Mr. Darcy's Proposal (34 page)

Her heart sank. If Lydia was leaving at the end of the week, then it was already too late for her to do anything to stop it. Even if she sent a letter by express it would never reach Meryton in time. Elizabeth decided she had to at least try. The best outcome at this point would be for her mother to insist that Lydia return home as quickly as possible. She had been worried all summer about her mother’s unwillingness to curb her youngest sister’s behavior. Then something happened that made Elizabeth forget all about Lydia for a time.

Forty Five

Elizabeth closed her book in irritation and tried to restrain herself from throwing it across the room. She had finished but was still wide-awake. Lately, with all that weighed upon her mind, sleep had been proving elusive. Reading was the only thing that seemed to help. Now with no book to read, she had no hope of getting any rest at all.

She would simply have to brave the draughty hallways and go down to the library. Thinking it would only take a few minutes, she simply threw on her dressing gown and slippers and set out for the library. The moonlight was bright enough for her to easily navigate the now familiar hallways without a candle.

The library at Pemberley had proved to be all Elizabeth had expected and more. She often thought of how much her father would have loved to explore the volumes and sit in the big comfortable chairs to read. Sometimes it even seemed as if he was there with her in that room.

The fire in the library had only a small glow from the embers, and the room had grown quite cold. Summer was definitely over. Tying her dressing gown more tightly around herself, she scanned the shelves until she found the volume she was looking for. Unfortunately, it was on an upper shelf just beyond her reach. Pulling a footstool over to the wall of shelves, she stepped up and grasped the book. As she turned around to step down, she froze. Someone else was in the room. Bright light from the moon came through the tall windows creating just enough light for her to see most of the room, but the area by the door from the hall was too dark to reveal anything more than a shadow. Then Darcy stepped into the light.

“Elizabeth, what are you doing?” he asked, giving her what she thought was his disapproving look.

For a moment, she felt like a child caught stealing a sweet from the kitchen. “I finished my book and I am looking for another to read,” she said a little defiantly.

When he was silent, she began to wonder if she had done something to cause him displeasure but could not think what it might be.

“Is there some reason I should not be here?” she asked. Darcy continued to watch her but said nothing. “Have I done something wrong?” she said with irritation. “Do I need permission to take a book or move this stool across the room?”

Still without speaking, he walked over, put his hands on her waist, and lifted her gently down to the floor. “I find it strange your first reaction is to assume I am disapproving. I was actually worried you might fall and injure yourself,” he said calmly.

“Thank you for your concern,” she said, her voice still with an icy edge. “Good-night, sir. I will return to my room now if you have no objection.” Before she could take even a step, he took her arm and guided her to a chair.

“As a matter of fact, I would like to talk with you.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. Would you have a seat, please, while I stir the fire?” The last thing Elizabeth wanted to do at that moment was to have a little chat undoubtedly about something she would rather not discuss. She felt vulnerable and exposed. Her nightclothes were thin, almost transparent, and her hair was down. For a moment she seriously contemplated running but that seemed childish, so she decided to let him have his say. Then he would have to let her go.

He must be planning a long conversation, she thought uncomfortably, as she watched him add a log and poke the fire to stir up some glowing embers. Still without speaking, he brought her a woolen lap robe. As he tucked it in around her legs, he leaned in much too closely. Pushing herself away against the back of the chair, she felt light-headed and unable to breathe. Examining his face, she thought he looked as if he were deciding whether to kiss her or turn her over his knee.

Darcy walked back to the fireplace but continued watching her. His penetrating look made her uneasy. At first, she glared back at him, but that did no good, so she looked away. Darcy started to pace silently back and forth. She remembered he had done that at Longbourn on the day he proposed.

“If there is nothing you wish to say to me, I will return to my room,” she said starting to rise. Before she even knew what had happened, he had one hand on each arm of her chair blocking her retreat.

“Elizabeth, I do not know where to begin. I know you were unhappy when you first came here, but I thought things had improved. You seemed to enjoy riding, spending time with Georgiana, and going to visit the family at Matlock, but something happened recently. You have become distant and withdrawn again. Have I done something to make you feel this way?”

“No, I am just having difficulty finding my place here,” she responded, trying to sound as if it was only a small matter.

“What does that mean exactly?”

“Oh, there is just so much to learn, so many responsibilities,” she said with a wave of her hand.

“Have any of the staff made you feel unwelcome or failed to do their job? I have instructed everyone to follow your instructions implicitly.”

“No, not at all. Mrs. Reynolds has been immeasurably patient and helpful. She is lovely. All of the rest of the staff are quite efficient. Like everything else on the estate, your home is very well run, indeed.”

“It is
our
home,” he said sharply.

Her patience finally snapped. “You have said that I am in charge of the house, but I am not. There seem to be some unspoken rules here you have chosen not to share with me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Nearly everything in this house has been done the same way for years and years. Mrs. Reynolds has always managed Pemberley the way she believes your mother would have wished unless she has been specifically instructed otherwise by you.”

“Is Mrs. Reynolds not following your direction?”

“She will do whatever I ask. Sometimes she patiently explains why things have been done a certain way forever and ever, but she does her best to see that my wishes are carried out.” Elizabeth took a deep breath to try and calm her voice before she continued. “You are the one, in fact, who has been averse to changing anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Several months ago—before Jane and Mr. Bingley’s visit—I spent an entire day cleaning and rearranging the furniture in the large drawing room. The next day, you had the servants move everything back the way it was without even speaking to me first. That is not the only time this has happened.”

He frowned. “I am sorry. I had quite forgotten. I did not think it was important.”

“Not important? The arrangement of the room is not important, but contradicting my directions to the staff—that
is
important. You did tell me to change whatever I wished. You did not say I must obtain your permission first. Although in view of what happened, I will handle things differently in the future.”

“So that was why you made the comment a few minutes ago about moving the stool here in the library.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“That was months ago, but this is the first time you have mentioned it to me. You are usually much more outspoken in your opinions.” When she did not respond, he added, “Your ability to think for yourself and speak your mind is something I love about you. I remember at Rosings, you once said, ‘my courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me,’ but the woman who used to be afraid of nothing—where has she been recently?”

She hesitated and took a deep breath. “Very well, I will tell you what has been on my mind if you really wish to know. First, it was the furniture; then you denied me the pleasure of walking alone. I never imagined you could be so controlling and unreasonable. You may be accustomed to giving orders to everyone around you, but I have serious objections to your doing that to me!” She flashed her eyes angrily.

“Elizabeth, I…” he began.

“None of this has been easy for me, but I have tried to make the best of it. My walks were one of my only consolations and after…” her voice trailed off as she felt her throat tighten. “I am sorry. I never should have brought it up.” Her voice had become a whisper.

“I had good reasons for not wanting you to go off alone.” She raised an eyebrow. “Over the summer there have been several incidents of poaching on the grounds, and I am concerned for your safety. That day you were out so long I was frantic. What if you had stumbled on the culprits while you were walking alone? It could have been very dangerous.”

“Why did you not tell me?” she asked.

“I did not want to alarm you.”

“I think I would rather have known the truth than to think…well, I thought…” she stammered, not knowing what to say that would not make matters worse than they already were.

“I do not think these are your only concerns. What else has been on your mind?” When she was silent, he asked again, “Well, is there something else?”

“Yes,” she said finally, “but I hardly know how to speak of it. Perhaps it would be better discussed another time.”

“No, we have left too many things unsaid. I want to know what is disturbing you.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Very well. When I first came to Pemberley, we disagreed about whether or not Margaret could stay on as my maid. You said you thought I should have someone more experienced, more befitting my position.”

“Yes, but you were convinced she was the right person, so I let it drop. That cannot still be bothering you.”

“Was that the only reason you did not want Margaret to be my maid?”

“What do you mean?” He wrinkled his brow and shrugged.

“Margaret had a sister who worked here some years ago. Her name was Daisy.”

“Why is that relevant?” he asked.

“Daisy got into…well, ah…some difficulties while she was working at Pemberley. Your father made a settlement of fifty pounds so that one of the gardeners on your uncle’s estate would marry her.”

At first, he looked completely confused, and then his face darkened. “So you think because my father helped her that I must have had something to do with it? Oh, God! You think I took advantage of her?” Elizabeth said nothing, but she blushed deeply and looked away. “Is that what you think of me? That I would take advantage of a young girl who worked in this house?” His voice rose sharply.

Darcy put his hand on the mantle to steady himself. “I thought you knew me better than this. I never had anything to do with that girl. I do not even remember her.”

“I did not know what to think. I overheard some talk about it, and knowing you did not want Margaret here…well, it all seemed to fall into place,” she responded.

“Why not just come to me and ask?”

“I did not know how,” she said, looking away still unable to meet his eyes.

“Did it not occur to you that if something like that were true, I could simply have instructed Mrs. Reynolds not to hire anyone from her family? In fact, you should ask Mrs. Reynolds about this. She of all people probably knows the particulars of what happened.”

“How could I? It is not something that one discusses with the housekeeper,” she said sharply. All the while she was secretly rejoicing that what she had feared was not true after all.

“So you are convinced it was my doing?” He gave a short laugh and shook his head in dismay. Then he pinned her with a piercing look. “Did you ever consider it might have been George Wickham? Or do you still think better of him than of me?”

Darcy’s words shocked her. How could he possibly think she harbored even the slightest preference for Wickham? The sense of relief she had been feeling only a few moments ago slipped away like sand through her fingers.

“After everything I have done for you and your family to save you from descending to a life of relative poverty, you still have such a low opinion of me. I have been dealing with your mother’s almost weekly complaints that I do not give her enough money and her complete lack of propriety in keeping your sisters in check—all of this plus the censure of parts of my family I have borne with no complaint because of the promises I made you.”

Elizabeth stiffened. Her embarrassment grew into anger as soon as he mentioned her family. Before she could check herself, words flew out. “You sound as if you think I owe you something—as if I should repay you for what you have done.”

“You know that is not what I meant,” he said. He was red to the tips of his ears.

Elizabeth rose from her chair burning with anger born of the frustration she had been feeling over the past few months. Something snapped inside her. “What else could you mean? Very well, I know my duty as your wife. Shall we go up to my room now so you can collect on the debt I seem to have incurred?” She gestured toward the door.

Darcy looked stunned as if she had just struck him. Immediately, she wished she could call back the words that now hung in the air between them. “Your duty? Is that what you think I want from you? What kind of a man do you take me for? Do you think I would force myself on you?” he asked.