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He experienced an epiphany at that moment. If they were to move forward as husband and wife, he must reveal everything—even the details he found painful or humiliating. Very well.
He gritted his teeth and leaned forward, spanning the gap between them by engulfing her hands in his. “There is nothing ‘sudden’ about my interest in you. I—” He swallowed hard and started again. “Do you remember the night that Richard proposed to you? When I arrived at Hunsford Parsonage?”
Elizabeth nodded, her eyes fixed on his face. “To inquire about my health, yes.”
“No, I had not visited to inquire about your health.” Elizabeth’s brow knitted in confusion. “I went with the intention of asking you to marry me.”
One hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes were wide with shock. Darcy fought an impulse to laugh at her horrified expression. “Oh! I am so sorry! I had no intention of causing you pain. I had no idea!”
“Of course not,” Darcy reassured her. “Even Richard did not recognize my
feelings, and he knew me far better than you. I believed I had made my feelings clear to you, but in hindsight, I realized I did not.”
“But—” Elizabeth looked mortified.
“Please, rest easy, my love. It is for the best. If I had offered my hand that day, how would you have responded?”
A blush stained her cheeks as she glanced away uneasily.
“I know you did not hold a high opinion of me at that time, and I have endeavored to improve your opinion since then. Perhaps it was for the best that I did not have an opportunity to voice my sentiments that day.” He smiled gently.
Elizabeth regarded him with wonder in her eyes. “I had no thought of … all this time you …” She shook her head, bewildered.
“I have loved you for years,” he told her simply.
“I have been so blind!” She cried.
Darcy clasped her hands more tightly. “Shh, love, do not say so. I did not wish you to know. You were my cousin’s betrothed. I concealed my feelings from everyone, even Georgiana.” Darcy took a deep breath. He had decided to reveal all, but he was taking a great risk. “However, Richard guessed.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose. “He did?”
“I did not discover this until recently, when the letter he had written on his deathbed finally arrived at Pemberley.” He pulled the letter from his coat pocket. “I would like you to read it.”
The letter was well-worn and creased from having been reread multiple times during the past weeks. He laid it gently on Elizabeth’s palm, noting a slight tremor in her hand. She unfolded it so slowly he thought she might decide to forego reading it altogether, but finally, she bent her head to the task.
Elizabeth scrutinized the letter, while Darcy scrutinized her expression, noting every slight widening of her eye or movement of her lips as she read. Tears collected in the corners of her eyes, but she did not weep. Was that a good sign? He could barely breathe, awaiting her reaction. By giving the letter to Elizabeth, he was taking the chance Richard might come between them once more. Richard might have wanted Darcy to care for Elizabeth, but she might have different ideas. She might even resent the thought that she needed care.
Darcy resolutely shifted his gaze to the scene outside the window, reminding himself that all of these worries mattered little in the end. The only question of import was if Elizabeth loved him. If she did not, Darcy’s feelings and Richard’s opinions mattered not at all.
He returned his gaze to Elizabeth when she sighed softly and set the letter down in her lap. She bit her lip, looking down at the letter, and wiped away tears with her fingers. Giving her the letter was the right thing to do, but he regretted causing her even a moment’s uneasiness.
Darcy leaned toward her again. “No matter what our future holds, Richard is in your heart and in mine. He has helped to bring us together—in a way that might not have happened without him. I believe we should cherish that as a gift.”
Elizabeth stared soberly at the letter, absorbing his words. “Richard understood your feelings so much better than I did. I was so blind, so certain I understood you—and I was so wrong!”
“Richard had known me since childhood,” Darcy reminded her gently.
Her face was in shadow, making it impossible to read her mood. He was in agony, needing to know how she felt about the letter—and him.
“I want your hand and your heart, but only if they are freely given,” he said. “Richard knew nothing of your feelings for me and if you could ever love me. And I find I hardly know any better. But if you choose me, it should be for your own sake, not out of some sense of obligation to me or to Richard.” He wished to reach out to take her hand again but feared his touch would be unwelcome.
Her lips parted, but she did not speak for a moment. Finally, she met his eyes. “It occurred to me that my reaction to you and to Richard has ever been quite different. Perhaps that is why I have been so slow to recognize …”
Her voice trailed off, and she turned her gaze to the window. “My relationship with Richard was like an outing on a placid lake, smooth, entertaining, and untroubled. However, everything about my friendship with you has been a storm tossed on turbulent seas—thrilling and a little wild. Our reactions to each other have always been … extreme.” Darcy’s heart clenched painfully. This did not sound like the speech of a woman accepting a suitor.
“When I misunderstood your character, I disliked you, and I was angry with you, and now I …” Elizabeth’s eyes turned on him, large and serious. “I believe that is why I did not recognize the true nature of my feelings for so long. I expected if I loved again, it would feel as it had before—it would resemble the feelings I had for Richard, but it does not.” She swallowed and managed a small smile. “However, that does not mean the feelings are weaker because of it. Simply different.”
Hope had started to sprout in Darcy’s breast. “Are you saying you do feel—?”
