Roses from Pemberley (Saving Elizabeth #1)

Prologue Spring 1812, Hunsford Parsonage

“I love you and wish to marry you.”

Elizabeth stared at Darcy in silence. She could not believe what she had just heard. After everything that he had said and done, she could hardly fathom that he would now propose!

“Do you hear what you are saying?” she asked finally. “You insult me and insult my family and then suddenly tell me that you love me - that you wish to marry me! What kind of delusion has come upon you? Of course I will not marry you! I do not even like you!”

Darcy, who had stopped his pacing, only stared at her. He had struggled for so long against his love, and had expected that she would at least be flattered, even thankful. But this! It was something he would never have expected. He stood for almost a full minute, his mouth slightly open.

“I have given you my answer, Mr. Darcy,” continued Elizabeth, “and now wish to be left alone.”

But Darcy was still a step behind, not quite accepting what she had said. “And this is your reply, then? That you dislike me? That of course you will not marry me? Do you even know what you are turning away?”

“And what am I turning away? The opportunity to be tied to a man who thinks that I am only tolerable? Who thinks that my mother is vulgar and that my sisters are embarrassing? Who has shown by every word and action that he despises everything attached to me? And who, most importantly, has separated my sister from the man she loves? Why would I ever consider putting myself in such a predicament?”

“Because…” he said, now looking at her with piercing eyes, “I would have loved you with everything I have, with all the ardency and depth of one who’s never loved before. Does this mean nothing at all to you?”

Elizabeth had stood up while she spoke, but now sat down again.

For a moment she wavered, surprised by the raw, unflinching expression she saw on his face.

But in truth, she was feeling quite ill, and the headache she’d had earlier was now a hundred times worse.

She needed to put an end to this - so she could go upstairs, sink into her bed, and close her eyes.

“I apologise, Mr. Darcy,” she said wearily, “that the mode of my rejection is not what you would have liked to hear. But it is the only answer I can give at present.”

He continued to look at her and remained immobile for some time.

And then eventually nodded. She was confused by how sad he appeared.

How utterly…dejected. Perhaps she should not have been so vehement in her rejection.

Perhaps she had been cruel. But her ability to attend was waning, and she could think of nothing more to say.

After a few more seconds, he took a step back and then another; and eventually left without another word.

Elizabeth allowed her head to drop and felt a coldness come over her. And then she slowly walked up to her room, got into bed and closed her eyes.