A smile broke across her face. “You have done very well indeed.” Then she changed the direction of the conversation. “Not, of course, in chess.”
He chuckled. “No. I have just had the dubious pleasure of playing your father.”
She smiled brightly. “I am sorry for that. Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes, Mr. Darcy, I will marry you.”
His breath escaped in a soft exhale, as though he had been holding it all this time. His hands closed over hers, warm and steady, and for a moment, they simply stood there, looking into one another’s eyes, their connection silent and profound.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice quiet but full of emotion.
Elizabeth smiled impishly. “You are welcome.”
He chuckled softly. “May I speak to your father again, to formalise the matter?”
“You may,” she said. “But I daresay he already knows my answer.”
Darcy pressed her hands. “He did indicate you would accept me, but I could not be sanguine.”
Elizabeth laughed aloud at that, her voice light and joyous. “And did he require thatyoupass his examination?”
“Examination?”
“He had a great many questions for me yesterday, about my feelings for you.”
“He did not question me in such a manner,” Mr. Darcy replied. “Though because I asked you for the courtship, I doubt it was my feelings about which he felt unsure. Though he did make it clear that I am marrying not only you, but also your family.”
Her laughter softened, and she squeezed his hand gently. “That is very true, Mr. Darcy. Are you quite prepared for that challenge?”
He looked at her, his eyes full of warmth. “For you, Elizabeth, I am prepared for anything, but they aremyfamily too.”
She laughed softly. “I suppose that is true.”
Darcy marvelled at the way Elizabeth’s touch calmed him.
“There are still a few things I do not understand,” she said. “May I . . .?”
“Join me when I visit your father? Of course.”
Elizabeth sat in her father’s study, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “You had no notion you were not a Bennet?” she asked her father.
Papa shook his head. “Not the faintest inkling.”
“Then,” she said slowly, “Mr. Darcy came to you himself after he discovered the baby blankets were identical?”
Her father nodded, his expression softening. “He did. I would never have known otherwise. He came to me with the truth and asked for nothing but a single assurance.”
Elizabeth’s brows rose. “And what was that?”
“That his sister’s fortune is not touched,” her father said, his tone matter of fact. “As if a father of five daughters would steal another child’s inheritance.”
Elizabeth’s gaze darted to Mr. Darcy’s. The Earl of Essex came to her mind unbidden, and she could tell from the tension in Mr. Darcy’s jaw that he was thinking the same.
“Alovingfather,” her father added.
Elizabeth turned to her father, a question forming on her lips, but he continued before she could speak. “You should know, Elizabeth, that your mother and sisters will all be provided for. We have ensured they will want for nothing, regardless of what may come.”
