Page 3 of An Interrupted Proposal (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
What Have I done?
Elizabeth sat before her mirror, staring at her reflection and questioning everything she had once believed.
Moments after Mr. Darcy left the parsonage, the weight of his words and the consequences of her reactions had settled upon her and she sank to the floor, tears flooding her cheeks.
No matter her feelings regarding the man, she was not insensible to the honour of gaining his attention, let alone his affections.
However, whether she desired such attention was not what caused her to weep so.
It was the fear that she had most assuredly destroyed any chance for her sister’s happiness.
What man––in particular, an extremely proud man––would condone his friend courting the sister of the shrew who had refused him?
Upon hearing movement within the parsonage, she quickly gathered her things and made her way to the room appointed to her.
It would not do to have a servant or the Collinses find her in such a state.
After bathing her face and holding a cool cloth to her eyes to reduce the swelling and redness, she had taken up her current position before the mirror.
Every younger daughter of Longbourn was raised understanding she could not hold a candle to the eldest Miss Bennet.
This did not mean they believed themselves wanting in beauty; it was common knowledge that the Bennet sisters were the loveliest girls to be found in their corner of Hertfordshire and the surrounding area.
That said, Mr. Darcy’s comment at the Meryton assembly had confirmed an unspoken fear: her beauty, paltry dowry, and meagre accomplishments were insufficient to secure a worthy husband.
Mr. Collins’ subsequent proposal and his comment regarding the unlikelihood of her receiving another had firmly cemented this understanding in her mind.
All hopes of marriage and children of her own had been firmly thrust away as she planned her future as the spinster aunt to Jane’s little ones.
Then Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire, with his ten thousand a year, declared he ardently admired and loved her.
Elizabeth tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and tilted her head, first one way, then the other. She pressed the cool rag to the puffy skin under her eyes for a few minutes longer before beginning her examination anew.
“Whatever could he see in me?” She sniffed and began removing her hairpins. “How could I go from tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt him to dance, to winning his affection?"
Once she had taken down her hair, running her fingers through it to be certain she had not missed a stray pin, she began to brush it.
At Longbourn when she was distressed, Jane would brush her hair and all her worries would seem to float away; but Jane was not here.
The rhythm of the strokes did calm Elizabeth’s nerves somewhat, until the similarity to Mrs. Bennet frayed them once more.
This was how Charlotte Collins found her friend a few minutes later.
The door opened slowly after a quiet knock, and Elizabeth’s hostess slipped inside and closed the door behind her.
She took the brush and continued the soothing strokes while humming softly, and Elizabeth felt her anxiety begin to subside.
Once every knot had been removed, Charlotte plaited the long silky strands and tied a ribbon about the end.
When she was finished, she laid her hands on Elizabeth’s shoulders.
“Would you like to speak of it?”
Elizabeth bit her lip as tears glistened in her eyes and met her friend’s gaze in the mirror. “You cannot tell a soul. Particularly not Mr. Collins.” She waited for her friend to hesitantly nod. “I have been rather foolish, I believe.”
“In what way?” Charlotte asked as she lowered herself onto the foot of the bed.
Unable to face her friend directly, Elizabeth continued to stare into the mirror. “I fear I have permanently ruined Jane’s happiness.”
A smile tugged at her friend’s lips. “However did you manage that in the short time I was at Rosings Park?”
Elizabeth slowly turned to meet her friend’s gaze directly. “Mr. Darcy visited whilst you were gone.”
Charlotte’s eyes grew larger, and her lips opened, but Elizabeth held up a finger. “Do not say you knew it were so.”
“But he does admire you?”
Elizabeth nodded her head twice.
“Oh!” Charlotte’s grin spread across her features, but her excitement died as quickly as it was born. “What did you do?”
A tear slid down her cheek as Elizabeth shook her head. “I was so angry with him for interfering with Jane and Mr. Bingley.”
“Eliza, you have no way of knowing it was him. I firmly believe it was Mr. Bingley’s sisters who separated them.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Colonel Fitzwilliam told me, just this morning, that Mr. Darcy boasted to him that he had saved a friend from an imprudent marriage as there were some very strong objections against the lady.”
“No!” Charlotte’s mouth hung open.
“Yes.” Elizabeth dabbed her handkerchief at the corners of her eyes. “And then the man himself arrived at Hunsford and declared he ardently admired and loved me.” She sniffed and dabbed her nose. “I was in such disbelief that I demanded he explain himself.”
“Oh, no, Eliza, you didn’t.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I did.”
“What did he say?”
Reluctantly, Elizabeth revealed what passed between her and Mr. Darcy while Charlotte alternated between questions and exclamations. When all had been told, Elizabeth felt the tears rolling freely down her cheeks again.
“You see? He will be more determined to keep Mr. Bingley as far from Jane as possible.”
Charlotte nibbled on her fingernail. “Perhaps, or perhaps he will right the wrong he has done.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips and stared at her friend. “What man in his right mind would push his friend towards a woman he believed was objectionable after that lady’s sister reprimanded him as I did?”
A smile tugged at Charlotte’s lips. “One who is ardently in love.”
***********
Elizabeth slipped soundlessly from the parsonage and hurried towards the nearest wooded area.
Only when she was out of sight of her cousin’s home did she breathe easier and slow her steps.
Speaking to Charlotte the previous evening had helped to clear her mind––to a degree––but now she required nature to soothe her soul.
Dew covered the ground and droplets dripped from leaves as she passed under them.
Her footsteps turned towards her favourite walk, but she hesitated.
Elizabeth agreed with Charlotte that she would have to speak to Mr. Darcy, but she was uncertain if she was currently ready for the confrontation.
She now realized they had met entirely too frequently on that path for it to have been a coincidence.
In order to avoid him for a bit longer, she chose another trail she had seen but never explored.
A few feet down the path, it began to narrow.
Lost in her thoughts, she did not notice and continued on until branches pressed against her arms and plucked at her bonnet.
Elizabeth released an exasperated sigh and turned, only to find an intrepid twig had snagged a lock of hair.
Try though she might, she was unable to release herself without causing damage to the simple knot into which she had twisted her hair that morning.
Another step revealed a larger branch had entrapped her gown and yet another plucked at the sleeve of her pelisse.
Frustrated with her lack of perception, she suppressed another sigh and carefully removed herself from the predatory branches. Once in the wider path, she began to take stock of her appearance, certain she looked a sight.
“Miss Bennet!”
Her gaze fell upon the opening at the end of the path to find the one man she had hoped to avoid that morning. “Mr. Darcy,” she managed in a soft voice as she dipped a brief curtsey.
He belatedly bowed before stepping closer. “Are you well?”
“Of course," she said as she stood a little straighter. "I was enjoying a walk before breakfast.”
Mr. Darcy stepped closer still and removed his handkerchief. “May I?” he asked.
Uncertain what he would do, Elizabeth reluctantly nodded, and the gentleman lightly pressed his handkerchief to her cheek. When he removed it, there was a spot of blood marring the pristine fabric.
“Oh!” She took the handkerchief from him and pressed it to the same spot. “The path,” she turned and motioned back the way she had come, “narrowed and I became entangled, but I did not realize the branches had attacked more than my clothes and hair.”
Mr. Darcy’s lips twitched, but he did an admirable job hiding his mirth. “I shall have the gardeners remove the offending flora at once.”
Elizabeth’s blush grew as her gaze fell to the ground, her embarrassment over her words from the previous evening humbling her. “In truth, I would have been in no danger had I not been trying to avoid you, sir.”
There was a moment of silence, and Elizabeth slowly tilted her head so she could see him. Mr. Darcy looked off to the side, the muscles in his jaw clenched.
“Forgive me for forcing my presence upon you––"
“Oh, no.” She reached out but stopped just short of laying her hand upon his arm. “I must ask your forgiveness. I was angry with you when you arrived yesterday and did not consider my words . . .”
The gentleman shook his head. “You were justified in your anger. It was not my place to act as I did regarding your sister and Mr. Bingley.”
They stared at one another for a time before Mr. Darcy cleared his throat and motioned towards her hair. “I would like to walk with you, if you would allow me, but perhaps you should repair the damage to your appearance first?”