Chapter Seventeen
Proposals
This was not at all what Elizabeth had expected!
She had imagined that Mr. Darcy wished to speak to her of some new idea about the code machine, or some development in the mystery of who knew what about the Frenchmen.
If he wished to hold her hand whilst he explained some aspect to the code, or some secrets about French espionage, she would allow it, for though improper, it was not the making of a scandal, and no girl was ever ruined by having a gentleman hold her hand.
It was what happened after that which became the stuff of problems, and she was determined to hold to her limits.
And now he was talking about loving her!
What ought she to do? Was he going to request a kiss?
Surely, he would not expect more—he was far too much a gentleman for that—and he did not seem the sort to take a mistress, not that she would ever agree to such an arrangement.
This could not be another ploy to ingratiate himself with her whilst he worked anew to discredit her father, could it?
The look in his eyes did not allow her to believe that. He could not disguise the joy on his face as she smiled back at him. Perhaps he really meant what he said!
But what could he be on about? Although, in the most secret places of her heart, she dreamed about marriage and a life with him, he could have no such hopes regarding her.
He would soon conclude his mission here and return to the city and his life there, with earls and barons and exclusive gentlemen’s clubs.
She was little more than a dalliance to him, a connexion he would never again have to acknowledge once he was back amongst his own circles. And yet still he spoke.
“In vain I have struggled. My feelings will not be repressed.” In vain?
Could he have meant that? She must have misheard him, and she felt a hardness begin to steal over her expression as he kept talking.
“Against my better judgement, I have lost my heart. I care little for the disparity of our stations; I care not at all for the censure of my family, or for the low connexions of yours, nor do I care that you have no dowry and no wealth. I only care that you are the one woman I will never wish to be without, and hope and pray that you share such sentiments about me.” Was he expecting a smile?
All she could do was frown. Perhaps she was confused as to his meaning, although never had he seemed as arrogant as he was now, not even on the evening of the Meryton assembly.
And still he spoke, as though she would naturally concur with his desires.
“Although at first my goal was to uncover your father’s treachery, I have come to love you and wish to marry you.
” This he stated with finality, and he stood silently, a look of expectation upon his face. Was he awaiting her cries of joy?
They did not come.
“Against your better judgement? You speak as if you were the cold man at the ball, and not the friend I have come to know. Against your better judgement indeed!” This was not at all what she had expected.
He spoke of his wishes as if hers were of no matter, and in puffing up his own claims of love and status, belittled her own and all she loved.
The very nerve of the man! With her mind roiling in turmoil, she found words flowing from her tongue.
“Am I now to profess my undying gratitude for your condescension in permitting yourself to speak to me? Am I to grovel on the ground in appreciation for your willingness to lower yourself to my station and ignore my lack of wealth and unsuitable relations? You are as bad as Mr. Collins!”
“But Lizzy...”
“Miss Elizabeth, if you please. If your first thoughts are for your family’s approbation, perhaps your heart is not quite as lost as you suggest, Mr. Darcy.”
“Lizzy, please, listen to me!” His voice was raw with anguish and her mind was too upset and her heart too wounded to deny him.
When had she come to like him so very much that this strange attempt at a proposal should upset her so?
He had somehow gone from being a light summer flirtation to being the man she liked better than any other, and his cruel words hurt her to the quick.
Now he wished to explain, and she could not deny him.
“Very well.” She narrowed her gaze and faced him, hands folded across her chest.
He stared back at her, and she could see the rapid beating of his heart in the pulse in his temple.
“These are not inconsequential matters!” he cried.
“Whilst I care little for my position, I must think of my sister. She has suffered enough that an imprudent marriage on my part might damage her prospects entirely. And yet still, I repeat that I love you and wish to marry you.”
Her face grew as hot as a flame at this newest insult. “I am now an imprudent marriage? I should wonder that you dared speak to me at all, lest Miss Darcy’s reputation be further ruined by the hearing of it. What else do you have to tell me that will increase my dislike of you, sir?
“You are refusing me?”
“You have asked me no question, merely stated your wishes, with little regard to my own. It seems Mr. Wickham was correct after all. Your every action is designed to further your own interests, and others are merely playthings to you, to be manipulated as it best serves your desires.”
Then he did a most remarkable thing, and fell to his knees on the floor, head drooping on his neck. When he raised it to look at her once more, she was shocked to see his face wet with tears. Her heart softened, and she knew it showed in her face.
“Please, Lizzy, allow me to explain...”
With a terse nod, she gestured to the two chairs flanking the fireplace.
He took one and she the other, but he did not settle into its comfortable embrace.
He opened his mouth to speak once, then twice, and then rose and paced before the fireplace before kneeling at her feet.
“What I am about to tell you, I have revealed to nobody, with the exception of my cousin Richard, whom you have only now met. I will not ask if I can trust you, for I know I can, regardless of your sentiments towards me.”
She nodded. He was correct. She sat and waited as he collected himself enough to tell his tale.
“You asked once how I could defend myself against the accusations levelled by George Wickham.” She nodded again.
“There was another part to our dealings that I did not tell you at that time. It involves, to a very large degree, my sister. She is much younger than I—about Miss Lydia’s age, I would imagine—and very sheltered and na?ve, and I blame myself for what happened as much as anybody. ”
With a catch in his voice and several false starts, he told of Georgiana’s loneliness, her unhappiness at school, and her companion named Mrs. Younge, who accompanied the girl to Ramsgate just the past summer.
He told how the women had come across Wickham, seemingly by coincidence, but in reality by the design of that man and Mrs. Younge, who was known to him.
He told of how Wickham had played upon Georgiana’s loneliness and her fond recollections of a childhood companion, and how he had sought to elope with her, for the plain purpose of securing her dowry of thirty thousand pounds.
“Thirty thousand!” Lizzy exclaimed before she could catch herself. “That is a fortune indeed!”
“It is a curse as much as a blessing, for with such a fortune attached to oneself, it is most difficult to distinguish true friends from those wishing to attach themselves to one’s fortunes.” He looked directly at her, then closed his eyes and sighed.
“It was by happenstance alone that I decided to travel myself to Ramsgate, there to surprise my sister, and she confessed the whole of it to me.
You can imagine how I acted. Regard for my sister's credit and feelings prevented any public exposure, but rumour will out. Whilst nothing can be proven against her and no overt attacks have been made on her character, there are whispers throughout the haute ton of some hushed-up misdoings. With a stain, no matter how faint, attached to her name, my own actions and behaviour are vital to her well-being.”
As he spoke, he rose to his feet and paced the room, at times returning to his chair, but then leaping immediately to his feet anew to resume his fretful strides.
“Furthermore,” he sighed, “she has blamed me for her distress. She did not hear Wickham’s cruel words when last we parted.
She believes that he loves her still and claims that I have misled her in my attempts to convince her otherwise.
Upon our return to Pemberley with her new companion, she refused to speak to me or deal with me in any way, and I know through Mrs. Annesley that she blames me for the withdrawal of many of those she had thought her friends.
“This is why, in contemplating marriage to anybody, I must think not only of my future bride, but of my sister as well, who depends so completely upon me and whom I must, by law and moral obligation, protect to the utmost of my ability.”
As Mr. Darcy had related his sad tale, Lizzy’s eyes filled with bitter tears at the poor treatment of the poor girl. With his last words, he sank back into the chair and dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief, and Lizzy did likewise with her own.
“I am so sorry, sir!” her voice was a whisper in the still air of the room. “I ought not to have spoken as I did. If I had but known...”
“Thank you for allowing me the chance to explain my concerns.” He straightened in the chair and began to put himself to rights. Then with an edge of desperation in his voice he asked, “Do I dare to speak again, Lizzy? Will you listen if I do? Will you allow me a chance to prove myself?”