Chapter 1.11 #3
His fingers were caressing her hair and his lips came to rest on the top of her head.
This time she released those past pent-up tears from the remembrance of the last time they were together at Pemberley.
He remained still, holding her silently until she calmed herself, and then he slowly moved with her in his arms, to an old stump she had sat on the previous day.
He took his coat off, placed it down, and then sat and embraced her again.
“That day, when I returned home and was told you had left, I have never felt so lost or in such despair. I was certain you had run away to avoid me—to avoid another proposal from me. I was convinced all my hopes and wishes had been in vain, that I had somehow grossly misunderstood your feelings once more, that you never wanted to accept me.”
He paused, trying to regain some composure; she remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
“I looked for you in Lambton, I sent my men to inquire after you. Nobody could discover anything about your sudden departure. It was a stormy day, like today. I could not bear to see anybody, to listen to anybody, so I left. I left Pemberley and walked through the storm for hours. And I must confess to you that…I cried.”
He stopped, and her heart almost stopped once more, pained and grieved by his past suffering as well as her own.
“Several hours passed before I finally forced my mind to remember you—your smiles, your gestures and your fingers entwined with mine that night in your room, and I began to realise that you did not deceive me or run away from me. It began to dawn on me that something grave must have happened to take you away from Pemberley and from me. I had faith in you; I trusted in you and everything you told me or wordlessly showed me. But perhaps you had little faith in me? You must have known after that night in your room that I intended to propose to you the next day. Yet, you presumed I would not keep my word because of Wickham. Did you really imagine that, for fear of a scandal, I would throw away so easily my only chance for happiness?”
Elizabeth withdrew from his embrace and looked at him. His handsome face, so tender, so light a few minutes before, had darkened into a frown, and his eyes avoided hers. She took her gloves off and, with her hands bare—shy and trembling—she touched his face and turned him gently to her.
“Mr Darcy, you did misunderstand my feelings and my actions after all. Could you not see, sir, that I left that day, not because I doubted you, but precisely because I trusted you implicitly? Yes, I confess I hoped you would propose to me that day, and I knew that you would not alter your intentions because of the scandal! That was the reason I had to leave! Can you not understand? It was not a mere elopement; it was Wickham, whose name you cannot bear to hear spoken in your presence, and whose name simply mentioned upsets Georgiana excessively. How could I allow you to propose under those circumstances? How could I have asked for your help, involving you and Georgiana in such a scandal? It was not only about preserving your good name, but about your peace of mind, your happiness and your future. So I had to leave without concern for my own broken heart. And I had to leave before your return, or I never would have been able to leave at all.”
He did not answer; only his bare palms, mirroring hers, cupped her cheeks, and they remained so for what seemed like an eternity, simply drowning in each other’s eyes.
“Elizabeth,” he finally whispered, “my peace of mind does not exist without you—I learned that long ago—and neither my happiness nor my future matter to me if I cannot share them with you. You must promise you will never leave me again, and I promise nothing will stop me from renewing my addresses to you again—or from convincing you to accept me.”
Her laugh, nervous, still incredulous and hopeful, was mixed with tears that threatened to overwhelm her again.
His head leaned closer to hers, and his lips rested upon her ear, whispering, “I love you, Elizabeth Bennet.
I love you as I never believed it possible for a man to love a woman.
Now, only now do I truly know what ardent love means.
Only now do I fully understand what a treasure my life with you can be and what it would mean to lose you. So now I am asking you again—
Her fingers pressed his lips, forcing him to silence while her lips tentatively moved to his ear, brushing against it as she continued, “And now, Mr Darcy, I have come to know and to love you so dearly that I will happily cry for you and laugh for you anytime you want, as long as we are together.
Now, sir, I do not even need to hear the question as my answer is long prepared.
And I am sure you do not need to hear my answer—
“I do need to hear your answer,” he interrupted as his lips started to travel along the line of her jaw. “I do need to hear your answer, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”
“Then you shall have it, sir,” she replied as she murmured her acceptance against his hungry mouth.
And she proved to be right; he did not need to hear the answer—at least not completely.
A moment later, his lips captured hers and did not release them until he professed to her the depth and the ardour of his love.
Not that she had any doubts remaining!