Chapter Twenty-Four
Two months later
George walked hand in hand with Bella along a pale strip of coast beneath a cloudless blue sky.
It was early in the day and the August heat had not yet reached its full strength, while the breeze coming in off the sea cooled the air and made for a pleasant stroll.
There was no one around and he revelled in the freedom to take Bella's hand in his own and feel her fingers curled through his.
It was only in the last couple of weeks that her father had consented to their taking short walks unchaperoned.
George could have kissed the man full on the lips when he made the announcement, and they had taken full advantage of the freedom, going for long walks and enjoying stolen kisses in the shadow of the tall cliffs while the sea sparkled beyond them.
Today, Bella swung their hands between them as she talked of everything and nothing, stopping occasionally to examine a pretty shell or stone half hidden in the sand.
The last two months had been some of the happiest George could remember, not only because he had been able to deepen his relationship with Bella, who was now not only the keeper of his heart but his dearest friend in the world, but because he had been welcomed into the exuberant Darcy family, including its rather more reserved patriarch.
He had come to love the simple affection of noisy meals and impromptu dances in the parlour, Elizabeth's lively conversation and the squabbling and teasing of Bella's younger sisters.
It had been so long since he had been part of any sort of family at all that he had not realised how desperately he had missed it.
However, yesterday he had sat with Mr Darcy in his study, the easy companionship of the previous weeks forgotten as George nervously asked the man a question he had been turning over in his mind almost from the first moment his lips had touched Bella's.
Now, with her father's approval secured, there remained only Bella herself to convince of his suit.
She released his hand and skipped happily towards the shifting line where the sea met the shore, bending to pull a pretty silver shell from the wet sand.
She turned back to him, smiling broadly, her dark hair being tugged free from its pins by the wind and lit from behind by the morning sun.
George's heart gave the familiar painful squeeze it always seemed to suffer when she looked at him like that.
"Isn't this lovely, George? Look at the markings here." She held out the shell as she came towards him.
George examined it gravely. "It is very lovely, Princess, but do you not have a hundred more just like it?"
"Oh, George." She closed her fingers protectively around her treasure. "That is not the point. They are all unique in their own way. Clara is forever grumbling that if she has to find one more bowl to store my seaside rubbish, she is going to empty the whole lot into the dustbin."
"She would never dare."
"She would never," Bella said happily.
Bella turned away from him again, raising one hand to shade her eyes as she looked across the sparkling sea, which that morning was a brilliant blue, with only gentle waves brushing the shore.
"Now or never, Captain," George murmured. He sank to one knee in the sand and waited for her to turn back to him.
"It is lovely today, George. I do not think I could ever tire of this view. I may see if my sisters and Mama would like to enjoy some sea bathing later. It seems a perfect day for it, do you not think?"
When he did not answer, Bella turned slowly towards him, her expression first curious and then confused as her gaze dropped to where he knelt in the sand.
"What are you doing down there? Have you found a shell?"
George laughed. He suspected he made a most ridiculous figure, but he no longer cared. He reached for her hand and held it between both of his. "This is not about a shell, my love."
Her eyes widened as realisation began to bloom across her lovely face.
"Bella Darcy, my Princess and keeper of my heart, I love you dearly.
These past months have been the happiest of my life.
I have grown to know you so well, and the more I know you, the more I love you.
I love your kindness, your courage, your intelligence, your ridiculous collection of shells and even that terrible habit you have of rushing headlong into ridiculous situations before anyone can stop you.
" Her mouth curved up, but her eyes were already shining.
"Would you do me the very great honour of becoming my wife? "
For one awful moment she said nothing. She only stared at him, blinking slowly as though the words were slowly seeping into her consciousness.
"Bella?" His stomach dropped. "We do not have to..."
He got no further. She dropped to her knees in the sand and flung her arms around his neck. "Yes, you dear man. Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes."
George barely had time to draw breath before she began covering his face with kisses, pressing them to his cheeks, his brow, the corner of his mouth and even the tip of his nose as she laughed against his skin.
He caught her around the waist, laughing with her, and when she finally found his mouth the force of it sent him backwards into the sand, Bella tumbling down with him in a tangle of skirts and limbs.
For a moment, neither of them made any attempt to get up.
Bella lay half across him, warm and wonderfully solid in his arms, one of her hands buried in his hair while the other rested against his chest. George could feel her laughter there, little movements against him as she tried to catch her breath.
He slid one hand slowly up her back and drew her closer, scarcely able to believe that he was allowed to hold her like this and that, unless he did something spectacularly foolish, he might be allowed to do so for the rest of his life.
He kissed her again, more slowly this time.
Bella softened against him at once, her fingers tightening in his hair as his mouth moved over hers.
The kiss was warm and lingering, tasting faintly of salt from the sea air, and when he brushed his thumb along the curve of her cheek she turned her face into his palm before kissing him again.
George felt something inside him give way entirely.
All the careful restraint he had spent years cultivating seemed quite useless where Bella was concerned.
When they finally parted, neither of them moved far.
Bella remained draped across him, her hair falling loose around them and her cheeks pink from the wind and his kisses.
George brushed several dark strands away from her face, then let his fingers trail lightly along her jaw before cupping her cheek.
"My very own Princess," he murmured.
Bella smiled down at him, still a little breathless. "I am not a princess, George."
"No?"
"No." She bent until the tip of her nose brushed his and kissed him once more, softly this time. "But I am all yours. Forever and always."