Chapter 5 #2
Jane rose, crossing to stand beside her. “You compare him to Mr Darcy still. I see it in your eyes whenever Malcolm speaks.”
“Mr Darcy made his opinion quite clear at Hunsford.” Elizabeth shrugged. “Whatever I felt then is irrelevant now. While I appreciate him paying us a visit to express his sympathies, I have to accept his real opinions about us.”
“Is it? Or are you accepting Malcolm because you believe Mr Darcy beyond your reach?”
Before Elizabeth could respond, Kitty appeared in the doorway, slightly breathless.
“Lizzy, Mr MacKinnon left this for you before departing.” She held out a slim volume bound in dark green leather.
“He said it is the second volume of the Highland poetry book he mentioned. He thought you might enjoy reading it.”
Elizabeth accepted the book mechanically. Her thumb ran over gilt lettering on the spine. After Kitty departed with a rustle of skirts, she opened it to find Malcolm's inscription on the flyleaf: For Miss Elizabeth, who values knowledge and beauty in equal measure. With sincere admiration, M.M.
“He is trying very hard,” Jane observed quietly.
“I know.” Elizabeth closed the book. The leather was cool beneath her palm, smooth and expensive. “Perhaps that should be enough.”
Jane's hand found hers, squeezing gently. “Only promise me you will not accept him unless you are certain. Truly certain, not merely convinced by logic and necessity.”
Elizabeth said nothing. Certainty felt like a luxury she could no longer afford.
***
The following afternoon brought the promised lesson on drainage systems, accompanied by more detailed sketches of proposed improvements to the Abbotts' northern field.
The day after, Malcolm schooled her on timber management and the relative merits of different species for various purposes.
Next, he brought survey maps and explained how to read property boundaries and measure acreage.
“I know this probably sounds tedious and perhaps even boring to an intelligent lady such as yourself,” he told her. “But I believe a lady should be properly versed in estate management. I do not wish to see you dependent on anyone. Not even myself.”
Indeed, he was always armed with new information to share and new skills to teach.
On the fourth day, as they concluded a discussion of livestock rotation and the benefits of alternating sheep and cattle on the same pasture, Malcolm's manner shifted. He gathered his papers with unusual care, not meeting her eyes as he had done throughout their previous lessons.
“I wonder whether you might permit me to speak of something other than drainage this afternoon.”
Elizabeth looked up from the notes she had been making, her own hand far less neat than his practised script. “Indeed?”
Malcolm's grey-green eyes held hers with unmistakable warmth. “These past weeks have been... that is, I hope they have demonstrated the partnership I believe we could share. The respect I hold for your intelligence. The freedoms I would offer within society's bounds.”
Elizabeth's throat tightened. Here was the implicit question, gentle pressure toward a decision that loomed closer with each passing day. “You have been all that is generous and kind, Mr MacKinnon.”
“Then perhaps...” He hesitated, glancing toward Jane and Mrs Hill before continuing in a lower voice. “Perhaps you might give some thought to my proposal. I do not press for an immediate answer. But time grows short, and I would not wish you to feel rushed when the moment comes to decide.”
“I shall consider it carefully,” Elizabeth said. The words felt like promise and trap combined. “You have my word on that.”
After he departed, Elizabeth took up her cloak and walked out with Jane, glad of the cold after the closeness of the room.
The air bit at her cheeks, numbing her fingers despite her gloves.
She found herself replaying the moment when he had glanced toward Jane and Hill before lowering his voice.
Such a small thing. He had merely wished for privacy, which was natural and proper enough.
And yet there had been something in the way his eyes had moved — a quick, assessing sweep, confirming positions — that had reminded her less of a suitor seeking a quiet word and more of a man checking whether he was being watched.
She dismissed the thought as uncharitable.
He was a stranger still, navigating English customs with care. Of course he would be cautious.
“You are considering accepting him,” Jane said quietly.
“What choice do I have?” Elizabeth's voice was barely audible. “Many women would be grateful for such an offer.”
“But you are not in love with him, Lizzy,” Jane said in agitation.
“No.” The admission emerged flat, final. “But perhaps love is a luxury I cannot afford. Perhaps respect and security are foundation enough.”
Jane stopped walking, turning to face her fully. “Lizzy, do not do this. Do not marry him out of desperation.”
“Is it desperation to be practical? To think of our family's welfare rather than my own selfish desires?” Elizabeth's hands clenched in her muff. “You heard Mama. We have nowhere to go. Malcolm offers salvation. How can I refuse?”
“Because you would be miserable. And Malcolm would eventually realise you do not love him. It would be fair to neither of you.”
“Fairness.” Elizabeth's laugh held no humour. “What is fair about any of this? Papa is gone. We are to be displaced. A kind gentleman offers rescue and I hesitate because...” She trailed off, unable to voice what her hesitation truly stemmed from.
“Because your heart belongs to someone else,” Jane finished softly. “To Mr Darcy.”
“Mr Darcy is in London or Derbyshire.” Elizabeth turned away, blinking against sudden sting in her eyes. “Whatever I felt for him is irrelevant now. He made his opinion of our connexions quite clear. I was not good enough then. Nothing has changed to make me good enough now.”
She did not say that the letter he had put into her hands at Rosings was still folded into the back of her writing case, nor how many times she had read it since April, until she knew Wickham’s true history and her own blindness by heart.
“Lizzy...”
“I should give Malcolm an answer soon,” Elizabeth said, more to herself than Jane. “It would be cruel to keep him waiting when I know what my answer must be.”
They resumed walking toward the house. Elizabeth's mind worked through the calculation she had been avoiding for weeks.
Malcolm offered security, respect, partnership.
She offered him... what? Appreciation without affection.
Gratitude without love. Intelligence and capability, but nothing of her heart.
Was that sufficient foundation for a marriage?
Perhaps in time, respect could grow into affection, appreciation into something deeper.
Or perhaps she would spend the rest of her life comparing Malcolm's easy warmth to the intensity of dark eyes that had once studied her so intently across crowded rooms.
But Mr Darcy was gone. That possibility had closed at Hunsford when she rejected him with such vehemence. She had made her choice then. Now she must make another choice. A sensible one.
Even if it meant marrying a man she did not love whilst something remained stubbornly, foolishly attached to one who had likely forgotten her existence entirely.