Page 19 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy
“There is something I need to discuss with you. Perhaps we could walk in the garden? It would be more proper.”
“As you wish, Mr Darcy,” she said, wondering what it was he wished to discuss. They entered Longbourn’s gardens together. It was peculiar to be walking with Mr Darcy again after their last unpleasant conversation.
“I have come to talk to you about a matter of great importance, and I would like you to keep an open mind to my proposition.”
Elizabeth’s shoulders stiffened. She had not cared for his last proposition, and she could not imagine this one would be any better.
“Mr Darcy,” she said. “If Mr Bingley wishes to apologise to my sister, he really ought not use an intermediary. I will be happy to tell Jane to consider Mr Bingley once more if that is what he wishes, and—”
Mr Darcy raised a hand. “Miss Bennet, it is not Bingley I am here to speak about. It is myself. For you see, since last we spoke, my circumstances have changed.”
She paused, suddenly recalling his engagement. “I heard. You are soon to be wed. Please accept my congratulations.”
“I would thank you, but I am not really engaged. You see, it was a scheme constructed by my aunt. You have met Lady Catherine, and you can judge her character. Suffice to say, neither myself nor my cousin knew about the announcement.”
Elizabeth’s breath hitched at Mr Darcy’s statement. The weight of his words settling slowly. “Am I to understand, Mr Darcy, that your aunt took it upon herself to… announce your engagement to your cousin, and yet neither of you expressed a willingness for it?”
Mr Darcy inclined his head. “That is precisely the case. Anne and I have never wished for such a union. Indeed, Anne’s heart—” He paused, adjusting the set of his shoulders as thoughbracing himself. “Anne’s heart has already been bestowed elsewhere.”
Elizabeth bit her tongue to suppress a comment about Lady Catherine’s presumptions. The memory of the formidable woman still loomed large in her thoughts, imperious and unrelenting. It was easy enough to imagine such schemes springing from her.
“And what, pray, has this to do with me?” Elizabeth asked coolly.
Mr Darcy straightened. His gaze was steady, calculating but also tinged with something else—a glimmer of uncertainty? “I have come to request your help, Miss Bennet. The simplest solution to this conundrum, without injuring the reputation or prospects of either party, is for me to enter into matrimony—” he paused, carefully selecting his next words, “—but not with Anne.”
Elizabeth stilled. Realisation swept over her like a cold wind, her face flushed with disbelief. “You mean to say you are here to— What? To propose marriage to me? Have you forgot how explicitly I refused your offer last time?”
Mr Darcy held up a hand, his expression softening with something resembling regret. “I remember your rejection, Miss Bennet, with perfect clarity. I assure you this is not a matter of sentiment or affection. My request is born out of necessity.”
“Necessity,” Elizabeth repeated, her voice sharper now, laced with incredulity. “And you expect me to serve as the convenient answer to your dilemma?”
Mr Darcy ignored her barbed words and continued with calculated resolve. “You are entirely justified in your indignation, Miss Bennet, but please listen to what I have to say. There are many women who might accept my hand, that is correct. Yet what I need is not a traditional marriage.”
Elizabeth’s brows rose in pointed challenge. “You astonish me, Mr Darcy. Pray, enlighten me as to what sort of union you do seek.”
“A marriage that will fulfil a purpose—a practical alliance, no more.” Mr Darcy’s expression was almost impassive, though a flicker of something behind his words suggested vulnerability. “Once I am wed, I can publicly attribute the wedding announcement to a simple misunderstanding—a miscommunication by the papers, exaggerated beyond control. It would be a far kinder resolution than exposing my aunt’s overreach and embarrassing her or Anne.” He hesitated. “Furthermore, I believe your family would benefit from having someone to shoulder certain financial burdens during these challenging times.”
Elizabeth recoiled as though struck. Her temper rose sharply, and she demanded, “And this—this altruism—am I to suppose it stems from pity?”
“Not pity,” Mr Darcy said firmly, his voice steady, though he seemed acutely aware of the insult she had perceived. “Never pity. Call it reflection, or perhaps guilt over past mistakes. My intervention in Bingley’s courtship was one such misstep, though not all your accusations were well-founded. I… I do not care to argue those points now.”
Elizabeth regarded him with scepticism. “You must know how insultingly practical your offer sounds. Have you considered, Mr Darcy, that I might refuse you a second time?”
Mr Darcy dipped his head, acknowledging her rebuke. “I have considered that possibility at length. Still, I hoped to present the proposition fairly, with the recognition that we might assist one another. Think of it not as matrimony in the conventional sense but as an arrangement of mutual benefit. You need not accept today, but I ask that you at least consider it.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “You cannot mean it, Mr Darcy. It is ludicrous. I will not entertain such a proposal.”
Mr Darcy sighed. “I expected this reply, and I do not blame you, but I do wish you to think it over. I shall be staying at the Charlton Arms Inn until the day after tomorrow. Think it over. Discuss it with your family if you wish.”
With that, he took his hat and bowed before returning to his carriage, leaving Elizabeth behind, utterly shaken.
Chapter 11
Elizabeth
In the dim afternoon light, Elizabeth Bennet nestled into the worn armchair beside her father’s bedside, the gentle rhythm of his breath filling the silence of the room. Mr Bennet lay still, one side of his face drooping slightly as if the weight of his ailments had pulled him into an unsettling slumber. Elizabeth opened a battered copy ofThe Mysteries of Udolpho, a book she had read before and which was also one of her father’s favourites. As she began to read aloud, the worn pages felt soothing under her fingers, yet her heart was heavy.
“How strange it is, that a fool or a knave, with riches, should be treated with more respect by the world, than a good man, or a wise man in poverty!”Her voice quivered as the story unfolded, echoing in the stillness, but her eyes began to blur with the quickening tears that streamed down her cheeks.
