“Your sister. She has become dear to me — to see her so happy.”
“Yes…yes. Georgiana. I owe gratitude to you and to Mrs. Bingley. Without you—”
“It is you. You have ensured her happiness. I… You have been all that is good to her, all that is noble, and all that is kind.”
Darcy smiled, a little weakly. “That differs highly from your usual description of my behavior. Over attending, controlling, without giving her sufficient scope for her own opinions — I valueyouropinions greatly.”
“Mine!” Elizabeth convulsively placed her hand on Darcy’s knee, and then drew it away self-consciously. They had touched each other before. They had been closer than this during the waltz, when he’d swung her down in his arms.
But now she could not bear to be near him without looking away and down.
The scent of the blooming flowers filled the air, rich and sweet. It mixed with the warm and toasty feel of the hot air radiating from the stove that Darcy had filled with coal and stirred fully to life when they’d entered the room.
The candle flickered.
“Elizabeth, I…you, that is—” Darcy’s voice squeaked, and he fell silent.
The winter was quiet, and the stars shone high above them, glimmering along with the bare sliver of a new moon through the windows. A strain of violin and cello wafted through the door, only audible in the faintest way, drifting in and out of hearing. Darcy breathed next to her.
Elizabeth filled with confidence. He had called her by her Christian name. They knew both why they were here — because they passionately admired each other.
She put her hand upon his leg again and then her other upon his wrist cuff so that he looked at her. Elizabeth smiled at him. This moment required something other than too much of sweetness — she must tease him. “Fitzwilliam Darcy, are you well? You seem unaccountably silent. Now surely you can have little of import to say in a place like this, as we have already decided that I adore Georgie as asister, and her dear daughter as anaunt. If only I were yourbrother…”
Darcy’s mouth fell open. “You do not mean—” He smiled, seductively, slowly. “Isthatwhat you wish? Because I would like you to beGeorgiana’ssister.”
She shook her head, first yes, and then no, as she remembered what she had said. And then she frowned. She could not think. Not now with his eyes on her in this way. He took her hands, and he stood, sliding out of his chair, and then he knelt on one knee.
Her heart felt like to burst.
“Elizabeth Bennet…” He paused, not with hesitation but to savor the sound of her name on his voice. “Elizabeth, my dear Elizabeth, you cannot be ignorant of my feelings. You must know that I ardently admire and love you.”
She nodded, her face eager.
“Your goodness, your impertinence, your sweetness, and your cleverness. Your learning and your teaching. Your touch and your smile, your face and your spirit. Your heart and your soul — you call to me. Your spirit calls to me. I had never imagined I might, I had never hoped I might feel as I do with you. Your body glows in my eyes. When you speak I adore your voice, and when you make me listen I adore your mind. You are a woman — a woman perfect for me.”
“Yes, yes. I am foryou.”
“I ask you for your hand, for you to let me hold your sweet hand for my entire future life. I beg you to travel my path with me, beside me always. I offer all of who I am, my estate, my name, my person, and my soul, to love and honor, as I shall love and honor you. We shall be happy, if you make me the happiest man in the world.”
Elizabeth nodded eagerly. “Fitzwilliam, I…” Elizabeth could not speak through her smiling tears. “I am so…”
Darcy stroked her cheeks with one hand. Then he continued showing that he still did not always know when to stop. “I…I never imagined that my wife would be a woman such as you. I imagined my attachment would settle on a woman different…more traditional, lest forward, and with better connections, and a larger dowry, but you are nevertheless perfect for me, and—”
“Darcy — Fitzwilliam” — Elizabeth squeezed the hands he held her hands with, caressing them, feeling like a bird soaring above the clouds — “a proposal of marriage is no time for your celebrated frankness.”
Darcy’s mouth snapped shut. “It is not…” He said ruefully, “I just created another story that shall be told at length to posterity?”
“Only to my closest companions; the rest will hear only the first part.”
He smiled to her.
“Fitzwilliam Darcy, I have come to ardently admire and love you. I will marry you. But repeat the earlier portion of your proposal again.”
“Elizabeth Bennet,” he brought his face close to hers, “I ardently admire and love you.” He studied her lips, and then her eyes. She tingled with anticipation. He laid his lips upon her forehead. “Most ardently.”
Elizabeth squirmed and moaned softly, her back pressing against the chair as she arched her chest and hips towards him.
He put his hand on her burning cheeks, and brought her mouth up to meet his. He kissed her softly.
