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“Yes!” She bounced excitedly on the toes of her satin slippers. “Yes! Oh, that is perfect! That is the most wonderful news in the entire world! You must say yes, Miss Elizabeth!”
Mrs Gardiner held a lace handkerchief over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with delighted laughter. Mr Gardiner clapped in a robust round of applause, startling the wolfhounds into a chorus of confused barking.
Miss Elizabeth’s lips parted in astonishment. A blush bloomed across her cheeks, rushing down her neck to stain her collarbone. She stared at him with wide eyes.
Darcy held his breath. The silence stretched on, taut and heavy in the warm evening air.
“You wish to court me?”
“With your permission.” Darcy refused to break eye contact. “I promise no bad poetry. I promise no excessive flattery. I merely wish for the honour of proving my affections.”
Her beautiful face broke into a blinding smile.
“Yes, Mr Darcy. You may court me.”
Darcy exhaled a shuddering breath and executed a deep bow, his heart soaring. When he straightened, he turned his head to the open doorway and snapped his fingers.
Martin ushered in a procession of footmen bearing towers of sugared fruits and bouquets of hothouse blooms like offerings to a visiting monarch.
Bates led the charge. He miraculously managed a platter piled high with candied almonds, spun sugar birds, and bonbons without tripping over the rug. Three other footmen followed closely on his heels, their arms laden with armfuls of pink roses, white lilies, and purple irises.
Miss Elizabeth gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks in shock. She looked from the overwhelming amount of flora and confectionery to Darcy’s flushed, hopeful face.
A peal of bright laughter burst from her lips. She moved to the nearest footman, accepting a bouquet of roses that nearly obscured her vision.
“You are remarkably thorough in your endeavours, sir.” She buried her nose in the fragrant blossoms, her eyes dancing with amusement over the petals.
“I take my business very seriously, Miss Elizabeth.”
Martin cleared his throat from the passage. “Dinner is served.”
Darcy stepped to Miss Elizabeth’s side, offering his arm with a confident flourish.
She placed her free hand on his sleeve, the warmth of her touch permeating his coat, settling into his bones.
He led her from the drawing-room, a triumphant smile lifting the corners of his mouth. The cheering family members and baying wolfhounds trailed happily behind them to the dining room. Pemberley had never felt so perfectly, undeniably right.
Chapter Eleven: How to Woo a Lady
Elizabeth sat at the writing desk in the green chamber, attempting to locate her inkwell behind an arrangement of white lilies. Mr Darcy had taken his courtship very seriously. Every flat surface currently hosted a vase, a porcelain bowl, or a woven basket overflowing with fresh blooms. The room smelled of roses, damp earth, and impending matrimony.
She dipped her quill, moving a stray fern frond out of her way, and began writing.
My dearest Jane,
I write to you from a veritable indoor forest. I am surrounded by flora, and my heart is full. You will scarcely believe the contents of this letter, and I urge you to sit down before reading further.
Mr Darcy is courting me. Yesterday evening, in front of our aunt, our uncle, and his sister, he asked for my permission to pay his addresses. He did so with a procession of footmen carrying enough sugared fruit to feed the entirety of Derbyshire. I said yes. I said yes, Jane, and I have never been more certain of anything in my life.
I know you will wonder at this sudden change. The man I spoke of so harshly is not the man who resides here at Pemberley. He is kind, he is generous, and he loves his sister with a fierce devotion. More astonishingly, he laughs. He laughs at Uncle Edward’s jokes, he laughs at the antics of his own hounds, and he looks at me with an expression I can barely bring myself to describe on paper. I love him, Jane. We have both found our happiness, dearest. Please give Mr Bingley my warmest regards.
Yours with the deepest affection,
Lizzy
Elizabeth set the letter aside to dry. She pulled a second sheet, her lips curving into a wicked smile. This particular correspondence required a delicate touch.
Dear Papa,
