I should be working, but this chapter offered a better distraction than my work. I just found out that my closest co-worker likely has advanced cancer. Her symptoms came on very suddenly and it looks bad. Please pray for L.B.


Chapter 37: Finally!

Thursday dawned bright and the sun did its best to dry the land, but thick mud still abounded. It was much worse than when Miss Elizabeth walked to Netherfield to visit her ill sister.

I could not help but daydream about Miss Elizabeth walking to see us as she had her sister, although I knew she would not walk over in conditions such as these. Still, I imagined watching her walk along any of the number of paths from the Hunsford parsonage in the map that was imprinted in my mind and visualized her arriving with an even deeper blush upon her face from such a laborious walk fighting against the sticky mud. I imagined how wondrous it would be to see her lovely dark eyes, brightened by the exercise, directed at me!

In my fantasy I would embrace her and lean down to kiss her pink lips, pausing before our lips touched to tell her, "My love, how I have missed you. Please tell me that we shall never be parted again." But there is where my fancy stopped, for when I tried to think of how she would reply, rather than seeing her smile and accept and then purse her lips to kiss mine, I saw a scowl and heard her exclaim, "You are the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry!"

On Tuesday night, with our growing closeness and anticipating three days with her still before our departure, I had felt some hope she might permit my addresses before we left for London, but with our continued separation it was all but impossible. Now there were but two days left, and I doubted whether the roads would be fit until after Saturday. I steeled myself to wait until she was home with her family in Longbourn as had been my previous plan.

Thursday afternoon, I ventured out of the house, hoping to carefully pick my way over to the stables to visit my mount, but the conditions were such that I feared my boots would be sucked off my feet. I had entertained vague hopes that perhaps I could ride my horse to the parsonage and declare all (not that I would truly do so, if riding were possible), but it was evident that even if I could gain the stable, it would be foolhardy to risk my mount or myself. Even a slow walk was too risky in such slippery conditions.

After I had wasted a good portion of the day in idle reflection, bemoaning what was currently impossible, I resolved to be more productive with the time I had. Yesterday, while answering my aunt's questions regarding how to help Anne control her own temper, it occurred to me that my perspective could be of further assistance to my aunt and cousin. Therefore, I began writing a letter to Lady Catherine summarizing some of what I had learned about my own nature and what had been helpful to me, although naturally with the caveat that it would not necessarily be the same for Anne. I write rather slowly, pausing to consider the best way to express myself, but when I was finished with my letter it covered the front and backs of five pages.

I also wrote a shorter, more carefully worded letter to Anne. I told her:

You and I are different from most people. We do not think as other people do. Your mother has tried very hard to keep you safe. She keeps you home both because of your weak heart and because she wants no one to think less of you.

You are intelligent. You are good at learning new things that interest you. Other people have things to teach you. The more that you can do for yourself, the more choices you will have. You cannot always do things your own way.

You are quickly learning to play the pianoforte. That is a good thing. You learn by listening and remembering which sounds go in order. You mind knows the music, but your fingers still need to learn how best to play it. It will take time for your fingers to catch up to the music in your head.

Sheet music is a way to learn music. If you can learn to read it, you can learn to play music that you have not heard before. You will not have to wait for someone to teach you, for you will be able to teach yourself and choose exactly what you wish to play.

Everyone becomes angry sometimes, but adults must control their behavior if they wish to be treated as adults. When you rage, it scares other people. I had to learn how to control myself and you can do the same. When I am angry, sometimes I feel better when I throw and break things outside; perhaps you can find something similar that will work for you.

Sometimes you may not understand how angry or upset you are becoming. Georgiana and I are trying to help your mother and Mrs. Jenkinson recognize the signs when you are becoming angry so they can help you. Try to listen to them and let them help soothe you. When you are frustrated, try to take a break.

If you can behave well in public, your mother and Mrs. Jenkinson can take you to see more things that you would like. You may see many homes and sites related to royalty. But you must tell them if you are getting angry or tired. They will try to help you.

If you would like, you may visit Georgiana and me in London and at Pemberley. London can be reached in a day, but Pemberley is a three-day journey and you would need to stay at two inns along the way and stop at others for food.

When we leave Rosings, we will write to you and we hope that you will write to us, too. We will also try to come visit you more often. We are your family and we will always be here to help you.

Friday the conditions were much improved, but there was still doubt in my mind whether the roads would be fit enough for us to travel to London the following day. If we could not leave on Saturday, we would not be able to travel until Monday as the pious did not travel on the Lord's day.

Later in the morning, unable to resist any longer, I walked to the stables gingerly, trying to only trod upon the drier ground, but frequently my boots were half covered with muck and made a spoosh-sloosh sound as I pulled them free to step forward. I saddled my horse myself and set out for the parsonage to visit Miss Elizabeth.

Although I longed to hurry to her side, I kept my mount to a gentle walk. We went so slowly that on a fair day, it would have been faster for me to walk on my own feet.

My poor horse ended up with muddy shins and some droplets were flung by his hooves as high as my own thighs, but I cared not. I expected all would be at home and I would only see Miss Elizabeth perhaps across the room unable to exchange more than a word or two due to Mr. Collins' volubility. Yet however limited our interaction would be, I would see Miss Elizabeth.

When I reached the parsonage, I gingerly slipped off my horse's back, but still slipped and almost fell on my posterior, catching myself with a gloved hand. It now appeared that my left glove was made of mud. Judging that it would be better to do without gloves under the circumstances, I slipped them off and laid them across his saddle, little caring whether they stayed. I tied my horse up to a post, but it hardly seemed necessary as my mount showed no interest in picking up his feet. He gave a snort, threw his head, but stood still.

Before I could knock, the door opened, and Mrs. Collins met me. I do not know if it was due to Mrs. Collins's concern that I would leave her house filthy with mud or out of true compassion, but rather than letting me enter Mrs. Collins whispered, "Good day, Mr. Darcy," and stood half blocking my way.

I was not sure why she was speaking so quietly, but in response, I half inclined my head.

Mrs. Collins then pivoted, half turning her back on me and guided Miss Elizabeth forward around her toward the gap in the door. Mrs. Collins murmured quietly from over Miss Elizabeth's shoulder, "Eliza is in desperate need of a walk. Could you please oblige her?"

I could not help but grin as I nodded. Mrs. Collins drew a dark shawl from around her own shoulders and flung it upon her friend who stepped out of the doorway. Then Mrs. Collins slowly closed the door, which made only a slight squeak.

I noticed that other than the hastily added shawl, Miss Elizabeth was not attired for a walk. She had neither gloves upon her hands nor a bonnet upon her head. Miss Elizabeth settled the shawl, which I could now tell was a dark brown, more securely over her pink dress and then grasped my arm.

She suggested, "I suppose the best thing to do would be to circle the house on its higher land. While I would dearly enjoy ranging further afield, I fear it would not be wise given the conditions."

From this statement, I gathered (correctly as it turned out) that she would prefer to be alone with me out of sight, but it was not to be. I was more than content, though, simply to be in her presence however it could be managed. At least out of doors, I did not have to deal with Mr. Collins and our words were private.

I wondered if Mrs. Collins had perhaps rushed to open the door before I could knock and spoke so quietly so that Mr. Collins was not alerted to my presence. I knew from past experience that he was usually in the front parlor watching the drive, but likely he believed the weather too poor to allow for anyone to go past.

Although we were alone, I knew I had to behave with utmost propriety as we were likely being viewed from the parsonage windows. I gently turned so that Miss Elizabeth was the one situated closer to the building, on the higher ground, to provide her with a better chance of not damaging her shoes.

We walked in silence. I was struggling trying to think of what to say to her. It was not that I had nothing to say, more that I did not want to presume that she would be willing to hear my addresses.

When we reached the back of the house and I would have taken her between the house and the chicken coop, she tugged me lightly to range lower, to circle behind the coop which was also on a portion of raised land.

With the hen house's protected roof and the angle, we were partially sheltered from view. There Miss Elizabeth halted, so I did likewise. She released my arm and turned toward me.

The chickens were squawking and clucking behind her, and I was almost certain the smelly mud beneath our feet was mostly chicken droppings, but we both ignored those things in favor of looking at one another.

Miss Elizabeth tugged the brown shawl higher around her shoulders, so it draped further down her front, framing the garnet cross she usually wore. Then, apparently realizing her hair was falling out of her bun (oh how delightful it was to see a few of those corkscrew curls come loose, they hung well below her shoulders but I imagined they would extend far longer if pulled down) and she quickly re-twisted it and secured it once more.

While I saw these actions, I paid them little mind as they did not concern me, at least not then. My eyes were more pleasantly engaged in examining the expression on Miss Elizabeth's face. It was not one that I recognized; it was certainly not a look that she had ever given to me before, but I also did not remember seeing that look addressed to anyone else.

While I was trying to make sense of her look, as her dark eyes met mine, she said, "Oh, how I have missed you!" Her voice was both the same and different than before.

Miss Elizabeth stepped closer to me, reaching out her right hand and grasped my left forearm around my sleeve. As she was on the higher ground, the less wet ground, the top of her head was perhaps even with my eyes.

While my mind was still trying to sort out what she might be thinking, my body knew just what to do. I leaned toward her and my knees bent a little. Her other hand came to rest on my arm and then my hands, first one and then the other moved forward of their own accord to lightly grasp the sides of her waist. At the same time, both of her hands were sliding up my arms. We continued to pull closer and my hands slid around to her back as her hands reached my shoulders.

Our arms encircled each other, and I could feel the fringes of her shawl brushing against my hands and I heard her skirt crinkling as it fluttered against my legs. There was still some space between us, but we were far closer to one another than we had ever been before. My head dipped lower, tilted slightly, and placed a small kiss upon her lips. They were soft and warm.

I drew back a few inches and released my grip on her back, suddenly aware of what I had done. I feared a slap or a disgusted look. Instead, her arms tightened around my neck and she leaned into me so I could kiss her once more. My hands which had dropped to my sides, rose to embrace her once more. I must have placed dozens of small kisses on Miss Elizabeth's lips when she gave a small sigh, her lips parted, and we shared a deeper kiss in which I tasted her mouth and felt desire rise within me.

My honor fully engaged, I pulled back slightly, my arms still around her and told her, "I love you." Then I asked, "Will you be my wife?"

As I asked my question, I could feel my heart beating wildly in my chest as if I had just run a foot race but did not yet know whether I had won or lost. Although I had not meant to hold or kiss Miss Elizabeth just then or to then propose, I could regret none of my actions as I still clasped her close and she still held me.

As I waited for her answer, my body was awash with sensations and my senses were fully engaged. While normally feeling these things at once would have been overwhelming, it simply enhanced everything I was feeling. My hands were delighting in being allowed to glide over her back: I felt bare skin just below her neck as my left hand delved deeper under her shawl, and with my other hand I felt the satiny fabric of her dress with lumpy buttons all in a row down the middle.

Miss Elizabeth gazed at me and I gazed at her. I tried to memorize the way she looked just then, cheeks rosy, lips slightly parted with a hint of a smile. Her expression reminded me of Georgiana when she had finally mastered a difficult pianoforte piece and successfully played it all the way through. She looked happy, I decided, yet she was still silent.

It must have only been a few moments, though it felt like longer and I began to worry. Why it was taking her so long to respond? Had I been too forward? Had I read the situation wrong? But no, her arms held me still.

Then as if it had taken her a little while to hear what I had said, her smile deepened, rounding her cheeks, and she said, "Yes."

One little word made of three little letters, yet it was the most important word I had ever heard. I saw my vision become blurry as my eyes became thick with tears. I was so very happy, thankful, exhilarated and feeling things I did not have words for, but they were all wonderful.

Before I knew it, we were kissing again, but this was a deeper kiss filled with the promise of a fulfillment that would only come upon our marriage. Almost all of me was just enjoying that moment, yet a very small part of me was saying, "See Fitzwilliam, you are worthy. She has chosen you." And a different small part of me was saying, "If she knew all your inner ugliness, she would make a different choice." And a third small part of me was saying, "Why did you ever worry about her touch when this is so very good?" And a fourth small part was saying, "Restrain yourself, know the limits of the here and now."

I listened to that last voice and slowly pulled back, still kissing her but more softly now until I was back to small tender kisses. Finally, I gave her one last kiss on her forehead and then pulled her more fully into my arms. She felt just right with her head tucked against my chest.

I held Miss Elizabeth for several more moments, her head nestled against the hanging part of my cravat, my arms around her still. Despite the smell of the mud mixed with poultry waste, I was loath to leave the spot where all my dearest wishes had come true. However, I knew that likely Mrs. Collins would be wondering where we were.

"My love," I said as I loosened my grip on her, "I think we ought to continue our walk before Mrs. Collins sends someone out to search, thinking you are a victim of the mud."

Miss Elizabeth must have agreed as she raised her head to look at me, then properly grasped my arm. I would have felt bereft now that my arms were empty if not for the promise contained in her "yes."

"I supposed we must," she replied. We slowly walked on, me trying to be careful to keep her on the driest land available although my eyes were more on her than on where we were walking.

"I missed you so these last two days," Miss Elizabeth confessed softly, "Yet I did not know until I spied you from the window, covered in mud yet coming to see me, how strong your love was and that I returned it."

I paused then, turned toward her, and asked, "You do?" I had hoped that her acceptance of my kisses and of my hand meant that she love me as well. I did not think she would not be the sort to accept a marriage proposal without having true feelings for her future spouse, but she might have just been fond of me.

"Yes," she said, squeezing my arm as she said the word before she loosened her grip. Again, I felt that "yes" was truly the most wonderful of words. The onslaught of emotions that descended on me then was difficult for me to bear, it was as if I was feeling too much, much more than I had felt before except when I had been very upset at what Governess Hayes had done to me or when my parents died. But unlike those experiences, this time these were good feelings.

Miss Elizabeth looked ahead for a moment as she commented, "I know there are still things to be worked out, adjustments that I must make. . . ." then she turned to look at me once again, "but I will be with you, Mr. Darcy, wherever you shall lead me." In her words I felt a devotion that recalled to me the Biblical story of Ruth in which Ruth chose to leave her country and people behind to cleave to her mother-in-law Naomi. It seemed to me there was a parallel there as when we married, I would be taking her far away from everything she had known before.

If we had not yet been walking in sight of the parsonage windows nothing would have kept me from embracing her and kissing her once more. But as we were, I had to settle for my words. "I hoped to earn your love," I told her, "yet so many times I despaired that I never would. It is a precious thing to have a love returned. My affections and wishes are unchanged since before I told you of them, except in how my feelings have deepened and grown the longer I have known you. I will do all that is in my power to make sure you never regret your choice."

Miss Elizabeth squeezed my arm again and confessed, "I am sorry I was so unfeeling to judge you without knowing any of the particulars about how you truly were, to allow my prejudices to turn me against you. I wish you could forget all those things and think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure."

I heard and felt my boot sink low in mud, but paid it no heed as I replied, "I would suffer all those trials and more, knowing they would bring us to this point."

We walked on in contented silence that I had no wish to disturb, yet our time grew short and I began to feel anxious knowing that soon we would have to part. "Should we announce our understanding?" I asked.

"I think it ought not to be attempted," Miss Elizabeth responded. "While my happiness is such that I would wish for all to know, I fear that if Mr. Collins knew he would be writing my father to offer his congratulations even before you obtained his consent. I do not think it will be difficult to get my father to agree, though I must talk with him first and acquaint him with all that I have learned about you and how it differs from the accounts in circulation."

"Will Mr. Bennet approve of me, if he knows of my difficulties?" I wondered aloud.

"Do not fear," she responded, leaning into me, so that her shoulder was against my arm. "I am certain that he will. He is a man of keen understanding and will respect my choice as he did when I chose to reject Mr. Collins."

I resolved to try not to worry about that now and directed my mind to think on more immediate concerns. "If we cannot make an announcement, can we at least share with a selected few and swear them to secrecy? I expect you should like to tell Mrs. Collins and as for me, I would wish to tell my sister."

She nodded, "I believe they may be trusted. I should like to tell my sister also when we reach London, although it might pain her while she is still struggling with her own disappointment. I certainly would like to share all that has occurred with Uncle and Aunt Gardiner. Indeed, they must know, as you plan to see me while I am in their care."

In thinking of those that were in London, I commented, "I should like to tell Bingley, but as for the Colonel, I do not plan to tell him until there is a formal announcement. As for our travel plans, I am not certain that the roads will be safe enough for the carriages to travel to London tomorrow."

In my mind were images of stuck and overturned carriages. However, a delay in leaving would mean that we could not travel until Monday. Few wished to risk the Lord's wrath or the disapprobation of society by traveling on His day. "The mud was worse than I expected riding over from Rosings and I should not like to risk your safety, or that of Georgiana or Miss Lucas, or even that of our servants."

"If we do not arrive on the morrow," said she, "I am certain my Gardiner relatives will understand why. However, I am impatient to depart so that I may return home, and all may be formalized between us."

"Then we are agreed that we should not attempt the journey unless conditions are much improved. I shall call on you tomorrow to finalize our arrangements. Please do not risk your health by coming to see us at Rosings." As I said those words, I realized I finally had the right to protect her.

"I will stay here," she agreed, "but it will be difficult not to see you before then."

We paused for a moment; I believe neither of us wished to reach the parsonage. "I must depart soon," I told her regretfully. "My poor horse must be tended to. Lady Catherine's stable hands shall earn their wages today, clearing him of mud."

I glanced down at myself and saw that my appearance was not much better than that of my beast. My boots were so thoroughly covered in mud that it was unclear what color they were, my stockings were muddy as well, and even my breeches and coat bore droplets of mud. Noticing my appearance, I began to laugh.

Miss Elizabeth smirked and said, "Pray tell, Mr. Darcy, what is so amusing?"

If it had been someone else, or even her of a few weeks before, I would have forced a blank expression on my face (and likely never would have laughed in the first place). Now there was no reason not to tell her my thoughts and she wanted to know them.

"I have just been thinking that it seems that on every occasion when I have been most desperate to see you, that I am never at my best. Do you not recall me calling on you at the parsonage after having run after you and Edwin a foot? I was wet with sweat and disheveled, unkempt, yet you rewarded me with your ribbon. And now, fool that I am, I both embraced and proposed to you while muddy. How is it that you have accepted me?"

"Do you truly not understand?" Miss Elizabeth asked.

I shook my head "no." "Please, dearest," it felt wonderful indeed to call her by an endearment, "enlighten me."

"Then and today, you cared more for me than for appearances. Your actions convinced me that your affection for me was genuine, that my well-being was of utmost importance to you."

Her words told me she was a woman above all others, who saw my intentions, who put the best possible interpretation on my imperfect efforts. It was so much more than I deserved! I almost felt maudlin, but that would not do.

I tried to think of something to say, to lighten the mood. I glanced down at Miss Elizabeth's hem. "It appears you have not escaped unscathed, either, despite my best efforts."

Miss Elizabeth's eyes cast down upon herself and she must have seen as I had, that at least the bottom four or five inches of her skirts were caked with mud. I expected her shoes were as well, though I could not see them beneath her skirts. I was glad she was not wearing her yellow dress.

Her eyes widened for a moment and then she gave a hearty chuckle, "Are you convinced of my affections given that I have not a care as to whether my dress and shoes are ruined?"

"Yes." I told her, "You have never been more beautiful than now," and I meant my words. While her clothing might be stained, her eyes were bright, her cheeks were rounded with her smile and it was I that was making her look happy. And added to this was the promise that someday soon she would be my own wife, that I might always bask in her smiles. "Besides, why should you mind? Soon enough I will buy you gowns by the dozens."

We resumed walking and, in a moment, we were almost at the front door to the parsonage. Mrs. Collins must have been waiting for us as the door swung open before we reached it and she gestured Miss Elizabeth to enter. Reluctantly, I believe, Miss Elizabeth released my arm.

"I bid you adieu, Miss Elizabeth, Mrs. Collins." It was a struggle to move my eyes from Miss Elizabeth to acknowledge Mrs. Collins.

"I bid you adieu as well, Mr. Darcy," Miss Elizabeth answered while Mrs. Collins merely nodded. I watched until the door closed behind them before turning to make my journey home.

I did not like hearing my beloved call me "Mr. Darcy" again, for I longed to hear her call me by my given name. What would "Fitzwilliam" or better yet, "My Fitzwilliam," sound like from her lips?

I wondered if Miss Elizabeth would always call me "Mr. Darcy." It was not unusual for husbands and wives to address each other formally.

I resolved that when it was just her and I, to address her by terms of endearment at every opportunity. For she was my beloved, my darling, my love, and I never wanted her to doubt my affections.


The verse that Darcy is thinking of is Ruth 1:16. As given in the King James version, which is the version Darcy would know, it reads: "And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God."