Georgiana took Elizabeth’s hand. “Lizzy, my brother is serious. I would love if you were my sister. If you would have me asyoursister. You know that I have done terrible things.”
Elizabeth looked between Georgiana and Darcy quickly three times.
Her expression made him think of a cornered rabbit.
He suddenly realized that she was scared. He did not know what she feared. But he’d seen enough of her to know that much of her façade of confidence and vibrancy was just that, a façade.
Elizabeth opened and closed her mouth several times.
“Have you any objection,” Darcy asked, “but your belief that I am not speaking from considered good judgement? I assure you that I will not repent this decision.”
“Yes! Yes. That as well. How can I trustthat? I have seen men aplenty who swore solemnly to never be unhappy about a choice that they heartily regretted afterwards.” She paused. Closed her eyes. Opened them again. “No. I do not expect that. You are not the sort of man to be changeable in such a thing. Even if you came to regret it, your honor would drive you to keepmefrom ever having reason to regret marrying you—You are in fact serious.”
“Wholly. I mean to marry you.”
She pressed her hand against her temple. That fear in her eyes was greater than before. “This is a choice. If I say ‘yes’, you really will marry me?”
“Elizabeth, I tell you that I will.”
“Because you wish to expiate your guilt. Is that all? Is that your purpose?”
“And because I wish to be a father to George and Emily. I believe that a man who raises a child with love, with consideration, and with a full commitment to their welfare becomes their father. Perhaps I would not expiate my guilt by marrying you, but by becoming a father to your children, even you can agree that it would give me reason to think about myself with less…less of that unhappiness towards myself. Though the regret would always remain.”
“George loves you…” she said slowly.
“I adore him.”
She pressed her hand against her mouth.
After a while Elizabeth closed her eyes.
She took several long deep breaths and then opened them. “Mr. Darcy, I must beg leave to think in privacy. I cannot order my thoughts so quickly, and you must understand that this application was wholly unexpected. I had difficulties enough in my first trial of the married state that I shallcertainlynot embark upon another without atleasttwo hours of serious thought.”
Darcy felt an odd piercing of disappointment that she was not joyously agreeing to the proposal. He had always imagined that when he asked a woman to marry him, that she would be simply happy at having gained the favor of such a superior man.
But then, the last time he had imagined any such thing had been before he had murdered a man. And he had never imagined that he would ask a person of such superior character as Elizabeth.
She would berightto distrust his temper, to distrust him, and to refuse.
Darcy needed, needed, needed her.
Chapter Twelve
Elizabeth leaned against the cliff face, watching the bathers wading into the water, and listening to the low rushing of the surf.
Whoosh.
Shwoooo.
Whoosh.
Her hands were shaking. This was ridiculous. She could simply tell Mr. Darcy ‘no’.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Why were women not allowed to swear like men?
Amongst the many unfairnesses that subsisted between the sexes this was by no means the most severe restriction placed upon women, but it was symbolic of the whole.
