Page 56 of The Slipper Scandal
Her brow knitted. “But none of those matches began in the same way ours has.”
"My mother was much like you in many ways. Intelligent, forthright, unwilling to bend to society's expectations merely for the sake of conformity."
Elizabeth's eyes widened slightly at the comparison.
“She would have admired you greatly, I think. She had little patience for the usual social games played in drawing rooms across London."
"Yet she was a member of the Fitzwilliam family," Elizabeth observed. "As the daughter of an earl, she must have been comfortable in such circles."
"Comfortable, yes, but never complacent," Darcy clarified. "She challenged my father daily, his assumptions, his decisions, their responsibilities, even his understanding of their position in society. And he was better for it." He paused, his gaze steady on her face. "As I believe I might be with you."
Elizabeth studied him, her expression guarded yet thoughtful. "You cannot know that I would not one day become a burdento you. That the connection formed under such circumstances would not turn to regret."
"No one can know the future," Darcy acknowledged. "But I believe two people who share a mutual respect, who can speak honestly to one another as we are doing now—such people have a foundation far stronger than many who marry for more conventional reasons."
She turned away slightly. "My fears are not easily dismissed, Mr. Darcy.”
"I understand your fears," Darcy said quietly. "But consider this. You are not your mother. Nor am I your father."
Her gaze returned to his.
"Your parents' story is theirs, not ours," he continued. "We may begin from a similar point, but we need not follow the same path."
"How can you be so certain?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I cannot offer certainty," Darcy admitted. "Only the knowledge that I find myself thinking of you even when we are apart. That I value your mind, your courage, your willingness to challenge me. These are neither feelings based upon fleeting attributes nor born of mere obligation."
Elizabeth's fingers twisted together in her lap. "I do not feel very courageous. I wish I could trust this.” She paused for so long Darcy feared she would not complete her thought, but at last she took a breath. "Not because I doubt your sincerity, but because I have feared this very situation for so long."
"What have you feared?" he asked gently.
"Being trapped in a marriage without love," she replied, her voice breaking slightly on the last word. "Becoming my mother. Forever seeking crumbs of affection from a husband who views me with detachment or, worse, disappointment."
The depth of her distress struck Darcy like a blow. "Elizabeth," he said, her name soft on his lips. “I cannot promise that I will never disappoint you. No husband could make such a vow and keep it. But I can promise that I will never view you with detachment. How could I, when it is your very spirit that I have come to value so profoundly?"
Her eyes searched his face, seeking truth in his expression. "You speak well, Mr. Darcy."
"Not always," he acknowledged with the faintest smile. "You cannot have forgotten our walk in the park.”
This drew a brief, genuine smile from her. "Perhaps not always," she conceded.
Emboldened, Darcy leaned forward slightly. "I am not asking you to dismiss your concerns. Only that you allow yourself to consider the possibility that what lies between us might grow into something neither of us anticipated."
She was silent for a long moment, the ticking of the mantel clock marking the passage of time between them. "And if, after time has passed, we find we do not suit?"
It was a fair question, though the very thought caused a painful tightness in his chest. "Then we shall address that circumstance with the same honesty we have shown today," he answered, though he found himself hoping such a day would never come.
She nodded slowly, as though weighing his words with careful deliberation. "I cannot promise more than consideration at present, Mr. Darcy."
"I ask for nothing more," he assured her, recognizing the courage it had taken for her to share her deepest concerns with him. "Only time, and perhaps the opportunity to prove that not all marriages that begin from unusual circumstances must end in regret."
“We do not have a great deal of time,” she informed him. “My mother will not leave us in peace for long.”
“Then we must take advantage of the time we do have,” he said, cursing her mother in his mind. Elizabeth was so skittish that one wrong push, even a well-meaning one, might cause her to dig in her heels and refuse him on principle.
He could not allow that to happen. Before he could say anything more, however, the sound of the front door opening echoed from the hallway, followed by Mrs. Abernathy's cheerful voice greeting the butler. Elizabeth straightened slightly, composing her features as footsteps approached the library.
"Mr. Darcy! What a pleasure," Mrs. Abernathy exclaimed as she entered the room. "I trust Lizzy has been keeping you entertained in our absence?"
