Page 25 of A Promise Made

“I have noticed.” Lizzy fell silent for a few minutes, and then she sighed and said, “When you first came to Longbourn, I still thought the world of my father. He was—and is still—very intelligent, well read, highly educated. I had been raised with his humour, and I appreciated the amusing aspects of it without fully noticing the disdainful and disrespectful aspects. I realised he was indolent and felt glad of my own energy level, believing I would never share that fault…. However, I somehow missed his selfishness.”

“Ahh…”

Lizzy shook her head ruefully. “When he put me to work at age fifteen organising his papers, I was so pleased to be trusted, I did not fully understand that he had been avoiding doing that work for years. He told me that he did not wish to go back to his old ways, and he hoped that I would help motivate him to read your letters and write responses and reports. The translation of that turned out to be that I read your letters and responded and reported with only a bit of input from him.”

“I gathered that, over the years,” Mr Darcy agreed. “At first, I could almost hear his voice as I read some portions of the letters from Longbourn, and though I knew it was your hand, I was positive he had dictated that particular part. But it quickly fell off to being your words only.”

“The thing is,” Lizzy replied, “I learnt more of you and admired you more every year we were apart. But now my father wishes to complain that we are courting—I am as certain of his disapprobation as you are—because….”

“Because?”

Lizzy grinned. “Because he is selfish, I suppose. I believe that there are two parts to his selfish response to our mutual affection: he wishes to have you all to himself, and he wishes to have me all to himself.”

“Eventually, I will need him to grant permission for my suit. What can we do to gain his favour?” Mr Darcy was taking the topic seriously, and Lizzy briefly wondered how swiftly he meant to move to matrimony.

She said, “Well, we could threaten him, bait him, tease him, plead with him, bargain with him—and needless to say, none of that appeals to me.”

“Perhaps all of that, simultaneously, would appeal.” He shook his head and said, “When you are ready for me to propose, I will go to him forthrightly and state my expectations. Perhaps he will do the right thing.”

“And if not, I will just give him the page needing his signature to get married along with the last page of the letter for you and the last page of the letter for our solicitor. He will likely sign all three without reading what it is he is signing.”

“Excellent idea, Miss Elizabeth. It is right up there with Are you my distant cousin, heir to Longbourn, travelling under an alibi, or are you perchance a spy for the French Empire?”

They both laughed. Then, glancing around, Lizzy realised that they had walked almost to the nearest tenant cottage. She said, “We should be getting back. I do hope my father does not consider me compromised, having been alone with you for so long; he might force you to marry me!”

“And there is yet another brilliant idea. Miss Elizabeth, you truly do have an admirable imagination.”

Chapter Twenty

After a fortnight of calls and walks and discussions of the future, Miss Elizabeth declared that she was still of the mind that Darcy was the best man she knew, and he assured her that he had only grown more certain that she was the most perfect partner for his life.

They were at the top of Oakham Mount, one of their favourite places, and she was looking at him with a playful smile. “I am not perfect, as you well know,” she said. “I am far too curious, and you know that my imagination can be…quite unruly.”

“I do not imagine you to be perfect…just perfect for me, and perfect for Pemberley,” he explained. “Even your so-called faults will be highly valued.”

“I would very much enjoy my faults being highly valued.”

Darcy allowed all the gravitas of the moment to overcome his smile as he said, “Elizabeth Rose Bennet, will you make me the happiest of men by consenting to be my wife?”

“I am flattered by your proposal and ecstatic to respond that I would be honoured to be your wife.”

Her smile was enticing…perhaps even enchanting. He began to reach for her, but he hesitated, wondering if she would welcome a physical display of his love.

“Elizabeth…may I kiss you?”

She laughed softly and said, “I have had two youths and one man full-grown try to kiss me without asking permission, and it may not be a surprise to you that I was not engaged to marry any of them. Needless to say, I managed to elude all three attempts. However, my avoidance of the activity does not mean that I am against it in all situations, with all possible kissing partners.”

“I take it that your answer is yes?”

“A very decided yes.”

Darcy put one arm around Elizabeth and pulled her closer. He cupped her jaw with his other hand, and he murmured, “So, this is to be your first kiss?”

“Yes. And your…forty-ninth kiss, I presume?”

“No. I am…unaccustomed to romance. This will be my first, as well….”

Darcy felt relief that neither of them knew what ought to be done, what made a kiss successful or even usual, that they could simply seek what pleased them. He finally brushed his lips across hers, and he was shocked how much pleasure that simple warm touch elicited. His next kiss was more firm, and then he showered on her face and lips a thousand more little kisses. The hand on her back lowered to her waist and pulled her even closer, and the hand on her jaw moved to her hair, disrupting hairpins and marveling at the silky softness of her tresses.