Elizabeth laid down on the soft, tall grass next to the majestic oak in the front garden of Longbourn. She closed her eyes languidly, and took deep, resonating breaths; sucking in the smell of the early summer atmosphere, the soft noises of nearby animals and the very essence of nature. She desperately tried to calm herself, but after a few moments she realized that it was to no avail. After taking one last long breath, she finally surrendered to her disturbing thoughts and the fast pace they were moving around in her head.
She was happy for Jane, truly, as any loving sister and friend would; but she could no longer watch the love-filled looks and overwhelming words that passed between her and Bingley. Jane was to be married, while she was not; what a strange sensation and thought it was. Not only strange, but excruciatingly painful. She had many regrets in her life, but no embarrassing situation or sorrowful mistake in her past could be compared to the way she had treated Mr. Darcy. She had been proud, prejudiced and bitter, but not only that. To her own misery, she had also been blind, both when it came to Mr. Darcy's true character and her own feelings towards the man; and this was a mistake she denied to forgive herself.
As the heavy burden of regret overwhelmed her heart, she gave way to the tears that she had tried to reign in in the past few months, after her encounter with Mr. Darcy in Pemberley and the scandal of Lydia; which no doubt would have lead to disaster had it not been for Fitzwilliam Darcy.
As this particular affair appeared in her mind, the tears stopped flowing and she had the strenght to sit up, lean against the oak and think clearly. Surely Mr. Darcy must still have feelings for me, she mused, if, despite the horrible deeds of Wickham against him and his family, he moved heaven and earth to secure the marriage of Lydia (and probably did the same thing for Jane). But then why was he so cold, and distant today, Elizabeth asked herself, and why is he so eager to get back to town tomorrow?
Elizabeth could not let this opportunity slip through her delicate fingers, till tomorrow Mr. Darcy was in Netherfield and she needed to talk to him. This time she had to make the first move, to take the first step on the most mysterious road of life; love. She will discuss everything with Mr. Darcy tonight.
As the flickering lights of Longbourn and the joyous discussion of Jane's future blissfulness have faded into the summer night; Elizabeth got up from her bed, and as silently as a mouse slipped out from her mutual room with Jane. After putting on her favourite brown jacket, for the English summer night was quite chilly, with her heart in her throat and fingers almost numb began to cross the field that lead to Netherfield.
Elizabeth had always been an independent, reckless woman, but this night excursion had enclosed even her heart in the solid ice of fear. If she was to be seen, or Mr. Darcy would have no interest in her powerful feelings towards him; her reputation would be certainly torn apart for life, not mentioning the shame that her family would have to endure. She could not let that happen, especially after what Lydia had done.
After walking for half an hour in the damp grass, she began to see the silhouette of Netherfield, and some petite, weak spots of light emanating from its windows. Truth be told, she had no idea, and definitely no plan about how she would manage to get in contact with Mr. , she could not walk up to the butler in the middle of the night and ask him to announce her arrival to the Bingleys. That would certainly cause the biggest scandal, and hysteria of the century. God, what will I do, she asked herself and tiptoed to the front entrance of the grandiose estate. She knew that she could not enter through the main entrance; it was madness, for this way she was certain to be seen. If the situation was a tad less dangerous, she would have surely laughed at herself now; what she was doing would fit any chapter of her favourite crime novels. Elizabeth suppressed a weak giggle, and with tentative steps proceeded to the perfectly organized garden of Mr. Bingley's house. There, to her most profound astonishment; sitting on a stone bench and illuminated by the flickering light of torches, was no other, but Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Elizabeth produced a small gasp, but luckily Mr. Darcy remained unknowing to her presence. She uttered a weak 'thank goodness', for this gave her time to think and went over the phrases in her head which she previously practiced to address Mr. Darcy. However she soon concluded that this was utterly hopeless, since her mind went completely blank; probably due to the loud pumping of her treacherous heart and stepped closer to Mr. Darcy.
"Mr. Darcy, sir." She called, and was shocked to see Mr. Darcy sprang up from his comfortable seat, as soon as his mind registered her presence. The expression on the man's handsome face was a mixture of pure surprise and delight, and he went on to acknowledge her with a shaky voice.
"Miss Elizabeth? What happened? Are you unwell?"
"No sir, I assure you I am quite well. Even though my behaviour, the fact that I came here to talk to you in the middle of the night must seem as madness to you." Elizabeth confessed, while trying desperately to maintain her gaze on Mr. Darcy's face, and not on the bench behind him.
"You came here to talk to me?" He asked in disbelief, and took a step closer to her. His voice radiated raw emotion, and Elizabeth could witness the slight shaking of his hands.
Elizabeth took a deep breath, during which she was sure, all rational words have escaped her mouth and continued. " Indeed. I came here, because I can no longer live with regret." Still unfinished with her speech, she paused for a few moments, but could not continue, because Mr. Darcy intervened.
"Regret? Miss Elizabeth, please elaborate…"
"I am trying Mr. Darcy" countered swiftly Elizabeth, and proceeded with her speech. "If you would just give me a little bit more time."
"I have all the time in the world" sighed the gentleman, and with the swift motion of his right hand draw a circular shape in the air, as if to symbolize time and his ignorance of its passing. "For you, I always had and always will."
Elizabeth let out a silent whimper at hearing this, and began to speak again; a bit impatiently this time. "Sir. After meeting you today at Longbourn, and later seeing the happiness of my dear sister and Mr. Bingley together, I realized something. I realized that yes, it is a safe and secure way of living a life without closer attachment, without love. But, at the same time a very lonely, and sad one. I have always considered myself brave, in expressing my opinions, in criticizing others, in seeing the flaws of this society and its people, even of myself. But I have never been brave enough to love; to love a person so much, that it threatened to shake my whole existence and turn my life, my perceptions upside down. Today I realized that I still have to be braver, a lot braver if I want to amend my past mistakes, and give myself to this love. And that is why I came here to talk to you." At this point Mr. Darcy moved closer to Elizabeth, and gazed in such intensity into her eyes, that she could do nothing, but stutter her last words. "I came here to tell you...that the source of this love is you."
Upon listening to these last words, Mr. Darcy momentarily froze and blinked several times at the woman in front of him, before he responded. Elizabeth watched in horror as the man standing only mere inches from her, the love of her life, had no words to offer to her, but relaxed as Mr. Darcy began to speak.
"Elizabeth. My sweet Elizabeth. Are you saying that you love me and that you accept me…"
In her nervousness Elizabeth cut him off rapidly, and set off to clean all kind of hesitation and doubt from this man's heart "Yes Mr. Darcy. I love you, deeply, and would accept you, if you could forgive my past follies and ask me again."
Mr. Darcy immediately sank to his knees with the brightest smile adorning his face, and took the trembling woman's hands in to his own. "My love. There is nothing to forgive, I have deserved your reproaches."
"Mr. Darcy you have not…" Shouted Elizabeth, but the man silenced her with a sweet kiss on her hands.
"Elizabeth, please call me Fitzwilliam or William."
"William" whispered Elizabeth, and blushed so deeply that the gentleman had to repress a laugh.
"That is much better. My love. My feelings towards you have not altered at all, since last April; if possible they have only intensified. Your lovely face, bewitches me. Your intelligence, opens up my mind. Your wit, makes me laugh. Your unruly ways, make my heart beat faster. I love you, and cannot bear to be parted from you. Will you be my wife?"
"Yes. God, yes." Answered Elizabeth between small sobs, and suddenly found herself in the embrace of Mr. Darcy's strong hands. Eventually he leaned closer to her, and between whispers of love claimed her lips with his own. Elizabeth as so many times in her life before, but with never such intensity acknowledged that being brave is worth it. There are so many ways to be brave, she thought, but so far this has been the most wonderful and rewarding.