Darcy considered. “You mean—”
“Let me say it plainly. I esteem you. I respect you. I like you. I prefer your company to all others… but… but… but—”
A tear escaped her eye, and she did not brush it away. “But I do not know if I canlove you. I just do not know if it is in me. You see, I am not certain all is right in my head.”
Darcy released one of her hands and lifted her chin. “Let me be very clear, Elizabeth. The only thing wrong with that pretty head of yours is that it holds a face I cannot look away from. I love that head and all it contains with enough force for both of us.”
Elizabeth startled at the strength of the statement. She smiled nervously, at a loss for words.
“Let us be analytical about it, shall we?” he added.
She giggled, thinking she must be careful around him since he was learning all her tricks at an alarming rate.
“I know you usually make a scale, but that is overreach. I will simply ask this. Estimate, on whatever terms you like, youraffection,orinfatuation,or whatever you wish to call it, over your lifetime. Pick the apex—you do know what that means?”
Elizabeth laughed openly. He knew perfectly well she knew it was the highest point of a curve, and she would ordinarily be offended he even asked. She nodded, grateful he used his humour to make her less nervous.
“When in your life were youclosestto what you think a wife should feel for her husband? At what point was your infatuationat its highest level? You need not define the delta between that feeling and the goal; just tell me the point in time.”
“That is not fair.”
“I agree. Was it fair to stick the present Mr and Mrs Jameson into a tiny little box in a public park in London, or ambush Mr Collins with a ledger during a proposal, or spirit my cousin away from Rosings to Longbourn.?”
“Do you knowallmy secrets?”
“Not yet.”
She smiled ruefully. “I suppose I must answer. The point is easy clear enough. It was 29 words into your proposal.”
He continued relentlessly. “All right. Let us put that feeling aside, since by your own admission, I am as close as you have ever come to the goal. I assume you could easily estimate your feelings of esteem, respect, and so forth. Have any of them changedsince then?”
“To be honest, all have improved considerably. Between Georgie, Lady Catherine, Anne, the colonel… well, I can say all my other feelings for you improved a great deal.”
“Suppose we made a chart with a line denoting the minimum levels of each of these attributes that a couple should have to ensure a happy life together, would you say I meet the mark on all the others except your affection for me?”
Elizabeth hesitated, unwilling to give a slapdash answer. “I will ask you to answer the same question, but for my part, a decided yes. You meet—nay, greatly exceed—the minimum. In almost all ways, we are the perfect match.”
Darcy cupped her cheek. “You have the right of it. I can say that you exceed my wildest dreams onall axes. So, what are you afraid of? Do not pretend you fear we will not get along together. Do not pretend you fear we will not have a happy household fullof talented and mischievous, if slightly unorthodox, children.Let us get to the heart of the matter. What are youreallyafraid of?”
With difficulty, she drew her attention from his hand on her cheek and met his eyes.“I am afraid I will hurt you.I am afraid I willnever love youthe way a woman should love her husband, and your love is so obvious, so implacable, so persistent, sointense… I fear I will destroy the best part of you. I am afraid we might find ourselves with unequal affection. It would be corrosive. It would eventually destroy us both, worse than my own parents’ marriage.”
“I cannot remember which ancient said it, but there is a common definition:Love is the condition in which another’s happiness is more important than your own,”Darcy said with a slight smile.
Elizabeth’s mouth hung open. She had never considered such a thing. Everything she had ever read or discussed about love concerned the lover’s feelings, not the lover’s concern for another. As usually described, it was frankly selfish.
“If you will allow me the free use of your analogy, you are masterful at seeing the truth of someone else’s feelings from outside their little box. You did that for me, and I hope I am returning the favour.”
She stared at him a moment. "Please be clear, Fitzwilliam. What is it you want? What do youreallywant?"
He smiled. “At the risk of sounding mad, I want exactly the same thing I wanted in Hunsford, while simultaneously wanting the exact opposite.”
“Why would that sound mad? My thoughts usually turn that way. Perhaps you might add somenuance?”
“When I entered the parsonage, I thought I knew both of us, and I wantedyou. I wantedyouto acceptme—or rather, I wantedmy idea of youto acceptmy idea of myself.Since then,I have learned that neither of us knew the other at all, and at the time, I did not even know myself. Now—”
Words failed him, so she squeezed his hand.
“Now, I wish to openly acknowledge that I know myself a little better and you a little better, but neither of us truly knows the other. I wish for us to spend a lifetime learning about each other, growing, learning some more, and growing some more, so we can both die slightly less ignorant.”
