Page 49 of A Most Favourable Match

“Elizabeth…” Darcy heard himself murmur aloud, drawing a curious glance from the footman who retrieved his coat, and clenching his jaw to prevent any further speech escaping from his lips.

While he was able to stop his speech, Darcy could not still his racing thoughts or the unsteadiness of his heartbeat. His feelings were both unusually intense and ambivalent, swinging between different points of view in a most disorienting fashion. It felt unreal to think that he had very nearly proposed marriage to Elizabeth Bennet tonight. Or had he actually done so?

I ought to offer you my hand…

Darcy had certainly implied that he wished to make such an offer, and Elizabeth had rejected him out of hand. Her reception of his almost-proposal was nearly as incredible as the fact that he had revealed his feelings to her at all.

What on earth had come over him to even make such an offer? The Bennet sisters were without fortune, title, or desirable connections. Elizabeth’s personal charms should not have been able to overcome such disadvantages as these. She was outspoken, lacking in deference, and independent to a fault. Yet Darcy was drawn so strongly to her that he seemed to have no power to resist.

Surely he ought to thank his lucky stars that she had not accepted him, even while he smarted under her rejection and felt indignant at her accusation. Yet he very much feared that pain and indignation played a far greater role in his feelings towards the night’s events than did any thought of gratitude. Did Elizabeth really believe the things she said, thinking Darcy motivated solely by worldly concerns?

…what other motivation could there be but disdain for my sister’s lack of fortune and rank and prejudice against it?

Money, rank, and title were important, certainly, but Darcy was hardly so much of a fool as to think they were everything. Could Elizabeth truly think he was? Darcy gave a disgruntled snort at the very idea as he walked through the reception hallway where late-coming guests were still arriving.

The second Miss Bennet was a most impossibleyoung woman, her attitude wrong-headed and stubborn, and her quick wit deceived by her affections. Her feelings for her elder sister did her credit, regardless of her unfortunate way of expressing them. Her feelings for George Wickham, however…

Were you trying to save Mr Wickham from great unhappiness when you ruined his life too?

Darcy ground his teeth angrily as he recalled her concern for the scoundrel who had blighted or ruined so many lives, almost including Georgiana’s. This was the part of Elizabeth’s misunderstanding that rankled the most. The thought of her holding affection for Wickham put Darcy into such a heat of rage that if the man himself had appeared, they might almost have come to blows.

Darcy’s rational mind soon soothed his blood on that count. No, there could be no real personal attachment between Miss Elizabeth Bennet and George Wickham. She lacked the fortune he aspired to, and possessed a strength of personality, intellect, and moral principle that set her beyond Wickham’s other manipulations. Elizabeth must be subject only to the same general hoodwinking as her friends and neighbours around Meryton.

The rogue was likely up to his usual tricks. He had doubtless spun his tales of deceit to half of Hertfordshire since joining the militia. Wickham’s guileless face and easy manner took in most people at first, as they had taken in Darcy’s father. People of sense usually became wise to him in time, however, and the citizens of Meryton and its surroundings would be undeceivedeventually.

Recalling the story of Miss King being carried off to Liverpool by her relatives, Darcy reflected that Wickham’s position as a favourite of Hertfordshire families was likely fading. In any case, it was not Darcy’s business. He had protected his own family and offered what restitution he could to those injured by George Wickham around Pemberley. Beyond this, he could not be Wickham’s keeper.

Nonetheless, it wounded Darcy to think of Elizabeth Bennet believing the blackguard Wickham’s word over his own. He knew he must accept her rejection of his suit and already blamed himself more for exposing himself than her for declining him. Declining? It was hardly the right word. Elizabeth had comprehensively rebuffed and spurned him without a hint of regret, encouragement, or hope.

You must be the last man on earth I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.

Under such circumstances as these, Darcy told himself sternly, he could only hope to accept Elizabeth’s decision with grace and dignity. He would not seek her hand again, given her evident resentment against him and his inability to explain his opposition to her sister’s marriage to Lord Grantchester.

Elizabeth’s misunderstanding around George Wickham, however, he might honourably correct. He felt bound to do so, the more he considered it. Even if he could not win her regard, Darcy wished for her to think of him fairly, if she thought of him at all.

Yes, Darcy must write a letter explaining as much as he could. He had done what he could with Lord Grantchester in regard to his marriage to Jane Bennet. Now, he would do what he could to correct Elizabeth Bennet. It must be a thoughtful and considered letter too, not something impulsively dashed off tonight that they might both later regret…

After that, in both cases, he could only trust to fate, time, and someone else’s natural sense of justice. There should be an end of some sort to these two interconnected issues that plagued and tormented him.

“Darcy House,” Darcy told his driver tersely as he climbed into his carriage and slammed the door closed behind him.

Chapter 17

“Will we be seeing Lord Grantchester today, Jane?” Mrs Gardiner asked her eldest niece conversationally as Jane finished reading the letter that had arrived at Gracechurch Street for her that morning.

Mr Gardiner had already left the house to deal with his day’s business, and the ladies were finishing a leisurely breakfast after their late night at the Suttonfield ball. Much of the evening now felt like a series of bad dreams to Elizabeth, especially Mr Darcy’s forceful persuasion of Lord Grantchester against Jane, and his inexplicable semi-proposal of marriage.

How strange, how ridiculous, and yet how sincere he had been in stating his wishes! In the carriage home, Elizabeth had simultaneously wished to laugh, cry, and shout at the sheer absurdity and awkward tension that had marked the occasion.

It had been as absurd as Mr Collins’ equally bewildering proposal in the boot room at Longbourn, although in that case the man himself had been as ridiculous as the offer. Mr Darcy was not ridiculous. He was…something else entirely. Elizabeth could not understand Fitzwilliam Darcy at all, but she was certain that everything was his fault.

Even the next morning, Elizabeth still felt the occasional urge to laugh wildly each time she thought of Mr Darcy talking so fantastically of marriage. What had possessed him to even consider such an offer? They could barely manage a civil exchange of views. Imagine if she had said yes, and they had to face each other across the breakfast table every day for the rest of their lives…

She pictured Mr Darcy’s handsome face staring at her, his midnight-blue eyes cross and bewildered by Elizabeth’s presence in his house. While she had to disguise a giggle as a yawn, considering the scenario oddly did not feel merely comic. No sooner had Elizabeth thought of it than she felt distracted and breathless, at once restless and strangely yearning.

Thatwould not do at all. With great effort, she focused her attention on her sister.

“No, I don’t believe we will be seeing him,” Jane answered her aunt in even tones, folding the paper carefully back into its envelope shape and laying it on the breakfast table beside her teacup without further explanation. “Shall we take the children to the park after their lessons this afternoon, Aunt?”