Chapter Sixteen #2
They resumed walking, their footsteps muffled by the snow. Elizabeth could feel the moment building, the weight of words she needed to say gathering in her chest like storm clouds. The longer she waited, the more impossible it seemed to find a natural opening.
“Darcy,” she began, then lost her nerve. “The–the evening went well, don’t you think?”
“Very well,” he agreed, though something in his tone suggested he’d caught the false note in her voice. “Elizabeth, are you all right? You seem . . .”
“I’m fine,” she said, then winced at how patently untrue that was. “I’ve been brittle,” she admitted, sheepish. “Circling an ending makes me like that. I’m sorry.”
“Is it just the writing, then?” He didn’t sound convinced.
Elizabeth could feel her sisters at her back: no more guessing; say the thing.
“No, it’s not just that. I’m scared, if we’re being honest.”
“Scared?” Darcy stopped walking, turning to face her with concern written across his features.
Elizabeth felt her stomach perform an elaborate gymnastics routine. This was it, then. No more delays, no more deflecting. Either she said what needed saying, or she spent the rest of their relationship wondering what might have happened if she’d been brave enough to try.
“It’s about Christmas . . . and about me putting far too much weight on one present to answer a question I should’ve asked out loud.”
Darcy’s expression became more guarded. “The headphones.”
“The headphones,” Elizabeth confirmed. “And the scarf. And the fact that I think we might be speaking different languages when it comes to . . . well, to the most important things.”
A couple passed them on the pavement, bundled up against the cold and laughing about something, and Elizabeth realised they were having this conversation in the middle of a public street while snow fell on their heads and her dog ate something questionable off the ground.
“This is ridiculous,” she said, half laughing despite her nerves.
“We could go back to the car.” But Darcy didn’t move.
“No, I’ll lose my nerve if we stop now.” Elizabeth took a deep breath and released it, watching it form a cloud in the cold air. “Darcy, when I gave you that scarf—that terrible, amateurish scarf—what did you think?”
“I thought it was grand,” he said at once. “I told you that.”
“Yes, but what did it mean to you?”
Darcy was quiet for a moment, considering. When he spoke, his voice was careful. “I thought . . . I thought you’d spent time on me. Real time, learning something new just to give me something personal. I thought it meant you cared about me enough to put that much effort in.”
Elizabeth felt something loosen in her chest. “Yes. That’s what I wanted it to mean.”
“And the headphones?” Darcy asked.
She took a deep breath to steady her nerves.
“They were thoughtful and exactly the kind of help you give. I realised I wanted them to say something they couldn’t.
About us, I mean.” She shook her head. “That part was me. But I also want to tell you what feels more . . . romantic to me. If you want, that is.”
The words hung in the air between them. Elizabeth watched Darcy’s face, trying to read his expression in the orange glow of the street lights.
“Understood,” he said gently. “Tell me two or three things that land as romantic for you, and I’ll try to make them happen. To tell you the truth, I’d be relieved to have some help in that department.”
“Really?” Elizabeth asked. “Because I’m not trying to be ungrateful. I know you put thought into choosing the headphones—”
“But they weren’t what you hoped for,” Darcy finished.
Elizabeth’s breath caught. “Not that I had anything specific in mind, but . . . Yes. That.”
They stood there in the falling snow, looking at each other, while the full scope of their miscommunication settled between them. Waffles, sensing the gravity of the moment, had abandoned his street debris investigation and was sitting at Elizabeth’s feet. Even Athena seemed to be waiting.
The silence stretched between them, filled only by the soft whisper of snow and the distant sound of a car engine. Elizabeth’s heart was hammering so hard she was surprised it wasn’t audible through her coat.
She lifted herself up on her toes and let herself down slowly. “Right, then. Um, a walking tour of the old mysteries of London.”
“Haven’t you been on all of those?” he asked.
“Yes. I love them.”
“Noted,” he said with a little smile.
“A scavenger hunt we go on together. A rock-climbing wall—I’ve always wanted to try one. If you want to buy jewellery, an inexpensive charm bracelet, something you could add to as time goes on.” She looked up into his eyes. “Things like that.”
“I wish I’d just have asked you.” Darcy's laugh was rueful. “Richard suggested origami planes.”
“Oh.” She considered that, and then grinned. “I think maybe he was considering what he’d like to receive.”
“The thing is,” Darcy said, “I want us to be clear with one another. I want us to be in this relationship together.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught. He’d called it a relationship. “Even if it means less practical problem-solving and more ridiculous romantic gestures?”
“Even if it means that.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Though I should warn you, I’m surely going to be rubbish at it. I’ve spent most of my adult life believing that love was about anticipating everyone’s needs and moving to meet them before they had to ask.”
“And I’ve spent most of mine believing that love was about grand gestures and emotional demonstrations,” Elizabeth admitted. “Neither of us is wrong.”
“Just incomplete?”
“Incomplete,” she agreed. “It’s brilliant that you listen when I complain about things and then just take care of them when you know I won’t mind.
Like the boiler. You take care of people, and it’s one of the loveliest things about you.
It’s just that because you are so kind to everyone in your life, it can be difficult to know where I stand among them. ”
He reached for her hand. “You stand alone, Elizabeth.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “Well. I do enjoy a clear ranking.”
“And I love that you spent three weeks learning to knit just to give me something made with your own hands. It’s just that sometimes you make mental leaps ahead and leave me a bit behind not knowing where you are.”
Elizabeth felt something warm and bright unfurl in her chest. “I can work on that.”
“And next Christmas, I promise to give you something equally ridiculous and romantic and completely impractical.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” Darcy interrupted. “Elizabeth, I want to be the man who sometimes gives you things that make you smile rather than things that resolve your problems. Though I reserve the right to occasionally send someone to fix your boiler without asking.”
“Deal.” Elizabeth laughed despite the tears that were definitely threatening now. “And I promise to appreciate the problem-solving, even when I’m secretly hoping for flowers.”
He frowned. “I’d been weighing up getting you flowers. Next time. Lots of them. Ridiculously expensive ones that serve no practical purpose whatsoever.”
“Just start small,” Elizabeth said.
“Sound advice.” Darcy reached out tentatively, his gloved hand cupping her cheek. “Elizabeth?”
“Yes?”
Elizabeth’s heart nearly stopped, suspended in the space between his question and whatever he was about to say next.
Part of her wanted to fill the silence, to deflect with a joke or change the subject, anything to avoid the possibility of hearing something that would shatter the fragile hope she’d been nurturing.
The other part held exquisitely still and waited for Darcy to either break her heart or make it whole.
“I love you,” he said. “You, just as you are, terrible knitting skills and crazy mutt and all.”
The words stole the breath from her lungs and made her knees go suddenly, ridiculously weak.
Her free hand flew to her chest, pressing against her coat as if she could somehow contain the wild hammering of her heart.
The relief was so overwhelming it was almost painful, like warmth flooding back into frozen limbs.
“I love you too,” she whispered. “Your purebred dog, crazy hours, and fancy house. I love you even when you give me headphones for Christmas and make me question everything.”
She watched his expression transform. The guardedness that was so much a part of him melted away, replaced by an expression of relief.
His eyes closed briefly, and when he opened them again, there was a brightness there she’d never seen before, a sense of wonder that made him look younger, lighter, like someone who’d been holding his breath for months and could now exhale.
“Elizabeth.” Darcy leaned down to place a soft kiss on her lips.
It was a perfect kiss, Elizabeth thought dimly as his lips met hers—warm and sweet and tasting of wine and Christmas pudding. The sort of kiss that belonged in films, with snow falling around them and fairy lights twinkling in the distance.
By the time they broke apart, both a bit breathless, Waffles was back to sniffing the lamp posts. Athena was next to him this time, glancing back at them as though prepared to wait indefinitely for her humans to finish being absurd.
“We should head back.”
“We should,” Darcy agreed, but he didn’t move. “Though this is rather a nice way to freeze to death.”
“Very romantic,” Elizabeth said. “Much better than headphones.”
Darcy groaned. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“Not a chance,” Elizabeth said, taking his hand as they began walking back toward the car. “I’m going to bring it up every Christmas from now on.”
“By the by,” Darcy told her as they returned to the car, “Athena isn’t a purebred Great Dane. Don’t tell her, but she’s part poodle. I adopted her from a rescue.”
Elizabeth gazed up at him admiringly. “You really are the perfect man.”