Mr Darcy's Proposal

by Martine Jane Roberts

Elizabeth turned to glare back at Darcy, expecting to find a triumphant sneer on his face, but instead, he looked…defeated?

  At that moment, there was no forgiveness in Elizabeth’s heart. If Darcy expected her to shy away from expressing her views when they were alone together, he was mistaken. She would not cower before him.

  Straightening her back, and lifting her chin, Elizabeth replied,

  “And are those the actions of a gentleman, sir? You came to my aid today to protect me from the unwanted attention of Mr Wickham, but your behaviour far outstrips his.”

  Darcy returned to stand before her, and as he stood towering over her, Elizabeth feared he was about to violate her mouth again.

  Instead, he said,

  “You dare to compare me with that blaggard? You could not have insulted more if you had slapped me, Elizabeth.” Darcy said, with hostility, “I am nothing like George Wickham. If I were, do you think I would have been satisfied with a single kiss?” Slamming the door behind him, Darcy quit the room.

  Standing alone, Elizabeth felt engulfed by a feeling of misery. The minor irritation she had felt due to Mr Darcy consulting with her father rather than her, had seen their verbal exchange escalate to an unprecedented level, leaving her emotionally drained and tearful.

  To admit she had deliberately goaded the man who was to be husband into a quarrel, to soothe her ego and garner an apology from him, was easy now he was no longer standing before her.

  Brushing her fingertips over her bruised mouth, Elizabeth realised that her ego, and lips were in a sorry state.

  Stumbling back onto the pianoforte stool, she felt the first sting of tears as her eyes welled up with the salty fluid. Reflecting on what had just happened, Elizabeth regretted her actions, her quick temper, and her accusations. Her penance was that she must be the one to repair their rift.

  Determined to act swiftly and resolved to be humble, Elizabeth decided that as soon as Mr Darcy arrived the next morning, she would go to him and apologise. Then, she would accept his rebuke with quiet humility

  Chapter Eleven

  The next day, if Mrs Bennet was surprised to see Elizabeth in the morning room before her, she did not show it. But to see Elizabeth looking out of the front window, craning her neck to peer along the driveway, was something of a novelty. Smiling to herself, it gladdened Mrs Bennet’s heart to see Lizzy anxiously anticipating the arrival of Mr Darcy.

  Having listened to Mr Bennet and Elizabeth mock Mr Darcy for the last few months, Mrs Bennet was under no illusion that this was a love match between her daughter and that gentleman. However, as the mother of five daughters, all needing husbands willing to accept a wife with a small dowry, she finally felt proud of her second eldest child. With such an advantageous match in the family, she was sure Mr Darcy could not refuse her request to introduce the other children to his wealthy friends. Especially as Mr Bingley had returned to town with no offer of marriage made to dear Jane. All these things had taken their toll on Mrs Bennet’s nerves, and now, the ugly terms of the Longbourn entail had become prominent in her mind again. She was convinced that with Mr Bennet barely cold in his grave, Mr Collins would waste no time in turning them out onto the streets. Having no husband to protect or provide for them, and no money to purchase a home or survive on, they would have to rely on the charity of family and friends to take them in.

  Still, that had all changed now that Lizzy had managed to catch herself a rich and well-connected husband, even richer than Mr Bingley. Now, when the sad event of Mr Bennet’s death occurred, they would all enjoy a safe and secure future.

  “If I am not mistaken, Lizzy, Mr Darcy is a little late this morning. Nine-thirty already and no sign of him. Perhaps he has overslept. Do you think a man like Mr Darcy would oversleep, Lizzy?” Mrs Bennet asked.

  “No, Mamma, Mr Darcy has a manservant to ensure he does not oversleep,” Elizabeth said absently, still craning her neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of Odin carrying Mr Darcy back to her side.

  Mrs Bennet sniffed and plumped up the cushion next to her.

  “Well, I am sure I don’t know what could be keeping him then?”

  Then, a thought entered her mind.

  “Did you argue with him, Lizzy, tell me you did not you argue with, Mr Darcy?”

  Elizabeth looked away from the window and directly at her Mamma, but there were no words needed, Elizabeth’s expression confirmed Mrs Bennet’s worse fears.

  “Oh, no, oh, my goodness. You quarrelled with Mr Darcy,” Mrs Bennet wailed as she rocked to and fro. “He has broken the engagement, and now we are all ruined.”

  Going to the sideboard, Mrs Bennet pulled a sheet of paper and a quill from the drawer and called to Elizabeth.

  “Lizzy, you must write Mr Darcy a note this instance, expressing how very sorry you are for being such a shrew.”

  Elizabeth finally gave her Mamma her full attention. As she listened to her mother prattling on, giving her instructions on what to write, Elizabeth found her voice.

  “I am not going to write Mr Darcy a letter, Mamma. We had a minor disagreement that will be resolved the minute he arrives. Besides, even though we were both at fault, I will make my apologies to him in person, when he arrives.”

  “You mean if he arrives. Oh, no, it’s going to be another Mr Collins, I know it. A man willing to secure the families future and you have driven him away with that sharp tongue of yours!” Exclaimed Mrs Bennet sharply.

  “I have not driven Mr Darcy away, Mamma. There could be several reasons why he has not called this morning. He may be ill or injured or even called away on business.”

  “Even more reason for you to write to him.”

  “No, Mamma, I am not going to write to Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said, exasperated with the constant badgering.

  “You are a heartless girl, Lizzy.” Mrs Bennet declared.

  Seeing Elizabeth was unmoved to do her bidding, Mrs Bennet tried another approach.

  “Very well, we’ll see what Mr Bennet has to say about all this.” Mrs Bennet stomping out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

  Elizabeth sighed, and that was the example Lydia followed.

  Deciding Mr Darcy must still be annoyed or disappointed with her, Elizabeth knew there was nothing she could do until he either returned to Longbourn, or he invited her to Netherfield.

  So, intent on not wasting her day, she went looking for Jane.

  In the hallway leading to the small back parlour, one of Jane’s favourite rooms, Elizabeth bumped into Mrs Hill, literally.

  “Oh, I do beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth,” said Hill.

  Elizabeth bent down and helped the older woman pick up the pile of clothes she had dropped.

  Laying them on her outstretched arms, Elizabeth asked,

  “Where is Becky, Mrs Hill? Doing the laundry is her job, not yours.”

  “It’s Becky’s half day, Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Then leave them until tomorrow, Mrs Hill. No-one will mind.”

  “I would, Miss, but Miss Lydia said these must be washed and dried as soon as possible.”

  “Really? Lydia could not possibly have worn all these since the last laundry day.” Elizabeth said as she examined a few of the gowns.

  “Don’t wash them yet, Hill, hang them in the drying room, and I will speak to Lydia.”

  Picking up the final item, a thick, double lined linen dress of dark blue. Elizabeth failed to notice that it was Lydia’s travelling dress.

  Jane was pleased to see Elizabeth. She needed someone to bring her out of her reverie. It had been almost two weeks since Mr Bingley had quit Netherfield and returned to the city. Two weeks since she had spoken to him, laughed with him, danced with him.

  “Jane,” Elizabeth said, then seeing her sister’s melancholy expression, asked,

  “Are you thinking of Mr Bingley?”

  Jane nodded.

  “I was so sure Mr Bingley preferred me to any other lady, Lizzy. Do you think I did something to displease him, t
o drive him away?”

  Elizabeth hoped that in due course, that she might be able to convince Mr Darcy to ask Charles Bingley to re-join him at Netherfield. The abundance and variety of fowl this season were a perfect excuse to entice him back to the Shire. Hopefully, once Mr Bingley had seen Jane, he might renew his courtship of her.

  In a positive tone, Elizabeth said,

  “I have not given up on Mr Bingley yet, Jane, and neither must you. Remember, I am engaged to his most particular friend in all the world.”

  Jane smiled. It was true. If anyone could convince Mr Bingley to return to Netherfield, it was Mr Darcy.

  Before another word was spoken, Lydia stormed in, legs astride and arms firmly resting on her plump, adolescent hips.

  “Lizzy, did you tell Hill not to wash my dresses?” before Elizabeth could reply, Lydia continued, “I know you did, I just spoke to her.”

  Lydia’s outbursts were becoming quite a regular occurrence, and Elizabeth reminded herself that hopefully, it was because her sister was between being a child and an adult. A difficult period for every young woman.

  Remaining calm, Elizabeth took a deep breath, and said,

  “Mrs Hill does not do the laundry, Lydia, Becky does, and…”

  “Then let Becky do it,” Lydia shouted.

  “It is Becky’s half day, and she has gone to visit her family. You may ask Becky to wash them tomorrow. But Lydia, there were several dresses there that I am sure you have not worn. Perhaps you could go through them again and select just the ones that are actually soiled?”

  “I need them all washed.”

  “Lydia, Mrs Hill is our housekeeper, not our laundry maid. You will not belittle her by asking her to wash your clothes, especially when they don’t need washing. You must wait until Becky resumes her duties tomorrow.

  “But Hill said she would do them!” Lydia exclaimed persistently.

  Fed up with Lydia’s tantrum, Elizabeth would broach no further argument from her, merely saying,

  “No, Lydia.”

  “So, I have to wait another day.”

  “It would appear so. Unless you are prepared to wash your clothes yourself?” Elizabeth added.

  Lydia gave a derisory stomp of her foot, before turning and flouncing out of the room.

  Elizabeth looked at Jane and rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t ask,” she said.

  Having pushed Odin to go ever fast, Darcy arrived back at Netherfield Park splattered with mud. Leaving instructions with the stable boy to give him a good rub down, he made his way inside and called for Fletcher to have a bath made ready. While he waited, Darcy paced to and fro in his room, oblivious of the dried mud falling from his clothes and Hussar boots and onto Mr Bingley’s expensive carpet.

  He had long since learnt to control his anger, disgust and resentment towards Wickham, but thinking back on his own behaviour this afternoon, Darcy was angry and disappointed with himself. Not only because he had made an exhibition of himself, but he had involved Elizabeth in it too.

  A man comfortable in his own skin, Darcy considered himself an educated man, a likeable man, a superior man. He saw no defects in his character, his behaviour, or his manners.

  Yet since knowing Elizabeth Bennet, he had experienced a multitude of emotions he thought he had under good regulation. In the space of a few short months, he had lost his heart, lost his temper, and now, possibly his reputation too.

  When young Bingley had invited him to look over a property he was thinking of leasing; Darcy was oblivious to the fact that it would change his life irrevocably. Though he had not been actively looking for a wife, Darcy had for some months realised that he was tired of being a bachelor. The endless rounds of soirees, ball, and theatre outings had become boring and repetitive. He wanted to be settled, to be at ease in his own home, his beloved Pemberley. Every time he ventured out into society the inevitable questions arose; was the master of Pemberley out looking for a wife? Every eligible woman was thrown into his path, either by their mamma’s or, god forbid, by their father’s.

  They came in all shapes and sizes. Many were young, but others were not so young. Some were pretty but had no brains, while others were intelligent but plain to look at. Darcy wanted to marry a woman that was both handsome and smart. The kind of woman that was generous with both her time and her energy. A witty and vivacious woman, who would bear him healthy sons and daughters. But most of all, he wanted a woman to be his wife, his friend, his lover. Yet the continued trend in polite society of encouraging extra-marital affairs and flirtations, also meant Darcy knew he would not choose a woman from the Ton. Fidelity was as important to Darcy as honesty.

  Remembering his first encounter with Elizabeth brought a sudden smile to his face. Badgered into accompanying Bingley, his two sisters and brother-in-law Hurst to the Meryton Assembly Rooms, Darcy had been surprised to see most the revellers were genteel folk. For some unfathomable reason, he had thought they would all be farmers, with their dairy milking wives, buxom daughters and muscle-bound sons in tow.

  As their party were paraded around the room and introduced to a few of the more prominent families, Darcy admired the bright eyes and radiant smile of one lady in particular. Miss Elizabeth Bennet. But when she caught him staring at her, he cursed and turned his gaze away.

  Bingley was soon dancing with, Jane, the eldest Bennet girl, who was indeed, the prettiest girl in the room, but Darcy only had eyes for Elizabeth Bennet.

  His eyes followed her as she danced with a tall, gangly armed youth. Next, she danced with a handsome young man who was in truth a little too tall to partner anyone. Then the next dance she had no partner, and so sat on the sidelines with a rather plain looking girl.

  With only one more set before the refreshments were served, Bingley, who had apparently seen Darcy watching Miss Elizabeth, took a break from the frivolities and tried to coax him onto the dance floor. But Darcy could not be persuaded. With all his pride and prestige, he suddenly felt something he had not experienced since he was a lad when chasing the daughter of Pemberley’s gamekeeper… fear of rejection.

  Saying the first thing that came into his head, Darcy recalled with perfect clarity what he had said to Bingley. She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me. And then, as if that was not harsh enough, he had continued, I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.

  Even now, standing alone in his chamber, he blushed at the harshness of his cruel and unkind words.

  Nevertheless, he had today, once more unleashed his disdain and anger, only this time it was aimed directly at the woman he loved.

  Yes, he had been justified in protecting her from the advances of Wickham, but to then behave in such a disgraceful manner was, in his eyes, utterly reprehensible. Could Elizabeth forgive him, would she forgive him? There was only one way to find out.

  As soon as the lark rose, he would ride to Longbourn and beseech Elizabeth to forgive him.

  Mrs Bennet stood before her husband, wringing her handkerchief between her hands and intermittently dabbing at invisible tears.

  “But husband,” she wailed, “if Elizabeth does not apologise, and encourage Mr Darcy to continue with his affections, we may lose him as a son-in-law, and then where will we be if you expire? Will you not speak to Lizzy and instruct her to do my bidding?”

  Mr Bennet wanted nothing more than a quiet life, to read his books, to savour an excellent port and to enjoy the odd joke, usually at the expense of his wife. However, on this occasion, he felt comfortable in his languidity, and said,

  “I have no plans to expire at present, Mrs Bennet. Darcy is the kind of man that will always be constant in his regard for our daughter. And believe me when I say, I will welcome his return to Longbourn if only to restore my peace and quiet. Now, hurry along, Mother.”

  “We have no funds reserved to serve us after your demise, husband. How will I manage when you are gone, tell me that?”

  Mr Benne
t doubted there was little, Mr Darcy would not forgive, Elizabeth; a testament to the strength of his affection for her.

  “Mr Darcy has made his intentions quite clear, Mrs Bennet. He has signed the marriage contract, and I for one, do not think him a dishonourable man. This is just some silly lovers spat. He will soon be back at Lizzy’s side, mark my words.”

  Finding no solace in Mr Bennet’s words, and Elizabeth as defiant as ever, Mrs Bennet took to her bed, where her nerves were soothed by a visit from her sister, Mrs Phillips, with all the gossip from Meryton.

  Chapter Twelve

  After the absence of Mr Darcy yesterday, Elizabeth wasn’t sure he would come today. But, in the hope that he would, she took special care over her appearance. Having chosen a dress with small yellow roses on it, one which he had once admired, Elizabeth waited impatiently while Cissy weaved a matching ribbon through her hair.

  Giving her reflection a final nod of approval, she made her way downstairs.

  Entering the breakfast room, Elizabeth expected to meet only her father, who was also an early riser. Instead, she was greeted by the sullen face of Lydia.

  Ignoring her scowl, Elizabeth said,

  “Good morning, Lydia. We don’t usually see you up this early, did you not sleep well?”

  “Not particularly, and my head is all fuzzy because I am tired” Lydia replied.

  “I am sorry to hear that. Perhaps a brisk walk will make you feel better.”

  Lydia, due to her youth, did not try to hide the look of loathing she shot her sister. Instead, with eyes burning with resentment, she said,

  “That’s not funny Lizzy. You know Papa said I am not to leave the house unless you or Jane accompany me.”

  Remaining calm, Elizabeth said,

  “Yes, I remember. That is why I am offering for you to accompany Mr Darcy and me this morning.”

  “Me…and Mr Darcy,” she scoffed, “I wouldn’t…” then she paused and thought for a moment.

  Elizabeth watched Lydia process her offer, her eyes flicking from side to side as she appeared to mull it over.