Page 103 of The Slipper Scandal
Wilson admitted him with his usual efficiency, informing him that Miss Bennet awaited him in the drawing room. As Darcy approached the door, he schooled his features into what he hoped was an expression of calm readiness, though his heart hammered against his ribs with a painful intensity.
Nothing, however, could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him as he entered. Elizabeth turned at the sound of his entrance, and Darcy was struck by the marked change in her appearance. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and a sickly pallor had replaced her usual healthy glow. They had only been apart overnight, and yet she looked as though she had not slept in a week.
All thoughts of maintaining dignified composure evaporated instantly. Darcy crossed the small room in three long strides, concern overriding all propriety.
"Elizabeth," he exclaimed, taking her hands in his without thinking. "Are you unwell? You look exhausted."
A small laugh escaped her, surprising them both. "Really, Mr. Darcy, have you learnt nothing since our conversation in the park?"
Her teasing tone momentarily silenced him. It was so unexpected, so reminiscent of their exchanges before her parents had arrived.
"I suppose I deserved that," he said at last, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But you are well?”
"You did, and I am," she agreed, her expression softening.
His confusion must have been evident, for she smiled, a real smile that reached her eyes and transformed her tired features.
"Mr. Darcy," she began, then paused, seeming to gather her thoughts. "I have been a fool."
He shook his head, still holding her hands in his, and opened his mouth to deny it.
"Please," she interrupted gently. "Let me finish. I have been afraid. Terrified, in fact, of repeating my parents' mistakes. This you know.”
Darcy squeezed her hands.
"But I see now that I was wrong and you were right. My parents' unhappiness stems not from the circumstances of their beginning, or at least not only that. It has been caused by their failure to nurture what could have grown between them. My father retreated into his books and his sarcasm rather than attempting to understand my mother. And she, for her part, sought refuge in her nerves and her obsession with gossip and marrying off her daughters rather than trying to reach him."
She took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving his. "When you released me from our engagement, you gave me a gift I did not immediately recognize—the freedom to choose you, not from obligation, but from love. And I do choose you, Mr. Darcy. With all my heart, I choose you." Her smile faltered. “Now I need only ask whether you still choose me.”
For a moment, Darcy could not speak. The words he had longed to hear, had scarcely dared hope for, hung in the air between them, almost too perfect to be believed.
"You are certain?" he asked at last, his voice barely above a whisper. "There is no pressure. No obligation."
"None," she confirmed with a radiant smile. "Only my own desire to spend my life with the man I love, if he will still have me."
"If I will still have you," he repeated, a laugh of pure joy escaping him. "Elizabeth Bennet, I have written drafts of my proposal in my mind for weeks now. None of them included you fleeing my presence, then demanding my attendance, or looking like you have spent the night wrestling demons. But I am ready if you are."
Her eyes narrowed. “Demanding your presence, sir? I thought my note offered an invitation.”
“Thatis what you are focused on?” Darcy nearly laughed. He was very nearly giddy, for he had come expecting the gallows and instead being offered everything he wanted. “If your heart is truly mine . . .” He glanced at her for confirmation and was rewarded with a nod and a gentle smile. His heart beat wildly, and he took first one of Elizabeth’s hands, then the other, in his own. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would you, without scandal, coercion, or any consideration other than your heart's inclination, do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?"
Elizabeth's laugh was like music to his ears. "No scandal? No coercion? How terribly dull, Mr. Darcy." Her dark eyes were luminous with tears. "But yes, my darling man. Yes, I will."
The happiness that surged through Darcy in that moment was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Without conscious thought, he drew her closer, one hand rising to cup her cheek with infinite tenderness.
"You know," he murmured, "if you had simply agreed at the first, we might have spared ourselves considerable trouble."
"I could not have agreed, as you had notaskedme anything,” she teased.
Darcy could have laughed aloud again. Instead, he teased her back. “It wasimplied, as I had announced the betrothal.”
“If I had simply agreed, then we might not have learned what we needed to know," she replied. "Some lessons, Mr. Darcy, are worth the trouble they cause."
“And some ladies too,” he murmured back. “One in particular.”
Their faces were inches apart now, the rest of the world forgotten as they gazed at each other. Slowly, achingly slowly, Darcy leaned forward, his intention clear in his eyes.
Just as their lips were about to meet, the door swung open with a cheerful creak. Mrs. Abernathy bustled in, a tea tray in her hands.
