The Unforgettable Mr. Darcy

Before settling into the chair, Darcy handed her a slip of paper. She examined it by the light of her lamp. “What is this?”

“The names and directions for my banker and my solicitor. If you should ever find yourself in any kind of need, please consider them to be resources.”

She shook her head and laid the paper on the little table between their chairs. “I cannot accept this. You owe me nothing.”

Darcy rolled his eyes. “I told you falsehoods about the most basic facts of your life.”

“You had good reason, and I have forgiven you. You need not make amends.”

“Even if you have no intention of using the information, please keep it—for my sake if not your own. It will grant me peace of mind.”

She stared at the paper as one might a poisonous snake, but finally she took it in hand. “Very well.”

Darcy sighed with relief.

“Did you want anything else?” The impatience in her words was belied by the compassion—near pity—in her eyes.

Yes, I would beg you to be my wife. Somehow—just barely—he managed to prevent the words from escaping.

“Mr. Darcy?”

He pulled himself from his reverie. “I had initially thought to make you a formal proposal of marriage.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and she very nearly stood as though about to race from the room.

“But I do not want to make you an offer at an inn.”

Elizabeth’s shoulders relaxed. He forged ahead with the part of the plan that had initially caused him reservations, but he no longer had any pride left when it came to Elizabeth Bennet. She knew all his secrets; there could be no shame. “I will not make a formal offer of my hand now, but you need only say the word, and a proposal of marriage will be forthcoming.”

Elizabeth sat very still.

“Not out of a feeling of obligation or guilt, but because I love you.”

Her lips parted, but she said nothing.

Darcy kept his head up, not showing that he had hoped for a different response from her. Did she understand how sincere he was? He leaned forward in his chair, focusing all his attention on her. “You may write to me from anywhere and at any time, and I will come to you.”

He held her eyes until she gave him a solemn nod. “I will remember.”

“Good.”

Biting her lower lip, she looked toward the window. “Be careful what you promise, sir!” Her voice shook despite the jovial tone. “Someday when you are two and fifty, I will write to you: ‘now I am ready for my proposal’!”

He could not join her laughter. “If that is how long it takes, then I will wait,” he said with a solemnity he hoped would convey his sincerity.

“But, Mr. Darcy—”

“I liked it when you called me William.”

She nodded an acknowledgement. “Mr. Darcy, surely you will have a wife and six children by that age.”

Darcy stared out of the window into the inn’s courtyard. “I very much doubt I will ever find someone else I would consider marrying.”

“But—”

“I do not need to provide an heir. The property is not entailed. Georgiana may inherit.”

She shifted uneasily in her chair. “I see you have done much thinking on the subject.”