Chapter Nine #3
“Mr. Darcy, if that is what you wish me to acknowledge, that you have shown me great kindness by extending such a proposal, I shall willingly do so. You were most kind to me. You did me a great favour. I acknowledge that you have lowered yourself to make me an offer, that you had no obligation to do so, and that you would be in every comprehensible way a superior husband to Mr. Collins. If all you wish for is a woman to say that much, you do not need to marry me. I shall confess your superiority freely.”
“Then why do you hesitate?”
“Have I not said enough to explain? Is not surprise a sufficient motive?” She hurried to the fence and then twirled around to face him again. “Oh, but I have little enough choice. Papa might have another attack, and he might be dead in an hour’s time. I must marry one of you.”
“You know that you must marry and that you must marry well. I would be utterly astonished if you ever received a more eligible offer,” he said in a tone that suggested some offence at how Elizabeth had replied.
“I do not preach affection to you. I tell you no sweet lies. I do not demand that you say you have lost your senses due to your desire for me. I do not believe that affection is a sound basis for marriage. Perhaps there is no sound reason ever for marriage, except that it is necessary for the continuation of human society. You are a woman who meets my chief requirements, but if you do not wish to accept my hand, I shall not dangle it before you endlessly.”
“Please, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth looked him in the eye. “Let me compose myself and come to know my own mind. You cannot object to that, and if you do object to giving me twenty minutes to think, I shall know that I ought to risk Mr. Collins instead.”
Rather than becoming yet more offended—as Elizabeth had half expected and perhaps hoped, for she felt the uncertainty of the decision as a dreadful thing—Mr. Darcy instead smiled.
“I apologise. You would be a fool to accept a man without knowing your own mind, and I would be a high-handed brute if I demanded that. You are quite right.” He now smiled in such a friendly way that it made Elizabeth’s heart jump.
“Take what time you require and freely ask me any questions that you consider as important in making your decision.”
“In deciding whether Mr. Collins is your superior?” Elizabeth said, unable to keep herself from returning his smile.
“No, no. I cannot conceive of myself as not being his superior.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Proud, proud man. And vain. To think that you are the superior to another man simply because you are cleverer, of higher station, and of greater fortune than him. And taller, with a better formed figure, and more handsome also.”
He pressed his lips together in another smile. “That does make me sound vain. Yet it is how I see the matter. But I must add this—perhaps my flaws are also greater than his.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I understand Mr. Collins. Or at least I believe myself to understand him. I do not understand you. What truly motivates you? And what truly happened between you and the previous Mrs. Darcy? I cannot marry you unless you are able to assure me that the rumours about your cruelty towards her are untrue.”
“Which rumours?”
“You must know that it is suspected that you killed her. I judge that to be unlikely, but I also believe that you did place her in a position in which she chose to kill herself. That she fell by accident from a balcony after you had locked her in her apartment would be an unlikely coincidence.”
Mr. Darcy’s face became gaunt, harsh, like a hawk’s.
He looked towards the bare branches of an old oak tree that Elizabeth had delighted in climbing as a child.
“You are right to ask, though I do not like to speak of this matter. Mary considered herself to be neglected by me, and she was fiercely unhappy with my unwillingness to act in the manner she wished, or to support her in spending beyond her pin money, or—it is not important. She was miserable. She declared that she wished she had not married me. I said nothing to that. Then during the following year, she began an intrigue with a gentleman who had been a long-standing friend of my family’s.
When I discovered what she had done, I ordered her locked in her apartment.
I was full of rage at having my rights and my position scorned.
Further, I wished to keep her from conversation with Emily, fearing her influence on the child.
I did speak with her once more, due to the counsel of my vicar, to seek a reconciliation.
The things she said then…” Mr. Darcy’s face became grim.
“No, that does not matter. The chief point is that her death was neither murder nor suicide but in fact an accident. But not an innocent one. After I had spoken with her, it was the night of a harvest moon, and I could not sleep. A little after midnight I went to walk about the park. When I turned a corner to the side of the house, I was suddenly confronted with the sight of my wife climbing down from her balcony with a long rope, while her lover stood at the bottom eagerly awaiting her. When she saw me, she lost her grip in shock, and then—then she died.”
Elizabeth put a hand on Mr. Darcy’s arm. She was filled with sympathy for the pain he clearly felt.
Mr. Darcy pressed his eyes closed. “This is a true account of my dealings with Mrs. Darcy. I have nothing else to say upon that matter.”
There was anguish in his expression, and every line of his face expressed a deep dislike for the necessity of having to tell any of the story.
After thinking about the matter at length, Elizabeth asked, “Would you have locked her up forever?”
Mr. Darcy frowned. He thought seriously before making any reply.
“I do not know—no, certainly not. I should have sought a divorce, despite the scandal that would have resulted. I hope that I would have come to understand that as necessary and proper without the shock of Mary’s death.
But I cannot know myself for certain. What I can promise you is that I shall respect your rights as my wife and give you every liberty that is customary amongst the gentry of England, so long as you respect my rights and position as your husband. ”
“I understand,” she said.
“I swear to you—I shall do what I must to protect you and your family.”
“And what if I fail in that part of my duty as your wife over which I would have no control?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if I fail to provide an heir? My mother has always believed that the deficiencies in Papa’s treatment of her are because she never provided him with a son.
Your estate is entailed. You speak about the need for an heir as a motive for the marriage.
What can I expect if we are not blessed in such a way? ”
Mr. Darcy looked at her steadily. “I promise you this—I will never scorn or despise a person, man or woman, who did their duty the best they could but failed to achieve the intended aim. I would be disappointed, but I would cast no blame upon you. As for the question of entailment, there are ample funds that have been accumulated that are not within the entail, and I shall continue to set aside more, whether or not you have a son, against the possibility that we have many daughters, and against other contingencies whose nature I can only guess at. I will not be like your father.”
Before Elizabeth could ask anything else, Mr. Collins came out, wiping his forehead and huffing as he approached the two of them. “Cousin Elizabeth! Cousin Elizabeth! I have scarce been able to find you.”
“Is Papa well?” Elizabeth asked with a desperate feeling in her stomach.
“What?” Mr. Collins looked confused at the question. “I have heard nothing of him. I merely wondered what had occupied you both so long.”
Mr. Darcy looked at her seriously. “We have finished speaking for now. I shall hear your reply tomorrow.”
“No, wait!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “I do not need to wait. I hardly understand myself, but you are sincere. I trust you. I trust that you will treat me with respect. I accept your offer, sir.”
“What offer?” Mr. Collins said, looking between them. “Cousin Elizabeth, you must know that I have—”
“You have nothing to do with the matter,” Mr. Darcy said. “Let us return to the house. I must speak to your father—if you think him recovered enough for such a conversation.”
“What is this about?” Mr. Collins exclaimed. “What is—”
“No.” Mr. Darcy raised a hand and looked at the rector in such a way that the man fell silent.
“I must speak to Papa first,” Elizabeth said. “This will surprise him, and I fear what such a shock might do in his current state. Perhaps… But I shall go to him immediately and see how he fares.”
Elizabeth hurried into the house. She passed the open door of the drawing room and glanced in.
Jane and Mr. Bingley sat on the sofa next to each other, with Mrs. Bennet on the other end dabbing at her eyes.
Mrs. Phillips and Lady Lucas spoke quietly in another corner, while Kitty and Lydia giggled together by the window, showing more cheerfulness than Elizabeth thought they ought.
Georgiana played an achingly lovely tune on the pianoforte.
Emily saw her and ran towards her. “Miss Lizzy!”
Elizabeth picked her up, and she immediately felt better.
She would be overjoyed to be this dear sweet child’s mother.
She could love the child. That was marrying for affection and love.
She had barely thought about Emily in making the decision, but now she was delighted to hold the girl and press a kiss on her hair.
“There, there. I must speak to my own papa now, but I shall come out, and we shall read your book again before you leave for the day.”
“No. Now,” Emily said.