His smile turned his cool blue eyes into a shimmering pool of sapphire. For the hundredth time, Elizabeth almost sighed just looking at him.
Tilting his head toward hers, he lowered his voice to a whisper, “Will you accept me as your husband, Elizabeth? Will you be my wife?”
They were so close that the shadow of whiskers from a morning without shaving and every individual eyelash were distinct.
Elizabeth questioned the desires of her heart. Did she love him? She thought so. The worries and concerns about her future before they were trapped at Netherfield Park haunted her enough for her to consider whether she could be happy tying herself to this man for the rest of her life. When added to Mrs. Hammond’s encouragement to Mary about cultivating qualities that already were her inclination, she was convinced that she and Mr. Darcy would get on fairly well.
Therefore, she replied, “I will if you will guarantee a third kiss and a fourth and more.”
“On my honor.”
He baskedin the knowledge that Elizabeth would be his wife. Could a man be happier? Everything about his decision felt right and just. He would be the best husband he could be, cherishing his wife with all his heart.
He loved her laugh. He loved her concern for others and how much she tried to bring joy to anyone she was with. He loved her!
Did she love him? Her kiss made it obvious that she felt something for him. If it were not yet love, then he would do everything within his knowledge and power to see that she saw the best of him and everything he had to offer. He would practice flirting until she considered him the most ridiculous man on the planet if it made her happy. He would love her with his heart, soul, mind, and strength. He vowed to himself to start immediately.
The morning slipped into afternoon,and the wind continued to blow rain and hail onto the side of the building. Even from their interior rooms, they could hear sounds of destruction. Darcy prayed they would remain safe in their haven.
For hours, he discussed plans and the current difficulties he faced with Elizabeth. She was a good listener, focusing not only on the words but his intent behind his utterances. Her observations and opinions were welcome.
Mrs. Bennet finally interrupted them.
“Of what subject are you and Mr. Darcy speaking, Lizzy?” her mother demanded. “Kitty and Lydia are both weary of bickering, and I am weary of listening to them. I insist on my share of the conversation.”
“Very well, Mama. Mr. Darcy said that his estate in Derbyshire was affected by the lack of rain this summer like we were in Hertfordshire. The dry weather harmed his crops, which impacted his income.”
The matron put her hand to her chest, “Poor Mr. Darcy. This must mean a shortfall of your ten thousand a year. How you must be suffering.”
Quick to reassure her in case she gave an unfavorable report to Mr. Bennet prior to his asking for their daughter’s hand in marriage, Darcy reassured her that he was solvent.
“Well, I had not thought you two were speaking of the economy. I was hoping you shared gossip from Town that might be far more interesting to me. Be that as it may, you can continue speaking without my interruption.” She placed the back of her hand to her brow. “I will sit here in silent suffering until I amfinally able to return to Longbourn, where I will be equally, or if not more, ignored.”
Darcy stood, grateful to stretch his muscles. “I do have an idea should everyone agree. I know for a fact that Bingley has a copy ofThe Adventures of Peregrine Pickletucked away behind his books on crops and seed selection. I would gladly read it aloud if this would please you?”
The three youngest Bennets immediately agreed. Mrs. Hammond said, “Please do.” Elizabeth nodded, her smile brighter than the sun, while Miss Bennet and Richard spoke quietly in the other corner, ignoring all other conversation.
“Very well. I shall begin.” He found the book, pulled his chair closer to the others and then moved Elizabeth’s to be next to his, turned to page one of the book, and began.
“Volume 1. Chapter 1. An account of Mr. Gamaliel Pickle—The Disposition of his Sister described—He yields to her Solicitations, and returns to the Country.
In a certain county of England, bounded on one side by the sea, and at the distance of one hundred miles from the metropolis, lived Gamaliel Pickle, esq.’ the father of that hero whose fortunes we propose to record…”
He read for the longest while, his Elizabeth supplying him with now tepid tea for the duration. His audience gasped when the story became sad and laughed when appropriate. When Elizabeth suggested a break, the Bennet girls became the characters from Shakespeare’sMuch Ado About Nothing.Elizabeth was correct: Miss Mary did an excellent Beatrice to Miss Lydia’s Benedik. Even Cook laughed aloud, slapping her knee a few times.
All in all, the hours passed in pleasantness, though all of them were aware of the storm striking them from outside. Since there was no exterior light coming into the room, the passage of time was unmarked. It would be the same in the cellar forBingley, Hurst, and the other men. Who knew whether it was night or day? What mattered was that they were all safe…so far.
When Elizabeth handed him the last roll on the plate filled with a thin slice of ham along with the last of the tea, he could not stop himself from asking.
“Can you picture in your mind a great banquet hall with tables laden with every sort of delicacies and wines, laughing family members and friends filling every corner? I never imagined it happening at Pemberley before, but I can now.”
She lightly touched his sleeve. “Fitzwilliam, as I am attempting to do, you are learning to look beyond the surface to see the good in people. I am deeply proud of you and of me, too, for trying.”
He almost lost himself in the depth of her gaze. “Let us not have a long engagement, I beg you.”
A corner of her mouth lifted. “Have I told you lately what an intelligent man I will be marrying? I guarantee you that should you address me by my first name where Mama could hear, we will be wed before you know it.”
Elizabeth delighted every inch of his soul. He simply could not wait to make her his bride.
