They sat in companionable silence for a while, occasionally speaking of this or that minor point. The sun had moved closer to sunset than noon when Darcy said, “I have an idea!”
“Let us have it,” she replied with a slightly nervous laugh.
“I think we should try a new communication method I read about in a book once. It seems radical, but it might be interesting.”
“Why, certainly.” she replied playfully.
Elizabeth had reluctantly climbed off his lap some time earlier, mainly because his leg started to fall asleep, so they sat side by side, perhaps closer than propriety strictly demanded.
Darcy slid off the bench, faced her, went down on one knee, and took her hand tenderly.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, love of my life, will you do me the great honour of accepting my hand in marriage?”
Elizabeth giggled. “Plain, unvarnished, unambiguous English. This is unprecedented.”
Darcy cocked an eyebrow at her, so she wagged a finger. “And now we are back to non-verbalism.”
With a smile, she slid off the bench, knelt on the ground, and took his other hand.
“Fitzwilliam Darcy, you are indeed the love of my life, and it would be my greatest honour and pleasure to be your wife.”
They sealed the bargain with another kiss. It lasted just long enough for the rocks on the path to dig into their knees; then both jumped up and, laughing happily, decided to take the long way back to the house.
“Fitzwilliam, that was a brilliant idea, speaking clearly and succinctly.”
“I thought so.”
“A good idea… in moderation.”
They both chuckled and walked some more, speaking of this and that.
When they had passed out of sight of the house and entered a shaded path, Elizabeth said, “Now that we are officially and unambiguously engaged, I suppose we have arrangements to work out.”
“Such as?”
“I suppose we should follow the proper forms by asking my father’s blessing, though it is not really necessary, as I am of age, and to be honest, Uncle Gardiner would negotiate the settlement anyway. Of course, that is aside from your obviously taking my dowry from one ledger page to another.”
Darcy chuckled, but Elizabeth continued, “Speaking of that—when you bought the books, did you know who and what they were for?”
“I did not. Your brother, much to his credit, was careful to keep your confidence. Your sister Mary was concerned about fortune hunters, so all I got was an inventory of titles, publication dates, and condition. I did not recognise the handwriting as yours at the time. I did not work it out until after Hunsford.”
“That makes me feel better. So, the arrangement makes financial sense.”
“A library that hasbeen the work of many generationsgenerates expectations. When I meet my ancestors in the next world, I would certainly like to establish some boasting rights.”
“I am happy to have contributed to your afterlife hubris.”
They walked on, and Darcy said, “About those arrangements. I may be able to simplify.”
“Do tell.”
“Your father told me that, should I ever find myself in want of a wife, I could assume I have his blessing for any daughter whose age is in the sequence. I asked him which sequence, and he said I would know, if and when the time came.”
Elizabeth laughed gaily and slapped his arm. “Pray, tell me you have worked it out by now.”
Darcy grinned but shook his head.
She said, “I suppose you may have forgotten one tiny little fragment of our conversation in Hunsford. I will forgive you this once.”
