Chapter Six #2
They faced each other across the room. For a long moment, neither spoke. Darcy had not planned his words. It had seemed dishonest to plan them, given the circumstances. So he said only what was true.
“Miss Bennet. I think you know why I have come.”
“I believe I do,” she said quietly.
“Through no fault of your own, what has happened has placed you in an impossible position.” With an effort he hoped she could not see, he kept his voice carefully level.
“Your reputation has been materially damaged. The rumours will not diminish on their own, and I am the reason for them, whatever the precise sequence of events that led to the study. I cannot undo what has occurred. I can only address its consequences.”
Elizabeth stared at him wordlessly, her hands clasped before her.
He continued. “Miss Elizabeth, I think it best for both our sakes that we should marry. Both your reputation and my honour now demand it.” He paused. “I will not dress this up as something it is not. You deserve the plain truth.”
She was quiet for a long moment. Somewhere in the house, he heard a clock mark the quarter hour.
“The plain truth,” she said at last. “Yes. Thank you for your transparency.” Her voice was controlled and told him very little. “I need a little time,” she said. “Would you wait a few moments?”
“As long as you need,” Darcy said.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth only just escaped the sitting room and Mr Darcy before the last of her composure deserted her. She stood there for some moments, only breathing. Thinking rationally seemed impossible, or at least unbearable.
Elizabeth did not know how long she might have stood motionless if her father had not appeared and steered her into his study with the gentle authority he reserved for the rare occasions when he was genuinely concerned.
Mr Bennet closed the door behind them and studied her, then saw enough in her face that his expression shifted from curious to careful.
“Well,” he said, “Mr Darcy has asked me for five minutes with you, which he has had, and I have been nobly pretending not to listen at the keyhole. I find my nobility has its limits.” He paused. “You do not look like a happy woman, Lizzy.”
“I am well, Papa.”
“That is not what I asked.” He sat down slowly. “I confess I had thought you found the man insufferable. You have said as much. More than once, and with your customary enthusiasm.”
“I may have been hasty,” Elizabeth said, which was not untrue.
“Hasty.” He looked at her. “And the rumours. I suppose —” Mr Bennet looked at his desk, and at his hands, and then back at her with a serious expression.
“Lizzy, you and I both know that you are entirely innocent of any wrongdoing in the case. Tell me you are not doing this simply because of the rumours, and I will ask nothing more.”
Elizabeth held his gaze for a moment. “I think it is the wisest choice,” she said. “Given everything, I cannot do otherwise.”
“That is not an answer to my question,” Mr Bennet said.
For a moment, fury boiled up in Elizabeth.
It was not enough that she must go willingly to the destruction of all her hopes, to give herself to a man she did not love; her father would make her argue for the privilege.
It took a long moment to steady herself before she replied.
“My dear father,” she said at last. “You know what is at stake as well as I. What the cost will be if I do otherwise. And it is a cost that would not be paid by myself alone, but by all my sisters.”
At that, Mr Bennet bowed his head. “Go then,” he said quietly. “If you are sure.”
“I am,” she said.
She went, steeling herself for the answer she knew she must give Mr Darcy.
Mr Darcy was standing at the window, looking absently at the lawn. He turned when she came in.
“I will accept,” Elizabeth said without preamble.
She had used up her supply of composure in her father’s study and had very little left for ceremony.
“Having accepted, I, too, shall do my best to offer the unadorned truth. This is not what I would have chosen. But the alternative does harm that cannot be undone. To me, to my family. To Jane.”
She had not intended to mention Jane, and having mentioned her, she did not elaborate. Likely she did not need to. Mr Darcy was not a stupid man, and Mr Bingley’s attachment was not a secret to anyone who had been at Netherfield.
Mr Darcy nodded once. There was something in his face she could not read, something that moved through it briefly before his composure reasserted itself. “I will do everything in my power to make this as easy for you as it can be made.”
It was, she thought, a careful and a decent thing to say. Not a romantic thing, or sentiment that pretended to be more than the situation had produced.
She received it as it was intended and felt, beneath her misery, the faint and complicated stirring of something she did not yet have a name for.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Outside the window, beyond the wet garden and the lane, Meryton was going about its business.
It would know of the engagement before supper.
It would call it a happy ending because the story it had built required one, and it would not trouble itself with what the ending felt like to the people inside it.