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She breathed deeply, trying to temper her anger with her father while feeling disappointed and saddened by his insistence.

“I am sure Mr Darcy never considered or desired such a marriage before,” she said. “But yes, I do owe him a little courtesy, so I shall speak to him tomorrow morning. Privately, without any interference. I am sure he will agree with me, and we shall conclude this matter once and for all.”

“As you wish, Lizzy. Write the letter, and I shall deliver it.”

She sat at the desk, took a piece of paper and pen, and thought for a moment before she began.

Mr Darcy,

I was beyond shocked by your letter, though I do understand your reason for writing it. You must have felt it was the only thing an honourable gentleman like you might do when my reputation and yours are at stake.

However, I am an honourable woman, too, and a gentleman’s daughter, so I cannot allow anyone to sacrifice themselves for my foolishness.

While I understand the value of your marriage proposal and the honour of becoming Mrs Darcy, I cannot even consider such a conclusion to a small act of folly.

I agree that letters are not the best way to hold such a delicate conversation, but Longbourn might not be the best place either. Therefore, tomorrow morning, after breakfast, I shall take another walk to the same place as today. Perhaps another encounter would provide us with the opportunity to settle the matter, especially after we have had time to reflect upon it overnight.

E Bennet.

Fearful that she might change her mind, Elizabeth did not read the letter again, just sealed it and handed it to her father.

Then she hurried to her room and, declaring herself to have a headache and a lack of appetite, did not leave it for the rest of the evening. Mr Darcy’s proposal was the last thing in the world she expected to face, and as much as she examined it on every side, she could not understand what had prompted him to do it, when he had no fault in the matter and was under no obligation whatsoever.

Earlier that day, when her aunt had suggested the possibility of a marriage, she had found the idea farcical and was certain Mr Darcy would feel the same. That he had decided to propose to her was unthinkable.

The prospect of meeting him, talking to him, debating with him the next morning — if he agreed to her request to meet — was thrilling and frightening at the same time.

Elizabeth struggled with her perturbed state of mind all night. A marriage proposal from Mr Darcy was something that would haunt her for a long time, despite her refusal. As sleep betrayed her, her alert mind pondered all sorts of reflections.

Until recently, Mr Darcy had been the last man in the world she would consider marrying. Furthermore, she had no doubt that she was the last woman in the world he would consider proposing to. A twist of fate, a ridiculous circumstance caused by her poor judgment that had led to nasty gossip, had endangered their peace and their reputations.

She re-read his letter, her feelings varying each time. The recollection of their earlier meeting also brought more meaning to their conversation.

The little things he had said, small gestures, his confession about Mr Wickham, and his apologies for his prior impoliteness were as surprising as the feelings stirred inside her.

For only a moment, she allowed herself to imagine accepting his proposal. She did not think about his fortune but, as her father mentioned, instead considered her daily closeness to such a man. The man she had just discovered he could be. Could she be bound to someone such as he for the rest of her life? She could, she had to admit, if it was under less distressing and less forced circumstances.

But the fantasy was not helpful, so she readily dismissed it. Regardless of the reason for his proposal and his sense of duty, being married to a woman he held in no regard would very soon make him resentful, bitter, even more distant, and more arrogant. It was simply not fair for her to take advantage of his honourable attempt to resolve a situation he should not be responsible for.

Ten

Daylight finally broke through the curtains, and Elizabeth woke up, her heart racing. She was tempted to skip breakfast, but Mr Darcy would certainly not be there so early — if he arrived at all.

At the table, she was silent, glancing at her father occasionally. Mr Collins spoke in awe of his visit to Sir William, the presence of the officers, Charlotte Lucas’s amiability and demure manners. Mrs Bennet mentioned her intention to visit her sister Phillips, taking her daughters with her.

“I would rather stay at home, Mama,” Elizabeth replied. “I am still unwell, I slept poorly, and I long for a short walk and a little more rest.”

Surprisingly, Mrs Bennet did not insist, seemingly content to have her other four daughters with her.

With all the preparations for her mother and sisters’ visit to Meryton, Elizabeth left without anyone noticing. She looked back at the house and spotted her father gazing after her through the library window; then she hastened her pace.

With every step, her legs became less steady, and nervousness raced through her heart. Everything she intended to say to him had vanished from her mind by the time she approached their meeting point. And there he was, waiting, his horse tied to a tree. He walked towards her, then stopped, leaving a fair distance between them.

“Miss Bennet…”

“Mr Darcy…”

That was all. They gazed at each other, then averted their eyes, then looked at each other again.