A Most Civil Proposal (3 page)

Elizabeth looked up at that moment and felt a shock run through her as Mr. Darcy fixed her with an intense gaze that she suddenly realized had never been a glare of disapproval at all but the exact opposite. “I should have said more,” he continued, “but I can only say that a man who felt less might have done so.”

Taking a deep breath, he turned to the last page and continued, “There will be some who will raise objections to our match, who will make reference to the difference in our situations, to your lack of fortune, to your country origins. Some may come from my family,” and Elizabeth, looking up, was surprised by the fierceness of his expression. But he continued, his face softening, “and some may come from society in general. I cannot say at this time. But these objections are meaningless to me, and I will permit no one to abuse you in any way. I am my own master and need neither approval nor advice from my family in choosing whom I marry. I cannot pretend never to have entertained similar objections myself; I wish I could. But I have since confronted them and rejected them utterly. I cannot conceive of any woman more worthy to be at my side, more intelligent, witty, lively, courageous, and caring, and I know I can never love another as I love you. I beg you, Miss Bennet, to relieve my present distress and do me the honour of accepting my hand in marriage.”

Elizabeth was in a state beyond amazement. She had never imagined receiving a proposal of marriage in such a heartfelt, open, and touching manner from any man, and she was quite unable to explain having received it from Mr. Darcy. She could see that he had no doubt of a favourable answer; he spoke of apprehension and anxiety, but his countenance expressed real security, and though her intentions did not vary for an instant, she was sorry for the pain he was to receive. In spite of her deeply rooted dislike, as well as her smouldering anger due to his interference between Jane and Mr. Bingley, she could not be insensible to the compliment of such a man’s affection and could not respond with anything less than civility equal to his own. Composing herself, Elizabeth rejected several openings, before finally speaking.

“I must confess, sir, that I am most completely surprised at your sentiments.”

“Surprised?” He was clearly startled.

“Indeed, quite surprised.” She looked up and continued, “In cases such as these, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the feelings avowed, however unequally they may be returned.”

Darcy, leaning against the mantelpiece, stiffened and felt his calm composure shatter as the meaning of her words sent a thrill of disquiet through his chest.
However unequally they may be returned?
he thought in confusion.
Dear God, what could she mean? She could not refuse me, could she?

“I do indeed feel a profound sense of gratitude at the sincerity and the emotion expressed in your declaration, and I am complimented by your assurances. I never expected to hear so eloquent a statement, and I am quite sincerely sorry to offer pain to anyone. But, sir,” she dropped her eyes back to her lap, “I am afraid that I must refuse your offer. I do fear that I cannot match your feelings, and I am convinced that a marriage occasioned by such unequal affections would render both parties unhappy in the extreme.”

Elizabeth could not bear to look up. He had shown a depth of feeling that she had never deemed possible, and she feared that the sight of pain on his face might well shake her resolve. Nevertheless, she was determined neither to yield nor to give vent to either anger or venom in light of his civilities though she would not waver in the light of
her
objections.

For his part, Darcy listened with a sense of confusion and of bleak despair; indeed, the anguish that rocked him was beyond anything he had ever experienced. The constricting sensation in his chest and throat increased as she spoke until it was difficult for him to draw even a ragged breath. Other emotions followed close behind — disbelief, shock, and then anger. He turned away, trying to find the reserve that had served him for so long, attempting to don the mask of indifference he had crafted over the years, but he found to his consternation that he could not resurrect what he had given up.

She refused me!
He repeated the shocking words to himself again and yet again. After everything he had told her and everything she meant to him, she refused him and dismissed him with no explanation. It was not to be borne!

He opened his mouth in rage, but the rustling of the papers still in his hand distracted him. He looked at them, and his anger dissolved. At no time in his preparations had he anticipated failure, certainly not failure this extreme. He had imagined that he held all the advantages — that once he overcame his scruples and knew himself, all was finished and done. Several moments passed as he struggled to find composure.

Elizabeth sat in anxious anticipation, glancing up at Mr. Darcy’s rigid figure as he stared out the window in silence. She dreaded what was surely to come — the anger and recriminations that were the natural emotion of such a proud, arrogant man at meeting so cavalier a refusal. She opened her mouth to beg leave to return to her room, but before she could speak, he turned back to her. He had evidently regained some degree of equanimity, and he was able to continue with a measure of civility at odds with the anguish of his face.

“I beg leave to inquire as to the particulars of your refusal, Miss Bennet,” he offered, his voice as soft as before but no longer tender. Oh, no, not even a little tender. Raw pain was in that voice — pain, suppressed anger, and raging emotions held tightly in check. “I referred to my many mistakes in my addresses. If you might enlighten me as to the details behind your sentiments, I would be deeply obliged.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. She did not want to provide specifics that could only add to his distress, but she did not want to deceive him either. “I think it would be best to leave matters where they are, Mr. Darcy,” she said quietly. “I have no wish to continue a conversation that could only lead to intemperate displays by both parties. I truly believe it would be better to disengage and go our separate ways.”

He stared at her grimly, his mouth compressed to a thin line by the emotions raging behind his expression. “I do not agree, madam,” he said with an edge to his voice that he was unable fully to conceal. “I would rather know how I have offended the woman with whom I hoped to share the rest of my life than to slink off in fear that I might suffer
intemperance
. Again, I beg you would enlighten me on the reasons for this summary dismissal of my petition!”

Elizabeth looked up, her eyes flashing at the challenge, and her determination to rein in her anger disappeared as she stood up to face him. Very well, she had given him the chance to withdraw, and he had rejected it. Let the result be on
his
head!

“Then if you so wish it, I will tell you,” she said fiercely. “I have provocations, sir — provocations based on the ruined hopes of a most beloved sister! Can you deny you played a part in most arrogantly separating Mr. Bingley and my sister Jane? Can you deny it?”

Darcy stared at her in dismay, struggling for words. Was this to be the cause of his destroyed hopes? Was the effort he made on behalf of a valued friend the grievance that would divide them forever?

Miss Bennet refused to drop her gaze as he stared down at her, and he could not help but admire her spirit even as disaster washed over him. She hardly came to his shoulder — he towered over her — and yet she met his eye unflinchingly. At length, he sighed and was the first to avert his eyes.

“Is this what you think of me, then?” he asked, in sadness as much as anger. “That I blast the hopes of others due to arrogance? That I disarrange their lives because they are below my station in life?”

“Can you deny it?”

“I will not try to deny I played a part in separating your sister from Bingley, but I
will
deny that I did so out of mean or base motives,” Darcy said at last. He turned toward the window, his back to the room. He could not endure the sight of those beautiful eyes glaring at him with such anger.

How can I make her see how it seemed to me?
he asked himself in desolation; then, his anger rising at being so treated, he wondered,
And do I even want to try?
But of course he must make the attempt. Surely if he explained himself, she would understand his motivations.

Despite the fact that his hopes had turned to dust in his mouth — or perhaps even because of it — he found that he was no longer strangled into incoherence. He turned to face her.

“Miss Bennet, my actions were based on affection and concern for my friend, much as your anger is raised by your concern for your sister. And until this moment, when you spoke of your sister’s ruined hopes, I believed that I had acted for the best.”

“For the best, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth retorted. “What incredible arrogance! I fail to see how it was your part to interfere in any way! You can have no defence to this!”

“You may not give credence to what I have to say,” he responded with some heat, “but I do have an explanation for my actions. Will you hear me out?”

“I again suggest that you leave, sir. This conversation can have no significance.”

“What if your sister had Bingley’s fortune and Bingley had nothing?” Darcy snapped. “Would you not at least feel justified in trying to determine whether his feelings for your sister were true and honourable? And how would you do that?”

Despite her anger, Elizabeth could not help but accept the justice of this statement, and she bit her lip in frustration.
Intolerable man!

“Will you hear my defence, Miss Bennet?” Darcy asked again.

Elizabeth struggled to calm herself and at length resumed her seat. “Proceed, sir.”

Darcy again faced the window as misery gripped his heart and he groped to gain control of his emotions. However, he must at least explain himself, slight though the chances of any reduction in her disapproval might be.

“I seek your justice, Miss Bennet, and I ask you to apply that justice to the account I shall give. Some parts of it may pain you, and I beg your pardon for any injury to your feelings. But here is the central point: you charge that I detached Bingley from your sister, and there is some truth in that. However, the issue is more complicated. When visiting with Bingley in Hertfordshire, I soon saw that he preferred your eldest sister to any other lady that we met there. But I had often seen him in love, and I did not at first consider his attachment anything beyond what I had seen before. Then, when I had the honour of dancing with you during the ball at Netherfield, Sir William Lucas unintentionally revealed to me that Bingley’s steady attentions to your sister had led to a general anticipation of their marriage. He spoke of it as a settled fact with only the timing of the event being yet in doubt.”

He turned from the window and looked directly at her. “That was the point at which I decided to act on behalf of my friend. I began to observe him, and I quickly determined that his partiality for your sister was beyond what I had ever previously witnessed. But here is the point at issue: I also observed your sister throughout the length of that evening. I noted that her look and manners were as open, friendly, and engaging as ever, and that she obviously received his attentions with pleasure. But, though I looked most carefully, I could detect no affection on her part to match that of my friend.”

“Jane’s feelings were as fervent as Mr. Bingley’s, however unable you were to discern them!” Elizabeth burst out. “Simply because she does not display them for the amusement of society does not mean that she does not suffer!”

“I must bow,” Darcy said, with a slight inclination of his head, “to your superior knowledge of your sister and admit the possibility — indeed, the likelihood — that I was in error and that your resentment is not entirely unreasonable. But, in my defence, I must tell you that your sister’s countenance and air were so serene that an impartial observer would likely conclude that that her heart was not touched in this affair. While I will admit that I was desirous of believing your sister indifferent, I must state most adamantly that I do not usually allow my hopes or fears to influence my investigations and decisions. I did not believe your sister to be indifferent because I wished to believe it; I believed it because of impartial conviction.”

Darcy paused to collect and organize his thoughts. The next assertions were going to be difficult, perhaps even disastrous, but he had achieved a certain detachment as he crafted his explanations, even as he felt his heart’s desire melting away. After saying too little up to this point, he was now determined to disclose every aspect and consideration, whether it inclined to his benefit or the opposite. He would conceal nothing.

“Another objection to my friend’s attachment to your sister was your family’s lack of connections. But this would be less of a problem for him than it was for myself, and just as I overcame this obstacle, Bingley likely would have done the same. But there was an even greater impediment that remained — both for Bingley and for myself — and that is the lack of propriety displayed by your family.”

Darcy winced as Elizabeth’s expression suddenly darkened. What he would say next could only make it worse, but it was far too late to stop. “I fear this will only increase your resentment, but it must be said. It was the total lack of propriety that your mother and your three younger sisters displayed in almost every public situation that concerned me greatly, for I feared that your mother would influence your sister towards Bingley because of his fortune. I can see that you are angered, and it pains me to offend you, but I said that I would explain myself fully, and I will do so. However, I would like to add that the censure just mentioned in no way applies to you or your eldest sister, for you have behaved at all times with the utmost decorum and civility. I will only add that, based on my observations that evening, I determined to preserve my friend from what I had concluded to be a most unhappy connection. He left Netherfield for London on the following day but with the clear intention of soon returning, and I travelled shortly after to change that intention.”