Page 67 of Fortuitous Encounters

She had just made a fair start on a mediocre novel when Mr Darcy entered and gave her a courteous bow. He left the door open and poked his head out to speak to someone then came to sit across from her.

“Good morning. I asked the footman to remain for the sake of propriety, but he cannot hear us.”

“I thank you for your thoughtfulness,” she replied and meant it. Most men would not think of her reputation at all, especially since theirs were impervious to all gossip, but Mr Darcy was not most men.

“I hoped for a chance to speak to you before your return,” he added earnestly.

“I am happy it worked out,” she smiled. “You must know you are always welcome.”

He fidgeted slightly, so she waited patiently. Experience suggested he liked to think things through rather than blurting out the first thought that came into his head, and she rather enjoyed the habit. It was not her own style, since thinking about what you wanted to say at Longbourn was a good way to miss the conversation entirely, but it was one she could admire.

He finally said, “Yesterday after Miss Flora left, you gave me quite a flaming character.”

“I asserted you are a good man, and then simply listed a few of the things I have observed as evidence. It was hardly excessive.”

“Will you allow me the same privilege.”

“Of course! Goose and gander and so forth.”

“I know you are a good woman! You are conscientious, you care deeply for your sisters and your family, though by your own testimony, it may be harder some days than others. Like me, you are kind and respectful to servants and children. It is obvious Mrs Redgrave and Flora chose you for a reason. You are kind to strangers, and willing to go to a great deal of trouble to help them join your society—even men who are ordinarily taciturn enough to cause offence. You claim I can be quite funny, which is not something most would say, but you are in fact even funnier when you want to be—and you want to be most of the time. You are thoughtful and generous. You are perfectly willing to walk three miles through muddy fields and suffer the censure of the house to take care of your sister. Need I go on?”

She was blushing by that point. “I suppose I am amply repaid for embarrassing you yesterday.”

They both chuckled, for though it was slightly embarrassing, it was also endearing.

He took a deep breath. “Given that, I should like your permission to court you.”

She startled just a bit. It was not entirely unexpected, but neither was it exactly anticipated. She thought only a few seconds before answering.

“I wish to say ‘yes’ at once, but for our own peace of mind, I should like to ensure we are clear on a few things.”

“Go on,” he said with a slight smile.

His experience in life had suggested almost any woman would say yes to a man of his stature, but two things kept his hubris in check.

The first was that he had chosen the only woman he knew who would not accept him for his status alone. She had told him she and her sister would marry for affection or not at all and he believed her. He was, of course, not naïve enough to believe she was the only woman in England with such scruples, but they were thin on the ground and hard to identify in the circles he frequented, particularly since he was as ignorant as most men of his age.

The other obvious factor was that she did not know what his stature was. She could speculate, but that was not the same as knowing, and she would probably guess his consequence was slightly superior to Bingley’s.

She took a deep breath. “If we are to court properly, we must ensure we both know what we are about. Even the amount of attention Mr Bingley pays to Jane can make life difficult if it does not come to fruition, especially with a mother like mine. Common sense suggests one should clear all obstacles in advance.”

“You need to know my situation.”

“And you need to know mine. You have had some small exposure to my family, but not enough to truly appreciate it.”

He sighed, but she put her hand on his arm and continued.

“Before you enlighten me, allow me to clarify. If you were a steward or tradesman who makes a few hundred a year, I would be happy to accept you. If you were a viscount, I would be nervous. Your situation will not change my answer; but I need to know what I am getting myself into, and both of our shared expectations.”

“So, if the expectation is that you might have to work harder than you have before, or suffer a few depravations; you would not mind?”

“I would not. I am as capable of making a good home on a reasonable income as anyone, and let us be honest, the vast majority live on far less.”

He smiled, and she felt like the first big hurdle had been overcome. “I am not a viscount. I am, for the most part, a gentleman farmer like your father, but on a… larger scale.”

“How much larger?”

“Ten thousand a year is the commonly reported figure. It is higher than that, but not enough to change the situation. Our home, should things work out, is in the same league as Chatsworth, with a park ten miles around.”