Unequal Affections

'Whatever my past reservations may have been, once you are mine, you are mine, and I will protect you and defend you and provide for you the same as I would do for any woman who was my wife… and I will love you more.' […] 'I will give you everything, Elizabeth,' he said softy. 'My respect, my loyalty, my trust, my love…' He reached out a sudden finger and touched her cheek in a fleeting caress. 'My love, Elizabeth,' he repeated, 'all the warmest and tenderest feelings I have. You will need fear nothing as my wife, neither poverty nor loneliness, dishonor, or disloyalty, unkindness, neglect… you will be the most cherished wife in all of England.'

As always, what she felt most was the hardest to say. She smiled a whimsical wisp of a smile at him and murmured, 'You did offer me your hand, did you not?' Darcy nodded. She tightened her grip and breathed deeply. His warm and solid flesh reminded her that all was real—that he was real, and he was hers.
'Fitzwilliam,' she tried again after a moment, her voice husky. 'Why do you love me?'
His eyes widened at the question, and he reached out to trace her cheek. 'I cannot help it.'
'Then,' said Elizabeth, leaning forward into him until her head dropped against his shoulder, 'neither can I.' The hand she still held tightened painfully around her fingers, and she nodded as her other arm slid softly up around his neck. 'I’m certain now,' she whispered into his ear. 'I’m certain—my love.'

She had been engaged so for some minutes when she became aware of Darcy sitting very still beside her, his entire body as motionless as the hand that lay passive in her grasp. The ready color would rise in her cheeks, but she found she could not be embarrassed, not now, not so close to their wedding day. She met his eyes calmly, saw his hope, his desire, his vulnerability, and knew without a doubt that she loved him.

'Perhaps we should go in,' she suggested softly.
He nodded, but as she began to draw away he retained her. Raising her hand to his lips, he pressed a passionate kiss on it. Then leaning forward, he kissed her very gently but with undeniable possessiveness. This time, she felt it down to her toes. 'Always remember whom you belong to, Elizabeth,' he said quietly.
She swallowed. 'I am not likely to ever forget it, sir.'

They turned and left the lovers to the sun, to the sky, to the lake, and to all the felicity that a marriage of tender, passionate, equal affection may afford its participants.