B00CO8L910 EBOK

by KaraLynne Mackrory

  Elizabeth peeked up at him through her lashes. “I understand your meaning now, sir. But you have been calling me ‘Elizabeth’ for quite some time.”

  Darcy lifted his eyes to the now dark sky and sighed. Oh, how I love you, Elizabeth. How he was to return to the serious subject of her sister and Wickham, he knew not. “You are correct, of course. I will endeavor to be mindful of that now.”

  “I do not mind, sir,” she said quietly.

  Smilingly tenderly, he took up her hand. “Let us return to our previous topic, as distasteful as it is. For the sooner we resolve it, the sooner we can speak of more pleasant things,” he said significantly.

  “I believe we had finished our discussion, sir. You were just about to agree with me that there was no reason for you to feel guilty over Wickham’s actions.”

  Darcy lifted an eyebrow in amusement. “Was I?”

  “Yes, sir. I have always found you to be a wise man, and as such, you were about to agree with me. Doing so is undoubtedly the wisest course of action for you.” Elizabeth challenged him with the fine arch of her impertinent brow.

  Darcy admired her comely face, lit by the moon above. “Of course, you are right, madam.”

  “So you agree that you are not to blame for Wickham or Lydia’s actions?”

  Darcy’s jaw clenched; he was amused by Elizabeth’s teasing words but could not help still blaming himself. He saw tenderness in her eyes and sighed. If she did not blame him, then he could not blame himself. Besides, she believed him to be a wise man, and a wise man always knows when to yield. “Yes, my love.”

  Darcy moved closer to her and placed his other hand on her cheek. He felt her cheek’s heat under his touch. Unable to resist her any further, he leaned his head closer to hers, resting his forehead against hers. “Elizabeth, will you forgive me for being so stupid and leaving you to wonder at my affections?”

  Suddenly, Elizabeth seized his hands in hers, bringing them to her lips. She shook her head in wonderment. “Forgive me, Mr. Darcy. But I had to prove to myself that you — and indeed, your words — were not part of the sweetest dream I have ever had!”

  His heart swelled as Darcy captured Elizabeth in his embrace. Correcting her, he whispered, “Fitzwilliam.”

  Elizabeth pushed futilely at his chest, teasing. “But you said I should not refer to you so familiarly, Mr. Darcy.” She laughed delightedly at his mock frown.

  “Fitzwilliam,” he repeated again, leaning closer.

  Elizabeth reached her hand up to cup his cheek, marveling at the feel of his rough skin. She had never touched his face before — had only dreamed of it. The shadow of a beard made his face look roguish and masculine, and she tenderly ran her fingers along his jaw as she savored the feel of his face under her fingertips. Reaching further, she caught an errant curl that always fell across his forehead. Twisting it between the tips of her fingers, she sighed.

  Surrendering, she said almost reverently, “Fitzwilliam.”

  Darcy smiled and closed his eyes to capture her lips with his for a sweet, second kiss. He did not allow himself any more than a chaste moment of bliss before he forced himself to pull away from her. He looked down at her enchanting face, her eyes still closed after his kiss. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked into his.

  “Elizabeth, please tell me we can wed by the end of the week.”

  Elizabeth’s breath hitched in her throat. Of course, she expected after his requesting a private audience and after all their confessions and declarations that he would propose. But still, somehow the words caught her by surprise. She teased him. “I do not see how that can be possible, my dear.”

  Darcy’s smile widened. “Too far away, love? I agree; let us marry tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?!” Elizabeth laughed happily. “No, my dear, what I meant is, that you are too hasty. You forget I cannot give you an answer, for in truth you have not asked me to marry you.”

  Darcy threw his head back and laughed, shaking his head. He withdrew his arms from about her and spoke to himself. “After waiting nearly four months to propose, you would think I would remember the essential part of actually doing so.”

  Elizabeth laughed, too, reaching for his hand with a tender smile. Then her brows furrowed. “Four months?”

  Darcy tipped his head towards her. “Indeed, I came to the parsonage that night to propose to you, Elizabeth.”

  “No!” she gasped, amazed. “So then — all this time?”

  Darcy nodded and smiled at her. “All this time.”

  “I had no idea,” she said quietly. “I admit I had some indication of your feelings when we were at Pemberley.” She was thinking of her discovery of what his dark stares actually meant and how she had realized she loved him too. At the time, she had been surprised to see his feelings for her but had not thought that they had been so longstanding or of such a magnitude as to persuade him to propose to her.

  Darcy, on the other hand, was thinking of their first kiss. “I would certainly hope you had some indication of my feelings, my dear, for I can assure you, I do not kiss ladies every day. Indeed, I would not have kissed you had I not wished to make you my wife.”

  The tenderness in his voice caused Elizabeth to look at him. “I am glad to hear that, sir.”

  “Sir?”

  Elizabeth smiled cheekily at him, “I believe you are getting distracted from the topic at hand, and so it must again be ‘sir.’”

  Darcy laughed. “Indeed.”

  He then stood before her, preparing himself to ask her properly the question he had wished to ask for so long. They both knew this moment was but a formality. On the ride from London, he had tried to formulate his thoughts, rehearse what he would say, and how he would finally propose. Remembering the speech he had prepared, he looked at her, ready to begin. Realizing he had been pacing, he smiled in apology first.

  “Miss Bennet” — he winked — “you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” He saw her smile and color, and thus encouraged, continued, “Almost from the beginning of my acquaintance with you, I have come to feel an affection and admiration that has led me to believe that we would suit amicably together. I am in possession of a sizable estate as you well know, and I am capable of supporting you —”

  He stopped, seeing that she was chuckling quietly to herself. Frowning, he walked towards her but said good-humoredly, “And what, pray tell, my dear, do you find so humorous in my declaration?”

  Elizabeth shook her head, waving her hand, but could not keep herself from laughing more audibly then. “Forgive me; please, go on, sir,” she said, carelessly laughing.

  If she had not been so beautiful when she laughed, her eyes sparkling with mirth, Darcy easily could have found himself affronted that she found his prepared words so humorous. He began again when she looked as if she had herself more under control.

  “I can provide for you the necessities —” Her burst of laughter interrupted him again, and this time he laughed too. “Miss Bennet, I must ask you to refrain from laughing at me while I propose!”

  This only made her laugh harder. With tears welling in her eyes, she said, “I must ask that you forgive me again, sir. It is only that, after all the wonderful things you have ever said to me before, I find your rote method of proposal diverting.”

  Darcy shook his head at her, ever amazed at her lively impudence. He came and sat next to her again, not at all discouraged by her words. “Well since you are so adept as to the manner in which a proposal ought to be accomplished, and I have never given one, perhaps you might school me in what I should say.”

  Elizabeth looked at him to see whether she had indeed offended him with her nonsense, but seeing the love and tenderness in his eyes, she said playfully, “Very well, sir. First, you must not pace in front of the lady.”

  Darcy slid to one knee in front of her and tenderly brought both her hands to rest on top of one of his, stroking them gently with his other hand. “Better, my dear?”

&nb
sp; Elizabeth’s heart filled with love at the look he gave her then. Sobered by his romantic gesture, she nodded and went on. “And you must not recite all of your qualifications as a spouse. You are not a stallion at auction, sir.”

  Darcy’s eyes narrowed at her words. He, indeed, had wished to expound upon his merits. “And how else am I to convince you of my ability and wish to care for you, my love?”

  Elizabeth stroked her hand down the length of his face from his temple to his jaw. “I need not your money or your grand estate, Fitzwilliam. I need only assurance of your love and care.”

  His heart skipped a beat upon hearing her sweet words. They were a balm to his previously broken heart, sealing the pieces together once again. “Duly noted, my dear. Anything else?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “You must remember to say you love me.”

  “A thousand times, yes. I do.”

  With unshed tears, she looked at him still kneeling in front of her.

  Darcy swallowed, suddenly overcome with emotion. A small smile pricked at the edges of his lips. “Very well, Elizabeth. Shall I begin again?”

  Elizabeth nodded.

  Darcy paused, considering her artless beauty. When the words came, they were undoubtedly unrehearsed. “Elizabeth, sweetest, dearest, Elizabeth. You are in possession of my heart and have been since almost the first I laid eyes on you. I find that I can no more live without a heart than I could live without you. Come home to me, my dear. Make your home be my love, and I will endeavor always to keep you safe and warm. Will you honor me by consenting to be my wife?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes, already filled with tears, spilled over. She could not immediately manage her voice but finally whispered a small “yes” while she nodded happily at him.

  Darcy pulled her to him at once and held her close. Never in his life had he been so content — or elated. In all of his twenty-eight years, he had never felt such love and fulfillment as he did at that moment. Finally, she was his, and it felt so right. She rested her head beneath his chin, and he kissed her velvet curls.

  “Better, my love?” he asked sweetly.

  He could feel her shoulders shake with gentle laughter before she lifted her face up to his. “Much.”

  Darcy beamed. His eyes moved slowly down to her lips. His smile softened, as his eyes grew darker. Swallowing, Darcy said, “Elizabeth, may I kiss you?”

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she teased, “I do not believe you have ever asked permission before, my dear.”

  Darcy laughed. “My gracious! How I do love you, Elizabeth!”

  “And I love you, too,” she replied bashfully.

  Darcy, at hearing her first words of love spoken, expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be expected to do as he immediately took her face in his hands to kiss her quite soundly.

  * * *

  Thus happily occupied, the couple did not hear Elizabeth’s father approach. Upon encountering this romantic scene, he cleared his throat. When the couple did not take notice of him, Mr. Bennet did not hesitate to act as sensibly and as warmly as a father — finding his daughter held passionately by a gentleman — could be expected to do. He immediately poked the guilty gentleman with his walking stick!

  “What was that?” Mr. Darcy said, as he pulled away from his betrothed. They both looked up when Elizabeth’s father cleared his throat again.

  “Kindly unhand my daughter, sir,” Mr. Bennet said sternly.

  Although embarrassed, Elizabeth could see the gleam in her father’s eye, indicating he was not really as upset as he appeared. Nevertheless, Mr. Darcy quickly stepped back from her, looking sheepishly at her father.

  “I assume, sir, that you have some business you would like to discuss with me in my study?” Mr. Bennet asked in a firm voice.

  Mr. Darcy, decidedly alarmed and already chastising himself for placing Elizabeth in such an indelicate situation, nodded his head. “Yes, sir, I do.”

  “Very good, sir. I will see you in my study shortly. You may go and wait for me there.”

  Darcy nodded, and as he bent to kiss Elizabeth’s hand properly, he was waylaid when Mr. Bennet cleared his throat again. The master of Pemberley winced and looked at his intended with embarrassment as he was forced simply to bow over her hand. Elizabeth could not help winking and encouraging him with her smiles when their eyes met. Darcy then straightened to his full height and left the garden, walking directly to the house.

  When Darcy was sufficiently out of hearing, Mr. Bennet said to his daughter, “I assume then that you have managed to work through your misunderstanding with the gentleman, Lizzy.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Yes, Papa, I believe we have.”

  “I would hope so after what I have witnessed!”

  Elizabeth had the good sense to blush. “Do not be too hard on him, Papa. I know you are not as angry as you wish for him to think.”

  Mr. Bennet laughed as he took the seat next to his daughter and rested a hand on her knee. “Yes, but a father’s job is to intimidate into better behavior the gentlemen who wish to court his daughters.”

  “He does not wish only to court me, Papa. He asked me to marry him.”

  “I am glad to hear it, my dear, after that kiss, but you are wrong about one thing.”

  “What is that?” Elizabeth asked, her eyes twinkling and her face smiling at her father.

  “When I am through speaking to him, Lizzy, he will understand it is his responsibility to court you for the rest of his life, even after the ceremony.” Mr. Bennet thought about his own marriage and wished, for a moment, that he had made the effort to always court his dear wife. Brushing aside his regret, he patted his daughter’s leg. “I suppose I ought to go see the gentleman. Do you think I have left him long enough?”

  Elizabeth laughed and pushed her father’s shoulder. “Go, Papa, and be kind to him. I love him so. And it would be to your advantage to be on his good side.”

  Mr. Bennet raised his eyebrows. “Oh, and why is that?”

  “Because I have seen both his libraries in London and at Pemberley, Papa.”

  Interested and amused, Mr. Bennet said, “Ahh, and are they very grand, Lizzy?”

  “A more exquisite sight you will not see,” she assured him.

  Mr. Bennet looked at his daughter, seeing the light in her eyes, the love and happiness glowing from her. After all the sorrows of losing Lydia and then to see how downtrodden Elizabeth had been the past few days when Mr. Darcy left, he was now pleased to see her happiness was complete. She looked radiant, and fatherly pride welled up inside his chest. He did not think all the libraries in England could rival the beauty he saw displayed on her face.

  “Well then, let me not delay further!” he teased as he stood up. Mr. Bennet turned and offered his hand to his daughter and assisted her to stand. “Perhaps you ought to fix your hair, dear, before coming back into the house. We would not wish to give your mother a fit of nerves.”

  Elizabeth reached up to feel that a few of her pins had come undone. She blushed deep red then and heard him chuckle at his little joke. “Do not tarry too long. I suspect your Mr. Darcy will wish to bid you good-bye after our interview.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  Chapter 21

  By the time Elizabeth finally made her way back into the house, her siblings and mother were in near hysterics. Their excitement was uncontained, and Elizabeth could no longer feign her own composure. She shared the happy news, confident in her father’s blessing. Wishing to see Mr. Darcy again, she excused herself from her family to wait for him outside her father’s study.

  As the time passed though, she found the waiting worrisome. Certainly, her father would grant his blessing. Even so, she did not anticipate the process taking so long, and she became uneasy. When her father opened the door, she immediately rushed past him to her intended — her impatience giving her father much amusement.

  “Come, Lizzy, I left him in once piece — no need to fret. Shall
we go and tell your mother the happy news?”

  “I already have, Papa,” Elizabeth said to her father, keeping her eyes fixed on Darcy.

  Darcy was feeling a mix of relief and joy, perhaps the former still taking precedence after his interview with Elizabeth’s father. Mr. Bennet had not been hard on him, but Darcy had no practice in asking a father for his daughter’s hand. He found himself the object of her father’s mirth when, in his nervousness, he nearly repeated his practiced proposal to him! The only difference being that Mr. Bennet was not his charming daughter, and therefore, Darcy could not maintain his good humor on being laughed at a second time in one evening.

  Eventually, however, the older man granted him his blessing only after ensuring a promise from Darcy that he would always endeavor to please Elizabeth as much as he aimed to now. That was an easy promise for Darcy to make as he had intended to spend the rest of his life making sure his wife was happy.

  “I should like to greet my new sisters and mother, Elizabeth,” he said with a slight smile.

  Elizabeth raised her brows in surprise but nodded and boldly took his hand in hers to lead him back to the parlor. Darcy colored when he looked to see that, indeed, Mr. Bennet had seen her actions. Their visit in the parlor consisted of many well wishes and congratulations. Darcy bore the attention well with the help of the comforting grasp of Elizabeth’s hand. When the matter of a wedding date arose and Mrs. Bennet began speaking of dates several months into the future, Darcy had to intervene.

  Darcy insisted on no more than two weeks, ignoring the raised brows of his intended’s father. Elizabeth smiled at her betrothed and seconded his wish for a short engagement. Mrs. Bennet at first wanted more time than she could get, of course, but at length was reduced to be reasonable. The date was set for two weeks hence.

  When it came time for Darcy to take his leave, Elizabeth walked him out. “Fitzwilliam, what about your Aunt Catherine? I cannot imagine she will be happy to hear of our engagement.”

  Darcy placed a finger under her chin and raised her face to look at him. “Do not worry, my dear. She is no obstacle to us. I already have a plan.”