Page 10

“He will like it less if I cast up my accounts upon her ladyship’s polished floors.”

“No, no, we cannot have that,” Charlotte yielded immediately. “Lie down, rest, and we will hope for better health on the morrow.” She closed the door softly behind her.

Elizabeth could hear voices from beyond her door, in what sounded like Charlotte coaxing her husband into leaving his houseguest behind. Not until the high-pitched whine of Mr Collins’s voice subsided into nothingness, not until the sounds of Charlotte soothing him faded, not until the house had been quiet for several minutes did Elizabeth rest easier.

After ensuring the house was empty, she went downstairs to enjoy the fire in the parlour, to enjoy being alone, and to cherish the thought that at least, in a week or so, Mr Darcy’s visit was to end, and she would never have to set eyes upon him again.

CHAPTER EIGHT

A MAGNIFICENT PRESUMPTION OF THE MOST MEMORABLE KIND

Darcy heard Mr Collins’s excuses regarding Elizabeth’s illness with a terror he could not disregard. Ill? How ill? What are her symptoms? He had put pressure upon his aunt to invite the Collins party to tea, and now, the one person he had hoped to honour with the invitation was absent. Well, Anne had got her wish to see one less person, while he coped with dread that the sickness was an awful one. It was not long before he made excuses of his own to the company, and was stalking across the parkland to the parsonage.

His heart beat in a violent rhythm as he rang the bell; he was shown into the front parlour, only to see Elizabeth herself seated before the fire. She was pale, but otherwise perfect, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“I was told you were not well,” he said, feeling suddenly awkward. “I wished to know how…how you do. If you are faring any better.”

“I am well enough,” she said, but she did not smile as she said it. Obviously, she was not in full spirits, but it was time. He could not wait another second. Besides, did not every woman find a marriage proposal heartening? He sat down across from her, but such was his energy and restlessness, that he could not settle, and had to pace. It was a few minutes before the frantic words burst from him.

“You must try to understand, Miss Elizabeth. My life has been a nearly unbroken road of accomplishment and satisfaction. For many years, I was an only child, the recipient of a wealth of attention and instruction from both my esteemed father and mother. My father’s family has possessed a vast estate in Derbyshire for centuries; my mother was born into an earldom.

“Then, I met you—and you are everything I ever hoped for: clever, witty, pretty, irresistible. You alone have never attempted flattery, or fawning, or exalting adulation, and I have found it a unique change. One cannot imagine how weary I have grown of avoiding an endless, perpetual pursuit from society’s most beautiful women.”

Her brows rose at his words; he had surprised her, it seemed, but then, he had surprised himself with the sheer intensity of the feeling she inspired.

“I am certain you cannot blame me for my amazement. Your family! For the love of all that is holy, four more unmarried daughters with almost no settlement between them! And your mother…I have seen Blenheim Spaniels who were calmer and less noisy. Imagine living with her, once your father dies—I do not believe even Pemberley is large enough to accommodate the sheer volume of clatter and clamour which follows wherever she leads. Nevertheless, I do feel some sympathy. She, at least, seems to understand that, should she be unable to discharge her duty to find marriageable partners for her vast throng of offspring, you might, someday, find yourselves homeless and helpless, whilst your father simply, if metaphorically, shrugs his shoulders and disappears into his book-room! There is some excuse for her willingness to thrust her daughters at any man still upright enough to catch one.”

Darcy paced the parlour, walking back and forth against its confines, insensible to the response of the woman he so vocally…admired.

“Your family’s future is a sinking ship, and those eligible men must, to her, represent lifeboats surrounding her drowning progeny. But those daughters! Granted, Miss Bennet’s charm and address are nearly as commendable as your own. It is difficult to believe, even, that the two of you came from the same parents as the rest of that motley crowd. But it still leaves your three younger sisters, and whilst they are youthful and one hopes that, someday, they might grow beyond it, in the present they are insufferable. Their entire conversation consists of proposals for spending money or the pursuit of inappropriate men or the tiresome preaching of good conduct, none of which seems to reach your father’s ears, enshrouded as he is in the safety and peace of his library.”

He went to her then; he would not do anything so melodramatic as going down on one knee, but sat beside her on the settee.

“Very well. I will do it. I will ask you. Because living well is not about safety and peace, and because I am your best chance for a happy future. I will care for you all the days of my life. I will assume responsibility for your temperamental mother, your indifferent father, your cabbage-headed sisters, your bad-mannered relations, and will make peace with the impossible notion of an impending future sharing my hitherto peaceful life with an embarrassing parade of clowns and spongers. I will force my family to accept it as well. For reasons I do not understand, I have fallen in love with you. I wish I had not, but I have, and it changes everything. Even if it turns out to be the most foolish act in the once-proud history of the Darcys, I will marry you.”

He gazed at her, waiting for her agreement, waiting to plunge into this next phase of his life.

She stared at him, her shock plainly great.

But when she spoke at last, it was nothing he expected. “If I could feel gratitude for your sentiments, I would thank you. However, never having sought your good opinion, I might hope you will overlook my inability to give my own. Your feelings of disgust as just expressed will doubtless aid you in overcoming any brief disappointment, and very soon you will be congratulating yourself upon your lucky escape.”

He gawped at her. “Is that a ‘no’? Surely you jest.”

“I do not find this in the least bit amusing.”

Equal parts anger and despair filled him. Did she not realise that he was the truest, best lifeboat who would ever float nearby? Even if she did not love him, at least he was not a blockhead like Collins. She had to see what she was tossing away—and unlike Lady Catherine, he knew she was the farthest thing from stupid. “But…why not?”

She shook her head at him, as if he was the stupid one. “Why not? You have already answered your own question. You took special care to break Jane’s heart, as well as Mr Bingley’s. You, plainly, have decided she and her ‘cabbage-headed’ sisters were not good enough for him.” She rose, arms akimbo, eyes sparking, cheeks in high colour; he had never seen her more beautiful.

“Well, there you have it. We may not be good enough for the Bingleys, but I tell you now—you will never be ‘good enough’ for me. If I ever do marry, he will not simply be a man who claims to be a gentleman, who was born to be a gentleman, who possesses the influence and affluence to be a gentleman. He will be a man I can trust to be loyal, to be true, to be kind, to be an example of honour to those sisters who so disgust you. In short, he will never be you. You may show yourself out.”

With these words, she hastily left the room, and he heard her footsteps on the stairs, the shutting of her chamber door. He straightened, stood.

That was all, then. His hopes had always been foolish ones. How dare she? How dare that one such as she…

Such as she. Such as she? Bloody hell. The most beautiful, joyous girl in the world. What words did I just use to propose to…someone as precious as she?

CHAPTER NINE