Belle - Part IV

13.

The next time they met, it was June.

The weather was balmy on some days and unbearable on others. But there were flowers in full bloom in every garden, and birds and busy bees everywhere. He was tired of all the heated arguments he had been getting into over the past few days. It was never-ending. And then he saw her.

They were at a dinner in Bingley’s townhouse. Mrs. Jane Bingley had gone to great lengths to make her home beautiful and welcoming for her guests. And there were a lot of them as Bingley loved large gatherings. Elizabeth was there too.

It was as if a hidden weight suddenly lifted from his shoulders the minute his eyes met hers.

And then she smiled at him—the most radiant smile he had ever received from her. His heart thudded like it had never before.

She was wearing a pale pink gown that day, and her dark hair framed her face in the most charming manner. She was walking towards him.

“My Lord.” She dipped a curtsey.

They exchanged greetings and a brief word on the weather. He couldn't look away from her eyes. And she wasn't either.

“I wish to congratulate you on your recent victory in parliament,” she said.

He blushed. And then accepted it with some self-deprecation. It was only right.

It had taken them a greater part of the year to rally support. But, in the end, they had passed two addendums on the Married Ladies Act to end spousal abuse and abandonment. Now the ladies were clamouring for financial independence so they may not be left destitute, or at the mercy of neglectful relations. He did not see why that would endanger men as the opposition were forecasting.

“You look well,” he said suddenly.

Her cheeks pinked, but her smile grew. “Thank you.”

There were no bagpipes, of course. It was the city. But Mrs. Bingley had arranged a delightful orchestra of violins and cello. The musicians were playing a merry melody in the background. Something that was perfect for a summer night in June.

“Would you dance with me if there is to be any dancing?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. Then she grew crimson. “It will be my pleasure.”

Then they drifted in different directions within the throng.

He could see her every now and then. Chatting with a group of people, laughing, enjoying a refreshment. Their eyes would meet every few moments. It was unbearable.

And then Bingley announced they were to dance.

His feet carried him to her faster than his rational mind wished. He knew he was acting like a besotted fool. Yet, he couldn't stop himself. He didn't wish to.

Nor did he hold back his smiles when they skipped and twirled and danced with the rest.

14.

It was a beautiful day with clear skies when she said yes. The day he asked her to marry him once again.

“Truly?”

He couldn't believe it.

“Truly,” she said and laughed.

They were standing under an oak in her father's estate. The sky was blue. The grass green. Birdsong in the wind.

“Truly?” he asked again, quieter; stepping closer to her.

His gaze was locked on her beautiful dark eyes. His fingers grazed her cheeks, before his palm cupped her face.

“Truly,” she whispered.

He leaned down and kissed her. Lips parting, passionate, all-consuming. Setting their souls aflame.

It was the sweetest. And also an agony, because it was not enough. Not nearly enough.

In the end, when he finally learnt what the bone handle belonged to, it was as she had said: commonplace. But it was not disappointing. Never disappointing.

Because it was Elizabeth’s.

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Fin