Page 52 of The Mercy of Chance

D arcy measured each word with excruciating care, acutely conscious of the delicate balance required.

How different these grounds appeared now - no longer a symbol of the gap between their situations, but rather the very proof of Elizabeth’s extraordinary capabilities.

Yet divining her feelings proved as challenging as ever.

Ahead, his cousin demonstrated the easy charm that had always eluded Darcy, drawing genuine warmth from the usually serene Jane Bennet.

There lay a lesson, perhaps, although Elizabeth would respond poorly to any attempt at studied lightness.

No, their understanding had always rested on more complex foundations.

“Your grandfather showed remarkable judgement,”

he ventured, watching her profile with interest.

“In placing his trust where others might have seen only conventional limitations.”

“He was rather in the habit of seeing beyond convention,”

Elizabeth replied, offering neither encouragement nor rebuke.

“Although I wonder, Mr Darcy, what prompted the observation?”

There lay the challenge - how to bridge the distance his own pride had created without stumbling into the very same errors of presumption.

Her every response carried that familiar spark of intelligence but guarded now in a way that twisted something in his chest.

“I have been contemplating the nature of discernment.

How a truly superior mind must be willing to… revise its understanding when presented with compelling evidence.”

Her quick glance showed another feeling - amusement? Interest? - before her features composed themselves again.

“A rather philosophical observation for a garden walk, sir.”

“Perhaps.”

He gathered his courage.

“Although I would argue that gardens are most well suited to contemplating… growth and change.”

The ghost of a smile touched her lips.

“And have you been cultivating such changes, Mr Darcy?”

There it was - an opening, if he was brave enough to take it.

But before he could frame his response, the Colonel’s laugh carried back to them, accompanied by some witty observation about military strategy and marriage that made Jane Bennet’s eyes dance with mirth.

Elizabeth’s attention shifted momentarily to her sister, and Darcy said the flash of protective assessment in her gaze.

Always aware of her family’s vulnerabilities, even now.

The reminder strengthened his resolve - she deserved to know that her loyalty, far from being a drawback in his eyes, had become one of her most admirable qualities.

“I have learnt,”

he said with deliberate weight, “that the most valuable growth often comes through challenging our most deeply held convictions.”

Her eyes returned to his face, sharp with that penetrating intelligence that had first caught his attention, long before he had learnt to truly value it.

“That sounds rather uncomfortable, Mr Darcy.”

“Less uncomfortable than persisting in error,”

he replied, willing her to understand the deeper meaning beneath his words.

“Particularly when that error prevents one from recognising… true worth.”

Darcy halted their walk at the small stone bridge spanning Longbourn’s stream.

On the other side lay the path to Dunbar Court.

He was aware that his next words could alter the course of both their lives irrevocably.

He had to get it right.

The late afternoon sun caught the amber tones in Elizabeth’s hair, gilding her in autumn fire, and for a moment, his prepared speech deserted him entirely.

“Elizabeth.”

His voice emerged rougher than he intended.

He drew a steadying breath, drinking in the sight of her.

“Elizabeth.

I can no longer trust to half measures or implied understanding between us.”

Her eyes had widened at the use of her Christian name, but she remained silent, her expression a study in restrained surprise.

“You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

The words rushed forth now, as though breaking through a long maintained dam.

“These past months have taught me that my happiness depends entirely upon you.

Society’s concerns about connections and circumstance seem not merely foolish now, but utterly contrary to the evidence of your extraordinary worth.

Your brilliance illuminates everything around you - your wit, your courage, your devotion to those you love.

You have taught me what true excellence means, and in doing so, have made me a better man.”

Elizabeth’s lips parted, but no sound emerged.

The colour had drained from her face, leaving her complexion like fine porcelain.

“I speak now with no presumption, only hope,”

his hands clenched behind his back, knuckles white with tension.

“Would you do me the great honour of allowing me to court you? To prove myself worthy of the treasure of your regard?”

The pause lengthened, thick with expectation.

Elizabeth’s eyes were wide, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Each heartbeat felt like an eternity as he waited, scarcely breathing.

“Mr Darcy.”

Her voice, when it finally came, held an utterly unfamiliar note of uncertainty.

“In such cases as these, a lady’s affections should be freely given, with neither duty nor gratitude to compel them.”

His heart stilled in his chest.

Was this a rejection? The world narrowed to her next words.

“And so, I tell you, with neither obligation nor constraint,”

she continued, her voice strengthening as a smile began to dawn across her features, “that my affections and wishes are engaged completely, irrevocably, and entirely in your favour.”

The world blazed into glorious colour around him.

“Elizabeth?”

He breathed her name like a prayer.

“My heart, Mr Darcy, has long been yours - although I believe I was the last to know it.”

Joy surged through him with an unbearable intensity.

“You are certain?”

“Quite certain.”

Her smile held both warmth and that characteristic spark of challenge.

“Although I suspect we shall spend years discovering how deeply we misunderstood one another—and how sweetly we may remedy it.”

The subtle play of meaning in her words - acknowledging their past whilst transforming it into promise - made his heart leap.

“I look forward to each revellation,”

he managed, his voice rough with emotion.

“As do I,”

she agreed.

“For I find my understanding of you grows ever more fascinating with each new piece of knowledge.”

Darcy took her small hand in his, gently caressed her fingers.

A gentle breeze stirred the leaves overhead, casting dappled shadows across their joined hands.

“My dear Mr Darcy,”

Elizabeth ventured, her fingers still entwined with his, “propriety demands I remind you that my current state of mourning places rather severe limitations on any… courtship activities.”

“I had considered that circumstance,”

he replied curiously, studying the play of emotion across her features.

“Indeed?”

Her lips curved in that particular way that always presaged some delightful challenge.

“Then perhaps you have also considered that a betrothed couple might find themselves afforded certain… allowances that mere courting couples could not expect?”

Darcy felt his breath catch at her daring.

“Miss Bennet, are you suggesting that we circumvent the rules of mourning through an immediate engagement?”

“Not at all, sir.”

The sparkle in her eyes belied her serious mien.

“I simply observe that a bereaved granddaughter might properly receive her betrothed in the family parlour, whilst a gentleman caller would be restricted to more formal visits.

And no one could object to a future husband offering comfort in times of loss?”

The subtle emphasis she placed on ‘future husband’ sent a thrill through him that he struggled to master.

“Your concern for propriety is admirable.”

“I find it wise to consider all aspects of any… arrangement,”

she murmured, her thumb tracing the smallest arc against his palm through their gloves.

“Particularly ones of such personal significance.”

The touch, slight as it was, nearly undid his careful composure.

“Your wisdom continues to astound me.”

“We are agreed?”

The sunlight caught the amber flecks in her eyes as she gazed up at him.

“That an extended courtship would be quite impractical under the circumstances?”

“Entirely agreed,”

he managed, wondering if she could feel his racing pulse through their joined hands.

Elizabeth’s eyes held his, a blend of challenge and tenderness in their depths.

“I fear I have been most forward in suggesting such an arrangement, Mr Darcy.” Her voice softened.

“But there remains a rather crucial question that only a gentleman can ask.”

The late afternoon light painted gold across her features as she waited, her hand still nestled in his.

Darcy felt the meaning of the moment settle around them like a physical presence - all their misunderstandings, growth, and dawning understanding crystallising into this single breath of time.

He shifted to face her fully, his free hand coming up to capture her other one, propriety be damned.

The rough stone of the bridge pressed against his knee as he sank down before her.

“My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”

His voice emerged rough with emotion.

“You have transformed my understanding of happiness itself.

Your strength, your wit, your tender heart - every day reveals new depths to treasure.

I come to you now with no pride but that which I take in offering you my heart, complete and unreserved.”

Her fingers tightened on his, and he watched a shimmer of tears gather in her eyes even as her lips curved in that beloved smile.

“Will you do me the extraordinary honour of becoming my wife? Of allowing me to spend my life with you learning the endless facets of your brilliant mind and generous spirit? Of building a future where each day I might strive to be worthy of the gift of your love?”

A single tear spilled over, catching the sunlight as it traced down her cheek. “Yes,”

she whispered, then stronger: “Yes, with all my heart.”

He rose, drawing her hands to his chest, his heart pounding beneath them.

“You have made me the happiest of men.”

“Then we are well matched,”

she managed through her tears, “for I cannot imagine greater joy than this.”

The distant sounds of birds and breeze faded away, leaving only the precious reality of Elizabeth in his arms, her fingers warm against his heart, and the promise of all their tomorrows stretching out before them.

From somewhere came the sound of the Colonel’s laughter and Jane’s answering response, but Darcy barely registered it.

The whole world had narrowed to the woman before him, her eyes bright with promise - not just of love, but of a lifetime of that scintillating intelligence challenging and complementing his own.

Every dream he had never dared to voice was suddenly within reach.