Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Darcy thought he knew these woods well. He had, after all, ridden all over the property since he was old enough to control a horse, and as a child had played with his cousins whilst the adults conducted whatever business it was that they must do. He had walked the paths, assessed the fields, surveyed the bridges, and contemplated the fences, and all the more so these last six years since he had been tasked with helping his aunt with the management of the estate. But Elizabeth, it seemed, had put her time to better use than had he, for she led him deep into the woods with an assurance he could only admire.

She surely knew where she was going; he, on the other hand, did not. But he trusted her knowledge and followed gladly, each step taking them further away from Mrs Collins' calls.

At last, they crested a small hill, the damp earth soft beneath their feet and the air fragrant with moss and soil and spring. There, in a clearing at the base on the other side, lay three large grey stones, somewhat regular in shape, their surfaces flat enough to use as a seat or low table.

"I discovered this place during my first week here," Elizabeth explained. "There is something calming about it, and after several hours in my cousin's company, I found the solitude most welcome."

Darcy peered at the stones. There were none others like them in the area; might they have been placed here by the same ancient people who built Stone Henge or the buried tomb at Medway? There was time to ponder that later. Now, he was here with Elizabeth, quite alone and far from prying eyes and ears. They could, at last, talk privately, with no danger of interruption.

Elizabeth led him down the slope to the clearing, and sat down on the closest stone, inviting him to do likewise. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks pink. Always lovely, she now glowed from their quick dash through the woods. He thought his heart would burst in his chest, it was so full.

"You wished to speak to me, Mr Darcy?" Soft lips curved into a delicate bow, brow smooth and untroubled. The tight shoulders that met him on his entrance into the room at the parsonage were long gone, replaced now by an open posture, hands loose at her sides, head slightly atilt.

Yes. This, at last, was the opportunity he had longed for. He opened his mouth, drew breath, and?—

And nothing came out. Every thought in his head dissolved into ether. Every word deserted his tongue. His heart was full, but his mind was quite empty.

"The cat has your tongue," Elizabeth teased. "Perhaps it is nothing worth saying, after all, or something I would not wish to hear, something of no importance whatsoever."

"No importance?" Darcy burst out without thinking. "Hardly that! I was going to ask you to marry me!"

Then he stopped, shocked at what he had just proclaimed.

Elizabeth had gone perfectly still, her face quite unreadable.

"Oh," she said after a moment. Her lips remained in that perfect circle, and he struggled against every impulse to lean over and kiss them. "That is something very important indeed. I shall hear you, if you still wish to speak. "

He tore his gaze from her pink lips to her beautiful sparkling eyes.

"Is it…?" He gulped. This was not going the way he had envisioned. "Is it something you would find agreeable? Might I expect a positive response?"

Her face was still unreadable, but at least it was not angry.

She looked at him for a while before responding.

"Do you ask if I would find the question itself to be agreeable? Or do you wish an answer to the question?"

Words swam around his head and he grabbed wildly at them, hoping to find enough to put together into a reasonable sentence. "Either. Or both. Perhaps the first. I have to confess something to you. Until not so long ago, just before we left the house to take this walk, I had not considered for a moment that your response would be anything other than a grateful acceptance. But now…"

He paused and she looked deep into his soul. He swallowed, then continued.

"But now, I find myself questioning everything I thought I knew. About you, about your impression of me. About myself. I am, perhaps, not the great prize I had always imagined myself to be."

It hurt him, almost physically, to say this, but if he was to have any hope, he must be honest, both with her and with himself. He tried to look away, but her gaze trapped him, and he sat there, as helpless as an animal caught in a trap.

"Until not so long ago," Elizabeth replied at last, "I would have found your proposal shocking. Offensive, in fact. I had thought you never liked me, and I do not believe I liked you."

No. If he thought his confession was painful, how much more so was this reply. She did not like him. She had refused him! A sword would have done less damage, and he squeezed his eyes tight against the agony brought by her words.

But then, when the clouds seemed darkest, she spoke on.

"But that was then. Our conversation this afternoon has shown me a part of you I did not know before. I wish I had seen it earlier, because this man, the one who consoles a maid, who looks out for a friend, who loves his sister, this is a man I might grow to like a great deal."

"And if this man were to ask for your hand? What would you tell him? Because this man loves you."

Elizabeth said not a word, but shifted closer to him as they both sat on the ancient stones at the base of this secluded glen and then, achingly slowly, her gaze never leaving his, pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

The world stopped. There were no sounds but the beating of his heart, no light but that from her eyes, no sensation other than her lips on his. The damp mossy scent of the woods dissolved into the perfume of her skin. There was only her, her and him, in all of creation. It lasted for a moment and an eternity, until all the world came rushing back, and he sat there still, amazed and stunned, and he thought his face might break from the smile that threatened to split it quite in two.

"She might," Elizabeth replied at last, "be convinced to agree."