Two Words

Two Words

For a moment that seemed to go on forever; I quit breathing. Two words! Two words!

The insufferable man never mentioned that he was a cheater of the first order, because somehow in the last hour he had wormed his way into my heart, and now he was backing his two words up with a smile that would knock over Jane or Mr Bingley. Two words that could just as well have been the three words everyone longed all their lives to hear. Two words that said all the words that could ever be said.

He just stood there rooted to the spot, calmly holding out his hand as it all came crashing into my consciousness.

Going back to the first dance, he asserted he had a gentleman who could make a good case that he was owed a dance. Since he had asked me thrice and been denied, one could readily agree that I owed him the first set. We did not even need the Propriety Fiction. True, he had not specifically asked for this set, but it was not out of the realm of possibility. He had been planning to dance the first all along but wanted to… well… he wanted to make me comfortable. That realisation was nearly as shocking as those that followed.

The rest came into my mind whole and complete all at once, because Fitzwilliam Darcy had just given me the three most precious gifts of my life.

The first gift was that he had, in plain view of Mr Collins and the entire assembly, given me the gift of his respect . Yes, he had said it a few minutes earlier, but words cost nothing. Mr Collins might improve, but to date he had filled the air with meaningless words. Mr Darcy said few words, but he gave me the respect of assuming I listened to him and understood, even when he was not speaking to me.

The respect of a man of sense and education was nothing to be lightly dismissed, and it made me feel warm inside. I had only seen one example of true respect in marriage, that of my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, and that was enough to make me want it with every fibre of my being. In a dozen ways, Mr Darcy had spent the last hour showing me that he respected me… even doing so slowly and gradually to prevent shock. He was telling me he respected my intelligence enough to understand what he was saying, even if he did not say it directly.

The second gift was the supreme power of choice . All his allusions to the dances made perfect sense now. It was the way of our society that women must walk a very narrow line while the men got to pick and choose. As women, if we show our preference too much, we were wanton or forward. Show not enough and we were uncaring and unengaged. Either way, it was up to us to walk the imaginary line until a man showed his preference, and then we had no choice except the power to say no—and not always even that.

Now, with two words , Mr Darcy turned the entire process on its head. The idea that three dances was tantamount to an engagement was a bit of a myth, but not for Mr Darcy. He had given me the explicit choice of which dances we would dance, and the speed of our courtship would depend on it.

He was dancing the first set with me. Opening the dance with me made his preference public, but without generating unreasonable expectations or gossip. It was more important than any other dance, but not committing, especially if we had no prior courting behaviour, although dancing the first when he had not danced with any other lady of the neighbourhood was not all that subtle.

If we danced the first and supper sets, he would be in my father’s library asking for a formal courtship before the next day was done. That meant I could have a courtship by simply giving him permission to request the supper set. The only way he would dance the first, last, and supper with me is if we were engaged. It was just not something he would do.

He was offering me a choice. Yes-No, Fast-Slow; it was all my choice. Here and now, he had put his life in my hands, and he was just standing there patiently waiting for an answer with his heart on his sleeve.

The third gift he gave me was the power of his trust and affection. It was now, oh, so obvious. All those looks had been looks of admiration. All those debates we had at Netherfield were simply for the pleasure of the conversation. Everything he did tonight, he did partly because he is a good, honest, and decent man, but in the end, it seemed obvious— he did it for me. He had just trusted me to do the right thing and given me permission to order the entire rest of his life by my choosing. Right there, right then, I was given the power over the twist and turn our future would take.

I admired his patience waiting for me to work it out, and then I suddenly realised something. I admired him—full stop . He had given me the supreme gift of a good long glimpse into his soul, and the trust in my judgement to treat it as he deserved, and I was not about to let either of us down.

I felt a smile of prodigious proportions grace my face, and decided that just this once, I would best him. If he planned to engage in a brevity contest by asking for my heart and soul and hand with two words , I would answer with one.

Watching him intently, I reached down, carefully removed my left glove, and said, “Finito.”