Chapter 37
Two weeks later, Elizabeth stood at the rail of the Mary Catherine as Alexandria’s ancient harbor slowly receded into the afternoon haze, her heart heavy with emotions.
The Egyptian coastline stretched away from the ship like a golden ribbon, carrying with it memories of remarkable events that seemed too fantastic to have occurred.
One such an event was a guided journey up the Nile to see the Great Pyramids of Giza along with the Sphinx. They returned to Alexandria the day before the Mary Catherine’s departure, replete with amazing experiences they would never forget.
Earlier that morning, two visitors had arrived at their lodging.
First, Omar Bey had delivered gifts from the Egyptian government.
Each lady received a colorful Kashmir Himalayan pashmina to wrap around their shoulders during England’s cold winters, along with a gold pendant with a perfect round diamond in the center.
The men received a sword and a knife with jewel-encrusted handles sheathed in leather.
Next, Yusuf returned Elizabeth’s journal, its pages filled with images that memorialized their Egyptian sojourn. As a special gift, he presented Darcy and Elizabeth with a small painting on canvas of the two of them in front of the pyramids―the perfect memento of their weeks in this exotic land.
By the time they had boarded the ship, the good memories had already begun to crowd out the bad. Elizabeth and her father had stored their personal treasures under their bunk and in a locked cabinet in the captain’s quarters.
Now, breathing in the salted air, Elizabeth reflected upon her entire journey.
Growing up, she never expected a chance to see the pyramids, the Sphinx, Hagia Sophia, the Parthenon, the Pantheon, or the Colosseum.
Yet in recent weeks, she had not merely seen them; she had touched those massive stones, had stood in their shadows, had felt the weight of millennia, and had contemplated the ingenuity they represented.
The reality of what she and the others had experienced was overwhelming.
This was not the life expected of a country gentleman’s daughter.
And George Wickham was dead.
Elizabeth struggled to comprehend the contradictions in his character.
At one time, his easy smile and practiced gallantry had made him seem like the perfect gentleman.
She had even laughed and flirted with him in Hertfordshire.
But this same man was a monster beneath all his charm.
The world was a safer place without George Wickham, and she refused to mourn him.
To escape her dark thoughts, she made her way to the ship’s galley, where laughter promised lighter company. The others had gathered around the common table, Elizabeth’s travel journal spread open before them like a visual feast chronicling their extraordinary adventure.
“Lizzy,” Her father looked up. His smile, though happy, still carried traces of the ordeal they had survived. “We were looking through these drawings. This journal will bring such joy to all of us in the years to come.”
She leaned against her father’s arm. “I will gladly share it with you whenever you become melancholy, sitting in your book room studying the hieroglyphics you traced and the quotes you wrote in your journal.”
His lips brushed her temple. “I do not think I can go back to my sedentary life, Lizzy girl. Now that I have tasted excitement, I plan to join your mother on her pony cart and explore more of Hertfordshire…maybe even beyond.”
After kissing his cheek, she flipped her journal open to a random location. “Look at this.” She pointed to a sketch of their group posed before the Trevi Fountain. “Do you remember how anxious we were about finding that first clue? We had no idea then of what lay ahead of us.”
“And here,” Prudence turned to a page filled with Mario’s exquisite miniatures of Roman architecture. “This seems like another lifetime. Were we so innocent then? You were exploring Rome while the colonel and I interviewed sea captains and military personnel.”
Her father leaned closer to examine a sketch of them dining in Constantinople. “Every drawing tells a story, does it not? Not just of the places we visited, but of the individuals who touched our lives.” He grinned. “And of the good food and wine we consumed!”
As each page was turned, the images sparked memories, laughter, and reminiscences. She would always treasure the camaraderie among Prudence, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and her father. But then she caught Darcy's attention, and her breath stilled mid-beat.
He was not laughing at her sketches or her written observations about their expedition.
He looked only at her, his intent gaze conveying that she was the most precious thing in his world and that every second of their journey had been worth enduring simply to arrive at this one perfect instant of shared contentment.
Realization struck her with stunning clarity.
This man, with his quiet strength and unwavering devotion, had become essential to her very existence.
He was not merely someone she loved, but someone without whom life would lose all color and meaning.
The thought of returning to England without him―of living any day without seeing that particular smile he reserved only for her―was unbearable.
She could no more imagine a future without Fitzwilliam Darcy than she could imagine breathing without air.
Later, as the sun was setting over the water, painting the western sky in shades that perfectly matched the coral cameo resting at Elizabeth’s throat, the gentle evening breeze carried the scent of salt air and fair weather ahead.
Elizabeth, standing alongside Darcy at the bow of the Mary Catherine, summoned the courage to say what had been building in her heart for weeks. “Fitzwilliam, there is something I need to tell you.”
He turned to face her, the golden light of the setting sun catching his features beautifully, looking so handsome that it fairly took her breath away. “What is it, my dearest?”
Elizabeth drew a steadying breath as she began to speak the words that would change everything between them. “I told you that I loved you when you rescued me in Alexandria.”
“I recall it clearly, Elizabeth.”
“In truth”―she took a deep breath―“I am completely, irrevocably, and permanently in love with you.”
Caught by surprise, he nearly stepped back. “Truly? Did I hear you clearly? Understand you correctly?”
“My darling man, I have observed you since our time in Portugal.
I have noticed how you put others' comfort ahead of your own, even here on the ship. No, that is not correct―especially here on the ship. You never complain about the heat, the lack of water and a bath, or the few days when the meals failed to fill our stomachs. You are attentive to everyone, from Tommy to me.” She gratefully accepted his hand when he extended it toward her.
“Your actions make it easy to imagine you as a husband and father. You would not be autocratic or indifferent, as some men I know. You would be kind. I am thoroughly convinced you are the only man I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.”
Surprise gave way to a delight that seemed to illuminate his entire being.
“Elizabeth.” He spoke her name with reverence and wonder. “I wish I had a more romantic nature. I wish I could find the words to describe what you mean to me adequately. I wish I could create a setting to match the poetry of this moment.”
Laughter bubbled up. “Are you serious? This is romance at its finest, my dear man. The two of us are on the sea at sunset, surrounded by the most beautiful scenery imaginable and a crew who are not even making a pretense of ignoring us.”
She reached up and again touched the cameo at her throat, drawing his attention to it.
“Do you see how the sky tonight matches this perfectly? The same coral and gold as that magical evening on Pincian Hill when you gave this to me? It was then that I knew my feelings for you were deeper than mere regard.”
Understanding dawned, and he recognized the significance of the parallel she had drawn. “That evening, everything changed between us.”
“Exactly,” Elizabeth confirmed. “What we have found together is precious.”
Darcy entwined his fingers with hers. Her breath caught.
“Elizabeth Bennet…” Despite the formality of his address, his warm voice made the traditional words entirely personal. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“Yes.” Her answer radiated certainty and joy. “Yes, with all my heart!”
The rightness of the moment settled around them like a blessing as he leaned down to kiss her, their first as an officially engaged couple.
The sunset, the gentle rocking of the ship, the knowledge they had been tested in every possible way― all combined to create a proposal scene beyond Elizabeth’s most romantic fantasies.
When they pulled apart, both grinning with pure, unadulterated happiness, she said, “I promise to love you forever, Fitzwilliam.”
“As I will love you, my Elizabeth.”
When they went below and shared their news with the others, Darcy produced a bottle, and Elizabeth gasped in delighted recognition.
“Chianti from Rome!” she observed with wonder.
“I thought to save the bottles I purchased for special occasions,” he admitted with a devastating smile. “And I cannot imagine a more perfect time. We will celebrate our engagement with wine from the city where we first began to understand what it means to truly love.
The atmosphere around Cook’s meal that evening was the perfect blend of intimacy and festivity.
Sitting at the table surrounded by the others who had shared their adventure, Elizabeth gratefully basked in the close connection she had with each of them.
The dinner had all the conviviality of a family celebration.
Darcy reached for her. This man―this wonderful man―was her future. Wherever they were in the world, her place would be forever by his side.