Chapter 2.8
Rosings and the Parsonage had rarely—if ever—experienced such a tormenting day. Lady Catherine attempted to convince her nephew to delay his departure, but she was met with complete failure.
Elizabeth had sent her uncle Gardiner an express earlier in the day and she expected that his carriage would arrive the next day.
Charlotte asked her for a brief conversation, but not much was discussed.
She was reluctant to tell Charlotte about the proposal, since she herself was uncertain how to respond.
Besides, she dreaded to consider that she would tell her husband, and Mr. Collins would certainly run to Lady Catherine.
Elizabeth spent the time between Mr. Darcy’s first call and the second expected one carefully pondering his astonishing proposal. It was a turning point that—either way—would completely change her life and the lives of her entire family.
After she confronted him regarding Jane, she was upset and blamed his unfair, arrogant judgment.
However, on closer reflection, she admitted that Jane’s sweet nature was not always easy to discover.
Just as it was not easy to discover Darcy’s true nature.
She had attempted to sketch his character a long time ago, even before the Netherfield ball, and she still had not accomplished that task.
He was not an easy man to live with, of that she had no doubt.
It was not easy for her to accept such an impromptu and ill-grounded marriage proposal.
But was he a man to be rejected so easily?
By the time she heard the horses outside, she was still uncertain of accepting him; but was sure that she would regret never seeing him again.
Darcy entered the house, followed by the colonel. Both bowed, although they had left only several hours before.
“I wish to speak to Miss Bennet. She is expecting me,” Darcy said politely but coldly.
Elizabeth stepped in and curtsied properly.
“Mr. Darcy. It is still a lovely afternoon. Would you join me on a stroll in the garden? We will be in full view of the house,” she addressed the Collinses.
“I would be delighted, madam.”
They walked side by side, close enough to speak freely, but far enough to avoid any impropriety.
“Mr. Darcy...”
“Miss Bennet, I cannot go any longer without confessing that I have not been completely honest with you.”
She was surprised but did not turn to him, as several pairs of eyes were watching.
“However, I am hesitant to speak freely, as I fear you might suspect I am trying to influence your decision.”
“You must not fear. If you prefer, I shall tell you first.”
“Would you?”
“Yes, sir. I was exceedingly astonished to receive your proposal. I am still apprehensive about such a union. But, considering everything we have discussed, and if you are determined to insist upon it, I shall accept. I am ready to do my part. I am concerned by the weight of the responsibilities demanded of your future wife, but I am willing to learn. I only wish you to have patience with me and to keep your word to me. I expect to fight a lot. In fact, I suspect we will rarely agree on anything. I am stubborn and disobedient,” she said with no little emotion, each word bringing her closer to the edge between present and future.
“I know you are,” he replied with a trembling voice.
“This is what I admire most in you. I am grateful for your trust and I promise you will have my patience. Nothing—nothing at all—will happen until you are prepared and willing to accept it,” he said and she shivered, as she understood the full meaning of his statement.
“But I will need your patience too, Miss Bennet. I too am stubborn, and proud and selfish—and much more, I was told. I look forward to disagreeing, even fighting with you over many things, until we begin to agree on anything.”
“Well, at least we must not fear boredom in marriage,” Elizabeth jested to defeat her anxiety and nervousness.
“True. I am grateful to have your response, as it may ease my confession. Miss Bennet, I came to propose to you, pretending I was induced by the scandal. But this is not true. For many months I have disguised my feelings for you. Almost from the beginning of our acquaintance, I have come to admire you and my affection grew stronger by the day. If I had been brave enough, and if I had not hesitated so long for reasons that I now admit to be shallow, I would have come to tell you how ardently I love and admire you and to beg you to be my wife.”
This time, Darcy turned to watch her from the side. He expected her to be shocked one more time, to express her disbelief, to mistrust his words. Instead, she did blush—her neck was deliciously red and a vein was pulsing with the beating of her heart. Then, without looking at him, she replied.
“Mr. Darcy, one morning a fortnight ago, I was enjoying one of my long walks. Dropped in the grass, I found a pile of papers. I picked it up and I read the last one. Then I put it down and I concealed my presence, when the owner returned to retrieve the papers.
Only then, Elizabeth stole a glance at him. His entire expression was darkened with the deepest distress. He seemed to struggle for air and gazed down at his shoes until she took pity on him and spoke further.
“I must say the notes were quite elegantly and eloquently written. I hope that one day, in the distant future, I will be offered the chance to read them in their entirety.”
Finally, both turned to look at each other, sharing long gazes, red-faced, utterly embarrassed and a little smile that attempted to reveal a promise.
“Miss Bennet, I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours,” he said, bowing down, ceremoniously, much to the consternation of those watching them from the house.
Colonel Fitzwilliam filled the second glass of brandy since his arrival. At the same time, his cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy, had settled the argument of a lifetime. But the colonel knew that Darcy had always been more efficient than him—and he did not mind.
∞∞∞
The night after her strange engagement, Elizabeth did not sleep a bit.
While she and Darcy were walking back to the Parsonage, under the strict scrutiny of the Collinses, he assured Elizabeth that he would send Mr. Bennet an express that very evening.
He enquired after the Gardiners’ address, and Elizabeth gave it, puzzled one more time.
The last thing they agreed on was to keep their understanding a secret, at least until Elizabeth had left Kent too.
reaching the Parsonage’s main door, Darcy asked her approval to apply for a special licence, so they could marry soon, avoiding the gossip and rumours spreading even more.
She agreed, dizzy from the hasty and unexpected changes she had to face.
The two gentlemen entered their carriage and departed. Darcy kept up appearances to the end, but the colonel was even friendlier to her than usual, and she suspected he was not oblivious to the latest news.
As she watched the departing carriage, she wondered what had happened to her world.
Only a day before, she was enjoying her last days with her friend Charlotte. Then suddenly, her entire life was turned upside down; the past pushed the present toward a future she could not control, one she doubted and feared.
And Mr. Darcy—of all men—had asked for her approval to apply for a special licence. Was it real?
In less than a fortnight, she would become Mrs. Darcy, one of the most important names in the ton. And she knew nobody from Darcy’s relatives or acquaintances. She barely knew Darcy at all!
She did not think of his fortune or connections much, nor about the luxury that would surround her.
What worried her was the responsibility attached to her new position.
She had told Darcy she would try and learn.
But would she be able to accomplish her duties?
To raise herself to meet others’ expectations?
Would the effort and hard work be enough?
During the last dinner at the Parsonage, Elizabeth bore countless questions, hoping she had succeeded in concealing the secret from indiscreet eyes and ears.
“Mr. Darcy asked my permission to write to Papa and to Mr. Gardiner. He also said he will call on my uncle and aunt, together with the colonel. Nothing else. If Mr. Darcy desires to reveal more of his intentions, I am sure he will do it himself,” she told her companions.
“You two spoke quite a lot,” Maria observed.
“Not so much,” Elizabeth replied. “We were both disappointed, upset and hurt by the offence we had to bear.”
“Lady Catherine must be very upset that her nephews left so hastily,” Mr. Collins said.
“I am sure she will find something to console her in their absence,” Elizabeth replied.
That evening, she retired for the night early.
In the solitude of her chamber, her thoughts and worries took a different turn. While she changed for the night and her gown caressed her skin, she realised that in less than a fortnight she would wear such clothes in the presence of her husband. Of Mr. Darcy.
He had promised he would be patient, that he would not impose his will over her in anything. She did not doubt his word in the slightest. But their intimacy—as husband and wife—would exist, even in adjoining chambers.
She would see him improperly attired and so he would see her.
He had admitted to being in love with her—both in his papers and to her directly.
Words like passion, love, ardent, burst out from the papers; his dreams of kissing her, embracing her, of touching her skin—would become reality soon.
No sooner than she would agree to; but did she have reason to reject his attentions?
If she wished for a true, affectionate marriage, she knew the marriage bed was a significant part of it.
Mrs. Gardiner has explained it to her and Jane often in recent years.
With her eyes closed, she recollected details of his features that she had never before dared to consider closely.