Chapter 32
Elizabeth arrived at her house with her heart in her mouth.
Mr Tucker had called her there to ask her about the collapsed wall—something to do with re-erecting it in a slightly different place to accommodate a proposed change to the library’s layout.
She was intrigued by the suggestion, but scarcely able to concentrate on it when the possibility of seeing Darcy was before her.
She knew not when or whether he meant to return to Brighton, but she was desperate to have it confirmed one way or the other whether he could ever return her affections—the agony of suspense had become unbearable.
Her disappointment upon discovering that neither he nor his cousins had yet returned to the house was sharp.
So much so that it took her a moment to compose herself, and most of what Mr Tucker said as he led her up the stairs to the library was lost on her.
When they arrived, the room looked very different to the last time she had stood in it—airy and welcoming, with not a hint of dust or destruction to be seen.
She listened with patience as Mr Tucker explained his idea, agreeing readily with the suggestion that would make it an even more welcoming room at the cost of very little space from the bedroom.
“It is fortunate that all the other bedrooms were finished before this happened and Lord Saye was able to move to another,” Elizabeth said. With a wry smirk, she added, “He was rather unimpressed by the inconvenience.”
Mr Tucker smiled. “Nothing that provides Lord Saye with a good story to tell is truly an inconvenience to him. Shock is his preferred currency.”
“Then he chose the right house to lease.”
The words felt less burdensome than she was used to.
The endless stream of difficulties with the renovation that had plagued her all summer, making her reconsider her decision to keep the house and her own ability to manage such a project, had finally begun to peter out.
Even the loss of the library wall looked set to become a blessing in disguise.
She turned slowly on the spot. It was an exceedingly balmy day, and the windows had been opened, filling the space with the salty tang of sea air and a hot, sticky warmth.
Outside, the sun glared from behind a dark cloud, haloing it brightly and glinting off the vast expanse of sea.
Elizabeth was struck with the conviction that this—this house, this view, this feeling—was what her aunt Bennet had wanted for her.
“Thank you, Mr Tucker,” she said as they walked back down the stairs. “For everything you have done here.”
“’Tis is a fine house, Miss Bennet. You will never want for tenants.”
She thanked him but could not easily imagine another family living here.
The house seemed too full of other memories for there to be room for anyone else’s.
Darcy, standing with his arms crossed, the slight frown on his countenance not doing as good a job as he thought it was of containing his amusement as he watched his cousin scratch silly ghostly messages on the dining room windowsill.
Lord Saye, bursting out of his bedroom in the middle of the night, Darcy looming over his shoulder in the doorway, both men befuddled to discover her on the landing and the dirt from a potted plant sprayed down the stair carpet.
Being stuck on the balcony in the rain with Darcy looking at her as though she were a dangerous drug that he dared not try.
Being trapped with him in a cupboard and kissed as though he were addicted to her.
A loud rumble of thunder made her jump. She wished she had brought her fan. Whether the heat of the day or the nature of her reflections was to blame, she was hot and in need of relief. “If that is all, Mr Tucker, I shall go now.”
He did not look to be faring much better; she could see a sheen of sweat on his upper lip when he replied. “Yes. Thank you for coming. It is always easier to explain in person than in a note.”
The truth of this statement could not have felt more pertinent when the front door opened, and the recipient of her own wholly inadequate letter stepped into the vestibule.
“Mr Darcy!” Mr Tucker said. “Pray excuse the intrusion. Miss Bennet and I were just discussing some finer details in the library. We were on our way out, though, so we’ll not be in your way any longer.”
Elizabeth could do nothing but stare, and it seemed Darcy was similarly transfixed; his eyes never left hers as he wished Mr Tucker a good day. The foreman made a swift and unassuming departure. Neither Elizabeth nor Darcy turned to watch him go.
“Elizabeth?” Darcy said quietly.
Ridiculously, she nodded, as though confirming that yes, that was she.
His mouth curled at the corners by the smallest degree. He had evidently been feeling the heat as well, for he had removed his coat and held it draped over one arm, his hat in the same hand. He put both on the sideboard, not relinquishing her gaze for a moment, then closed the gap between them.
“I have just come from the Millhouses’.” His smile was small and self-deprecating. “I went directly there from town to see you and was pitifully dejected to be told you were out. But here you are.”
Elizabeth could not think of a single sensible thing to say. What came out of her mouth was, “Here I am.”
“Your sister gave me your note.”
She nodded again, every anxiety about having written to him at all returning with force. “I was worried she might forget. Or that you might wish I had not written it. I am sure it did not say half of what it needed to—I wish I could have spoken to you myself, to explain, but—”
“It said everything I needed to hear,” he interrupted.
He lifted a hand and ran the back of a finger down her cheek, his expression tender and unwavering.
“I love you, too. More than you can ever know.” Another roll of thunder accompanied his words, and though he seemed tense enough that it might shatter him, he did not seem to notice.
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known, Elizabeth. Here.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb.
“And here.” He moved his hand down and pressed the pad of his thumb to the space below her first rib, over her heart.
A chaste but poignant touch. “Leaving you standing here for another man to propose after that embrace was without doubt the most absurd and foolish thing I have ever done.”
“We were never engaged,” Elizabeth said urgently, desperate for him to understand. “I refused him at once, or tried to, even if he did not quite comprehend the rejection as quickly.”
“I know that now. But I think I might lose my mind if I have to wait another minute without hearing you say that you will marry me.”
“I will!” she blurted, halfway to being out of her mind, too. “I want to! I…yes! Yes, I will marry you!”
Relief and happiness gave such a boyish turn to Darcy’s countenance that Elizabeth laughed with sheer joy to see it.
It ebbed quickly when he did not laugh with her and his gaze seemed to grow heavier, weighted with something she thought she might recognise despite having been in a darkened cupboard the last time he looked at her in the same way.
His thumb remained over her heart, now gliding back and forth over her rib.
She was not surprised, though she grew considerably hotter, when he said, hoarsely, “May I kiss you again…now?”
The door still stood open behind him, and a wicked idea sprang to her mind.
Instead of answering him, she put a hand on his chest and pushed gently.
He looked confused, but it only took a smile from her, and he complied, walking backwards as she steered him towards the door.
His frown deepened with something like alarm when they reached the threshold.
“Elizabeth, if you would rather I not kiss—”
She reassured him with a whispered plea. “Just for a minute. For me?”
Still hesitant, he stepped backwards out of the door.
He did not even seem to notice that it had begun to rain.
He just kept looking at her, worry warring with confusion on his face.
She cast a playful look at the sky. He did the same, then looked back to her, all trace of confusion gone, replaced with a raised eyebrow and an expression so serious that she thought, for a moment, that she had misstepped.
Then he backed down another step until he was completely out of the cover of the small portico and raised his arms slightly to the sides, allowing the rain to fully soak his shirt.
“Enough?” he asked when his sleeves were clinging to his arms.
Elizabeth’s cheeks were burning with heat, but she did not shrink from his gaze, instead biting her lip and nodding.
He shook his head and smirked. “You will be the death of me, Elizabeth. One way or another.” He nevertheless seemed very much alive when he reached the top step and swept her into his arms.