Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Also that evening…

Between sets with other partners, Arthur tried to keep an eye on Miss Lucas. Their dance earlier erased all of his doubts, and he desperately wanted to speak to her. But it would be ill-mannered of him to seek her out for a second dance when so many other young ladies were in want of a partner. Patience , he reminded himself.

At last, it was time for the supper dance. Arthur surveyed the room, but it seemed that every young miss had already engaged themselves. His eyes searched frantically for Maria but saw that she was just joining a set with some local young man. He couldn't help releasing a frustrated sigh of regret.

He watched them for a while then tried to pass the time in the card room, but it failed to distract him. Restless, he wandered outside to a small terrace. He had not been there long when the door burst open behind him and he turned to find the object of all his affection, beautifully illuminated in the moonlight and…crying?

"Miss Lucas! Are you all right?"

She cried out in surprise, and ran straight into his arms. Arthur held her tightly, protectively, while she buried her face into his neck. She sobbed harder. He held her for another minute, allowing her to release the cathartic tears, then gently pulled her away to look in her face.

"Let us find a quiet place, and you can tell me what has happened." She nodded, so he led her down the steps into the garden until they found a bench. It was partially covered in an arch of faded climbing roses, perfect for concealing this rather improper tête-à-tête. They sat, and Arthur pulled his newly embroidered handkerchief out of a coat pocket. "Tonight especially, I wanted to carry this close to my heart." Maria smiled through her tears and took the offered handkerchief.

She dabbed at her eyes and nose while relating the story of the loathsome young man and his shocking conduct. Arthur's left arm slipped comfortingly around her, and she relaxed into his side, her head resting against his shoulder. Only his need to soothe her kept his rage in check.

When she had finished, they continued to sit like that, not speaking, for he knew not how long. How he wished to pour out his heart to her and say all of the things that had been on his mind for weeks; but now was not the time.

"There now. Better?"

She nodded unconvincingly. "Yes, I think so. Thank you. How do you always know when I need rescuing?"

"But I wasn't there when you truly needed me. I am so sorry."

She sat up straight and chuckled sardonically. "Oh, no need to worry about that, he got what he deserved." And she related how she had managed her escape, and his punishment.

"So brave." Arthur smiled and reached up to cup her chin. He couldn't help if his thumb caressed her cheek a bit, he really couldn't.

"Arthur," she whispered. This time it was her voice that pleaded.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he leaned into her, until he brushed her lips in a feather-light kiss. He would not rush this or go too far, especially after her ordeal at the ball. He felt more than heard her small sigh of contentment, and she pressed forward to deepen their kiss, her lips soft yet insistent. Her eagerness severed his restraint, and in an instant, they both reached for each other, searching, wanting.

"Arthur, please ," she whispered fervently.

Their seated positions on the bench made it difficult, but Arthur faced her as squarely as possible and cupped her face in his hands. Returning the tenderness she had given him in the library, he pressed his lips slowly, worshipfully, to every inch of her face. Forehead, temples, eyelids, cheeks, the tip of her nose, the curve of her jaw…then moved to the sensitive hollow beneath her ear and trailed down her neck.

She clutched at his coat, pulling him closer, but he feared he had already gone too far and lifted his head. "Maria, I must know. I have been in agony these past few weeks, waiting and wondering. Please tell me this means you might care for me, just a little. If I had even the slightest reassurance?—"

She put a finger to his lips to silence him. "More than a little. Arthur, I love you. I believe I have always loved you."

He pulled her close and crushed her to his chest, his arms wrapped around her tightly. "Oh, thank God. My darling Maria! Words cannot explain how much I love you. You have been so very dear to me for so long now, and I never thought—" He pulled back to look in her eyes. "Please forgive me for being so blind."

"My dear Arthur, we are here now; there is nothing to forgive. I never dreamed that I would ever hear you say you love me too." She smiled. "In fact, kiss me again please so I know that I am awake."

But before their lips could meet, they were interrupted by Elizabeth and Darcy.

"Maria!"

"Fitzwilliam!"

The Darcys were striding purposefully towards them with somewhat shocked expressions. Arthur and Maria both stood and met Darcy's barely reigned-in anger.

"What exactly is going on here, Fitzwilliam?"

"We have been looking for the pair of you for nearly half an hour," Elizabeth added sternly, "only to find you here alone! Your absence has not gone unnoticed."

"Would you care to explain yourselves?" Mr Darcy said, glaring.

"Well, cousins, I believe that Miss Lucas and I are engaged to be married. If she will have me?" Arthur faced Maria and clasped her hands in his. "I had thought of a dozen better ways to ask you, but now cannot think of a single one. Will you? Please say you will be my wife."

"Yes, Arthur, of course I will!"

They might have kissed again, but Mr Darcy sputtered a harrumph that interrupted them. "Ahem. Well. I'm glad you have done the honourable thing, cousin. And congratulations to you both."

Mr Darcy turned to leave but Arthur called out, "Darcy! Might we make the announcement here, tonight?"

Mr Darcy turned to his wife; eyebrows raised in question.

"Of course," Elizabeth said warmly. "Now, let us go back inside, Darcy, our guests will be missing us."

"But—"

Elizabeth silenced him with a pointed look, then smiled conspiratorially at the new couple before guiding Mr Darcy towards the house.

Arthur wasted no time and wrapped his arms around his beloved Maria, pressing her close, and inhaled the scent of roses from her hair. He was finally home.

Suddenly, she gasped and pulled away. "Arthur. We will be living at Rosings."

"Yes, my dear. It is my home and soon will be our home."

"But I cannot be mistress of Rosings Park ! I don't—I've never—" she fumbled.

"Oh, my darling," he said, cupping her face and kissing her forehead gently. "There is no one more suited for the role. Only you can fill that house with light; it desperately needs your love and warmth and guidance. I need you, too."

Maria smiled at him, her eyes glistening. "Ever my gallant King Arthur."