Page 10 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy
Elizabeth
5th June 1812
E lizabeth adjusted the wicker basket, which was unbearably heavy. It was beginning to press into her flesh. Beside her, Mary asked, “Do you want me to take it? We can take turns carrying the heavier basket.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I shall manage. It’s not much further, anyhow.”
Mary adjusted her grip on her own basket, which contained a lighter load of yarn and other materials, while Elizabeth carried jars of compote, milk, and eggs.
In an effort to cut down on expenditures—much of which was eaten up by treatments for her father and Mr Eversham’s fees—the Bennets had let go of the maid, keeping only Hill and the cook. Even they were working reduced hours. That left Elizabeth and her sisters to manage the shopping on their own. Usually, they would take the carriage, but Jane had taken it to accompany Lydia to the Forsters’ home. Captain Forster had kindly offered to take Lydia with him to Brighton. This had been presented as an enjoyable excursion to keep Mrs Forster company, but Elizabeth knew it for what it was—charity. Everyone knew the Bennets had fallen on hard times.
“Do you think Kitty will ever recover from not being able to go to Brighton?” Mary asked, drawing Elizabeth out of her thoughts.
“I hope so. She ought to understand. It is kind enough of the Forsters to take Lydia on and cover all her expenses. We can’t expect them to take both girls. Besides, Kitty isn’t truly friends with Mrs Forster.”
“That is true. I heard Mr Collins say he must soon return to Rosings. It will be a shame to lose his company,” Mary said.
Elizabeth looked at Mary. Her sister had always been slightly peculiar, and she genuinely did not understand Mary’s affection for their cousin.
“Mary, do you truly mean it? Do you truly see value in his being here?”
Mary shrugged. “He cares about the family, and he prays for Father diligently. We ought to be grateful.”
“Oh, Mary, sometimes I think you and Jane are more alike than you realise.”
“I think not,” Mary replied. “Jane is hopelessly romantic. She still pines for Mr Bingley, you know? She hopes he will show up in his grand carriage and sweep us all off our feet. I am rational. We must ensure Mr Collins remains favourable towards our family. We must keep people close now. We do not know what will happen—especially if, well… especially if the worst should happen, and Mr Collins becomes master of Longbourn.” Her voice hitched on the word ‘master’, and Elizabeth saw that her feelings ran far deeper than she wanted to admit.
“I do not think that will be necessary,” Elizabeth said. “You heard that Mr Bingley called on our Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. I think that is a sign he still cares for Jane, though she does not seem inclined to accept him.”
She had been more than a little surprised to hear this news from her aunt when it had arrived by letter a week ago. That Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy should arrive at Cheapside to speak to their aunt had been shocking. In a way, she’d understood that Mr Darcy might, given he kept a home in London and he’d been present when the letter arrived. Charlotte had informed her that he’d kept abreast of the developments. This had surprised her, but perhaps her words had awakened something in him, some kind of empathy he’d lacked thus far. But for Mr Bingley to join him? That had been a true surprise.
“Nor should she. He treated her badly. To disappear as he did—it was shameful. She would be foolish to take him back.”
“Although,” Elizabeth said gently, “it would not be terrible for our family if she did.”
Mary said nothing, her expression unreadable as they walked in silence until the sound of carriage wheels against the dusty lane drew their attention.
Elizabeth turned to see a stately carriage approaching. Its polished wood gleamed in the afternoon sun, and the horses’ glossy coats betrayed breeding far superior to what most local families could boast. As the carriage drew nearer, she recognised the intricate crest on the door—a design she had seen somewhere before but could not place.
When the carriage slowed to a halt and the door opened, Elizabeth hesitated, setting her basket down. She half-expected Mr Bingley to emerge, his warm, affable demeanour unmistakable. Instead, it was Mr Darcy who stepped down, cutting an imposing figure as ever.
“Mr Darcy,” Mary muttered under her breath. “What’s he doing here?”
“I cannot say,” Elizabeth replied.
Mr Darcy inclined his head politely. “Miss Bennet. Miss Mary. I trust you are well.”
“Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said, struggling to mask her bewilderment. “I didn’t expect to see you.”
“I was on my way to Longbourn,” he explained. “May I offer you a ride? The baskets look rather burdensome.”
Elizabeth blinked. He had intended to visit Longbourn? Why? It made no sense. But then it struck her—had Mr Bingley sent him on his behalf to plead his case? That would be foolish. It was Mr Darcy, after all, who had put a stop to the courtship. Still, the situation puzzled her. Why had Mr Darcy called upon the Gardiners in the first place? She hadn’t spent much time pondering it but had arrived at one possibility—he felt guilty. And well he should. But to come all the way to Hertfordshire seemed rather strange.
“I do not think…” she began, but Mary was quicker.
“That would be lovely. These baskets are rather heavy,” she said, picking up hers again and making her way towards Mr Darcy. Elizabeth could not protest.
Mr Darcy bent over to pick up Elizabeth’s basket, and she saw the momentary strain in his eyes at the unexpected weight. Still, to his credit, he managed to carry it with apparent ease while handing her in.
The carriage’s interior was lavish, the upholstery rich velvet in shades of burgundy and gold, offset by polished mahogany panelling. Silk curtains framed the small windows, granting an illusion of privacy even as sunlight filtered through.
She took her seat beside Mary, while Mr Darcy sat with his back to the driver, as propriety dictated.
“May I ask—” Elizabeth started, but Mr Darcy spoke at the same time, enquiring after her father. She folded her hands in her lap and motioned for him to continue.
“I do beg your pardon. I did not mean to interrupt you, but I wondered how your father is. When Bingley and I called upon your aunt she explained the situation.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together while Mary spoke up.
“He is not well. A specialist has come from Edinburgh. He examined him and suggested treatments he has had success with. We are applying the less costly ones as the very best treatment is beyond our reach.”
“Mary,” Elizabeth hissed. It wasn’t proper to discuss finances in public, especially not with a man like Mr Darcy.
“He asked,” her sister replied.
“We will manage,” Elizabeth said firmly. “We always do.”
“Of course,” Mr Darcy said. “I was sorry to hear of your father’s misfortune.”
“Is Mr Bingley coming, then?” Mary asked, and Elizabeth stared at her sister. When had Mary become so forward?
“Bingley may yet call upon the family. He did not wish to intrude during this difficult time, but he asked me to extend his best regards.”
By then, they had arrived at Longbourn, since it was only a short distance by horse and carriage. Mr Darcy exited first and handed them both down. When his hand curled around Elizabeth’s, he held her back for a moment. She looked at him, puzzled.
“I wondered if I might have a moment of your time,” he said as Mary made her way to the house. Her sister paused briefly, tilting her head slightly to one side, before turning and disappearing inside.
“I do not know what we have to discuss, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said.
“Believe me, there is much to be said.” He picked up the basket again and carried it to the door, leaving it for Hill, who had appeared to take it inside. He then returned to Elizabeth’s side and offered his arm. She narrowed her eyes, looked at his arm, and then at his face until he dropped it, clearing his throat awkwardly.
“There is something I need to discuss with you. Perhaps we could walk in the garden? It would be more proper.”
“As you wish, Mr Darcy,” she said, wondering what it was he wished to discuss. They entered Longbourn’s gardens together. It was peculiar to be walking with Mr Darcy again after their last unpleasant conversation.
“I have come to talk to you about a matter of great importance, and I would like you to keep an open mind to my proposition.”
Elizabeth’s shoulders stiffened. She had not cared for his last proposition, and she could not imagine this one would be any better.
“Mr Darcy,” she said. “If Mr Bingley wishes to apologise to my sister, he really ought not use an intermediary. I will be happy to tell Jane to consider Mr Bingley once more if that is what he wishes, and—”
Mr Darcy raised a hand. “Miss Bennet, it is not Bingley I am here to speak about. It is myself. For you see, since last we spoke, my circumstances have changed.”
She paused, suddenly recalling his engagement. “I heard. You are soon to be wed. Please accept my congratulations.”
“I would thank you, but I am not really engaged. You see, it was a scheme constructed by my aunt. You have met Lady Catherine, and you can judge her character. Suffice to say, neither myself nor my cousin knew about the announcement.”
Elizabeth’s breath hitched at Mr Darcy’s statement. The weight of his words settling slowly. “Am I to understand, Mr Darcy, that your aunt took it upon herself to… announce your engagement to your cousin, and yet neither of you expressed a willingness for it?”
Mr Darcy inclined his head. “That is precisely the case. Anne and I have never wished for such a union. Indeed, Anne’s heart—” He paused, adjusting the set of his shoulders as though bracing himself. “Anne’s heart has already been bestowed elsewhere.”
Elizabeth bit her tongue to suppress a comment about Lady Catherine’s presumptions. The memory of the formidable woman still loomed large in her thoughts, imperious and unrelenting. It was easy enough to imagine such schemes springing from her.
“And what, pray, has this to do with me?” Elizabeth asked coolly.
Mr Darcy straightened. His gaze was steady, calculating but also tinged with something else—a glimmer of uncertainty? “I have come to request your help, Miss Bennet. The simplest solution to this conundrum, without injuring the reputation or prospects of either party, is for me to enter into matrimony—” he paused, carefully selecting his next words, “—but not with Anne.”
Elizabeth stilled. Realisation swept over her like a cold wind, her face flushed with disbelief. “You mean to say you are here to— What? To propose marriage to me? Have you forgot how explicitly I refused your offer last time?”
Mr Darcy held up a hand, his expression softening with something resembling regret. “I remember your rejection, Miss Bennet, with perfect clarity. I assure you this is not a matter of sentiment or affection. My request is born out of necessity.”
“Necessity,” Elizabeth repeated, her voice sharper now, laced with incredulity. “And you expect me to serve as the convenient answer to your dilemma?”
Mr Darcy ignored her barbed words and continued with calculated resolve. “You are entirely justified in your indignation, Miss Bennet, but please listen to what I have to say. There are many women who might accept my hand, that is correct. Yet what I need is not a traditional marriage.”
Elizabeth’s brows rose in pointed challenge. “You astonish me, Mr Darcy. Pray, enlighten me as to what sort of union you do seek.”
“A marriage that will fulfil a purpose—a practical alliance, no more.” Mr Darcy’s expression was almost impassive, though a flicker of something behind his words suggested vulnerability. “Once I am wed, I can publicly attribute the wedding announcement to a simple misunderstanding—a miscommunication by the papers, exaggerated beyond control. It would be a far kinder resolution than exposing my aunt’s overreach and embarrassing her or Anne.” He hesitated. “Furthermore, I believe your family would benefit from having someone to shoulder certain financial burdens during these challenging times.”
Elizabeth recoiled as though struck. Her temper rose sharply, and she demanded, “And this—this altruism—am I to suppose it stems from pity?”
“Not pity,” Mr Darcy said firmly, his voice steady, though he seemed acutely aware of the insult she had perceived. “Never pity. Call it reflection, or perhaps guilt over past mistakes. My intervention in Bingley’s courtship was one such misstep, though not all your accusations were well-founded. I… I do not care to argue those points now.”
Elizabeth regarded him with scepticism. “You must know how insultingly practical your offer sounds. Have you considered, Mr Darcy, that I might refuse you a second time?”
Mr Darcy dipped his head, acknowledging her rebuke. “I have considered that possibility at length. Still, I hoped to present the proposition fairly, with the recognition that we might assist one another. Think of it not as matrimony in the conventional sense but as an arrangement of mutual benefit. You need not accept today, but I ask that you at least consider it.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “You cannot mean it, Mr Darcy. It is ludicrous. I will not entertain such a proposal.”
Mr Darcy sighed. “I expected this reply, and I do not blame you, but I do wish you to think it over. I shall be staying at the Charlton Arms Inn until the day after tomorrow. Think it over. Discuss it with your family if you wish.”
With that, he took his hat and bowed before returning to his carriage, leaving Elizabeth behind, utterly shaken.