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doesnotkneel"Matthew is going to ask me to marry him tomorrow morning."
Those were the words that made Edward's heart stop.
He was determined not to lose her. Because of his love for her, because he could think of nothing but her, because when they were together he savoured every moment; every word, every gesture that Caroline made was like nectar to him, everything about her, every curve and contour, her scent, her laugh, her refined manners, her intelligence. It was like no infatuation he had ever had-- no other girl, not his long-lasting obsession with Isabelle... even his courtship of Cosette had been easy. It had not burned like this, had not pierced so deeply.
All of this ran through Edward's mind as he made a terrifyingly rash decision: he dropped to one knee and took her hand, because what she was telling him, perhaps it wasn’t an invitation but a farewell, and if it was, well at least his humiliation would not be known far and wide, confined to the birds in the trees and the cows that stood in the fields watching them with sleepy eyes and chewing ruminatively.
“Caroline, will you marry me?” he said.
Edward held his breath. During their courtship, every meeting they’d had, every stolen kiss they’d shared, he’d been haunted by a feeling of not believing his luck. It was as though a great joke was being played on him — he half expected Tom Cobleigh to come leaping out of the shadows snorting with laughter. And if not that — if not some vengeful, practical joke at his expense — then perhaps he was merely a diversion for Caroline, a final fling, before she applied herself to her true calling, her duty. Surely she would say no.
“Ah, Edward,” she smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”
In most romances, that would be the end of it, wouldn't it?
But that wasn't Edward's life.
[[ taken and adapted from the ACIV novelization. tbc! ]]
Those were the words that made Edward's heart stop.
He was determined not to lose her. Because of his love for her, because he could think of nothing but her, because when they were together he savoured every moment; every word, every gesture that Caroline made was like nectar to him, everything about her, every curve and contour, her scent, her laugh, her refined manners, her intelligence. It was like no infatuation he had ever had-- no other girl, not his long-lasting obsession with Isabelle... even his courtship of Cosette had been easy. It had not burned like this, had not pierced so deeply.
All of this ran through Edward's mind as he made a terrifyingly rash decision: he dropped to one knee and took her hand, because what she was telling him, perhaps it wasn’t an invitation but a farewell, and if it was, well at least his humiliation would not be known far and wide, confined to the birds in the trees and the cows that stood in the fields watching them with sleepy eyes and chewing ruminatively.
“Caroline, will you marry me?” he said.
Edward held his breath. During their courtship, every meeting they’d had, every stolen kiss they’d shared, he’d been haunted by a feeling of not believing his luck. It was as though a great joke was being played on him — he half expected Tom Cobleigh to come leaping out of the shadows snorting with laughter. And if not that — if not some vengeful, practical joke at his expense — then perhaps he was merely a diversion for Caroline, a final fling, before she applied herself to her true calling, her duty. Surely she would say no.
“Ah, Edward,” she smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”
In most romances, that would be the end of it, wouldn't it?
But that wasn't Edward's life.
[[ taken and adapted from the ACIV novelization. tbc! ]]
