Page 49 of The Crown’s Gift

For several minutes they spoke of Jane's wedding plans. Then silence expanded.

Darcy stood. He walked to the window, turned back, and looked at Elizabeth with an intensity that made her heart strike once against her ribs.

"In vain I have struggled," he said. "It will not do."

Elizabeth's hand tightened on the book in her lap.

He took one step toward her.

"You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

Every uncertainty became still.

* * *

Darcy spoke for several minutes before Elizabeth understood that he expected gratitude.

His love was plain. So was the struggle preceding it. He described the inferiority of her connections without calling them inferior, the recent origin of her family's consequence, Lady Bennet's want of quiet, the entail that left Longbourn to Mr Collins, and the objections of relations who valued ancestry beyond royal favor.

He praised Sir Thomas, then made the praise another obstacle overcome.

"Your father's conduct and stewardship command my respect," he said. "Yet Netherfield has belonged to your family only a decade. My duty to Pemberley, to Georgiana, and to the expectations attached to my name required consideration. I have considered. I can resist no longer."

He stopped before her.

His face held hope, fear, and a confidence so deeply rooted he did not recognize it.

Elizabeth rose because she could not refuse him while seated beneath his gaze.

"In such cases as this, I believe the established mode is to express a sense of obligation," she said. Her voice sounded distant to her own ears. "If I could feel gratitude, I would thank you. But I cannot accept your proposal."

Darcy stared.

He had prepared for emotion, perhaps hesitation. Not refusal.

"You cannot?"

"No."

Color drained from his face and returned in a hard line across his cheekbones. "May I ask why I am rejected with so little effort at civility?"

Elizabeth's hurt ignited.

"I might ask why, with so evident a design of offending me, you chose to say you liked me against your reason, your character, and the judgment of everyone connected to you."

"I spoke honestly of difficulties that would have existed whether named or not."

"You spoke as though your honesty made the insult generous. My family is good enough to educate your sister's friend and welcome your closest companion; Jane is good enough to marry him—but loving me is still an act of condescension."

"I did not say that."

"You described it."

Darcy turned away, then back. "My objections concerned circumstance, not worth."

"You separate them very neatly when it serves you."

The fire snapped behind the grate. Outside, a carriage passed on the road, wheels muffled by damp earth.