A smile such as he had never seen before lit up her features; joy radiated from her, and he could see that tears filled her eyes. “Nothing would make me happier than to be your wife. Yes, I will marry you.”
“This is an outrage!” Lady Catherine cried. “Romsley, insist he rescind his offer and?—”
“I shall not,” the earl said, the first clear words Darcy had heard from him. It was then he realised that the crowd had gone silent as they watched the scene Lady Catherine was creating unfold before them. If he were not so happy, he would be embarrassed, vexed, furious—any manner of displeasing emotions—but he had Elizabeth by his side, her hand still in his, and he found hedid not care what anyone else thought. He pulled her hand to his mouth and pressed a lingering kiss to her fingers, then whispered, “I love you.”
“I love you too. I am so very happy,” she said.
Next to them, Lady Catherine said to Lord Romsley, “It is not to the children to decide such matters themselves. They have a duty to this family! Darcy has a duty to Anne, and I demand he lives up to it! He cannot marry some unknown creature. She cannot be anyone of note if I have never heard of her. What next? Would you let Bramwell bring such disgrace to the family?”
“I assure you,” said Bramwell, humour in his voice, “the lady I intend to marry is no more a disgrace than Miss Elizabeth is. Congratulations, by the way.” He nodded towards Elizabeth and Darcy, then turned to Rebecca, who stood by his side. “Since my aunt is already up in arms and causing a scandal, why do we not add to it? Better have it all done at once rather than give her an excuse to renew her complaints later.”
Darcy had always liked Rebecca, and he recalled telling Mr Bennet that she reminded him of Elizabeth. She was doing an excellent job of not looking affected by Lady Catherine’s antics or Bramwell’s perfunctory proposal.
She said, “What are you suggesting? I would like to be sure I know what I am agreeing to.”
“Marry me,” Bramwell stated.
Rebecca shrugged, but her smile betrayed how pleased she was. “I suppose.”
Lady Catherine was, indeed, willing to share her dislike of the match—calling Rebecca and her parentsscheming, amongst other insults. It lasted just long enough for Darcy to grow fatigued of her, and he was on the point of leading Elizabeth out of the room, but his other relations had sufficiently recovered from their shock to act. Lady Romsley said something to Fitzwilliam, who nodded and walked away; a moment later, her message became evident when the musicians began to play a lively, loud tune. Meanwhile, the countess brushed past her sister-in-law and congratulated the newly-engaged couples.
“Rebecca, my dear, I am so glad to know you will be my daughter. Bramwell could not have chosen a better wife.” She kissed Rebecca’s cheek and patted her son’s, then looked at Elizabeth and Darcy, her smile fond and approving. “As for you two, oh, Miss Elizabeth, I cannot thank you enough for making my nephew so happy. I anticipate getting to know you, and your charming relations, much better. Welcome to our family.” She insisted on kissing both of them.
Lord Romsley, who was holding his sister’s arm, nodded at them and said, “I shall return anon. Well done, boys, though I suggest you take your ladies somewhere quieter and tell them you cannot live without them, et cetera. Help them, and yourselves, to forget the brief ugliness my sister has brought to our night.” With that, he ushered a spluttering Lady Catherine out of the room. Anne looked as though she did not know what to do, and Lady Romsley went to her, leading her away as she spoke. Darcy neither knew nor cared what the countess intended to do with her.
“My uncle is right,” Darcy said to Elizabeth. “Come with me.”
Their hands still linked, he led her to an empty alcove.
“Have you lured me here for some nefarious purpose, Mr Darcy?”
Something in her saucy tone made heat course through his body. If he had his way, he would pull her into his arms and kiss her until she felt as on fire as he did.
“Nefarious? No,” he said. “But I did promise you a proper proposal, and there is no time like the present.”
She chuckled. “You asked me to marry you. Does that not constitute a proper proposal?”
Shaking his head, he said, “It does not. You deserve so much more than that. You deserve to know how much I adore and love you, how overjoyed I am with you, that knowing you has changed my life more than you can imagine. You encourage me, make mewantto be a considerate, diligent, generous man for you, so that I can be the husband you deserve, one you need never doubt or be ashamed of. You deserve to know that when I look at you, there are times I can hardly breathe. You are so beautiful, truly the most beautiful sight in the world to me, and you are more than I ever imagined I would have in my wife, my partner in life. We could stand here for the rest of the night while I describe everything I find admirable about you—your good humour, quick wit, sympathetic nature. I vow I shall always do everything in my power to never disappoint you?—”
His words were interrupted by her suddenly grabbing him by the lapels, pulling him towards her, and kissing him soundly. After a long, indescribably wonderful embrace, she released him enough that she could look into his eyes and said, “Yes, I will marry you, and I love you just as much, and I vow I shall do everything in my power to ensure you never regret your choice?—”
Darcy had heard enough and, having discovered how satisfying it was to end a long-winded speech with a kiss, once again pressed their lips together, this time gathering her into his arms and refusing to relinquish her until forced to by the sound of a throat clearing. It was an amused-looking Mr Gardiner, who said he understood but, “there will be time enough for thatafteryou are married.”
Elizabeth laughed, and Darcy would have been mortified if he was not consumed by love and happiness.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
In the small hours of the morning, once all the guests had gone, the Romsleys, their sons, Frederick Darcy and his family, Darcy, Bingley, and the Gardiners and their nieces sat together to discuss the evening and have a final drink before going their separate ways. The ball had continued after the scene caused by Lady Catherine, whom Lord Romsley had ordered to return to Kent and remain there, not contacting any of them, until she was prepared to humbly beg their pardon.
“I said I might also demand she take out a notice in all the newspapers to publicly apologise to everyone who was here,” the earl said.
“Oh, it is all my fault,” the countess cried, her features crumpled together and chin lowered. Asked to explain, she continued. “I always invite Catherine and Anne. They are family, after all, but I never expect them to come. Catherinealwaysdeclines. Every year, I receive a letter within three or four days of sending the invitation.Thinking of it now, I do not believe one came this year—but neither did I receive word that they would attend. I certainly would have rememberedthat. Why would she not tell us she was coming to town? Where was she intending to stay?”
“With us, I imagine, never stopping to think of the inconvenience of two unexpected guests—and the multitude of servants she requires—arriving the same night as the ball,” the earl said.
“You are not to blame, Aunt,” Darcy said, his sentiment repeated by many others. “The only person who should regret their behaviour is Lady Catherine.”
“And she is the one who is least likely to,” Fitzwilliam added.
