Page 126 of The Matchmaker’s Mistake

“So you have said, but I am not certain I believe it.”

“Why do you think I was so insufferable?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he shook his head at her and laughed a little. “Peace, woman. Will you allow me to continue?”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together and nodded.

“I have called on you every day for three weeks. I know you a good deal better than I did, and I love you a great deal more, which I had not thought possible. I am choosing you because there is no one else I could ever want as much, and there never has been since the evening you laughed at me across an assembly room and spoiled me for every other woman in England.”

Elizabeth discovered that even when she was expecting his offer, Mr. Darcy could still render her speechless.

“You are my match, Miss Elizabeth.” He took a deep breath. “Am I yours? Because I love you, and I should like to spend a very long time proving how much.”

They had changed places. Mr. Darcy was now the gregarious one, and Elizabeth the person who simply spoke directly.

She said the word without a single flourish. “Yes.”

“Elizabeth,” he said, sighing with what she thought was relief and raising her hand to his lips. “Thank you.”

She swallowed, allowing the sensation of his lips against her skin to course through her entire body. “Why did you say you were not asking me to marry you?” she whispered.

He smiled and lowered his forehead to hers. “Because I have already asked.”

She scoffed at him. “Five weeks ago.”

“Five and a half.” He smiled. “I have simply been waiting for you to finish answering.”

For a moment neither of them moved. Then he pulled back a little so that he could lift his hand and touch her cheek. It was a careful movement, as though he was half afraid she would disappear. Elizabeth, who had anticipated this moment longer than she would ever admit, closed the distance herself.

He kissed her right there in the centre of the small imperfect garden, with two trees, one crocus, and a bit of London soot to stand witness. It was brief and inexpert and it undid her completely.

When they drew apart, she kept hold of his coat, because her knees had once again proved unreliable in his presence, and she did not wish to be carried back inside.

“There,” she said unsteadily. “Now you have done it properly.”

After another kiss, they came in from the garden together, and Elizabeth could see that they had deceived no one.

Her aunt looked at her face and sent her husband a smug look. Jane, from the seat near the fire where Mr. Aldridge had scarcely left her side all afternoon, made a small glad sound. Uncle Gardiner looked from his niece to Mr. Darcy. “I see you could not wait,” he said, and reached for the bell.

“Mr. Darcy has asked me to marry him,” Elizabeth told the room, “and I have said yes. I am aware this surprises no one present, which I consider very unkind of you all.”

Lady Anne had nothing to say. She simply put her hand briefly over her mouth. One tear fell down her cheek. “Well,” she managed at last. “Is that not marvellous news?” Then she crossed the room and gathered Elizabeth into an embrace that smelled of orange blossom and bergamot.

It was Uncle Gardiner who recovered first, by taking the bottle of Madeira the footman brought for him and setting it before her aunt.

“Since November,” Aunt Gardiner informed the room, entirely at her ease, “Mr. Gardiner and I have kept a small wager upon the date of this happy event. I took Easter or before. He took Midsummer, on the grounds that our Lizzy is contrary and would keep the poor man waiting on principle.”

“We did not know who the groom would be, mind you,” Uncle Gardiner said. “But we are rather pleased with her choice.”

“As am I,” Elizabeth said.

“You left it very late, Mr. Darcy,” her aunt said. “But you carried the day in the end.”

Mr. Darcy’s cheeks flushed.

Miss Darcy, who had spoken very little all afternoon, came to stand at Elizabeth’s elbow. She looked at her hands, then made herself look up. “You are to be my sister,” she said, “so you must call me Georgiana now. I have wished for it a long while, only I did not like to presume.”

“Georgiana,” Elizabeth said, and the name came easily. “And you must call me Elizabeth. Or Lizzy, if you wish.”