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If thou wert there, if thou wert there.’”
At this point, several of the more well-read voices joined in. Some, it was true, simply shouted along with him for the fun of it. But to his surprise, he saw Bingley take his wife’s hands, and Sir William seize Lady Lucas’s; a few others, men and women, looked into each other’s eyes as they recited along with him:
“‘Or were I monarch o’ the globe,
Wi’ thee to reign, wi’ thee to reign;
The brightest jewel in my crown
Wad be my queen, wad be my queen.’”
He looked into her eyes. “Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth…would you be my queen? You are already…my heart.”
“Reciting Burns gives you unfair advantage.” She sighed, shaking her head, speaking through laughter and tears and the noise of shouts and applause. “I suppose I must marry you, since my heart has been yours for so long now, there is no hope of its rescue.”
“Was that an ‘aye’?” Lydia cried.
Darcy kissed both her hands, holding them fervently to his lips.
“It was! She has said yes! Good gracious! Only think! Dear me! Two daughters married and married so well! I shall surely go distracted!” Mrs Bennet shrieked as deafening cheers nearly shook the chandeliers.
“These people are all mad!” Lady Matlock exclaimed.
“About that,” Darcy heard Gardiner say to his uncle—speaking so lowly he could not think anyone else could make it out. “Perhaps, sir, there are one or two points about a recent letter you ought to have received of Mr Darcy that you would care to discuss? I fear you believed it a deceit or a bluff, and I would dearly love to disabuse you of that notion.”
Lord Matlock looked down his beaky nose at Gardiner; Gardiner stared back, and there it was—the ferocity so well hidden by Gardiner’s benevolent features. Darcy grinned. Lord and Lady Matlock sniffed and made noises of outrage and denial—and finally—declaring they would not stay to be insulted another moment, departed speedily, calling for their carriage.
“Did you invite them?” he asked Bingley.
“Why ever would I do that? Are you mad?” Bingley rejoined. Then he broke into a grin. “No pun intended.”
Darcy groaned, but laughingly.
Elizabeth looked up at him with a seriousness returned to her expression. “You should not have paid half so much—or even a hundredth.”
“More fool…our regent. I would have paid…twice the sum.”
“Oh!” she said, her eyes wide.
But with the removal of the Matlocks, the congratulatory crowd invaded with kisses and handshakes and back-clapping and many expressions of joy.
Then—as if there hadn’t been enough fodder for the gossips for the next year, at least—when the next dance was finally called, Bingley cried to the musicians, “Will you play a waltz instead?”
A few brows were raised. A few of the guests gasped in dismay, but several couples eagerly took the floor.
Darcy bowed to the most beautiful woman in the room, in the world; she curtseyed, eyeing him winsomely.
“I have never waltzed,” she said. “You will be my first. If you—or your toes—are disappointed, you have only yourself and Mr Bingley to blame.”
“I will be…your first, your last, and all the waltzes…in between,” he assured. “As you will be…mine.”
Then his Elizabeth was in his arms, as the music and his heart soared.
