Bingley blinked, his brow furrowing. “The room? But I—”
“Now,” Darcy said firmly, fixing Bingley with a pointed look.
Elizabeth burst into laughter, hiding her smile behind her hand as Jane’s cheeks deepened in color. “Fitzwilliam Darcy!” she exclaimed, mockingly aghast. “Do you always commandeer rooms at the height of romantic moments?”
Darcy turned to her, his expression both solemn and faintly smug. “I assure you, Miss Elizabeth, this is a matter of great importance.”
Bingley, ever obliging despite his confusion, rose to his feet and offered Jane a reassuring smile. “I’ll only be a moment, my dear. I… I suppose I shall… speak with your father?”
“Yes, do that,” Darcy urged. “And her mother, too, if you please. Off with you now.”
Bingley’s face reddened still further, and he gave Jane’s hand a squeeze before allowing Darcy to shepherd him—and Mrs. Bennet, who had been hovering near the doorway—out of the room.
Once the door clicked shut, the drawing room fell silent. Elizabeth turned to Darcy, her eyes sparkling with laughter. “I hope you do not expect me to forget the sheer audacity of that display.”
“I will gladly bear the censure,” Darcy replied, stepping closer. His eyes softened, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Elizabeth, I have waited too long already.”
Her breath caught as he reached for her hands, his warmth steady and grounding. “And you think now is the time?”
“I do,” Darcy said, his voice steady but his eyes warm with emotion. He stepped closer, his hands enclosing hers with a reverence that made Elizabeth’s breath catch. “Elizabeth Bennet, you are the very center of my thoughts—my better judgment, my every hope for happiness. I am hopelessly and completely in love with you. Will you allow me the privilege of calling you my wife?”
Elizabeth’s lips parted, a soft gasp escaping her before she could compose herself. For a moment, she simply stared at him, her heart thundering as his words wrapped around her like a warm embrace. Then, the teasing glint in her eyes returned. “Privilege, Mr. Darcy? Are you certain you can endure the honor?”
A slow, wry smile tugged at his lips, and he dipped his head slightly. “I would endure far worse, Elizabeth, if it meant securing your affection.”
Her laughter bubbled up, light and full of life, and she shook her head at him, her tears threatening to spill. “Well, then,” she said, her voice trembling as her smile widened. “If you are so determined to endure me, I suppose I cannot refuse.”
Darcy’s smile softened, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of her hand. “You cannot imagine what it means to hear you say that.”
“Then allow me to make it clearer,” Elizabeth replied, her voice steadier now, though her tears shimmered brightly in her eyes. She looked directly into his gaze, her words firm and true. “Yes, Fitzwilliam. I will marry you.”
The relief that washed over his face was almost comical in its intensity, and Elizabeth laughed again, her heart so full it felt as though it might burst. Darcy’s hands tightened slightly around hers as his expression shifted to something deeper, more vulnerable.
“You cannot know how long I have waited to hear those words,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
Elizabeth tilted her head, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “And yet you nearly fumbled the proposal with all that talk of enduring me.”
Darcy chuckled softly, his head bowing briefly as he shook it in amused defeat. “You will never let me forget that, will you?”
“Not as long as I live,” she replied, her grin widening.
“Then I shall endure it gladly,” he said, his tone lighter now, though his gaze remained steady and filled with adoration.
Elizabeth stepped closer, her voice dropping to a tender murmur. “You need not endure anything, Fitzwilliam. Loving you is no hardship for me. It never has been.”
Darcy’s breath caught, his composure faltering just slightly, and then he closed the remaining distance between them. His hands moved to frame her face with gentle care, his eyes searching hers for one last moment before he leaned down and kissed her.
It was a kiss that held everything—every misunderstanding, every moment of longing, every unspoken word that had built between them. And as Elizabeth kissed him back, she felt the weight of the past weeks lift entirely, leaving only joy in its place.
When they finally broke apart, her face was radiant, and his expression was softer than she had ever seen it. He gathered her in his arms, holding her tightly as if to assure himself she was truly there.
“I cannot believe it,” he murmured into her hair, his voice thick with emotion. “You—here, with me.”
Elizabeth tilted her head back to look up at him, her eyes sparkling. “Well, you did rather commandeer the drawing room.”
Darcy laughed, his head bowing slightly in acknowledgment. But then his expression turned thoughtful, his brow furrowing slightly. “Tell me,” he began, his tone tinged with curiosity, “did you ever win your wager?”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise, and then she burst into laughter, shaking her head. “This is hardly the time to ask such things!”
