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To Love Mr Darcy
Elizabeth flung open the door, and before the poor footman could lower the steps, she had jumped down onto the forest floor.
Having won his point, Darcy followed her from the carriage and then ordered the driver to return to Longbourn and wait for him there.
Elizabeth, who knew the road intimately, set a swift pace. Darcy increased his stride to keep up with her.
“Elizabeth, will you not wait and let me explain…” he began, but Elizabeth was in no mood to listen.
She turned and let loose with a scathing reply.
“I have not given you permission to use my given name, sir. You will address me as Miss Bennet. You dare to call yourself a gentleman. What I see standing before me is a bully and an oaf. And after that disgusting display of barbarism, I cannot imagine you have any excuse to offer.”
Elizabeth continued along the path.
This was a step too far for Darcy. Coming to terms with his offer of marriage was one thing, but insulting his integrity was quite another. Taking hold of her hand, he pulled her to a halt.
Elizabeth twisted her hand this way and that as she tried to break free, but his grip was too firm. She was only succeeding in making her wrist hurt. Reluctantly, and with a petulant stamp of her foot, Elizabeth stopped struggling and stood still.
“That’s better,” Darcy said while maintaining his grip.
“Firstly, I was not about to offer an excuse, I do not need, nor do I intend, to make excuses for my behaviour. It was unfortunate that you witnessed my lapse in self-control, but one day you will understand why Wickham’s actions received such a response. I was merely going to explain that the bad blood between George Wickham and myself is deep-seated and personal, and not the result of a jealous tantrum on my part. He is not the gentleman he professes to be, Elizabeth. Secondly, I was disappointed that the prospect of spending time with me this morning caused you to flee your home.”
With no acknowledgement from Elizabeth, Darcy spoke sharper than he intended. “Very well, if you prefer that we spend no time together until we meet before the Parson, so be it. However, I had hoped that we could use these weeks to get to know one another better.”
“So, you are still determined to marry me, even after this morning’s fiasco?” Elizabeth demanded.
“Nothing could induce me to break our engagement, Elizabeth, and I suggest you resign yourself to becoming my wife,” he told her soberly.
Elizabeth's shoulder slumped in resignation. Seeing this, Darcy gauging she was no longer a flight risk and released her hand. Testing his theory, he walked over to a fallen tree trunk and sat down. When she did not immediately follow him, Darcy beckoned for her to come hither and sit with him.
With leaden steps, she obliged.
Darcy could not bear to see how sad and dejected her demeanour had become. Was the prospect of becoming his wife really, so abhorrent to her?
“Elizabeth, I fear we have got off to a poor start. I thought, after our time together at Netherfield, that you held me in some regard and would welcome my proposal. I did not realise you despised me so vehemently,” Darcy said sadly.
“Then you release me?” Elizabeth asked hopefully.
“No,” he said resolutely. “We will be married as planned, but I would like us to try to become better acquainted before we marry. I would ask that you at least, give me a chance, Elizabeth.”
With Darcy being so honest with her in regard to his intentions, Elizabeth also spoke her mind.
“Forgive me, but I too must be candid. I do not despise you, Mr Darcy, but neither do I love you. When I nursed Jane at Netherfield, I thought we dealt very well together. I judged us as more than acquaintances, friends perhaps. And though you may believe that it is a childish fantasy, I had hoped to marry for love,” Elizabeth informed him bluntly.
“A marriage such as your parent’s perhaps?” Darcy retorted, then instantly regretted it.
“Their marriage is of a peculiar kind, I admit, but it has been a long and happy one,” Elizabeth said in defence of her parents. “Can you guarantee ours would be filled with such affection and of such a duration?”
Darcy knew, in all honesty, he could not.
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About the Author
I was born in a small rural town in Hertfordshire, England. My ancestry has been traced back to the 3rd century AD in Nottingham, England. Prior to this, we were Danish Vikings. (I guess we were part of an invasion party).
Until the early 20th century, we were landowners and farmers in Kent & Essex. With the modernisation of farming techniques, we sold up and moved nearer to the capital, finally settling in Tring.
My paternal grandparents, who inspired my love of the past, were both teachers, specialising in English and History.
My paternal grandmother was also a descendant of the Scottish Clan of Galbraith. We have our own clan tartan in the colours of black, green, blue and white squares.
My mother is descended from the single family of Standingford, (often spelt the Anglo-Saxon way of Stanton). There is only one family with this name and all, no matter how distantly, are related. We have our own heraldic shield and family motto. Dum Spiro, While I Breathe.
I am the middle of five children, with an older sister, a twin brother and a younger sister and brother.
My hobbies include reading, writing, listening to classical music, swimming, walking the dog and jet skiing.
I enjoy a variety of authors, including Oscar Wilde, Shakespeare, Noel Coward, and of course, Jane Austen, while my favourite composer is Bach.
I am a full-time writer, but I also contribute articles to various magazines, charities, and private publications.
Before I decided to become a full-time writer, I worked for the British Government.
My husband and I have been married forty years, and we have two daughters, four grandchildren and one dog.
Phew!
Mr Darcy's Proposal Page 24
