He chuckled. “That is not what I asked.”
“It is only that after having refused Mr. Collins, Mamma will be insufferable now, believing I have refused an even better offer.”
“Are you afraid of your mother, Miss Elizabeth?”
She pursed her lips and glared up at him.
“Well, then,” he said, barely containing his glee, “perhaps I shall have to rescue you with a proposal after all.”
She scoffed. “Is that meant to be a joke, Mr. Darcy?”
He took her hands and allowed his thumbs to brush over the bit of exposed skin between her gloves and the sleeves of her dress. She blinked and swallowed.
Darcy rejoiced. She was not unaffected by him. Not at all.
“I do not believe Bingley and I shall be returning with you after church, Miss Elizabeth,” he said. “Look.” He gestured towards Bingley and Miss Bennet, who were, at present, leaning into a sweet, chaste kiss.
“Oh,” Miss Elizabeth said happily, pulling her hands away and clasping them together under her chin.
Yes, yes. Wonderful news for Bingley. But now Miss Elizabeth’s hands were not in his, and his own proposal was yet untendered.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said forcefully, and she started. He took her hands again and she looked up into his eyes. “I am not my friend. I cannot offer you romance and poetry.”
“I believe you are aware of my position on sonnets, Mr. Darcy.”
He would laugh, but he was focused on making his proposal before being interrupted yet again. “What of your position on matrimony, Miss Elizabeth?”
A line appeared on her forehead, and he wished to smooth it away.
“Will you marry me, Miss Elizabeth? Might you one day love a pompous, reticent fool who is entirely besotted by you?”
She pursed her lips. “No.”
Darcy’s heart crashed to his feet.
“But I might care for a reticent, intelligent man with a good deal of wit and”—she smiled—“excellent taste.”
“Please do not tease me,” he begged, hope rising from the ashes of disappointment. “Miss Elizabeth, will you be my wife?”
Miss Elizabeth took a deep breath and gazed deeply into his eyes. There was determination there, but also something soft and warm and delightful. “I will.”
Darcy laughed aloud with delight, then pulled her to him. Her hands rested lightly on his chest, and he covered them with his own. “Elizabeth, may I kiss you?”
She nodded. He leaned in, their noses touched, he tipped his head slightly to one side. He could feel the gentle tickle of her warm breath on his lips . . .
“See, Mamma? I told you!” Miss Lydia crowed.
“Elizabeth Bennet!” There was more excitement that censure in the cry. “I knew it!”
Elizabeth pulled her face away in confusion, and this time, Miss Mary joined in. “But they were going to kiss! Before they are married!”
Elizabeth rested her forehead against his arm. “I am so very tired of being the source of my family’s entertainment.”
“If we are already doomed, then their sensibilities be damned.” His mood could not be dampened by such paltry annoyances as this. He turned his back to the other women, shielding Elizabeth from their view, and kissed her soundly, though chastely, on the lips.
She burst out laughing, which was not the response he had hoped to elicit. She pointed towards the house.
Mr. Bennet’s book room was on this side of the house, and the master of Longbourn was watching through his window. Darcy sighed as the man lifted a hand and crooked his finger, beckoning them inside.