Page 74 of Sketching Mr. Darcy
“I cannot answer how, but it happened, and this love has tormented me for months. I have never felt so helpless. I have ceased to find sleep and rest since I fell in love with you.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened in astonishment, and her pallor matched his.
“So when we married… You loved me when you proposed to me? How is that possible? Your behaviour to me was always cold and distant, and you had left Hertfordshire. If not for the rumours, you never would have proposed—that is what you told me… ”
“It is true: if not for the accident and the rumours, I would have been gone forever. At that time, I wished nothing but to put distance between us as my love for you frightened me, and I fought my own weakness. I loved and admired you, and I was certain you would have been the perfect wife for me, but it never crossed my mind to connect myself to your family. I already confessed that to you.”
“But why did you not tell me when you proposed? Why did you tell me only half the truth?”
“When I left Herefordshire, I was certain that you knew my feelings and shared them! I behaved so coldly precisely because I thought you were not indifferent to me, and I did not want to raise expectations that could not be fulfilled. When I returned to propose, I was sure that marriage would make you as happy as it made me. And when you proved me wrong, I was at a loss of how to proceed. You refused me, and I had to persuade you to accept me by speaking of your family’s future.
Had I revealed to you the force of my love—had I told you that the nasty rumours that made you so unhappy had been my escape, my inducement to see the right path to a happy future—that would have only frightened you. Is that not so?”
“I…I do not know how I would feel had I known from the beginning… I do not know how I feel now, either… If you had told me earlier—at least after we married…”
“If I could not confess it at the beginning, I simply could not find the right time afterwards. I kept waiting for the proper moment, but so many things happened in such a short time. And when we finally spoke honestly to each other, I decided to court you, to make you enjoy my company, to convince you we can be happy together—and I hoped things would turn out for the best eventually. I know I have no excuse for either my deception or my behaviour. I am trying to explain clearly enough for you to understand why I did some strange things during these weeks.”
“I understand—I think I do…Now I must…there are still thin gs I must ask you, but I cannot do it now…I need to rest…and to gather my thoughts. I cannot think properly now.”
She left before he had time to respond as her legs became weaker. Her mind was spinning in torment from his profession of love tangled with his admission of his own weakness and the explanation of his wild behaviour.
A sudden headache forbade her from even keeping her eyes open, and her heart beat painfully. He said all this time had been a torture for him to stay away from her. Was he out of his mind? Could he not see that she did not want him to keep away from her?
How could he have asked her to leave? And he wished to leave London, too? Yes, he is most surely out of his mind , she thought as she grew angrier.
She pushed away the door to his room—he was near the window, staring out. She noticed his luggage and Stevens searching in the closet then exiting the moment he saw her.
Darcy turned to face her, and their eyes seemed to confront each other in complete silence. She finally spoke, and the determination in her voice surprised even herself.
“I am very tired, and you must be much more so! I shall ask for dinner to be prepared in two hours so you have a chance to rest. You will surely reconsider the foolish idea of moving or leaving town! I expect to find you here later when my mind is clearer and I can put in order all the questions I have for you!”
He moved closer and hesitantly stretched his hands towards her.
“I will do as you wish. I know that I am being very selfish again, but I am so relieved to finally tell you how much I love you, that I must say it again. I was ready to let you go, but my life would have been empty without you. I know you do not love me, but the chance of allowing me to prove my love to you, to struggle to gain your affection is all I need.”
He tentatively took her hands, waiting for a sign of rejection, but none came.
Elizabeth’s turmoil only grew at such words while her entire body became weak and heavy.
She was still upset, angry, incredulous, and fearful.
But strangely, a warm burst of joy spread inside her as she watched her husband, wondering whether she should do something—and what.
She allowed her hands to linger in his a moment longer.
He was mere inches away, and her eyes looked deeply into his.
For a moment she admired his handsome features, now changed by pain and sorrow.
His lips were narrowed in anxiety, waiting for her answer, and the remembrance of his soft, gentle, tender, and passionate kisses invaded her senses.
She closed her eyes and recollected his anger from a few hours before—yes, it was from jealousy, but that was not an excuse. Yes, he admitted his errors and declared he did not mean those threatening words, and she believed him, but the fact remained.
This was hardly the best way to show his love or expect to gain hers. Her weakness was instantly replaced by a strength that straightened her shoulders, and she slowly withdrew her hands from his while her eyebrow rose in sharp reproach.
“I cannot claim much experience in this, but I find your skills in courting and proving your love very poor, indeed. You greatly need to improve your techniques, Mr Darcy! Now please excuse me. I shall see you later!”
She elegantly returned to her chamber, struggling to hide the large smile that lit her still tearful eyes as she watched the incredulous expression of her husband.
She lay on the bed, covered her face with a pillow, and started to cry, unable to discern the storm of feelings rushing through her mind and her heart.
Sometime later, she opened the door to his room and entered, alert to her surroundings lit only by the fire.
He was sleeping soundly. His shirt was untied, and she could see his bare neck, his chest moving with his steady breathing.
His hair was in great disorder, and she gently touched a lock near his ear.
He did not even move, so deeply was he lost in sleep.
She stood near the bed, careful not to disturb him, while images from the first time they met until the present moment ran through her mind.
His courting skills had not been poor all the time, she thought, blushing.
And now that she allowed herself to recollect everything, she did suspect that his feelings for her were deeper and stronger than mere admiration, even since the first day of their marriage.
But not for a moment did she suspect his partiality to her when they were in Hertfordshire.
He had singled her out when he danced with her at Netherfield, but how could she imagine his reason when he was so distant, so aloof all the time? He thought she returned his feelings? How could that be? She only argued with him and found ways to underline his faults, as he seemed to do with her.
A bad temper, lack of patience, arrogance, a strange mix of generosity and selfishness—and inconsistent courting skills, which ranged from being excellently persuasive to very poor and offensive—these were some of her husband’s faults.
And yes, his qualities were a hundred times more plentiful but that did not diminish his errors.
And yet she had become accustomed to them, and the mere thought of not seeing him daily was a stab to her heart. How could he even imagine she might want to leave him?
She remembered him saying that his life would have been forever empty without her. That she could easily believe, as now she could not imagine her life without him, either.