Chapter 11
“What a couple of ridiculous fools” Lady Cassandra had called him and Bingley, and she was absolutely correct — Darcy knew that. In fact, he was an even bigger fool than Bingley, as Bingley’s major mistake had been to trust his friendship and judgment in a matter which could have ruined his chance of happiness. As for Darcy, he had much more with which to reproach himself; he had more faults and in many ways had been a greater fool. However, he seemed to be a very fortunate fool, as things were definitely moving in the most desired direction.
Bingley would undoubtedly propose to Miss Bennet the very next morning; he was decided! As Miss Bingley was thankfully still in London, there was nobody to try to alter his decision, and Mrs. Hurst…had simply not been informed. Bingley would rather keep the secret — except for Darcy and Lady Cassandra — until he received the lady’s acceptance and Mr. Bennet’s blessing.
As for Darcy, he would meet Elizabeth first thing in the morning, alone, in the grove. The mere thought made him shiver with anticipation and anxiety as never before in his life. He felt and behaved like a schoolboy, that was certain, and the fact did not bother him in the slightest, as he had long ago given up any pretence of restraint and self-control where Elizabeth was concerned.
In truth, he had never possessed much actual restraint or self-control in her presence — or in her absence. Both her nearness and his own vivid memories had inspired the most delicious dreams as well as the worst nightmares during those months spent at Netherfield last year.
Her eyes — always sparkling with wit, always laughing at him, even when they argued — her lips — soft, narrowed into an ironic smile or half parted when she was laughing openly with her sister or her friend — the creamy skin of her neck, framed by her dark curled hair, that garnet cross which was always resting so innocently on her neckline, her voice, her brightness, her natural and pleasant though not always proper manners, her kindness and care for others — she, with all her being, seemed to fulfill perfectly his every wish and every aspiration in a woman, yet he had denied the evidence for months and changed a possibility for happiness into a long lasting misery.
During those days when she stayed at Netherfield to take care of her sister, his turmoil had been complete. All of their shared meals, the long hours spent together in the evening, that first day when she had encountered him in the billiard room, their challenging conversations — what bittersweet torture! He forced himself to barely speak to her and avoided any opportunity to meet her more than he was obliged, otherwise he was afraid he would simply take her in his arms and run away with her to some secluded place where nobody would find them and he could show her just how much he was not a man without fault, indeed!
One day they had even spent a half hour together in the library without talking to each other, just reading. Or, better said, she was reading perhaps. As for himself, he had spent the entire time staring at her, secretly, caressing her with his greedy, shameless eyes: her face, her ears, her neckline and lower to the edge of her dress then along her arms — all the time his lips ached with desire to touch everything his glances had admired.
In the privacy of his room, with a glass of wine in hand, Darcy laughed — and even blushed slightly — at those silly and highly improper thoughts. Yet it was perfectly true; he did imagine, many times, how it would be if he could finish their arguments by crushing her lips in a wild kiss right there in the middle of the room, or grabbing her in his arms from the midst of a shocked audience and taking her upstairs to his rooms. It was one of his most frequent daydreams and happened for the first time at Lucas Lodge when Sir William encouraged them to dance and she refused him. That very moment he desperately, wildly wished to cover her merry lips with his hungry mouth until she fell breathless into his arms. Of course, he laughed to himself, she would have likely slapped him, and Mr. Bennet would have immediately hunted him down all over Hertfordshire — yet merely imagining the scent of her and the feeling of her against him had been delicious. Dreams of that kind had repeated themselves countless times during the hours spent together at Netherfield and every night for long, endless months.
Yes, this had been his major fault: he desired her more than he ever imagined he could desire a woman, and his need for her had been so powerful that it had frightened him. So he convinced himself that this sensation meant nothing more than the normal attraction toward any beautiful, exceptional lady and that his lustful wishes and needs would disappear once he was away from her. What a ridiculous fool, as Cassandra said! Of course, he had been utterly wrong in his case as he had been in Bingley’s: she had not disappeared from his thoughts, not for a moment. Instead — her image, her voice, her beautiful laughing eyes, and her witty conversation made all the other ladies he had met in Town appear even more insignificant and uninteresting than before. Indeed, nobody could be compared with her and no other woman, no matter how beautiful, made him feel anything close to what he had felt for her.
And when they met in Kent he had been a fool once more — the ultimate error: he had proposed to her as no gentleman should ever propose to a lady. Of course she had refused him as he deserved and those dreadful moments he again wished to take her in his arms —not with desire but with all the love he possessed for her — to let his embrace and his caresses show her the intensity of his feelings. However, it was quite obvious she desired none of it, so he had left and from that very moment had dreamt of her less because he had slept very little. For many weeks nights and days blended together and forced his mind to think of nothing, or of anything except her. When this proved an impossible task, he abandoned it and spent his time remembering her every word, every gesture, every smile, every movement. His days and nights had been filled only with her, yet had been as empty as hope frozen in time. Her memory was there, yet she was gone forever, and he fought desperately to regain his life — a lost and helpless fight.
Since that day when he miraculously met her in the Park, a breeze of liveliness wrapped him, and his dreams began again: as different as his own feelings for her were different. From that moment, even in his dreams he never simply grabbed her in his arms or covered her lips with violent, passionate kisses; he dreamt not to fulfill his desires or wishes, but hers. He used to dream that she desired to be kissed and embraced and caressed by him, that she wished to be taken away by him and carried far from everybody and everything. And at Pemberley his dreams seemed to finally come to life!
And tomorrow — yes, tomorrow he would meet her and…he would do nothing but what he could be certain she wished for.
When Darcy finally fell asleep, Elizabeth’s fingers were playing through his hair and caressing his forehead than moving slowly down along the line of his jaw, then returned to brush against his lips. The sensation was so real and powerful that he sighed, and his sleep deepened in blissful contentment.
***
Not for a moment had Elizabeth imagined that her dear, sweet, lovely sister Jane would became a tiresome burden for her — yet that was what had occurred since the very moment the guests left Longbourn.
In the beginning, Jane’s enthusiastic happiness glowed on her face, her eyes tearful of fearful hopes; her voice, trembling with emotions, melted Elizabeth’s heart, and she wholeheartedly shared her sister’s happiness. Furthermore, as poor Jane was still incredulous in her sudden bliss and kept wondering if Mr. Bingley had indeed returned for her, Elizabeth reminded her of the talk she and Mr. Bingley had during the dinner at Pemberley, when the gentleman and Lady Cassandra made it clear that he intended to reopen Netherfield only to be close to Jane. That had been Elizabeth’s greatest mistake as, from that moment on, Jane continuously questioned her about what else Mr. Bingley had said about her and how many times he had mentioned her name, then she asked for her sister to relate the conversation again and again.
After many hours, long after dinner, Elizabeth felt she had had enough of Mr. Bingley — no matter how much she used to admire the gentleman — for a lifetime. However, she could not go to sleep yet, as her sister joined her and appeared to be completely sleepless. Eventually, Elizabeth had no other alternative than to tell Jane that her eyes were closing by themselves and she could not listen to her any longer. Only then did Jane’s sisterly care become stronger than her desires to know more of Mr. Bingley, and she finally allowed her sister to retire.
Once alone in her bed, Elizabeth wondered, with her last strength, when Mr. Bingley would finally propose to Jane and how on earth she would be able to bear her sister’s enthusiasm until the long desired wedding.
Before allowing sleep to envelop her, Elizabeth opened the window widely to allow the August night’s fresh breeze to enter her room. That, and because with the window opened she felt she was somehow closer to certain apartment in the guest’s wing of Netherfield. They would meet tomorrow morning and for the first time after more than a month. Elizabeth was able to sleep deeply and soundly but was afraid to do so, worried that she would not be able to wake up early. However, her fatigue and lack of sleep defeated her determination and she fell into a deep, restful sleep.
She woke when the dawn just appeared, but to no avail: it was raining, a quick, wild summer rain which made any morning walk impossible. She woke and went to the window, furious and helpless, looking over the fields as if trying to see something but the rain drops hit her face and mixed with tears of disappointment and frustration. When she finally withdrew her head and returned to bed, her hair and nightgown were soaked, and her hopes for the day were completely ruined. She would have nothing else to do but to wait.
~/~/~/~ As thunder and lightening invaded Darcy’s suite, he abruptly woke up; he could not hide or control his anxiety and anger at the sight of rain. Rain? How was that possible? Precisely that morning? Could his plans be delayed again?
After a few moments of furious pacing around the room he tried to regain his composure as he was aware of how childish his behavior was. Surely he could not be angry with the weather; that was quite silly. He could not command the rain to stop falling, just so he could meet Elizabeth in the grove. But he allowed that he could be furious and frustrated.
Not that the rain would bother him too much; he could easily go riding whether the day were shiny or stormy. But surely Elizabeth would not leave her house in such weather — and he would not wish her to for her own safety. Of course, his state of mind was completely unreasonable considering he was only three miles from Longbourn and could call on her anytime. Yet, he had put so many hopes into their meeting, if only for the pleasure of talking to her privately and unrestrained, maybe holding her hand for a few moments and nothing more. But…he was forced to wait; there was nothing else to do.
When they gathered for breakfast he was still not completely resigned to the situation but at least appeared calmer. He greeted everybody and took the place near Georgiana — who was as silent and restrained as ever during the last weeks. He asked her briefly if she was well, and she replied with a short, “Very well, thank you,” then returned her attention to her plate.
“Well, this weather will only turn the days more boring; there is truly not much to do in Hertfordshire this time of year; in truth, there is nothing much to do here any time of year,” said Mrs. Hurst, with a meaningful look to her husband who, however, was too busy enjoying his meal. Mr. Hurst truly liked Netherfield as it offered him everything he needed, with no expense at all.
“Louisa, if you are so displeased with the country you should have remained in Town with Caroline; surely I did not insist that you accompany me.”
“Oh, Charles, this is quite unfair of you to say; I am here because I am concerned for your well being.”
“Yes, I am aware of that, Louisa,” he answered dryly. Mrs. Hurst did not know precisely how to answer. Lady Cassandra smiled at Bingley.
“So do you have some plans for today?” inquired Mrs. Hurst a few minutes later.
“I intend to call on Longbourn as soon as the hour is proper for a visit,” replied her brother.
“To Longbourn? Again? Really Charles, I do not think another visit would be in order, not after you spent so much time there yesterday.” Her tone was condescending and patronizing, as admitting no opposition.
“Well, Louisa, thank you for offering me your kind opinion, though I did not remember asking for it. It is only my decision when and for how long I will call on Longbourn or on any other family, and I do not expect anyone to join me or to approve.”
“Charles!” Mrs. Hurst’s voice was equally angry and shocked. Such an impolite and offensive answer from her brother was a distressing novelty. “I will not have you speak to me so rudely, especially in front of your guests.”
“I apologize if I sounded rude, Miss Georgiana, Lady Cassandra, that was not my intention,” he said, turning to the named ladies with a shy smile, to see if his words had offended them. Toward his sister, however, he hardly looked at all. “Louisa, I am sure you will find something to amuse yourself despite the bad weather. My library is at your full disposal; I am sure Darcy will have no objection to sharing my books with you; though, on second thought, I very much doubt whether either of you would enjoy the same sorts of books.”
Mrs. Hurst turned red with fury and after a short glance around the table noticed that nobody was inclined to take her side. She remained silent until breakfast was finished, then excused herself and retired to her room.
Almost an hour after breakfast, while Miss Darcy was practicing in the music room and the gentlemen were discussing various things in the library, the rain seemed to lose all its power and the sun rose shyly from behind the clouds. Darcy, who remained all the time close to the window, staring along the fields, suddenly turned more animated, inquiring about his friend’s intention of calling at Longbourn and if he intended to go on horseback or take the carriage. Bingley had no time to answer before the door opened and Lady Cassandra entered the room asking for a few private moments.
“Sir, considering the weather seems to have improved, I would like to ask your permission to invite Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth to join me for tea here at Netherfield later today.”
“Oh, your ladyship has my permission to do anything she pleases; I am honored to call Netherfield your home, too.”
“Thank you, sir,” she answered with a friendly smile.
“However,” he whispered to her in secret, “I am not certain that will be possible today. You know, I planned to call at Longbourn later, as we promised, and I wanted to speak privately to Miss Bennet.”
“Yes, I am aware of that,” she answered equally secretively, leaning her head to him. “But Longbourn, though very charming, is quite crowded, would you not agree? Netherfield seems more appropriate for private talks.”
Bingley’s face lit up immediately as he looked at her with such an expression of the deepest gratitude that she burst out laughing. “I shall write Miss Bennet a note; I am sure Mrs. Bennet will forgive you for breaking your promise to call again today.”
She exited the room in a very good disposition, with not a word to the other gentlemen. However, Darcy seemed oblivious to everything around him — the only thing he paid attention to was the window and the view outside.
***
“Charles, there is something I would like to discuss with you immediately,” demanded Mrs. Hurst half an hour later upon encountering the gentlemen in the library.
Mr. Hurst concluded to himself that they could have no privacy these days, and Mr. Darcy paid her no attention at all.
“Please come in, Louisa,” her brother invited her, with his usual amiability so different from his attitude earlier that day.
“I understand you intend to visit Longbourn today, and I thought that perhaps I should join you.”
“Yes, perhaps,” he answered with a puzzling expression. “But then again, perhaps not. I know how daunting a task it has always been for you to be in the Bennet’s company and I would not want to expose you to such agony.”
She appeared disconcerted for a moment. “Oh, this is not true. I have always loved to meet dearest Jane; she is such a sweet person. If not for her poor connections and her disastrous family, I would truly like to call her a friend.”
“Exactly my meaning, I would not have you bear her disastrous family until it is absolutely necessarily,” he said while moving toward the window to join Darcy in staring at the rain.
“But Charles… Charles, what do you mean? What will be absolutely necessary, I do not understand you! I demand an explanation,” she cried, her voice rising higher and higher.
“The rain has stopped,” announced Darcy soundly, apparently not bothered in the slightest by the commotion around him. “I need some fresh air,” he added and, before Bingley had the time to inquire, the door closed behind him. A quarter of an hour later, Darcy was leaving Netherfield on horseback in a great hurry.
Shortly after, Mrs. Hurst departed the library to conceal her frustration in the solitude of her room, hastening to write a letter to her sister in London to ask her help against their stubborn, imprudent brother.
However, she had little hope that Caroline would join them in the next days. She had just received a letter sent by express the night earlier, which contained a most detailed description of the party hosted by Lady Sophia where Caroline had had a wonderful, entertaining time and had met Lord Markham, a wealthy and handsome Earl who appeared to be very interested in her. Furthermore, Caroline had mentioned she was invited to the Opera the next evening and then to a private ball where only Lady Sophia’s closest friends would join them.
Indeed, Mrs. Hurst could not count on her younger sister’s support. If only she would manage to secure the Earl and compensate for Charles’s foolish infatuation with the insignificant Jane Bennet.
~/~/~/~
Longbourn was in utter chaos; the note from Lady Cassandra had arrived less then an hour earlier, and Mrs. Bennet’s first reaction was one of the strongest opposition. Surely Jane could not leave home when Mr. Bingley was intending to call! She was much more inclined to offend Lady Cassandra with a refusal than to have Jane miss Mr. Bingley’s visit.
Then, after a second reading of the note — which she took abruptly from Jane’s hand — Mrs. Bennet noticed that Lady Cassandra offered to send her carriage to collect the girls if they would accept the invitation and that Mr. Bingley, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, and Mr. and Miss Darcy, along with herself would be happy to have Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth’s company for a couple of hours. It was at that moment that Mrs. Bennet understood the gentleman would be waiting for Jane at Netherfield — and the invitation was accepted instantly, with a note sent immediately to Lady Cassandra.
Though there were many hours until the time of departure, Mrs. Bennet grabbed Jane’s hand with great determination and took her upstairs to choose the most becoming gown.
Nobody noticed the rain had stopped or saw Elizabeth when she left the house.
Breathing the fresh air after the storm and walking behind the trees still full of rain drops which fell upon her at the slightest stir of the branches, Elizabeth’s steps took her, almost unconsciously, toward that place — the place they had met the previous day, the place where they should have met again that morning.
Her common sense told her she was behaving childishly; she could not expect or hope that Mr. Darcy would come there many hours after their arranged encounter. Yet, she could not help herself; she could not dismiss her urge of seeing the place again, of being there at least for a short while… She wanted to make certain she kept her promise, just in case…and if he did not come — which was likely and reasonable to expect — they would see each other again in a few hours at Netherfield. Of course they would not be able to talk privately at Netherfield, but at least they could speak more than at Longbourn; and, even more importantly, she would meet Georgiana, too, as she truly missed her younger friend’s company!
All the clouds had vanished by the time she reached the grove and, with each step, her heart raced more wildly as countless chills were traveling along her body. The emotions overwhelmed her and she fought to defeat her unreasonable hope and eagerness as she knew the disappointment would only be more bitter.
Yet, again, her heart won over her sense and her hope turned into utter happiness when she saw him descend from his horse, tie the reins to a tree, and slowly walk toward her.
Their gazes met and locked long before he finally stopped a few inches from her.
“Mr. Darcy…what a wonderful surprise…” Her voice sounded barely audible even to herself.
He bowed politely and properly to her. “Miss Bennet — I did not expect to see you here at this hour…”
She struggled to smile back, desperately trying to think of something, anything to be said, but all she could do was remain still, staring into his eyes and wondering what would be the use of mere words.
“No, that is not true,” he continued as he moved a step further. If he comes any nearer, she thought, there will be no space left between us.
“Miss Bennet, I did expect to see you here, in fact I came here with the express hope of seeing you… I know it was preposterous of me to presume… I had no right to expect such a thing, I am aware of that, but somehow… I came here as soon as the rain stopped, hoping to meet you,” he repeated, his dark gaze burrowing into her soul.
She turned pale and her heart almost stopped. “I came here hoping to see you, too,” she whispered, wondering if he heard her. Indeed, he had heard her; the immediate change of his countenance and his fingers taking her hands daringly proved that. Her own fingers instantly entwined with his, as had happened their last night at Pemberley. He smiled, showing her that he remembered.
“I was so angry with the rain this morning,” he continued while lifting their joined hands to his chest.
“I cried with anger and frustration,” she confessed, a smile lighting her face as she was forced to laugh at her own folly.
“You cried?” he inquired, incredulous, his eyes full of mirth with obvious and pleasurable surprise.
“Because of anger,” she repeated, yet her own eyes, sparkling as the rain drops, told him more then her words did.
“I was tempted to come through the rain,” he continued.
“So was I,” she replied still shyly; her nervousness made her knees weaker and weaker. He was so close that his scent intoxicated her. “But I restrained myself as I could easily imagine the picture I would present to you after walking in the rain all the way up here. You would have been shocked and frightened forever,” she laughed, forcing herself to breathe normally.
“I remember that picture,” he answered, his voice low, his head leaning to whisper in her ear. “I remember the picture of you in the rain and I can testify it was a most wonderful picture. I have never been less frightened in my entire life.”
A wave of cold chills shook her body so violently that he withdrew a few inches and looked at her — worried — still not releasing her hands. Unconsciously, she moved a step forward to maintain their closeness. His hands suddenly released hers with tender care, his arms encircled her, and she was trapped in the tightest, warmest embrace she could ever imagine. She was ensnared close to his chest, crushed against his heart.
With almost a will of their own, her arms shyly slide around his waist and, though she knew it was the silliest thing she had ever done in her life, embarrassed that she was making a fool of herself, Elizabeth started to cry silently — no, not a real cry, only countless tears simply spilled from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. How was it possible for her eyes to cry when her heart was dancing with delight?
She thought she could not be happier but proved herself wrong when she felt his lips placing small, light kisses over her forehead just below her bonnet. He noticed her frown and stopped, afraid she was displeased with the liberty. And yes, she should have been displeased and should have separated from him instantly; she should have hurried home immediately; that was what a proper lady would do. Instead, she withdrew her hands from around him and simply untied her bonnet, threw it at her feet, and embraced his waist again, placing her head against his chest and waited — afraid and eager for his next gesture — anticipating his touch.
He did nothing but his voice whispered her name, calling her “Elizabeth,” with such tenderness that it left her breathless. How was it possible that her name sounded so differently coming from him?
She lifted her eyes to him; his head was already lowered toward her and their faces almost touched — so when his lips brushed against hers she was not even surprised. She had no time to realize what had happened, no time to really feel their first kiss before he withdrew and his eyes searched hers with worry and hope.
He was afraid she would be upset, she knew that, so she tried to smile at him, to put his fear aside. However, he withdrew a little more, but without releasing her from his embrace.
“Elizabeth…were you crying?”
“Yes,” she admitted, yet her voice sounded light and lively and her eyes were laughing at him.
“Not from anger again, I hope,” he replied, and she started to laugh while tears rolled down her cheeks again.
“Sir, it is very ungentlemanlike of you to tease a lady who is crying…”
“I must beg your forgiveness; I have never had a crying a lady in my arms before, so my behavior might be very improper and not gentlemanlike at all,” he replied. Then his thumbs gently wiped her tears away and his lips followed them, tenderly touching her closed eyes then traveling slowly down her face. When he reached the corner of her mouth he stopped once more and looked at her soundly.
“My beautiful crying lady, we cannot go further without talking first. You have owed me a private conversation since the day you left Pemberley.” His voiced sounded more in jest, as he tried to lighten the tension between them, but the effect was the opposite.
Her eyes saddened instantly as the smile vanished from her face. Her lips were trembling while she spoke. “That day…I was certain I would never see you again… While I waited for you to return, I received Jane’s…and after reading them I was certain everything was lost forever…”
He pulled her against him, even closer then before, while his fingers were caressing her hair and his lips came to rest on the top of her head. This time she released those past pent-up tears from the remembrance of the last time they were together at Pemberley. He remained still, holding her silently until she calmed herself, then he slowly moved, with her in his arms, to the old branch she had sat on the previous day. He took his coat off, placed it down, and helped her to sit, then sat and embraced her again.
“Please forgive me,” she spoke after a few moments. “I am behaving like a silly, mindless girl… I do not remember ever crying like this before — not since I was a little child… I cannot explain what has come over me… Please forgive me… Perhaps I should go home now.”
Elizabeth — mortified by her own actions, overwhelmed by emotions, and unable to calm herself — attempted to stand. But his arms kept her in their embrace, and he would not let her go.
“That day, when I returned home and was told you had left… I have never felt so lost, in such despair… I was certain you had run away to avoid me, to avoid another proposal from me… I was even more certain when Georgiana told me about your conversation… I was convinced all my hopes and wishes had been in vain, that I had somehow grossly misunderstood your feelings once more, that you never wanted to accept me…”
He paused, trying to regain some composure; she remained silent, waiting for him to continue. What could she say?
“I looked for you at Lambton, I sent my men to inquire after you… Nobody could discover anything else of your sudden departure. It was a stormy day, like today… I could not bear to see anybody, to listen to anybody, so I left… I left Pemberley and walked through the storm for hours… And I must confess to you that…I cried.”
He stopped and her heart almost stopped once more, pained and grieved by his past suffering and by her own sufferings, too. Only then did she realize that — though separated by hundred of miles — they had cried together at their loss.
"It was after several hours had passed that I finally forced my mind to remember you — your smiles, your gestures and your fingers entwined with mine that night — in your room. And I started to realize that you did not deceive me or run away from me… It began to dawn on me that something very grave must have happened to take you away from Pemberley and from me… I had faith in you, I trusted in you and in everything you told me or showed me wordlessly… But now I believe perhaps you may have had very little faith in me. You presumed that, once I found out about the elopement, I would change my mind and my heart… You must have known, after that night in your room, that I intended to propose to you the next day… Yet, you presumed I would not keep my word because of Wickham… Did you really imagine that, for fear of a scandal, I would throw away so easily my only chance of happiness…?” His voice grew more and more animated and his words were anxiously spoken. He was upset and still in pain — even disappointed that she may not understand his constancy toward her.
Elizabeth withdrew from his embrace and looked at him: his handsome face, so tender, so light a few minutes ago, was now darkened with a frown and his eyes were avoiding her. That moment all her torment vanished and her heart ached only for him. She took her gloves off and with her hands bare, shy and trembling, lifted to touch his face and turned him gently to her.
“Mr. Darcy, you did misunderstand my feelings and my actions after all… But I will forgive you this time… Could you not see, sir, that I left that day not because I did doubted you, but precisely because I trusted you implicitly? I knew you would keep your word, sir! Yes, I confess I knew, or better said, I hoped you would propose to me that day… And I knew that you would not alter your intentions because of the scandal! You are the most honorable man I have ever known, I never doubted that. And that was the reason I had to leave! How can you not understand? It was not a mere elopement, it was Wickham whose name you can not even bear to hear spoken in your presence, whose name simply mentioned upsets Georgiana excessively. How could I allow you to propose under those circumstances? How could I have asked for your help involving you and Georgiana in such a scandal? It was not only about preserving your good name, but about your tranquility, your happiness and your future. So I had to leave, without caring about my own broken heart. And I had to leave before your return, or I would have never been able to leave at all.”
Her ungloved hands were still cupping his face while her eyes confessed everything mere words left unsaid. He did not answer, only his bare palms, mirroring hers, cupped her cheeks, and they remained so for what seemed like an eternity, simply drowning in each other’s eyes, in each other’s souls.
“Elizabeth,” he finally whispered, “my tranquility does not exist without you — I learned that long ago — and neither my happiness nor my future matters to me if I cannot share them with you. You must promise you will never leave me again, and I promise nothing will stop me from renewing my addresses to you again — or from convincing you to accept me.”
Her laugh, nervous, still incredulous and hopeful, was mixed with tears which threatened to overwhelm her again while happiness engulfed her more tightly with every word he spoke. “And,” he added, “I promise I will never allow anything to make you cry again…”
“Oh, but these are good tears,” she replied, staring at him with an adoring smile. “I want this kind of reason to cry.”
“Good tears or not, I would rather give you only reasons to laugh. I love your laughing eyes.”
She startled at the sound of the one word she had not heard from him since that horrible day at the parsonage, the word she had long wished to hear again.
His head leaned closer to her and his lips rested upon her ear, whispering: “I love you, Elizabeth Bennet… I love you as I never believed it possible for a man to love a woman… Now, only now do I truly know what ardent love means, only now do I fully understand what a treasure my life with you can be and what it would mean to lose you. So now I am asking you again…”
Her fingers pressed his lips, forcing him to silence while her lips tentatively moved to his ear, brushing against it as she continued. “And now, Mr. Darcy, I have come to know and to love you so dearly that I will happily cry for you and laugh for you anytime you want, as long as you remain close to me. Now, sir, I do not even need to hear the question as my answer is long prepared. And I am sure you do no need to hear my answer…”
“I do need to hear your answer,” he intervened, while his lips started to travel along the line of her jaw. “I do need to hear your answer, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”
“Than you shall, sir,” she replied, while she murmured her acceptance against his hungry mouth. And she proved to be right; he did not need to hear the answer, at least not completely; a moment later his lips captured hers and did not release them until he professed to her the depth and the ardor of his love more eloquently than a thousand words.
Not that she would have had any doubts remaining!