Chapter XXX #3
He shook his head. His fingers tightened gently around hers.
“And I do not want only to be loved by you. I want to care for you. To stand beside you. To be the person you can trust when the world becomes difficult.”
He looked at her with complete honesty.
“I want you, Elizabeth.”
A breath.
“But more than that…”
His voice softened.
“I want you to choose me.”
Elizabeth looked away for a moment.
“But what of the scandal?”
The question was quiet, but Darcy heard the concern behind it.
“The family will still be spoken of. People will still judge.”
“Yes.”
She looked back at him. “And you?”
Darcy was silent for a moment.
A year ago, that question would have troubled him more than he wished to admit. He would have considered every consequence, every whisper, every opinion formed in drawing rooms by people who knew nothing of the truth. He did have an unmarried sister.
But so much had changed.
“We have done what we can.”
Elizabeth watched him carefully.
“Your family is leaving Longbourn. Miss Lydia has been removed from the situation. Wickham will answer for his actions.” He glanced down at their joined hands. “There is no action left to take merely to satisfy the opinions of others.”
“But society…”
“Society will always have something to say.” There was no bitterness in his voice. Only certainty. “I have spent too much of my life allowing the imagined opinions of others to influence what I ought to do.”
His gaze returned to hers. “I will not have people totally unrelated to me dictate my life.”
Elizabeth’s expression softened. “Even if people speak against you?”
“Let them.” The answer came without hesitation. “I know the truth. You know the truth. Those whose opinions matter know the truth.” A faint smile appeared. “And if others choose to believe that I have ruined myself by marrying you…”
He paused.
“Then they will have to endure the disappointment of seeing me perfectly content.”
Elizabeth could not help but smile.
“You make it sound very simple.”
“It is not simple.” His expression became serious again. “It is merely clear.”
He lifted her hand gently. “I would rather face every whisper in London with you beside me than spend another day wondering what I sacrificed because I was afraid of what people might say.”
“And Georgiana?”
“She is sixteen. It is another two years before she comes out. Or we can wait a year more if needed, but by that time other scandals will interest the crowd… and hopefully, London will not be interested in a fifteen-year-old country girl.”
First, Elizabeth said nothing. Then quietly, “You truly mean it?”
Darcy looked at her. “With all my heart.”
It took a few moments for Elizabeth to be able to speak.
She looked at him – at the man who had once seemed so proud, so certain of his own judgement, and yet now sat before her, asking not for acceptance but for a choice.
The difference was not lost upon her.
“Then allow me to answer you properly.”
Darcy looked at her.
Elizabeth’s fingers tightened gently around his.
“I do choose you.”
He swallowed. The words seemed almost too simple for the weight they carried.
“I choose you,” she repeated, her voice softer. “Not because of your name. Not because of Pemberley. Not because of what you have done for my family.” Her eyes filled. “I choose you because I know you.”
Darcy’s expression changed.
Elizabeth wiped her eyes. “I know your pride. I know your reserve. I know that you are sometimes far too determined to carry every burden alone.” A faint smile touched her lips. “And I know that beneath all of it is the kindest, most honourable man I have ever known.”
He looked away briefly, as though the words affected him more than he wished to show.
Elizabeth continued. “I once believed you incapable of understanding the feelings of others.” A pause. “I was wrong.”
Darcy looked back at her.
“I once believed you thought too highly of yourself.” She smiled faintly. “I now believe you think too little of yourself.”
That earned the smallest breath of laughter from him.
“And if you still wish for me after knowing all my faults,” she said, “then I think you must allow me the same privilege.”
“Elizabeth…”
“I choose you, Fitzwilliam.”
The use of his Christian name seemed to undo him.
“I have chosen you for some time, I believe. I simply did not understand it.”
He could only look at her. Then, very quietly, he said,
“You have no idea what that means to me.”
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Darcy had faced anger, disappointment, and humiliation without hesitation. He had stood before Wickham, prepared to suffer whatever came from his actions.
Yet this – Elizabeth choosing him freely – affected him more deeply than any victory ever could.
“Elizabeth…”
His voice was barely above a whisper.
She saw the emotion he was trying so carefully to contain, and something in her expression softened.
“You need not look so surprised,” she said gently.
“I am not surprised.” A faint smile touched his lips. “I am grateful.”
That was the word that undid her.
Not triumph. Not satisfaction.
Gratitude.
She had never imagined that Fitzwilliam Darcy – a man who appeared so certain of everything – could look at her as though she had given him something precious beyond measure.
Without thinking, she lifted her hand to his face. Carefully, avoiding the bruise, she touched his cheek.
Darcy closed his eyes briefly at the tenderness of the gesture. “Elizabeth,” he said again.
This time, she answered before he could say anything more.
“I am here.”
His eyes opened. And that was enough. Slowly, giving her every opportunity to move away, he leant towards her.
Their first kiss was gentle. Almost uncertain.
Not because they lacked feeling, but because there was too much of it.
For so long, they had stood on opposite sides of pride, misunderstanding, and fear. Now there was nothing left between them except the truth they had finally spoken.
Darcy’s hand rose carefully to her shoulder, mindful of his injuries, as though even now he feared taking too much.
Elizabeth smiled against his lips. “Still afraid of asking too much?” The question was whispered.
Darcy looked at her. “Always.”
The honesty of the answer touched her.
“Good.”
He looked surprised. “Good?”
“Yes.”
Her fingers rested lightly against his.
“Because I should not like to discover that you have returned to being impossible.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
Then he kissed her again. And this time there was no hesitation.