Mr. Darcy's Proposal (35 page)

“I am your wife, and you have every right to…” her voice trailed off unsure what to say.

“I know what I could have demanded as your husband, but I have waited for you out of love.”

Darcy was angrier than she had ever seen him. Then the anger in his eyes turned to sadness. As she waited for him to speak, she noticed that the top of his shirt was undone giving her a clear view to the base of his neck—a mysterious place that was always covered by his shirt and neck cloth. Unconsciously, she put her hand to her own throat and imagined touching him there. The thought made her warm.

Finally, he broke the silence, bringing her abruptly back into the room from her thoughts. “So this is why you have been so cold to me of late.” He closed his eyes for a moment as if he could not take it all in. “Do you have any idea at all how difficult this has been for me? The torture I endure each day having you so close to me and yet not be able to show you how I feel? But I have learned over the last year that only that which is given freely is worth the having. Recently, I had been deluded into thinking you had begun to care for me. I can see now how very foolish I was.” He turned his back and leaned on the mantle for support.

Elizabeth did not know what to say. She could feel the tears of shame and embarrassment starting to rise up and fill her eyes. Her regret at having hurt him was overwhelming. Not only had she injured him tonight—this was just the latest blow—but since their marriage, she could see how much she had hurt him with her indifference. It was true that her feelings for him had begun to grow recently, but there had been so many misunderstandings between them. She felt the need to go to him and put her arms around him, but her feet were rooted to the floor. Her whole body felt as if all the life and energy had been drained from it, and she was not sure her legs would support her if she tried to walk.

The silence in the room was so heavy that the tick of the clock on the mantle sounded like thunder. Then the moment passed and embarrassment returned. The urge to be out of his sight while she still held some semblance of control over her emotions gave her the strength to stay on her feet. “I will excuse myself now if you have no objection,” she said quietly.

He did not look up but continued to stare at the fire looking tired and utterly defeated.

“Good-night, William,” she said and then she added almost in a whisper, “I am so very sorry for what I said.”

Just as she started to leave the room, he called to her, “Elizabeth?”

Turning around to face him, her heart raced in hopes he was calling her back to say that he had forgiven her unkind words. Elizabeth wished he would reach out to her, take her in his arms, and assure her that all would be well.

“You have forgotten your book,” he said flatly. For a moment, they held the book between them. He did not let go, and she did not try to pull it away. Finally, he released his grip.

“Good-night,” he said softly, turning back to stare at the fire. And with that, she retreated and left him there alone. Once in the hallway, she burst into tears and then set off at a run for her room clutching the book to her heart.

Forty Six

How could such outrageous and hurtful words have come from me? What was I thinking? In truth, she had to acknowledge that she had not been thinking at all. The look of pain on his face when she suggested how he might collect the debt she owed was something she could not erase from her mind. Each time she thought of it, she cringed at her own behavior.

Sitting on the window seat in her room, she looked up at the stars in the night sky. These were the same ones she had always seen from Longbourn, but they seemed so different here. Light from the nearly full moon cast shadows across the lawn and the front drive. Pemberley and its grounds were exquisitely beautiful—in many ways more beautiful to her than any place she had ever been. She had come to love it, to feel as if she belonged here.

How could I have let my temper get the best of me? She fumed at her own despicable behavior. At the same time, she rejoiced at learning that what she had feared about his past was not true. How could she have said such terrible things when she actually was relieved?

“What have I done?” she whispered. Examining what had passed between them, Elizabeth acknowledged that Darcy was right about many things especially the behavior of her mother. Mrs. Bennet had always been a source of embarrassment to Elizabeth from the time she was a child and old enough to recognize the critical looks that other people gave behind her mother’s back. Still, it was not pleasant to have someone else point out the faults in your family no matter what you might think of them yourself.

Then she thought back to the time of their first acquaintance. At the assembly in Meryton after overhearing his unkind remarks, she had been unusually wounded. Normally, she would not have cared what such a selfish snob thought of her. Why had his words carried such a sting? Could she have been attracted to him then? Elizabeth began to wonder just how much the experience at the assembly had colored her judgment. When Wickham told her his story, was she perhaps a bit too eager to believe the worst of the man who had insulted her?

Then there was the strange physical attraction Elizabeth was discovering she had for Darcy. It made no sense to her at all. Looking back, she recalled all the times she had been unsettled by those feelings. She had first been aware of it that evening at Hunsford when he reached out to give her his handkerchief. When their fingers had touched accidentally, it had sent an exciting thrill through her body. She was certain he had felt it, too.

She thought about the day he proposed at Longbourn when he had inadvertently put his hand on her leg as he sat beside her. The heat from his touch had found its way up to her face, making her a little light-headed. At the time, she had tried to attribute it to exhaustion and worry for her father, but she wondered now if it had been a sign of something else.

Many times early in their marriage, he had kissed her and though she had kissed him back more out of duty than anything else, he had stirred something deep inside her. At the river, she had been almost disappointed when he kissed her so passionately and then suddenly stepped away. It had felt like rejection. If he loved her, why did he not come to her bed? Was he already sorry he had married her?

Over and over she had denied what these feelings might mean. Could it be possible that when they first met she had looked for reasons to dislike him because she feared falling in love with him, a man she thought she could never have? Had she simply been trying to protect her heart from the pain of rejection?

Tonight in the library when he had lifted her down from the stool, the sensation of his hands through her thin summer dressing gown had both thrilled and embarrassed her. She could not deny that his touch was enough to discompose her. The thought crossed her mind that she might have picked the fight because she was afraid to let him get too close. It had never occurred to her until now that wanting to keep him at arm’s length could be a sign of her growing attraction to him.

Elizabeth had grown up having to rely mainly on herself and her own judgment. Her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner had often been a source of advice and information, but as they lived in London, they were not always accessible to consult. Her mother had favored her other children over Elizabeth, and while her father had loved her, she realized now that he was not the kind of strong figure she had needed in her life. True, they had shared the same wicked sense of humor and wit and an amusement at the follies of the world, but he had not offered the kind of constancy she had needed as a child growing up. As much as she loved her father, she saw both his strengths and his shortcomings with equal clarity now.

Darcy had done so much to win her trust and perhaps that was why his suspected betrayal had cut her so deeply. She had just begun to trust and rely on him. Now when she thought the bond that had been developing between them might be broken, she felt alone and adrift with only herself to rely on again. She recalled each interaction between them—at Netherfield, at Longbourn, at Rosings—and she could see the pattern developing. Although she had not cared for him in the beginning, she had never been totally indifferent.

Finally, she saw the truth. All along the strength of her adverse reaction to Darcy had been in direct proportion to the underlying attraction she felt for him. Her heart beat so loudly that it seemed to rattle her whole body. She clasped her shaking hands together over her chest as if this might prevent her heart from flying away.

How could I have been so blind? Why did I not realize this before? I love him! At first, her heart leapt with joy at the thought and then just as quickly, it crashed down again as she acknowledged the reality of what she had done. She had hurt him very deeply tonight with her cutting words. Would he be able to forgive her? Or, had she realized her love for him too late? How strange that it had taken thinking he might be lost to her to make her realize how much she cared.

Elizabeth steeled herself with the belief there must be a way to make amends, to bridge the gap she had opened between them. If he had loved her enough to marry her, knowing she did not return his affection, then surely that love must be strong enough to survive this incident.

Elizabeth stretched out her legs cramped from sitting cross-legged too long and rubbed her calves to bring more circulation and ease the tightness. Leaning back against the pillows in the window seat, she continued to watch the sky as the glow of dawn began to rise from behind the hills.

Just after sunrise, she saw Darcy heading out on Hector. Riding seemed to be his way of sorting out what was on his mind. She suspected today he would be gone quite a long time. Finally, completely exhausted, she fell into bed and slept.

***

Elizabeth awoke abruptly after only a few hours of rest. Still exhausted she tried to go back to sleep but when she saw it was no use, she rang for Margaret. Elizabeth asked for a tray so she could eat in her room rather than face going downstairs. Since she had seen Darcy leave to go riding, she was hoping that he was still out. She did not want to cross paths with him until she could form a plan as to how she should approach him to apologize. After eating only a few bites bread, she fell asleep again sitting on the window seat.

The next thing she knew, she heard a discreet knock at the door, and Margaret stepped into the room. “Colonel Fitzwilliam has arrived, mistress. He is in the family parlor with Miss Georgiana. Will you be coming down?” she asked. With all that had happened, Elizabeth had completely forgotten their cousin would be joining them today. Although she was not certain she was fit to meet with anyone, she knew she could not escape her duties as hostess. Margaret brought hot water to wash and sat her down at her dressing table. In the mirror, Elizabeth could see Margaret frown as she examined her tangled hair.

Looking at her own face, she could see the worries of the previous night clearly written there. She only hoped that their guest would not be astute enough to notice. Elizabeth knew she would not be that lucky with Georgiana, who seemed to be aware of everything lately. Margaret’s hands moved quickly working their magic with Elizabeth’s unruly curls. Before she had much time to think, she was ready.

When Elizabeth reached the parlor door, she heard voices inside and paused for a moment. From what she could hear, Darcy had returned from his ride and joined Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana. She listened as the colonel told a story and from time to time, there was the sound of laughter. As soon as she entered the room, Colonel Fitzwilliam came over and took her hand kissing it in his usual dramatic fashion.

“Mrs. Darcy, you look enchanting this morning. Let me say that marriage seems to agree with you—although I am not sure what you see in this fellow.”

Glancing at Darcy, she saw that he was watching her with one of his unreadable looks. “Some would say what does he see in me?” She continued to look at him without blinking. Darcy’s eyes slid away to examine his coffee cup.

“You are a very lucky fellow, Darcy, to have won this lady, but then I have always said you have everything—Pemberley, a large income, a beautiful sister, and now an amazing wife.”

“Yes, very fortunate indeed,” Darcy replied flatly.

She saw a flash of confusion cross their cousin’s face, but he recovered quickly and went on as if he had not noticed the chill in the air. Apparently, keeping up appearances in front of people would not be as easy as Elizabeth had hoped. Boldly, she walked over to Darcy, slipped her arm through his and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“No, cousin, I am the one who is lucky,” she said, searching Darcy’s face for some sign of hope. Although he did not pull away, she could feel the tension in his body.

“I have been looking forward to this visit ever since we were together at Matlock. I must warn you; I have been saving up my best stories to tell,” Fitzwilliam told her.

“I always enjoy your amusing tales,” she said, keeping her tone as light as possible. At this point, Darcy tried to move away from her, but she held on firmly to his arm.

“And I hope you will entertain us later with some music. Georgiana tells me that you two have been playing duets,” said her cousin.

“Oh, yes, Elizabeth, please,” chimed in Georgiana. “I am most anxious for Richard to hear how much my playing has improved.”

“I am not sure if I should agree to this,” said Elizabeth. “I fear when you hear us both together my poor playing will be exposed. Georgiana far outshines me at the pianoforte.”