Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

E lizabeth perched on one of the armchairs next to the hearth, observing Mr Darcy as he struggled to force the door open. She could hear Freddy scratching and whining on the other side, but neither man nor beast seemed to effect much change in the situation. She had lent aid herself for some quarter of an hour before giving the endeavour up as pointless, but Mr Darcy would persist despite all reason. Men .

A hurried search of the room had revealed no other exit besides the window—and Elizabeth was of no mind to slide down the rain-slickened sandstone face of the manor from such a height, nor did she deem it advisable for Mr Darcy to make the attempt either. The bell pull had proved useless as well; surely, if it were working, someone would have heard it below stairs by this point. In essence, they were trapped. By meddlesome spirits, of all things.

Elizabeth had naturally been anxious at first, but the presence of Mr Darcy made their confinement more bearable. "You need not be afraid, Elizabeth. Nothing will ever harm you whilst I am about." She had taken this declaration, and the earnestness with which it was said, entirely to heart. The intensity of his gaze when he had said it, the way he had clasped her hand to his chest, implied a sincere vow to shield her from harm. Her pulse fluttered like a butterfly in the wind as she recalled that heady moment.

Even the idea that ghosts had lured them into this trap held little terror for her any longer. It seemed they were more mischievous than menacing, and honestly, she felt safe so long as Mr Darcy was with her. Perhaps it was an unreasonable notion, yet Elizabeth trusted it was so.

The only real risk, in Elizabeth's mind, was to her reputation. She chewed fretfully at her thumbnail as she considered the sort of ruination that would befall her should the wrong person discover them here after a long night in one another's sole company. Her aunt and uncle would believe her when she said Mr Darcy was naught but a gentleman, and the upper servants seemed utterly devoted to their master, but what of the other houseguests? It was doubtful that Mr Darcy would ever consign his name to the likes of Caroline Bingley, and should the lady realise this, she might feel inclined to do something angry and unwise in retaliation. Much as Elizabeth was coming to learn that Mr Darcy was the best sort of man, the only one she would ever wish to make her husband, she could not countenance the thought of forcing him into a union to preserve her from infamy.

"You need not be afraid, Elizabeth. Nothing will ever harm you whilst I am about." Mr Darcy's words again echoed through her mind; did his vow extend to protecting her good name? She had already rejected him before, and surely it would be a degradation to ask again, but…had she cause to hope?

"Damn!"

Elizabeth sat up straighter as Mr Darcy's curse, coming on the heels of a wrenching snap, drew her notice. He stepped away from the door with the knob broken off in his hand.

"Forgive me, Eliz—Miss Bennet, for my slip just then. That is no language for a lady's ears." He shook his head and tossed the useless bit of brass upon a tall table next to the door.

"Do not fear for my sensibilities, sir, for I have heard the Lucas boys say worse in our youth. I am not so delicate."

Mr Darcy fell into the chair across from hers with a defeated sigh. "I am still sorry, both for swearing and for not being able to free us. I suppose there is nothing to do but wait until morning for rescue."

"I suppose not," Elizabeth agreed quietly.

He must have heard some of the despondency she attempted to disguise in her voice, for he leant forwards and gazed at her intently. "I swear to you that your reputation will not suffer after what has happened here tonight. I shall take responsibility and give you the protection of my name, should it come to that."

Tears burned at the back of Elizabeth's eyes, and she was forced to look away. How she longed to accept his implied offer! "I cannot ask that of you, sir. To be connected forever to a woman who…no, it is beastly unfair. You have no obligation to a foolish girl who led you into this farce."

Mr Darcy's hand appeared within her vision and rested itself upon the knot of fingers in her lap. "Miss Bennet… Elizabeth , I can assure you that nothing would make me happier than to make you my wife. Far from an obligation, it would be the greatest pleasure of my life."

Elizabeth raised her bleary gaze to Mr Darcy's face and blinked away the intruding wetness. "Are you in earnest, sir?"

"Very much so," he replied, lifting her hands to kiss them both. He inhaled a sharp breath and launched into a harried speech. "You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, if you cannot countenance taking me as your husband, I swear to you that I will ensure that your name remains unblemished from this encounter. If, however, you think you could find your way to loving me one day, or even caring about me, I beg you to marry me. I need you, Pemberley needs you, Georgiana needs you, I daresay even the spirits who supposedly dwell here need you—do say that you will."

He still loves me! Laughing through her tears, Elizabeth nodded her head vigorously. "Yes! Yes, of course I shall marry you, Mr Darcy. And never fear that I could not love you, for I already do!"

Mr Darcy was out of his seat before she could say more, his mouth pressed to hers in a hungry kiss. When he withdrew, his hands framing her face, he moved back only far enough to whisper against her lips, "Fitzwilliam. Call me Fitzwilliam."

" Fitzwilliam . How I love you."

Elizabeth quite lost her capacity for speech after that.