Page 73 of Undone

The garden seemed suddenly very quiet. Beyond the hedges came the faint call of a robin in the distance, but even that soon faded, leaving only the wind stirring through the bare branches.

“I have noticed you from the evening of the assembly,” Darcy said. “I did not understand it then, and my conduct gave you little reason to suppose it. Yet I remembered you when I had scarcely remembered anyone else in the room. Afterwards, every meeting upon Oakham Mount became the part of each day I anticipated most. You challenged me when I required it, listened when I had no claim upon your patience, and saw more of me than I had allowed anyone beyond my family to see in many years.”

Elizabeth could scarcely reconcile such a declaration with the gentleman who had once stood against the wall at the assembly and pronounced her merely tolerable. Yet she had long since learnt that his silences concealed far more than indifference, and that what he felt most deeply was often what he found most difficult to express.

“I am not asking you to marry me,” he said, and the sudden qualification startled a laugh from her. His own expression softened, though he continued with evident seriousness. “I would not presume upon what has passed between us, particularly after leaving you in such uncertainty. But if you do not object, I should like to speak with your father before I leave Longbourn today. I wish to ask his permission to court you openly.”

Elizabeth regarded him for a moment, allowing him to suffer just long enough that a faint apprehension entered his eyes. “I had believed you were already courting me, Mr. Darcy.”

His brows rose. “In secret, without your father’s permission, and while taking considerable pains to ignore you in public?”

“You had no choice.”

"No," he conceded, a reluctant smile appearing. "But that does not excuse the deficiencies in that method."

“Your conversations were very agreeable, however, and you appeared upon Oakham Mount with sufficient regularity. I believed it only fair to take those circumstances into account.”

“Then may I understand that you do not object to a more proper attempt?”

“I do not.” Her smile faded into something gentler. “But there must be no more secrecy between us. I understand why you believed it necessary before, and I cannot resent your wish to protect me. Even so, I will not again be left to wonder whether I have mistaken the whole of our friendship.”

“You have my word. No more secrecy.”

The answer was simple, but Elizabeth heard in it all the gravity with which he regarded any promise. Something within her eased at last, an uncertainty carried through too many solitary mornings finally set down.

Darcy glanced towards Longbourn, though neither of them made any immediate movement to return. “Bingley intends to give a Christmas ball at Netherfield.”

“Does he?”

“He has spoken of little else since the notion occurred to him yesterday. As he will undoubtedly announce it before we leave Longbourn, I thought it prudent to make my request before every eligible officer in Meryton is given the same opportunity.” His expression had grown almost playful. “May I have the first two dances?”

Elizabeth laughed softly. “If only to finally see you dance, you may.”

“And the supper set?”

“That would be three, sir. People may begin to suspect you of partiality.”

“I had hoped to remove all doubt upon that point before the ball.”

“In that case, I shall reserve the supper set until I have heard what my father has to say.”

Darcy accepted the condition with a solemn inclination of his head, though the smile remained in his eyes. “Then we had better return before he decides the length of our absence has answered the question for him.”

They turned towards the house, and Elizabeth placed her hand upon his offered arm, every appearance between them perfectly proper. The wind had strengthened while they spoke, movingsharply through the garden and finding every opening at her collar, yet she was scarcely conscious of it until Darcy observed that the cold had become rather biting.

“I had noticed,” Elizabeth said. “Though perhaps not so soon as I ought.”

They had reached the narrow path between two tall hedges, hidden for a moment from the drawing-room windows, when her gloved hand slipped from his arm. Darcy’s fingers brushed hers as he moved to steady her, and both became still at the contact. It was the smallest touch, scarcely more intimate than any assistance he might properly offer upon an uneven path, yet neither withdrew at once.

Darcy turned his hand beneath hers with a hesitation she felt more than saw. Elizabeth allowed her fingers to settle against his, and for the brief distance afforded them by the sheltering hedges, they walked hand in hand without speaking.

Longbourn came into view again far too soon. Their hands parted before they emerged from the shelter of the hedges, and Elizabeth rested hers once more upon his arm as they continued towards the house.

She did not look back towards Oakham Mount. For the first time in nearly a month, she had no reason to wonder whether he would return.

Epilogue

From the day Mr. Darcy sought Mr. Bennet's permission to court Elizabeth, there could no longer be any doubt of his intentions. Throughout the Christmas season and into the second month of 1812, he was seen at nearly every assembly, dinner, and ball Hertfordshire afforded, never failing to secure Miss Bennet for a full set whenever the opportunity presented itself. The secrecy that had once defined their attachment disappeared entirely, and the county soon grew accustomed to the sight of Mr. Darcy crossing any crowded room with but one destination in mind. Those who had once whispered over his character, particularly those who still remembered his unfortunate slight at the Meryton assembly, found themselves with very little to say when faced with such open and unwavering constancy.