The words struck her hard, leaving her momentarily speechless. Of all the reasons she might have imagined for his visit, this had not been among them.
“I realise,” he continued before she could formulate a response, “that my proposal must seem sudden. Indeed, under ordinary circumstances, I would never presume to make such a request based on so brief an acquaintance. However, circumstances are far from ordinary.”
“Mr Darcy, I—”
“Please, allow me to explain my reasoning before you respond.” His voice carried a note of quiet desperation that gave her pause. “You have observed the affection that exists between yourself and Ambrose. It is clear to me—indeed, to anyone observing—that you have come to care for him as deeply as if he were your own child.”
Elizabeth’s throat tightened at the accuracy of his observation. “That may be true, but—”
“Wickham intends to claim him through legal channels. My solicitor believes his case may have merit, particularly if he can produce evidence of marriage to Ambrose’s mother.” Mr Darcy’s jaw clenched visibly. “A married man in an established household would present a far stronger defence against such claims than a bachelor, however well-intentioned.”
The practical nature of his proposal stung more than Elizabeth cared to admit. “You are asking me to marry you to strengthen your legal position.”
“I am asking you to marry me to protect a child we both care deeply for,” he corrected quietly. “But I would not insult your intelligence by pretending that is the sole consideration. You would gain security, position, and freedom from the financial uncertainties that plague your family. I would gain…” he paused, his gaze growing almost tender. “I would gain the companionship of a woman whose courage and principles I have come to admire greatly.”
“And what of affection? Of love?” The question escaped before prudence could check it.
Something flickered in his dark eyes—surprise, perhaps, or hope. “I believe affection may grow between two people of compatible temperaments and shared values. As for love…” He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I offer you my devotion, my protection, and whatever measure of love you might be willing to accept from me.”
The confession hung between them, more moving for its restraint than any passionate declaration might have been. Elizabeth studied his face, noting the vulnerability he tried so hard to conceal behind his formal manner.
“There is another matter,” he continued, seeming to gather his composure. “Your family’s situation regarding the entailment. Should you consent to this union, I would take steps to break the entail on Longbourn. Your sisters would inherit their father’s property regardless of their marital status.”
The offer struck her like a thunderbolt. To secure her family’s future, to ensure that her sisters need never face the spectre of destitution—it was more than she had ever dared hope for.
“You would do that?”
“I would do a great deal more to secure your agreement,” he replied sincerely.
Elizabeth turned away, her mind reeling. Marriage to Mr Darcy would solve so many problems—Ambrose’s security, her family’s future, her own uncertain prospects. Yet was it wise to enter into such a union based on practical considerations rather than mutual attachment?
Then she thought of Ambrose’s trusting smile, of the way he had clung to her that morning, of the bleak future that awaited him if Wickham succeeded in his claims. Could she live by herself if she refused this chance to protect him?
“I need time to consider your proposal,” she said finally.
“Of course. Though I confess time is not a luxury we possess in abundance. Wickham’s legal proceedings move forward with alarming speed.”
Elizabeth nodded, understanding the urgency even as her heart rebelled against making such a momentous decision under pressure. Yet when she thought of Ambrose’s innocent faith that the adults in his life would keep him safe, her resolve crystallised.
“Mr Darcy,” she said, turning to face him once more. “If I were to accept your proposal, what assurances could you give me regarding my independence of thought and action?”
“You would be my wife, not my subordinate,” he replied immediately. “I have no desire to crush your spirit or silence your opinions. Indeed, it is precisely your strength of character that makes you so well-suited to this role.”
The certainty in his voice decided her. Whatever foundation such a marriage might have, surely it offered advantages and would benefit Ambrose’s welfare and her family’s security.
“Then I accept your proposal, sir.”
The words seemed to surprise them both. Mr Darcy’s composure cracked slightly, revealing something that might have been relief or gratitude or perhaps something deeper.
“You honour me beyond my deserving,” he said quietly. “As your husband, I will do my best to ensure that you never have cause to regret this decision.”
As he spoke her given name for the first time, Elizabeth wondered if she had just made the wisest choice of her life or the most foolish. Only time would tell whether duty and affection could bloom into something resembling happiness.
But watching the tension leave his shoulders, seeing the hope that illuminated his face, she felt not the stirring of romance but the cold weight of responsibility settling upon her. She had made her choice based on responsibility, not sentiment. Whether Mr Darcy’s professed devotion would prove genuine or merely convenient remained to be seen. For now, she would guard her heart carefully and judge him by his actions rather than his words. Time would reveal whether the man who had once dismissed her opinions so readily could truly value the woman he now claimed to admire.
Chapter Eleven
Four Weeks Later
