Chapter 67

67

D arcy had managed to sit beside Elizabeth, and looked at her searchingly. "I hope you feel better, Elizabeth. Somehow I thought you might be expecting me to bring your aunt and uncle if I felt it safe to do so."

She smiled at him. "You are very thoughtful to me. I thank you. Somehow I had not even considered that Uncle might not be in collusion with Papa. But I am glad that you must believe he is not."

He nodded. "He is not. But they have been very concerned for you, and thankfully, they were happy to travel with us to see you." He looked at her intently. "There is something else. You are different today."

She laughed. "You notice everything, William." But she spoke without rancour, and leaned closer. "The music is back!"

He squeezed her hand, his heart pounding. "You sound delighted about it, Elizabeth."

She nodded. "I am happy you told me it didn't matter if I never got it back; but I am glad I have."

"Is there any way I can assist you with it, Elizabeth? Do you have enough music paper? May I bring some for you?"

"Oh, that would be very helpful! The local shops don't seem to stock it, and it is so time-consuming to have to make my own."

"I will send the order off tonight, my dear. I cannot have you finding anything a trial." He grinned at her, enjoying her pleasure. "So what sort of music is it today?"

She had no time to answer, as her uncle crossed the room to speak to them. Darcy rose to his feet.

"Would you care to take this seat, Mr. Gardiner? I need to greet Bingley and ascertain if there have been any developments."

He glanced back as he took the few steps to stand beside Bingley. With more and more of her family here, he felt he had less and less right to be with her. How soon would he persuade himself that she had truly forgiven his dreadful words, and be confident that she might accept his proposals?

As he stood with Bingley, his glance went over to her. She was talking to her uncle, but she seemed to be reticent with him. It must be shattering to suddenly not know who you could, or could not, trust.

He must be patient, although he knew the reason for the Gardiners travelling here was because they thought the best thing was an early marriage at Gretna, and if they attended with her, she may find the occasion more acceptable.

He turned his attention to Bingley. "I hope that, as Miss Bennet's nearest male relation — or would that be her uncle?" he pondered the situation. "Regardless, I hope that you might consent for me to request a private conversation with her at some time this afternoon?" He hoped he hadn't flushed; his friend was five years younger than he was, and it seemed odd to be asking him for permission.

Bingley grinned. He must realise the humour of the situation. "Since you aided me considerably with my courtship of Jane, I can think of no reason to refuse you, my friend."

"Thank you." Darcy watched Elizabeth, who had recovered her composure somewhat. He hoped neither her aunt or uncle might drop hints of what they were thinking before he had his opportunity to speak his heart to her.

The garden here was merely a small yard area with a bench and some tubs of sad-looking plants, and it was far too cold to ask Elizabeth to sit out. But finally, Mrs. Dawkins left her small parlour, and Darcy was able to sit in a little more privacy with Elizabeth, the door slightly ajar; his heart beating erratically in his chest, and a faint hope that she wouldn't notice his discomfort.

But she was smiling gently at him. "I must thank you again, William, for all the effort you have expended to keep me safe these last weeks." She reached out and placed her hand on his arm, and every coherent thought left him.

"I know you feel guilty about being the cause of me being ill, but really, it is understandable. We were courting, and you had the right to know my secret without finding it out in the way you did, and believing I intended to keep it from you."

Darcy looked down at her hand, so trustingly laid on his arm, and imagined he could feel the heat of it as if it was on his bare arm. He swallowed.

"Elizabeth, you must know I would do anything to protect you, and to keep you safe. I love and admire you. All that has prevented me from asking your hand in marriage is that I have not proved worthy of you with my contemptible behaviour, and that I know it will take time to build up your trust in me. I am honoured that you have permitted me to be by your side while you have been recovering."

She smiled up at him, the little colour in her cheeks and her lips enticing him to move closer to her on the sofa.

Her voice was soft. "I have already forgiven you, William. Your care for me, and your willingness to do whatever you can to assist me and protect me — and the way your cousin and friend obviously respect and trust you, too. Together, it has convinced me that day was an error on both our parts." She laid her head on his shoulder. "I am sorry, my love."

Darcy's breath hitched. "Elizabeth," he murmured. "Elizabeth. Can you — are you —" he tailed off, lost for words.

"I am honoured beyond measure that we seem to be courting again," she whispered dreamily.

Darcy was silent for a few moments. He did not want to move; breathe; speak; anything that might shatter this fragile accord between them. She had said my love . Did it mean she might yet permit him to be beside her all his life?

But he could not remain silent for long. He knew that this private interview would not be permitted to last long — Mrs. Gardiner would enter soon. He drew a deep breath.

"I am honoured by your generosity and forgiving nature, Elizabeth. And I would, in any other circumstance, wish to continue as we are until I can be confident that you are ready for a greater commitment."

She lifted her head. "What have my aunt and uncle said?"

He sighed with relief at the opening she had given him. "Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner are concerned for your safety, Elizabeth. I understand your father is determined to find you, and they believe he may have decided to order your marriage to a man he can control, and through him, continue to control you, too."

She shuddered, and he put his arm around her. "Please do not be too concerned. I am determined to keep you safe. But your aunt is uneasy about your reputation, if keeping you safe means we cannot regularise your position."

He drew a deep breath. "Your uncle has come here, hoping that if he and Bingley — as your new brother — together examine and sign settlement papers, giving you permanent control over your music and all it earns, then you might be willing to marry sooner, rather than later, and then your uncle may confront your father."

Elizabeth sat up and patted her hair, looking amused. Darcy was discombobulated, having expected her to be distressed. "Have you …?"

She put her finger over his lips, which pulsed and burned.

"But William, how can settlement papers be signed? Who with? After all, I am not even betrothed!" Her small giggle allowed his heart to slow slightly. She wasn't distressed, and that was all that mattered.

He drew her closer, breathing in the scent that was peculiarly hers; lavender and the faintest hint of citrus. "Elizabeth."

A moment later, she leaned closer. "I will accept nothing but the most romantic of proposals, William."

Alarm flared. "Dearest Elizabeth, you know I am not good with words, I would not wish to …" Again her finger was on his lips.

"You're doing very well at the moment, dearest William. You may continue." She removed her finger.

Hope flared; it seemed she was inclined to accept him. The knowledge that he may have a bare moment left before they were interrupted, galvanised him into action. He turned closer and dropped to one knee; took her hands in his, drawing a deep breath and gathering what he could of his courage.

"Elizabeth. Dearest, dearest Elizabeth. I ardently admire and love you and would count it the greatest privilege if you would do me the honour of granting me the right to both protect you and allow you to live the life you wish while being able to walk beside you all the days of your life. Will you do me the honour of granting me your hand in marriage?" He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing all his passion and adoration into the kiss, while his heart still hammered uncertainly.

"Oh," her voice was very small. "I hope I can remember that, it was perfect." Her eyes filled with tears, though she was smiling.

His heart was still uncertain of her, and he gazed into her eyes, stopped from speaking by the tiniest arch of an eyebrow.

"Yes, William. I will marry you, whenever and wherever you feel best."

He sat back on his heel. "For a moment I thought you meant to torment me by refusing to answer me plainly." He pressed another kiss to her hand. "I beg you not to toy with my heart too often. I am not sure I will survive the experience."

Her happy laugh filled him with pleasure, and then the tiniest touch of her hand in his hair sent a tide of emotion through him.

"You don't know how often I have wanted to run my fingers through your hair." Her voice was contemplative. "But I suppose we have been in here too long for our relations to keep their composure."

"We will tell them together," he declared. "Then I may take you out tomorrow, and we will have more time alone."