Page 122 of Miss Bennet's Dragon
Deprived of his sister, Mr. Darcy’s tall frame, clad in gray tails with a matching tall hat, began spiraling closer to me, although without obvious attention in my direction. I fixed my eyes on him. When he next stole a glance, our gazes met. I raised an eyebrow—an invitation to speak.
He arrived, stiffly proud to a casual eye, but I understood him better now. He was determined but profoundly uncomfortable.
We greeted each other, then he said, “I was deeply saddened when I heard of your father’s death. I had only a few days to form our acquaintance. Tocorrectour acquaintance, for I had formed an unjust first impression.”
I thought of Mr. Darcy witnessing my father’s mockery of Mary, so painful to a brother who had raised his young sister as his sole family.
“I would not accuse you of injustice,” I said. “You did not first observe my father at his best. He would agree without reservation. We all do things we regret.”
Mr. Darcy nodded, then inclined his head toward Mary and Miss Darcy, who were talking with great animation. “Your sister thrives.”
“And yours.” I took a breath. “Mr. Bingley explained your extraordinary efforts to help Jane.”
“I was obligated to do everything in my power. I am happy to have accomplished some partial amends.”
“My father described your rescue of Lydia as an unpayable debt. You have doubled that debt. More than doubled. I can never thank you enough.”
“I thought only of you,” he said, his voice low.
That wrenched like he had reached through my skin and grabbed my heart. But I hardened myself and said nothing. Because his selfless behavior was also the problem.
The silence stretched. His shoulders straightened, sensing a rebuke. “My intervention between your sister and Mr. Bingley was self-centered. Cruel and ungentlemanly.”
“I thoroughly agree,” I said.
His lips parted in surprise. In our social dance of apology, I had just stamped on his foot.
“So,” I mused, “having learned that separating a couple is cruel and ungentlemanly, why do you persist?” He seemed frozen, so I proceeded, “I speak of us, Mr. Darcy, if you have not yet made that leap. Indeed, it is fortunate that I resisted the temptation to ban you from Longbourn. As you have forbidden me from Pemberley, I would have had to book the assembly hall for our luncheon, and it is not as nice as either of our gardens.”
An uncertain smile grazed his lips. “You must be…” he began, then stopped, seeing my expression.
“If you are about to suggest I am joking, I advise you reconsider. Although I have never before had a gentleman flee from me, let alone ban me from his property, I am certain you omitted a required step.”
“What step is that?” he asked quietly.
“An explanation.”
“I sought to protect you.”
“As you protected Mr. Bingley?”
“The situation is different. This is a burdenIassume.”
“That is conceit.” My voice was becoming heated. “Can you imagine no other party you hurt?”
“You speak of yourself,” he said. “Whatever hurt you feel is outweighed by the serious risk you would face.”
“It is not your place to judge risks for me. Do you not see this is exactly your error with Mr. Bingley and Jane?”
“You do not understand the gravity of the situation. I could not bear to see you hurt.”
“That is condescending. How can I understand when you do not explain? It is not endearing to have you protect me by stifling me. Would you choose a wyfe who hid you in the cellar to keep you safe?”
His eyes widened, and I realized what I had implied. I had to fight to keep my embarrassment from knocking me off course.
Truthfully, I had long since lost my direction. When I imagined this conversation, by this point Mr. Darcy had abjectly apologized and admitted some trifle of social etiquette to overcome.
I was staring into his dark eyes when he said, “You know the wyfe I would choose.”
