not when you may believe yourself obliged by what has passed between us. I want your answer only when you are certain it is freely given."
She swallowed. "And if I refuse you?"
Darcy's face tightened, but he did not look away. "Then I shall accept it. I will regret my conduct for the rest of my life, but I will never trouble you again."
The thought of him doing precisely that caused such a sharp pain that Elizabeth had to look down. He loved her. The certainty of it filled the room between them, leaving her with no quarrel to hide behind and no easy accusation with which to defend herself.
When she looked up again, Darcy was still waiting.
Elizabeth crossed the room before she could think better of it and threw her arms around him.
Darcy caught her with a sound of surprise, his hands closing around her waist as she pressed her face against his chest. For several moments neither spoke.
She could feel the hard beat of his heart beneath her cheek and the care with which he held her, as though even now he feared she might regret coming to him.
"I am sorry," she said at last. "I was wrong about you."
His arms tightened. "You had reason to doubt me."
"Not enough reason to say what I did."
"I do not care about that now."
Elizabeth drew back far enough to look at him. The strain of the day remained in his face, and she lifted one hand to his cheek. "You look wretched."
"I have been wretched."
"Good," she said, though her voice softened. "I should dislike to think I had suffered alone."
A brief laugh escaped him, and the sound brought tears unexpectedly into her eyes. Darcy saw them and immediately bent closer, his thumb brushing beneath her eye before the first could fall. "Elizabeth." He said it so tenderly that she began to weepl in earnest.
"Do not look so alarmed. These are much happier than most of the tears I have cried today."
"Because of me."
"Partly. I was also very angry with myself, which is even more irritating."
His expression eased at last. He looked at her for a long moment, his gaze moving over her loose hair and the robe drawn hurriedly around her nightgown before returning to her face. "You are very beautiful," he said quietly.
Elizabeth's breath caught. There was no polished compliment in the words and no attempt to charm her. He spoke as though the sight of her had simply overcome his caution. "You have seen me in far better order."
"Never like this."
The warmth in his voice made her forget every sensible answer.
She rose onto her toes and kissed him. This kiss held none of the confusion of the terrace.
Darcy answered her gently, one hand remaining firm at her waist while the other slid into the loose hair at the nape of her neck.
Elizabeth held him more closely, tasting the salt of her own tears upon his lips and feeling the restraint in the way he kissed her and the effort it cost him not to deepen it.
When they parted, he rested his forehead against hers, his fingers still threaded lightly through her hair.
"Will you allow me to court you while we are here?" he asked. "Openly and properly, with no more misunderstandings and no more disguising what I feel."
Elizabeth smiled. "I think that would be very wise."
His brows drew together. "Only wise?"
"And very much what I want."
He kissed her again, and this time neither of them heard the key turn in the lock.
A pointed cough sounded from the doorway. Elizabeth sprang back, though Darcy's hand remained at her waist for a moment before he reluctantly released her. Jane stood just inside the room with one hand over her smile, while Colonel Fitzwilliam looked thoroughly pleased with himself.
"I take it that the conversation was productive," he said.
"Richard," Jane murmured.
"What? I merely wish to know whether we may safely release them."
Elizabeth looked from her sister to the colonel. "You may begin by apologising for locking me in."
Jane came forward and embraced her. "I am sorry."
"You do not sound sorry."
"I am not especially sorry," Jane admitted with a wide grin.
Behind them, Richard clapped Darcy upon the shoulder. "And what has become of your determination to keep yourself under better regulation?"
Darcy looked towards Elizabeth, his expression softening at once. "I have abandoned it entirely."