Chapter 15 #4
She hid in the empty room only until Lord Grantchester’s footsteps had passed away in the direction of the ballroom, and then marched rapidly to the chamber where he had been lectured so forcefully by Mr Darcy.
He was there still, standing with his back to the door and looking at the far wall in a state of abstraction, though there was nothing there that ought to have kept his attention.
Elizabeth was not minded to leave Mr Darcy to his silent contemplation. “How dare you!” she railed at him. “By what right do you think to order the lives of others? What makes you think you know best how to secure the happiness and wellbeing of your friends in marriage?”
The tall, dark figure spun round with an expression of astonishment on his face, having not heard her approach in her satin dancing slippers.
“What?” Mr Darcy blurted out, as though not understanding her anger. His midnight-blue eyes fixed on her face and sent a fresh pang of strange emotion through her body.
“How dare you try to break up my sister’s engagement for your own selfish reasons!” Elizabeth continued. Though Mr Darcy might choose not to understand her, she would make her words impossible not to comprehend.
“I admit freely to the first part but not to the second,” Mr Darcy responded, and Elizabeth gasped at his breathtaking arrogance.
“You admit it? How proud, how prejudiced you must be to think you know better than the parties concerned when a man or woman is a suitable marriage partner.”
“I assure you, I am motivated by neither pride nor prejudice, only by principle,” Mr Darcy insisted.
Upon hearing such an assertion, Elizabeth could not hold back a scornful laugh.
She marched forward until she stood directly before him.
“Principle? I heard what you told your friend only moments ago about Jane’s unsuitability to be Countess of Grantchester.
Given her beauty and goodness, what other motivation could there be but disdain for my sister’s lack of fortune and rank, and your prejudice against it? ”
“I cannot tell you, Miss Elizabeth. I can only restate that my objection to this marriage is one of principle.”
Every time she thought he could not be any more infuriating, Fitzwilliam Darcy surprised Elizabeth all over again by coming out with such statements. Despite his measured words, his face was now as flushed as her own, and his eyes filled with the strangest expression.
“You speak so coolly, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth challenged him.
Though she was suddenly aware that it was not wise to be alone with any man in such a situation, she did not back away.
For Jane’s sake, she would face him down.
“I believe that love, passion, and respect ought to be the basis of any marriage, rather than just cold, hard calculation.”
Mr Darcy’s voice altered, as though a dam had cracked and whatever unreadable emotions had previously been only behind his eyes had flooded into the rest of his being.
“In that case, Miss Elizabeth,” he said abruptly. “I ought to ask for your hand, for you are the only woman who has ever inspired all three of these feelings in me.”
Utterly bewildered, Elizabeth could only stare back at him. Ask for her hand? Was Mr Darcy proposing marriage to her in the middle of a heated argument?
“You mock me, Mr Darcy,” she returned, unable to think of any other explanation for such a bizarre turn of direction. “You think to throw me off balance because I am a woman. That is beneath your dignity, surely.”
“I would never mock you, Miss Elizabeth. I have never felt anything like the sensations you inspire in me, and I would be honoured if you would…”
Dear God, he was serious! Elizabeth took a sharp step back, her heart now pounding in her chest and her blood almost singing in her veins. How could this be happening?
“Why do you think I would ever accept a man who has tried so hard to destroy the happiness of a beloved sister?” Elizabeth responded, letting her instinctive responses speak for themselves in the absence of any rational direction from her mind.
“You must be the last man on earth I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.”
“I have tried to save your sister from great unhappiness, rather than the reverse,” Mr Darcy insisted. “As I said, it is a matter of principle.”
“Were you trying to save Mr Wickham from great unhappiness when you ruined his life, too?” Elizabeth retorted.
At the mention of Mr Wickham’s name, Elizabeth saw Mr Darcy’s face darken considerably and his brows knit in displeasure as intense as her own. Such a reaction must surely be an open admission of guilt. What other interpretation could there be?
When Mr Darcy seemed about to speak again, Elizabeth held up a hand to stop him. She feared that if they continued in their present vein, she might soon laugh, scream, or weep — maybe all at once. And what might Mr Darcy say or do then in his present unpredictable mood?
“You and I can have nothing more to say to one another tonight, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said firmly and then turned on her heel, walking out of the room as fast as she could.