Chapter 2
Miss Elizabeth stared at him as though he had begun speaking in tongues. “I beg your pardon?”
“Marry me,” Darcy repeated, his voice stronger now.
“You need to escape this situation. I can provide that escape. More than that, I can offer you a life of comfort and security, a position of respect in society, and…” Complete honesty was required.
“And the companionship of a man who has come to admire you greatly.”
“You cannot be serious,” Miss Elizabeth whispered.
“I have never been more earnest in my life.” Darcy took a step toward her.
“Miss Elizabeth, you have captured my attention from the minute you walked into Netherfield to care for your sister. You have shown grace under circumstances that would test a saint. You are intelligent, principled, and possess a spirit that I find utterly captivating.”
“Me? I—” Her hand went to her throat.
“You are the only woman of my acquaintance that I could see as the mistress of Pemberley. And if I am being honest, you are the only woman who has ever made me want to be a better man.”
Miss Elizabeth’s eyes had filled with tears again, but these seemed different from the tears she had shed moments before. “Mr. Darcy, this is madness. We hardly know each other.”
“Then we shall have a lifetime to remedy that. I will not pretend this is a romantic proposal worthy of poetry. You are in a desperate situation that requires desperate measures. But I promise you this: your happiness will become my primary concern, my life’s work if necessary.
And perhaps, in time, we might find that we suit each other very well indeed. ”
He could see her wavering, and he played his final card. “Pemberley has a library that spans two floors and contains over a thousand volumes. I suspect you could spend years exploring it and never exhaust its treasures.”
Despite the tears and the fear and the uncertainty, Miss Elizabeth laughed. “Are you attempting to bribe me with books, Mr. Darcy?”
“Is it working?”
She took his measure, and Darcy felt as though she could see straight through to his soul.
“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said, her voice careful, “I must confess something. Until tonight, I thought very ill of you. Mr. Wickham spoke to me of your history together, of grievances between you. He painted a picture of a proud, unfeeling man who treated him with shocking cruelty. I believed him readily because it confirmed what I already thought of you. After tonight—after what you have done—I must know all.”
Darcy’s hands fisted involuntarily. “George Wickham is a rake of the first order, Miss Elizabeth. I have verifiable proof. Contracts, testimonies from tradesmen he failed to pay, and letters from fathers whose daughters he ruined. He leaves debts and destruction everywhere he goes. His ability to charm is matched only by his ability to lie.”
She swayed, grabbing the corner of the desk to steady herself. “Thank you for telling me. I now understand that the one man I thought was good had only the appearance of the quality.”
“You are not the only one to be fooled. My beloved father never learned of Wickham’s true character. He died fully convinced that his godson was the best of men.”
“That must have caused you pain.” Miss Elizabeth paced. Finally, she asked her sister, “Mary? What do you think?”
Miss Mary took her sister’s hand. “I think Mr. Darcy is offering you a chance at happiness, Lizzy. A real chance, not the pale shadow of contentment you might find elsewhere. And…” She hesitated. “I think he cares for you. I can see it in the way he looks at you.”
“But what of you?” Miss Elizabeth asked. “Will you be well?”
“I will,” Miss Mary assured her. “Your absence will allow me to pursue what I wish. With that said, I cannot be happy knowing you have sacrificed yourself for my sake.”
Miss Elizabeth turned to Darcy. “This is truly what you want? Not some fleeting impulse born of chivalry?”
“I have been fighting what I want for weeks,” Darcy admitted. “This is merely the catalyst that has forced me to act. So yes, Miss Elizabeth. This is truly what I want.”
She closed her eyes briefly, and Darcy could almost see her calculating the risks and benefits. When she opened them again, there was resolve in their depths.
“Very well, Mr. Darcy. I accept your proposal. Heaven help us both.”
Relief flooded through him so powerfully that he took both of her hands in his and brought them to his lips. “Then I shall speak to your father now, explaining my intentions.”
“No!” Miss Mary drew closer, her face stern. “Papa is the sort to take immense satisfaction in exercising his wit at someone else’s expense. He would enjoy having control over you, Mr. Darcy, as he insists that his ‘favorite’ daughter was already promised to another.”
“He would refuse me?”
“Eventually, no. For now, he would see your proposal as validation of his own cleverness, sir,” Mary said. “He forced Lizzy’s hand, and a wealthy gentleman immediately appeared, confirming everything he believes about his own brilliance.”
Elizabeth, for she was his Elizabeth, nodded. “And he will say you are acting out of pity or obligation. Worse, he will insist on a lengthy courtship, doing things properly for once. Every convention he ignores in his own household will suddenly become sacred if it means wielding control over me.”
Darcy rubbed his hand over his mouth. “What sort of father—”
“The sort who demands control though he does nothing to earn it,” Miss Mary replied.
“Then we must be gone before Mr. Collins offers for you.”
The three of them moved to the desk, and, with efficiency, planned Elizabeth’s flight. Once her family was asleep, she would pack her belongings and position her trunk below her bedroom window, where Darcy’s valet would be waiting to carry it to the waiting carriage.
“Take only what you need,” Darcy advised. “We can purchase anything you lack once we reach London.”
“London?” Elizabeth asked.
“I will leave Netherfield in the morning, telling Bingley that I have urgent business. He will not question this since he leaves the day after for the same reason.”
“Where in London shall we go?”
“I will take you to my aunt and uncle, Lord and Lady Matlock,” Darcy explained. “You will be safe there, hidden away from anyone who might come looking for you. When will you reach your majority?”
“In three weeks.”
“Perfect. We shall wait until then to marry, to ensure no one can claim you were coerced or taken against your will. In the meantime, you will remain with my family, protected and cared for.”
“This sounds well and good. However, how can we prevent my father from intercepting me?” Elizabeth asked.
“I shall provide a distraction,” Miss Mary interjected. Both Darcy and Elizabeth turned to her in surprise.
“What kind of distraction?” Elizabeth asked warily.
“I shall take your favorite walking gown, coat, and bonnet,” Miss Mary explained, her eyes bright with an intelligence Darcy had not previously noticed.
“Tomorrow morning, several hours after you have departed, I shall wear them and walk past the windows where the servants might see me. They will report that you went out for your morning constitutional. By the time anyone realizes you are missing, you will be well away.”
“Mary, you could get in trouble—” Elizabeth began.
“I am willing to take that risk,” Miss Mary said firmly. “For you, Lizzy. And for myself as well. This is for the best.”
Elizabeth pulled her sister into a fierce embrace. “You are far cleverer than anyone gives you credit.”
“I know,” Miss Mary replied with a small smile. “I find it advantageous to let people underestimate me.”
Darcy realized there was more to the middle Bennet sister than he had first judged.
“Elizabeth,” he said. “You should also leave a note that will prevent your family from assuming the worst—that you have been abducted or met with some accident.”
She nodded and moved to the desk, taking up a piece of paper and pen. She wrote quickly, then showed him the result:
I will not marry him.
“Short and to the point,” Darcy said. “Though perhaps a bit ambiguous?”
“I think it says exactly what needs to be said,” Elizabeth replied. “My father will understand.”
“And he will make little effort to look for her,” said Miss Mary, “since it would mean leaving his books for more than an evening.”
There was nothing more to discuss. The plan was set. In a few hours, Elizabeth would leave behind everything she had ever known—her family, her home, her entire world—and place her trust in a man she barely knew.
And Darcy would have the woman he had come to admire more than he had thought possible.
“We should return to the ball,” Miss Mary said. “We have been gone too long already. People will notice.”
“One more thing,” Darcy said, reaching into his coat pocket. He withdrew a handkerchief—fine linen with his initials embroidered in the corner—and handed it to Elizabeth. “For your tears.”
She took it, her fingers brushing against his. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”
“Thank me when we are safely in London. Until then, we must be careful. Ladies, you should return to the ball. I must speak with my valet to have him begin packing and arrange for the carriage to be ready. I shall return within a quarter of an hour.”
Elizabeth nodded and moved toward the door, then looked back. “Mr. Darcy? I hope you do not come to regret this.”
“I will not,” he said with certainty.
She smiled—a real smile, the first he had seen from her all evening—and slipped out the door.
Darcy turned to note Miss Mary giving him her full attention. “You care for her,” she said.
“I do.”
“Then I will trust you to keep her safe.” Miss Mary moved toward the door. “Mr. Darcy? Thank you. For appreciating her value.”
“And yours.” He bowed.
She left before he could respond, and Darcy was alone in the library.