Chapter Twenty-Five
The Proposal They Chose
Darcy proposed at Pemberley.
Not at Hunsford.
Not in anger.
Not with a speech about struggling against her family, her connections, and every sensible objection his pride could assemble.
At the south meadow beside the hawthorn.
Elizabeth laughed when she saw it.
The tree stood crookedly against the afternoon sky, younger than the ancient, hollow thing she remembered yet already stubborn in shape.
"It is still here," she said.
Darcy looked at the branches. "It is healthy."
"I told you."
"You told me fifty years from now."
"Details."
"It will eventually become diseased."
Elizabeth put a hand protectively against the trunk. "Do not threaten it on the day you mean to propose."
Darcy turned toward her.
The humor left his face so completely that Elizabeth's own smile faded.
"William."
"Do not."
"You have done this before."
"Badly."
"Then the standard is low."
He took her hand.
Elizabeth expected him to smile.
He did not.
"Elizabeth, I loved the life we had."
Her eyes filled immediately.
Darcy's fingers tightened around hers. "But I do not want you because you were my wife."
She stopped breathing.
"I want you because you are Elizabeth. Here. Now. Twenty years old and irritating me in entirely new ways."
A tear escaped down her cheek.
Darcy brushed it away with his thumb. "I want the woman you became and the woman you are, even if she becomes differently this time."
His voice roughened.
"I cannot promise we will have the same children."
Elizabeth's breath broke.
There it was. The fear they had carried without naming too often.
Darcy continued, "I cannot promise the same years, the same friends, the same rooms, or the same griefs. I cannot promise anything except that I choose you without knowing any of it."
Elizabeth touched his face.
"Ask me."
Darcy drew a breath. "Elizabeth Bennet, will you marry me?"
She smiled through tears. "Yes."
Darcy exhaled as though he had been uncertain.
Elizabeth laughed softly. "You knew."
"No."
"You did."
"Not this time."
That mattered.
She kissed him.
The hawthorn survived.
For now.
On the walk back toward the house, Elizabeth slipped her arm through his. "We must tell Papa."
Darcy's expression altered.
She smiled. "Afraid?"
"Respectful."
"Afraid."
"I have negotiated leases with men who threatened litigation for sport."
"And yet my father frightens you."
"Your father finds humiliation entertaining."
"True."
Darcy gave her a look. "You are enjoying this."
"Immensely."
He stopped walking.
Elizabeth looked back.
Darcy's expression softened. "So am I."
She returned to him.
They stood for one more moment beneath the old-young tree, neither willing to hurry toward the world beyond it.
Then Elizabeth squeezed his hand three times.
I am here.
They went home.
Elizabeth's engagement also changed the younger sisters in ways she had not expected. Kitty began receiving more attention simply because gentlemen called at Longbourn more often. Lydia found this thrilling. Kitty found it exhausting.
One afternoon Kitty came to Elizabeth's room carrying a sketchbook and said, "May I sit here?"
Elizabeth looked up. "Of course."
Kitty sat near the window.
After several minutes Elizabeth asked, "Are you hiding?"
Kitty sighed. "Lydia wants me to go to Meryton."
"And you do not?"
"Not today."
"Then don't."
Kitty stared. "She'll be angry."
"Probably."
"You say that as if it does not matter."
Elizabeth closed her book. "It matters. It simply does not decide for you."
Kitty looked down at the sketchbook. "I don't always know what I like if Lydia likes something first."
The confession hurt more than Elizabeth expected.
"Then perhaps spend some time finding out."
Kitty smiled faintly. "Miss Harcourt says the same."
"She is becoming inconveniently useful."
Kitty laughed.
Later Lydia complained bitterly that Kitty had become dull.
Elizabeth did not defend Kitty by attacking Lydia. Instead she said, "You like company when you go into town. Kitty likes quiet sometimes. Neither preference is an insult to the other."
Lydia rolled her eyes but went with Maria Lucas instead.
Small choices.
Kitty stayed home and finished a drawing of the orchard that Mr. Bennet later placed in his library.