Page 11 of Darcy's Disguise (The Bennet and Darcy Chronicles #3)

11

E lizabeth had never been a woman given tofoolish, romantic fantasies. She wastoo practical, too rational, too aware of how the world worked to believe insudden, effortless love.

And yet—here she was.

Sitting by the window, staring out intothe endless stretch of fields, her thoughts trapped in the samehopeless, ridiculous cycle.

There must be a way.

There must besome explanation, some truth about him that made itpossible for her to love him.

Perhaps he wasa gentleman’s son who had fallen on difficult times.

Perhaps he hada small inheritance somewhere, just enough to make a modest life possible.

Perhaps…

Perhaps he wasmore than he seemed.

She pressed her fingers to her temples,frustrated with herself.

I am being utterly ridiculous.

She had spent her whole life laughing at women wholet their hearts override their reason.

And now?

Now, she wasdesperately hoping for a truth that very likely did not exist.

Because the truth she hadnow—that he was a tutor, that he had no fortune, no standing—wasnot enough.

And yet—her heart did not listen to reason.

Her heart had already begunits betrayal.

After hours of self-condemnation and torture and what ifs of her own making, she stood up. “I have to get out of here.”

Jane was walking by their shared room at that moment. “I’m on my way to Meryton; care for a walk?”

“Yes, you are saving me from myself.”

Jane eyed her a moment but didn’t say much about what she would obviously like to know. “Let’s see if we can get some of that weight off of you.” They linked arms. “I will wait to hear what is so troubling until you are ready to talk.”

Lizzie just nodded. She didn’t know how to tell anyone of her struggles. It was so utterly unfair that birth and wealth should play such a role in her marriage choice.

They talked of other things all the way to town and then found their way down the center of the street.

"Do not look now," Jane said with a quiet laugh as they strolled through Meryton, "but I believe half the town is in love with Mr. Dawson."

Elizabethgroaned. "Surely you exaggerate, Jane."

Janetilted her head toward a group of young women outside the bookshop, whispering excitedly to one another.

Elizabethcaught only fragments of their conversation as they passed.

"So terribly handsome ? —"

"And those eyes ? —"

"Did you see him helping Mrs. Taylor with her parcels yesterday? Such a gentleman”

Elizabethswished her skirts about her as she turned away. "He has only been here a few weeks," she muttered.

Janesmiled."And yet, he has already made quite the impression."

Elizabethlifted her chin."Well, let us hope that impression remains confined tohis abilities as a tutor."

Janearched a brow."Indeed? Then I suppose it will not bother you to know that several ladies have now hired him for lessons."

Elizabethstopped in her tracks. “What did you say?”

Janestifled a laugh."It seems the good women of Meryton have suddenly taken a great interest in philosophy, history, and literature."

Elizabethgroaned again, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Of course they have."

She had seenhow they looked at him.

Had seenthe way their eyes lingered, the way they spoke of him as though he were some sort of unattainable prize.

And she hated—hated—that she understood them.

As she and Jane continued through town,it was as if he was everywhere.

They passed agroup of young mothers, discussing how their husbands had decided thateven their sons might benefit from such a respectable tutor.

Then, outside the tailor’s, two women whispered abouthow charmingly he carried himself.

And finally—at the baker’s, Elizabeth nearly dropped her coin purse when she overheard?—

"He’s at the schoolhouse so often—do you think he’s taken with Miss Bennet?"

"Oh, it’s obvious he is!"

"But what a shame—she would never consider him."

Elizabeth froze.

Jane,ever perceptive, did not pretend she had not heard. She simply handed Elizabeth her purchased loaf of bread and waited.

Elizabethforced a breath, shaking herself. "Ridiculous," she muttered under her breath. "Absolutely ridiculous."

Jane’s lips twitched. "Is it?"

Elizabeth shot hera warning look.

Andthey said nothing more.

But inside, Elizabeth was not laughing.

Because they were right.

She would never consider him.

Would she?

That was the question of her life.

As they returned to Longbourn, Elizabethwas quieter than usual. Her mind was turning overthe same questions, again and again.

Who was he?

Sheknew nothing of his past.

Nothing of his family.

Nothing ofwhere he had come from, what had led him here, what his future was to be.

Their differences in station seemed a large enough barrier that the other details wouldn’t matter.

But now she needed to know.

Because if she did not—she was in danger of falling in love with a man who might not even exist. As much as she had denied him last night, she knew what her heart was doing in its own rebellious pounding, and there was little she could do about it.

After a ridiculous amount of turmoil and hours wracking her brain for any possible solution, she knew she did not wish to dismiss him. She wanted to pursue things. She wanted to discover where such a relationship might lead.

She had spenttoo longhoping that William Dawson wasmore than he seemed—and for what? To convince herself thathe must have some fortune, some station, something to make their attachment justifiable?

What did that say of her?

If she trulycared for him, should that not be enough? Would her love be enough?

It would be enough if she was willing to give up everything she had and her future children would have, for a life with him, whatever that might entail. And when she thought of him, the person she was coming to know, she wanted to do it. She wanted to throw it all to the wind and run into his arms, come what may.

It wasa reckless choice, but it was hers.

But before she did anything more to encourage him,she had to know what her father would think.

Elizabeth found Mr. Bennetin his study, as expected, reclining in his favorite chair with a book in one hand and a glass of port in the other.

He barely looked up as she entered. “Ah, Lizzy,” he said,turning a page lazily.“I suspected you might appear sooner or later.”

Elizabeth folded her hands together. “You did?”

Mr. Bennet glanced at her over the rim of his glasses,his expression unreadable. “The entire town has been whispering about our handsome new tutor,” he mused. “I suppose you have thoughts on their ridiculous behavior.”

Elizabethpressed her lips together. "I have come to ask your thoughts," she admitted carefully. "On Mr. Dawson."

“In what regard? That he is overly discussed, that women are losing their minds over him, that he will soon die down as a topic of gossip and not be the elusive man he seems right now.” He sipped his port. “I will say though, the Reverend speaks very highly of him.”

“Does he?” Lizzie considered that knowledge. It was good news for her hopes. “And do you think highly of him? As a person?”

Mr. Bennet exhaled through his nose. "I suppose I should ask what it is you hope to hear, Lizzy."

Shehesitated. Then she forced a whisper. "That I would not be foolish to consider him."

The wordshung in the air between them.

Mr. Bennet set his book downslowly, adjusting his glasses before truly looking at her. "You would consider him?" he asked, his voice lined with somethingtoo measured to be approval.

Elizabeth swallowed. "I—he is good, Papa. He is kind, intelligent?—"

"And he is a tutor," Mr. Bennet said flatly.

Elizabeth’s stomach twisted.

Mr. Bennet leaned forward slightly, his expressiongrowing sharper.

"Lizzy," he said carefully, "you are my most rational daughter. The one whothinks before she leaps.But now, you expect me to believe you would throw yourself away on a man with no fortune, no family, and no future to offer you?"

Elizabethflushed, heat rising to her cheeks. "I expect you to believe thatI see something in him worth considering."

Mr. Bennet sighed, rubbing his forehead. "My dear girl," he said, "you will forgive me if I do not find that particularly reassuring."

Elizabeth stared at him.

She had never feltso small before.

Never felt as though her father had looked at her withdisappointment.

Hurt stung the back of her throat. “You—you do not know him," Elizabeth said, her voicequieter now.

Mr. Bennet lifted a brow. "Do you?"

The very question she’d been battling all afternoon. Did she? Truly? Elizabethswallowed hard, forcing herself to nod. "I know enough," she said firmly.

"Enough to marry him?" Mr. Bennet challenged.

Elizabeth’sthroat closed. "I did not say that," she murmured.

"Then why are you here, Lizzy?"

She did not know.

Perhaps she had beenseeking permission.

Perhaps she hadneeded to hear that she was not being foolish.

But she wasbeing foolish, wasn’t she?

Because shewanted something that could never be.

Mr. Bennet sighed again, shaking his head. "You have not been a silly girl, Elizabeth," he said. "And I would not have you become one now."

Elizabeth’sfingers curled into her skirts. "I would not have thought you so concerned with wealth," she saidquietly.

Mr. Bennet exhaled. "Not wealth, Lizzy," he said. "But stability. Security. A life without regret."

Elizabethlooked away. I am alone in this.

She thought of Jane, of how she had encouraged her, how she had asked— If he were more than he seemed, would you love him?

At last Elizabeth knew.

Yes.

Yes, she would.

Even if it wasimpossible.

Shestood abruptly, turning toward the door.

Mr. Bennet sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I do not say these things to be cruel, my dear," he said tiredly. "Only because I would not see you make a choice you cannot undo."

Elizabeth’sthroat burned. "Then let us hope," she murmured, "that there is nothing to undo."

Elizabethfelt the weight of her own foolishness settling over her. And she left.

Her fatherdid not call after her.

She hadsacrificed her father’s regard.

And for what?

Fora man she did not even truly know.

A man who might noteven be real.

She prayed she would not regret it. But she had to try.

As the sting of her father’s disappointment nagged at her, another battling emotion rose to the surface. She’d faced the worst of things. No other person’s regard mattered more to her than her father’s. If she’d already felt the ping of his lost regard, she’d endured the worst of it.

A burst of hope filled her. Regret? She felt no regret yet. She could only feel hope. Perhaps she would run to the Parish now to see him. Or she could wait until they were together again in town. She wanted to tell him, to somehow let him know she would consider him, that she wished to discuss things, that she welcomed his attempts to court her. She had so much she wished to tell him.

And then suddenly, because she wanted so desperately to run into him, he was no where to be found. She spent the next few days trying to find a way to see him, to no avail.

Five days passed. It was like he’d disappeared from her life.

And that was a terrible feeling indeed.

As terrible as her father’s disappointment, not seeing Mr. Dawson felt worse.