Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Darcy’s anxiety over missing his opportunity to ask Elizabeth for her hand grew with her words.
It intensified further as they passed the neat outline of Rosings’ dormant kitchen garden.
It built to a crescendo near panic when they reached the kitchen door.
He whirled to face the maid who came up behind them.
“Do you have pockets?” he blurted to the maid.
Blinking in confusion, she nodded. “Yes, Mr. Darcy.”
“Will they momentarily hold those candlesticks?”
“I believe so, sir.”
“Whatever—” Elizabeth began, but Darcy was already speaking again, saying, “Please put the candlesticks in your skirt pockets.”
A bit awkward with the ledger in hand, the maid complied, then looked back to him with a confusion that Elizabeth’s face mirrored.
“Now take these,” Darcy said, stacking the four books atop the ledger the maid held. He turned to Elizabeth and plucked the portrait and box from her unresisting fingers, then set both atop the pile. The maid peered over the stacked items with wide eyes.
“Let me get the door for you,” Darcy continued. “Someone inside can help you take those to Miss Bennet’s room.” He pulled open the kitchen door.
The maid headed up the few steps with exaggerated care, the tower of books and items teetering, a candlestick protruding from each side of her skirt. As soon as she stepped into the kitchen, she asked for help. Darcy swung the door closed behind her.
“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked, both tone and expression questioning.
Freed of his burdens, he caught one of her hands in his, making her eyes go wide with surprise. “Miss Bennet, I have been a fool. I should not have persuaded you to give up your inheritance before I spoke. I never wanted to pressure you into a situation where you are desperate for money.”
She looked down at their clasped hands, then up again.
“But I’m not desperate. By now, my father has written a will which will guarantee me enough money so that I won’t be impoverished if he dies.
Simply because an irrational part of me wants independent financial security doesn’t mean I’m desperate. ”
Desperate? How could he have called her that? “No. You would never be desperate. You are too strong for that. Strong as well as beautiful. You are clever and caring.”
She regarded him as if he were a delirious patient in a sick ward, but didn’t pull her hand away as she murmured, “I don’t deserve such praise.”
“Yes, you do, and much more.” He squeezed her hand a bit tighter, worried she’d pull away before he could make her understand.
“I don’t know when I fell in love with you, but I am in love.
Hopelessly. I want to care for you and cherish you, but I don’t want you to think I’ve boxed you into a corner where you have no choices.
I don’t want you to give up your fortune and be so desperate for security that you say yes simply for safety’s sake.
It may seem unreasonable, even unrealistic, but I need you to love me, not my home or my fortune. Me.”
Elizabeth stared at him, eyebrows raised. She glanced down at their clasped hands again. Darcy jerked his away, aware his tight grip made his talk of not trapping her less believable. She made no move to leave but gave no indication of how she felt about his proposal.
Finally, Darcy could stand her silence no longer. “Miss Bennet, will you give me an answer?”
“I will.”
“May I know when?” he asked, patience frayed.
“When you ask me a question.”
Hadn’t he? He tried to remember everything he’d said and couldn’t. Anger shot through him, but he wasn’t certain if the emotion was aimed at her or himself. “You want a question. I thought it was obvious.”
“Some words must be said.”
Darcy snapped, “What words?” Hadn’t he asked her to marry him?
Her eyebrows winged upward again. He loved those eyebrows, framing as they did a pair of fascinating, wit filled eyes, but in that moment, they infuriated him.
He drew in a steadying breath, aware not only that he was going about proposing wrong, but that in this very important moment, his behavior lacked all decorum. Nervousness skittered through him. Was he bungling this so badly, she would say no?
Elizabeth reached out. “Take my hands.”
Relieved, Darcy did. Immediately, his nervousness and self-recrimination fled, taking any trace of disquiet with them.
“Now ask,” she said, looking up at him with warm, affection filled eyes.
“I forgot to list one of your qualities,” he said, caressing the backs of her hands with his thumbs. “One of the most important, when it comes to me.”
“I can’t imagine what more you could add to that string of flattery. I’ll hardly be able to live up to such praise.”
She was simply the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. How he, or anyone else, had ever found any of her sisters prettier Darcy couldn’t fathom. “You deserve every word, and more.”
“Then what is this additional laudable quality of mine?”
Darcy squeezed her hands lightly. “You bring out the best in others.” He tugged gently, hoping she would move closer, which she did. “You bring out the best in me, and I want to be my best when I am with you. Elizabeth, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Mr. Darcy, I was beginning to worry you would never ask me. Yes, I will marry you.”
Under a bright winter sun, in the trampled snow of Rosings’ back garden, outside the kitchen door, Darcy took Elizabeth into his arms and kissed her. He’d never known he could be so happy.
It hardly seemed he’d kissed her enough when a clatter inside the kitchen caused them both to look. Darcy turned back to see Elizabeth’s cheeks pink with more than cold, but she smiled up at him warmly and with no sign of shyness or regret.
Darcy smiled back and offered his arm. “Walk with me?”
She wrapped her arm about his. “Where are we going?”
He shrugged. “Around front? Anywhere you like, really, so long as you’re with me.”
They followed a cleared path along the back of the house, their steps slow and in unison.
About them, snow sparkled brighter than Darcy had ever seen it sparkle before.
Birds flew across the blue sky. Inside, he felt almost as if a dam were about to burst, spilling forth joy.
He couldn’t recall anything like the sensation since his childhood, opening Christmas gifts.
“You were very impulsive, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said.
A glance showed she smiled up at him. “In sending away the maid?”
“In all of it. That’s not like you. I’ve always known you to plan thoroughly.” A shadow of worry flickered across her face. “You have thought this through?”
“Marrying you? Most certainly. I’ve thought of little else but having you as my wife for months now.” That brought back her smile, much to his joy.
“And yet such an impulsive proposal?”
“That is the fault of my own fears.”
She cast him a quick look. “Fears?”
“I feared Mr. Collins’ property and lands would not sell for much, and you would give your entire inheritance to your father, which might have made you feel pressed to marry me for the security you crave.
Equally, I feared the property would sell for an unexpected amount, and you would worry that my proposal came about because you then possessed a fortune considerable enough to tempt me.
I became determined to propose before either eventuality is known, so that neither of us would need to worry that the other wished to marry for less than noble reasons.
And there’s the prospect of other gentlemen, and Richard. ”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam? He contributed to your delivery of an awkward proposal to me?” Elizabeth asked, clearly amused.
More secure now with Elizabeth’s acceptance delivered and her arm twined with his, Darcy admitted, “He wishes to marry an heiress and he’s far more charming than I am.”
“You were worried I would be a fortune hunter, think you were a fortune hunter, or marry a fortune hunter?” She chuckled. “We may need to address your fixation on fortunes, Mr. Darcy.”
“Richard is not a fortune hunter,” he protested.
“Is that not what you call someone who marries an heiress because she possesses a fortune?”
Darcy frowned. “I suppose it is, but it’s not unreasonable for a man to seek a bride with money.
” He decided not to mention Richard’s interest in Anne, not wishing Elizabeth to believe his cousin quite so mercenary before she came to know him well enough to see him for the quality of man he was.
Instead, Darcy elected to assure Elizabeth that, “Even if Richard married with money as a consideration, his wife would be happy. Everyone enjoys his company.”
“I enjoy his company. I assume that is permissible.”
“He’s my cousin and will be yours.” Magnanimous in victory, Darcy added, “You should enjoy his company. I would like you to like him.”
“I do, but I cannot believe you worried I would like him better than I like you.”
Darcy turned to her, uncertain when they’d ceased walking. Their gazes met. Pink crept up Elizabeth’s cheeks, but she didn’t look away. A light breeze flittered about them. Darcy knew it must be cold, but he didn’t feel cold. All he could think about was kissing her.
“I must write your father as well,” he murmured, fighting not to take Elizabeth into his arms.
“You’re thinking about my father right now?”
“I’m thinking about how much I want to kiss you, and how I should not give in to the impulse. In the garden, I behaved abominably.”
“I didn’t find anything abominable about it.”
“It was ungentlemanly.” He tipped his head down.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Elizabeth said and came up on her toes to kiss him.