Mr. Darcy made his way to the ballroom deep in thoughts. He didn’t know words harsh enough to insult himself. Indeed, where had the Mr. Darcy everybody respected or feared gone? Who was this puppet now in his body? How could he have lost his brain? Until that pitiful speech in the drawing-room, his behaviour had been, at least, a gentleman’s one, but now!!! What would Elizabeth think of him? How had she understood his stuttering? They were alone, she had purposely sung this song – surely it was purposely, it couldn’t be a coincidence, yes, it had to be – and he had lost his power of speech. Had she understood he was about to renew his proposal? He had thought she was waiting for it, yet her behaviour had seemed quite composed when he had finally proposed the lesson. She had even seemed more than normal; she had been friendly, charming. Fortunately, he had recovered his speech to suggest the lesson otherwise how would it have ended? Well, he had to overcome his confusion. He still had a chance, they would have a whole lesson for him to manage to utter those words. He was now really hopeful she would agree. She had sent him a meaningful message in playing that song. If his nerves would resist this time, he should manage to become the happiest man alive before the end of the morning. His nerves! He was speaking like Mrs. Bennet now… Elizabeth would laugh heartily if she knew it! He had prepared the swords and taken off his coat, waistcoat and tie while pondering on his thoughts. He heard her footstep coming close and the door opened.

"Welcome Miss Bennet. Everything is ready. As you had allowed me yesterday, I took the liberty of putting on my training costume," the last part of the sentence was said with a smile.

She had managed, somehow, to regain her composure during her short walk in the corridors but when she saw him without his coat, what had happened the day before came suddenly back to her. She flushed and saw him frown, in spite of his smile. She scolded herself; she had promised she would help him, and she was not true to her word. So, she breathed deeply, put on her brightest smile and answered, "Indeed, you did well, Mr. Darcy." Taking a look around the room, she added, "Oh, you ordered some refreshments! This was very thoughtful of you."

He startled, "I’m afraid I did not."

She blushed furiously, once again. Oh! Then…" She went close to the decanter, poured some lemonade in a glass and tasted it. "Yet, it is cool. It is a very recent one."

He silently cursed Georgiana and felt extremely embarrassed once again. "I told Georgiana I had given you a lesson yesterday. She may have thought we would renew the experiment today and asked Mrs. Harper to prepare something for us."

Elizabeth felt a smile coming on her lips: "How very thoughtful of her!"

Mr. Darcy saw that she was not angry about the incident and felt relieved. He smiled as well and answered, "I shall have a word with her so that, next time, she isn’t so "thoughtful" as you put it. But I’m sure you mustn’t fear Mrs. Harper gossiping. She has worked for the Darcys for longer than I can remember." And if he was a reliable man – which he was not sure he was – Elizabeth, as his betrothed, would soon have nothing to fear for her reputation.

As it happened, though, she was not at all concerned about her reputation. "I am not afraid, don’t make yourself uneasy." She went to fetch her sword. "Shall we start?"

He took his, went beside her and asked: "Should we review what we have seen yesterday?"

And the lesson went on. First Elizabeth showed him she remembered everything he had taught her the day before. Then Mr. Darcy showed her some other positions and eventually, they practiced in a little fight. Everything was going on very well, she was enjoying herself as much as the day before and he was having as much pleasure. They paused to rest a little and drink some of these unexpected refreshments. While Mr. Darcy was congratulating her about her improvements, he was thinking that this would not be a good time to propose. Their minds were still full of swords and positions, he wouldn’t find the good words and she wouldn’t be in the right frame of mind.

He knew his conclusions were right when she said: "I have read in some novels about some artful thrusts. What is it?"

"A thrust is a combination of positions which is supposed to lead you to a hit. An artful one is one not documented, a kind of family secret.(1)"

Her eyes were shining with pleasure. She asked almost greedily: "Would you know any? I would dearly like to learn one."

How could he refuse her anything when she was looking at him like that? He smiled warmly. "Yes, I do know one but if you write it in your novel, it won’t be a secret any longer."

"Oh, you shouldn’t worry, I won’t describe it and I won’t tell anybody." She was almost childish, longing for a candy and swearing she would keep the secret. He felt his heart melt – well, the tiny part which was not already melted!

"If I have your word, then I will show it to you. It’s our family secret, you know!" And as she would soon be a part of it, he could tell it to her! Mr. Darcy wondered if her thoughts had followed the same path because she blushed, broke their stare and looked away. Curiously he felt calm. It might be caused by the fact that he still didn’t feel the moment was right. He added, "I shall show you," and started a complex movement.

Elizabeth was watching him attentively. She was impressed by the harmony of the whole movement; and, while she should have studied the different positions, she was captivated by the man who was making them. How handsome he was! What strength emerged from his body! How would it feel to be held in those powerful arms? Warmth started to spread all over her body.

Once he had finished, Mr. Darcy said, oblivious of the nature of the attention she had bestowed on him:

"Would you try to do it now?"

She broke abruptly her reverie, a deep shade of pink on her cheeks. "I’m afraid I don’t remember everything." She was sure she remembered nothing at all…

"Of course, I will do it slowly, why don’t you imitate me?" And, coming by her side, he started again the movement.

This time, she decided to be more serious and tried to do as asked. But it was truly complicated and she was not truly very attentive. Therefore, the result was not as good as it could have been. She was quite embarrassed.

"I’m sorry, it seems that my skills might not be good enough."

"Not at all. I’m sure you can do it. It is not as difficult as it looks." An idea had popped up in his head. It was not one to be easily said but if it could be done, it would be quite delightful indeed! He decided to try to voice it, no matter how loud his heartbeats were, and, unlike the drawing-room speech, words came easily. "Miss Bennet, I have a suggestion to make but I wouldn’t wish to shock you." He paused then smiled, "It seems that everyday, I am to tell you something I ask you to forget if it is not to your liking!"

She smiled back. "Pray, Mr. Darcy, tell me. I was delighted by your last daring suggestion!" Oh! had she really said that when she had been so proud of refraining her eagerness the day before?

His smile showed that he didn’t seem to object to that piece of information. His tone turned serious, as he said, "It might help you if, without our swords, I would direct your arm and hand to do the proper movements. But," he gulped, "this means that I will hold your hand and be close to you."

She flushed at the idea and remembered, once again, what she had promised herself in her room. She would help him, she would show him she cared. This situation appeared to be another opportunity. She tried to answer lightly, smiling, "It would be like a dance, I don’t see anything improper in that!" Of course, they were alone and neither he nor she were wearing gloves. But she didn’t want to think about it. She went to put her sword on the side table and moved back to the centre of the room.

The same thoughts crossed his mind; he didn’t want to think about it, either. He put back his sword as well. Then he went behind her as far as he could, considering the fact that he would hold her right hand in his. He rubbed his hand against his breeches. His throat was clenched, he swallowed and said: "Shall we start?"

She was deeply aware of his body behind hers. She could feel his warmth. She could smell his fragrance. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "Yes we shall." And she lifted her arms. She opened her eyes when she felt his hand holding hers. Once again, they were skin against skin and this time, she would not end the contact.

Mr. Darcy was ill at ease but he was also determined to continue; he would not give in. He slowly started the movement, yet he felt that her arm was not as rigid as it should be. In fact, her whole body was not as rigid as it should be. What was happening?

Elizabeth felt that all her strength had left her. The pounding of her heart was using the whole of it. She was not on the verge of fainting, indeed, she was not the fainting kind; but she was more and more weak. She started to let her back go and it logically started to rest on Mr. Darcy’s chest. She gave a sigh of contentment.

At first, he was overpowered by the contact of her body against his, then by the ideas suggested by such a contact. After recovering his breath, he tried to think; but he didn’t know what to think. Was she ill? No, that sigh was clearly not a fainting one. Was she, by some miracle, as physically aware of him as he was of her? He felt his blood run even faster. He decided to try the light approach, otherwise he would be back to his clumsy behaviour. Without releasing her, he said, "Miss Bennet, I’m not sure this is the best position to practice the thrust."

She didn’t answer but closed her eyes and let her head go back; it was now resting under his chin. He felt overpowered by the feeling of her hair against his skin. He swallowed and closed his eyes. He had to say something, it was his part, it was his will, she was his destiny. Still holding her right hand, he closed his arms on her body. She closed her left arm on his. It was so perfect; it was so just; neither of them wanted to move.

Eventually, Mr. Darcy opened his eyes and said, "Elizabeth". It was not a question, nor the beginning of a sentence, it was the expression of his relief. At last, he would be able to address her as Elizabeth.

On hearing her name, she shivered and opened her eyes. She moved slowly in his arms to turn to face him. His hands were still on her waist; hers were resting on his chest. They were staring at each other.

"Fitzwilliam". It was such a strange name, yet it sounded so beautiful when she said it.

He didn’t know where to start but he knew he would find a way. His voice was hoarse. "I love you, Elizabeth. I love you more than I can say. And I need you. I need you to put light into my life, I need you to help me be a better man, I need you to be whole. Will you marry me?"

Tears were coming to her eyes. She put her hands behind his head and, drawing his mouth onto hers, she answered, "I will." And their lips met. It started as a shy kiss but they had suffered too much, had waited too long for it to remain one. His hands were moving randomly on her back, pressing her ever more against him. Hers were in his hair, on his shoulders, on his face. He was devouring her and she him. They lost track of the time.

Mr. Darcy had lost his heart and most of his self-control but he was still a gentleman. In the mist of his head, a voice started to tell him to stop. First he ignored it but eventually he surrendered to it and his lips left her mouth. He lightly kissed her nose and rested his forehead on hers. He waited for his heart to go back to its normal pace, he forced his breath to calm down, then he whispered: "I love you Elizabeth."

She had understood his gesture. She didn’t know where that kiss could have led them but she knew that it would have been too far. "I love you Fitzwilliam."

Those words made him happier than he had ever been; he thought that if his chest were to expand any more, it would explode. "I can’t believe it. I don’t deserve it."

She smiled at him. "Yes you do, and I will prove that to you, every single day of my life." And she kissed him again.

Although her initiating it was a dangerously tantalizing thought, he managed to retain enough control to not let the kiss fly away as the first one. Once their lips had parted, he smiled and said, "I think we should end the lesson, Georgiana and the Bingleys should soon be back."

"End the lesson when I have been so inept at learning the Darcy’s thrust?" she laughed. "How am I to master it if we stop now?"

"Believe me, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, I heartily wish to practice it more with you," he replied with feeling, "yet I do not trust myself to stay a gentleman, should we do it. I can nevertheless promise you that we will practice more, and that you will master it as well."

The slightly wild light she saw in his eyes made her realise that he was much closer to losing his control than he had led her to believe. It rendered her both enthralled and slightly apprehensive. Pushing him further was nonetheless tempting beyond resisting. "I haven’t thank you properly for the lessons, shall I?" she asked, in a beguiling manner.

He loved this woman. She was passionate, funny, beautiful, intelligent; but he was the stern one, the solid one, the poised one. He had to resist temptation even though she was still enfolded in his arms, as in his dreams he had held her since the beginning of their acquaintance. "My teasing love, if we want to be able to face Bingley, your sister and mine in a decent amount of time, you’d better not."

She sighed, "You’re certainly right."

He then did one of the hardest things he had ever done in releasing his Elizabeth. He offered her his arm to leave the room and she put both hands on it. Before opening the door, he said: "I cannot ask your father’s consent right away, can we nonetheless announce our engagement to them?"

Their engagement! O thank you Lord! She smiled, recalling Jane’s part. "I’m afraid we have to. Jane was determined to see you and I together and she might have schemed a little for us to be alone this morning. She will surely want to know the result of her trick!"

Mr. Darcy was laughing. "We have been trapped! Georgiana had resolved on achieving the same goal."

Elizabeth laughed with him. Then she said, more thoughtfully: "It seems that our sisters have been cleverer than us on knowing how we would find our happiness."

Mr. Darcy paused at the door to take hold of her two hands in his. "You have made me the happiest of men."

She answered, a sunny smile on her lips and in her eyes, "You have made me the happiest of women."

Unable to resist the tenderness in her voice, he leaned down and placed a featherlike kiss on her mouth. "Go and prepare yourself to face our matchmakers, my Love."

The Fencing Lessons, Epilogue