Page 39 of Mr Darcy’s Lakeside Romance

He unhooked the mooring line, picking up the oars. With a powerful pull, he guided the rowboat out into the open water.

The lake surface was as smooth as glass. The oars broke the water with a soft splashing sound, sending gentle ripples spreading outward in wide circles.

Darcy rowed with steady, even strokes until the boathouse became a brown square behind them, and the figure of Bates grew small in the distance. He rowed until they were situated in the centre of the lake, surrounded by nothing but water, forested hills, and the blue expanse of the sky.

He lifted the oars, resting them inside the hull.

The rowboat drifted in silence.

Miss Elizabeth sat opposite him, so beautiful in the morning light. The yellow brim of her bonnet cast a flattering shadow over her eyes, but it could not hide the emotion pooled within them.

Darcy wiped his palms at the side of his breeches. The moment had arrived.

“It is peaceful out here.” Miss Elizabeth spoke first. “You were correct to wait for the storm to pass.”

“I wanted everything to be perfect.” Darcy leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I have spent my life attempting to arrange the world into orderly patterns. I believed that consequence and duty were the only matters of true importance. I believed I understood exactly how my life was meant to proceed.”

Elizabeth listened in stillness, her eyes locked onto his.

“Then I saw you in a miserable assembly room in Hertfordshire, and when I insulted you, you laughed at me and you refused to be intimidated by my wealth or my scowling disposition. You dismantled my orderly world, Elizabeth. And I have never been more grateful.”

She inhaled a quick, shallow breath, her fingers tightening in her lap.

“I behaved abominably to you in Kent.” Darcy kept his voice low, filled with sincerity. “I insulted your family and your circumstances. I offered you my hand while simultaneously informing you that doing so was a degradation to my own pride. I was a fool, and you delivered the blistering reprimand I deserved.”

“Fitzwilliam.” Elizabeth leaned forward, her voice trembling. “You need not speak of Kent. I have forgiven those words. I was equally blind to your true character.”

“I must speak of it.” Darcy shook his head, refusing to let himself off the hook. “Because I need you to understand the man who sits before you now. You humbled me, Elizabeth. You forced me to look at my own behaviour, and I despised what I saw. I have spent every single day since leaving Hunsford parsonage attempting to become a man worthy of your respect.”

A shining tear escaped her eye, tracking a slow path down her cheek but she did not raise a hand to wipe it away.

“I love you.” Darcy spoke the three words with passion, the truth of them resonating through his very bones. “I love your wit. I love your fierce loyalty to those you hold dear. I love the way you treat my sister, and the way you bring laughter into halls that have been silent for far too long. I love you with an intensity that defies all reason, all logic, and all worldly consequence.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled the box out.

“Your uncle Gardiner advised me to speak plainly. So I shall simply ask you the only question that matters.”

He opened the box and leaned across the small space separating the thwarts, holding it out to her.

“Elizabeth Bennet.” Darcy held her gaze, pouring his soul into the words. “Will you do me the great honour of becoming my wife? Will you share this life, this home, and your future with me?”

Elizabeth stared at the ring, then at his face. Tears flowed freely now, ruining her complexion, yet she had never been more beautiful.

She reached to place her hands on either side of his face, her palms cupping his jaw with exquisite gentleness.

“Yes.” Elizabeth’s voice was a choked whisper. “Yes, Fitzwilliam. I will marry you.”

Darcy closed his eyes, leaning into her palms. He placed the box on the bench beside him and reached up, covering her hands with his own. He turned his head, pressing a fervent kiss into her right palm, and then into her left.

He gently drew the glove from her left hand. He picked up the ring and slid the gold band onto her finger. The sapphire settled perfectly against her skin. It belonged there. She belonged here, with him, forever.

Elizabeth stared at her hand, a watery laugh bursting from her lips. “It is magnificent.”

Darcy moved to sit beside her. The rowboat rocked slightly with the shift in weight, but he paid it no mind.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush on his chest.

He held her there, murmuring his love in her hair.