Page 1 of An Offer of Marriage (Engaged to Mr Darcy #7)
THE PROPOSAL
“ I n vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
Elizabeth’s astonishment was beyond expression.
She felt her mouth drop open even as she doubted what she had heard him say.
Love? Surely not in the same sense that most people meant it?
But then…what other meaning could be ascribed to it?
She looked around her at Charlotte’s comfortable parlour in Hunsford Parsonage and wondered if she had fallen asleep. She did not think she had.
“I have surprised you, it seems,” he said and moved from hovering over her to sitting across from her in the chair identical to the one where she sat.
“Um, y-yes, well I had not?—”
“No less than I have surprised myself,” he continued, his eyes urgent upon her.
“Your charms I readily withstood—at first—but as I spent more time with you, I found I could not so easily put aside your sweetness of temper, your cleverness, and yes, your beauty. Truly you are without a doubt the handsomest woman of my acquaintance.”
Elizabeth recovered herself sufficiently to utter some small words of gratitude that seemed to encourage him, so much so that he propelled himself out of the seat he had so recently taken.
“You may wonder, then, what it is that has prevented my forming a more serious design upon you until now. Clearly there are concerns, more pressing concerns…obstacles which will not be so readily disregarded.”
He began to pace to and fro, shaking his head and muttering to himself words she could not discern, his agitation replacing whatever faintly loverish aspect he had donned only moments prior.
She shifted uneasily in her chair. What was this freak which had seized him?
Should she tell him now to stop troubling himself, for a union between them was impossible anyhow?
At last, he stopped pacing and stood before her. Reluctantly, she bent her head back to look up at him.
“You are too clever not to understand that an alliance between us must be a most grievous degradation to my family name, to say nothing of a painful disappointment to my relations. Your relations in trade…that solicitor in Meryton… To imagine such persons tied forever to my own noble relations! Yet the situation of your mother’s family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison of that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly, betrayed by herself and your three younger sisters.
Even your father, good as he generally is, too often fails in his paternal obligation at crucial moments. ”
Why was it that she felt these humiliating pronouncements like a stab to her chest? She had never desired Mr Darcy’s good opinion, so what should it signify that he did not give it to her? And the opinions he expressed were no different from anyone else’s, to be sure.
She did understand the compliment that was buried in among all of the slights; Mr Darcy was a great man, and evidently he had persecuted himself by falling in love with her. The idea would have made her laugh had she not been feeling so injured by all he said about her family.
“And yet,” Mr Darcy continued, “no matter how fervently I tried, how often I reminded myself of the expectations of my family, I found myself woefully unable to conquer my affection for you, and now I can only abase myself before you, begging you to be my wife.”
This is you abasing yourself? Elizabeth could easily see that he had no doubt of a favourable answer. Hespokeof apprehension and anxiety, but he stood before her with none of the true anxiety of a lover. His posture was easy and relaxed; he wore a faint smile on his lips as he looked down at her.
It was his easiness, more than anything, which stoked her anger towards him.
It was most humiliating, even more so than his first, worst insult of her at the Meryton assembly, and that humiliation made her burn still.
What sort of arrogance, what unexampled pride, did a person possess that rendered them capable of grievously insulting a person and yet expecting that person to marry them?
Even as she beheld him, he smiled broadly and said, “I advise that we marry quickly, so that you might then be able to enjoy the Season as Mrs Darcy.”
Did this man truly think he needed merely to crook his finger and she would come running?
That wealth and noble connexions should overcome such careless cruelty?
She lowered her eyes and clenched her hands together in her lap, not wishing her violent tremblings of rage to be perceived as a maiden’s delight.
What she really longed to do was rise from her chair and deliver a tongue-lashing such as he would never forget; she desired to humiliate him, and make him feel some small fraction of the degradation and lowness that he had set upon her.
Do you not comprehend , she wanted to shriek, how very low these blows hit?
It was certainly not the first time she had received an undeserved portion of the scorn aimed at her family; it was just the first time it had come in the context of a marriage proposal.
Well, that is not really true , she mused. Mr Collins was none too complimentary.
More than anything, she desired to serve upon him the revenge that he deserved for what he had done to poor Jane.
How dare he claim to love her when he had not only spoken cruelly but acted despicably, separating her beloved sister from the one man she wanted more than any other on earth!
Mortified, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes.
No, you will not, Lizzy. You will not cry in front of Mr Darcy.
She took a deep breath, licked her lips, and sat a little straighter.
Mr Darcy still stood before her awaiting her reply, and she was suddenly struck by the most amusing notion.
Would not the ultimate revenge be to actually accept him?
To force him to accept her relations as his own, to require him to remedy the situation between his friend and Jane—even to make him see that she was not a lady to be degraded and trifled with.
Yes, it would be a sweet retribution indeed…
save that it would also be a punishment for you , she reminded herself.
He does deserve to be made miserable, but it does not follow that I should have to wallow in misery by his side .
“In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed—” she began but stopped, hearing the sound of the front door being opened.
“Has Miss Bennet retired?” she heard Charlotte asking her housekeeper. The housekeeper said something in reply, but Elizabeth could not make it out. Panic suffused her as she rose quickly.
“You need to go,” she said urgently to Mr Darcy. “Where is your hat? Did Mrs Davis take it when you came in?”
Strangely, he flushed. “I came without it.”
“Very good,” she said, and as he simply stood there looking at her, she took his arm and began to tug him towards the door. “This door leads into the garden?—”
“Eliza?” The sound of Charlotte’s shod feet came tapping down the hall. “I came to see how your head is.”
“Go!” she hissed at Mr Darcy, but it was too late. The door opened and Charlotte stepped inside, her eyes flying wide immediately when she saw her friend and Mr Darcy alone in her closed parlour.
“Mr Darcy,” she said with perfect civility. “What do you do here?”
Mr Darcy simply stared at Charlotte for too long, so Elizabeth hurriedly explained, “Mr Darcy was just leaving. He, um…he was looking for his hat. He thought it might be here.”
“Here in this parlour?” Charlotte looked bewildered as she glanced around the neat room which, as her own place, was decorated in light colours and floral prints.
Had a gentleman’s dark hat been present, it should have been immediately obvious.
“I do not believe so, sir. Shall I ask Mrs Davis if she has seen it?”
“No,” said Mr Darcy at the very same moment that Elizabeth said, eagerly, “Yes! I shall go ask her directly. Excuse me.”
And before anyone could say another word, she nearly ran out the door, ostensibly meaning to find the housekeeper.
When she found her, she whispered, “Please tell them I am indisposed again, Mrs Davis,” and then hurried up to the bedchamber in which she stayed.
Her bedchamber, by good fortune, overlooked the lane to Rosings.
She stood by the window for long minutes, hoping she was sufficiently concealed by the lacy curtains, praying he would leave without further discourse.
At last her diligence was rewarded by a blessed moment when she saw Mr Darcy’s tall form walking back towards Rosings Park.
Then she heaved an enormous sigh, falling back onto the bed. Did Mr Darcy truly just propose marriage to me? Or am I having some sort of fever dream?