Chapter 6
SIX
Though Lydia considered herself more than capable of engaging any gentleman’s interest, it became apparent over the course of the evening that Mr Stone was not as receptive to her flirting as the officers had been.
Whenever she asked him a question—nothing scandalous, she was on her best behaviour—he would blunder through an answer that was difficult to make heads or tails of.
He also seemed incapable of meeting her eye, or even looking in her direction, which caused her no end of consternation; how was she meant to enrapture him if he would not even take a sly peek down her bodice?
The one time she touched his arm, he jumped so violently that he collided with the underside of the dining table and caused the dishes to rattle.
Lydia did not know what to do with him.
As she followed her aunt and sister into the withdrawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their port at the table, she pondered whether or not this charade was worth it.
Perhaps she ought to allow herself to be hidden away in seclusion—something her uncle had threatened if Lydia did not cooperate with the marriage scheme—or learn to shift for herself.
Would that be any more difficult than attempting to squeeze admiration from Mr Stone?
Lydia sat in one of the chairs nearest the fire and Elizabeth took the one opposite her.
Poor Lizzy; her gentleman was no easier to comprehend than the jabbering Mr Stone, and she seemed sincerely attached to him.
Yet they held themselves apart as though afraid of the consequences of coming too near.
They looked at one another a great deal, but rarely at the same time, and even when their gazes did snarl, they yanked them away the next moment.
It seemed a hopeless business, and Lydia was beginning to wonder if any gentleman was worth the trouble ladies went through to interest them.
At least Mrs Gardiner and Elizabeth did not blame Lydia for how poorly the evening was going. They could see that she was trying, and encouraged her to keep at it, for surely, “Mr Stone is just nervous. When he is more comfortable, he is quite amiable.”
Lydia rather doubted her aunt’s expectations would be met, but at least no one was angry with her.
It was not long before the gentlemen returned to the ladies, though only Mr Gardiner appeared to show much enthusiasm for it.
He ushered Mr Stone in Lydia’s direction and Mr Darcy towards Elizabeth, an awkward business at best. Almost the moment Mr Darcy appeared, Elizabeth excused herself to assist their aunt in pouring the coffee and scuttled away, leaving Mr Darcy to stare forlornly in her wake.
He then wandered to the window and seemed to occupy himself by staring out onto the dark street.
Lydia sighed before turning to Mr Stone, determined to make another attempt at conversation with him. “Do you hail from London, sir?”
“Yes—well, no—that is, I am not originally from London, but rather Birmingham. I have lived in the city for five—no, six, yes, six—years and…” He trailed off as if he did not quite know how to complete his sentence.
Lydia was at the end of her patience. “If you do not wish to marry me after all, I wish you would just say so.”
“W-What?”
“If you do not like me enough to take me for ten thousand pounds, I am sure my uncle will not fault you for it. I am damaged goods, after all, and it is apparently too much to believe that a respectable gentleman would wish to have me.” The last was said in a dreadful bitterness of spirit.
Mr Stone gawped at her for a long moment before sputtering, “No, no, Miss Lydia! You misunderstand me completely.”
“Do I?” Lydia raised a sceptical eyebrow the way she had seen Elizabeth do quite often. “You cannot speak to me, you can barely look at me, you flinch away from my touch. How else am I supposed to interpret your behaviour?”
Leaning forward with his forearms resting upon his thighs, Mr Stone fixed her with the first direct look he had yet given her. It was startlingly blue and earnest. “I am unused to speaking with beautiful women.”
Lydia’s heart fluttered as if it had sprouted wings. “I beg your pardon?”
“I…I am not very experienced in conversation with women in general, but the pretty ones leave me ridiculously tongue-tied. Since you are quite the loveliest of your sex I have ever laid eyes upon…” His sentence again died as he helplessly shrugged his shoulders.
“So, you are not disgusted by me?”
Mr Stone moved not more than a hairsbreadth closer, yet Lydia flushed at this nearer proximity. The intensity radiated by his silvery-blue eyes seemed to wash over her. “Far from it. Indeed, I think I may have fallen in love with you at first sight.”
He cleared his throat and glanced away awkwardly before reengaging her.
“I know I am not much to look at,” he said with a subtle grimace, “nor am I particularly wealthy or well connected, but I swear to you that I will be the best husband possible. I will be kind, faithful, and put your needs above my own always. If-if you will agree to marry me, that is.”
It was a rare occurrence whenever Lydia was rendered speechless, yet her mind was a yawning void in the wake of Mr Stone’s proposal.
She had expected a grudging request for her hand, one purchased with Mr Darcy’s ten thousand pounds, but she had not dared dream that this stranger might actually want to marry her.
Apparently interpreting her silence as a refusal, Mr Stone sat back in his chair, face aflush, and began stammering apologies. “F-forgive me, Miss Lydia, I was too eager. If you want me to leave?—”
“No!” she exclaimed, grasping hold of his nearest hand. He looked down at their entangled fingers with something akin to awe. “Please stay. I…I should be glad to marry you, if you will have me.”
Tentatively covering her hand with his free one, Mr Stone said in a mumbling whisper, “It would be my honour.”