She tightened her arms about herself and shivered. “I think it best if you do not follow.”
“El—Miss Bennet, I do not understand! Have I offended you with my proposal? What have I done?”
She startled and glared up at him as if he had overturned a priceless vase and then asked why his company had become suddenly odious. “If you do not know, then you are not the gentleman I had taken you for,” she bit out. “I think we should not be seen together.”
“You are leaving me now? But why? How will you travel back alone? It is too dangerous, surely!”
“I believe I can depend on the goodness of Mrs Jennings to see me safely home. I will have it no other way, sir. Do not follow me, for I shall not speak to you if you do.”
“Is this all the answer I am to expect?”
He followed her out of the trees, back to the walk, and stood there; alone in a crowd, his arms held out in appeal, and waited for her to turn back. She did not. Nor did she walk slowly. His heart felt as if it had been ripped from his chest, and he was certain that all around bore witness to the haemorrhaging.
Fitzwilliam Darcy, the man who had never been denied anything, watched helplessly as the only woman he had ever admired walked away.
Chapter twenty-eight
Ishould have known!
If there were people in her way, Elizabeth would never have seen them. She pushed through whatever lay before her, mindless in her determination to puthimas far behind her as possible. How could she have been so bird witted? She, who prided herself on her perception and prudence, had fallen so abysmally into the stupidest sort of folly. How mortifying her descent!
She wanted to scream, to weep, and to run, all at the same time. She longed to hide in her bed for a month, and in the next thought, she could wish for nothing more than to strike something… no, not justsomething. She would strikehim, right on that dimpled mouth, and wipe away that deceitful smile! How dare he masquerade as a gentleman? Hah! Likely enough, he really was nothing more than a drunken footman who happened to know a little Shakespeare, and the entire day had been no more than a ruse to take advantage of a naive country girl with no prospects of her own. What a fool she was!
He was not far behind, still calling her name and protesting his ignorance of her sudden fury. He had not ceased begging to know what he had done. Everything, that was all! Imposed on her, made her feel tenderly for him, and probably ruined her forever, if anyone ever heard a breath of the affair. And all so that he could make an indecent proposition!
She did not look back but pressed on faster. Gradually, his voice died away, but just before she reached the supper boxes once more, she paused and turned. It would not do for him to be trailingplaintively behind when she approached Mrs Jennings. What a tale to tell! She clenched her fists, her chin high, and looked defiantly round.
He was about thirty feet away, and she caught snatches of his forlorn figure as others passed between them. His arms hung slack at his sides, and a haunted look darkened his face. His mouth opened as if to speak once more, and he started to reach with an imploring hand, but she drew herself up, and he shrank. She held her challenging glare until he surrendered, blinking rapidly and still looking lost and pitiful. Had she still the veil of infatuation over her eyes, she would have yearned to soothe that broken expression, to reassure him that she, at least, was his friend… wretched soul was she!
He looked down, seemed to sigh, and then slowly turned another way. She waited until he had gone completely out of sight before she released the breath which had steeled her spine and hardened her face. Now, what remained but tears and humiliation? They stung already, but she could not dare to give way until solitude could afford her that luxury of berating herself for all her errors of judgment.
How ironic it was, then, that to gain solitude, she must first face one to whom that very notion would be abhorrent! Oh, how could she bear to speak now? And yet if she did not, Mrs Jennings’ instincts would accuse her of despondency, and demand explanations she was unwilling to give.
She waited another moment, collecting herself as she gazed toward that kindly lady’s box. One more moment. Two, perhaps. Three—just long enough for her pulse to steady and the tears to dry from her lashes. She drew a troubled breath, and took a step in that direction, only to be shaken anew.
“Miss Elizabeth! I had not thought it possible, but I find myself appalled!”
She flinched, her stomach twisting, and closed her eyes. Oh, how hadthatman found her, and here of all places? She groaned before turning to face him. Was she cursed this day?
“Mr Collins,” she offered a demure curtsy. “This is indeed a pleasure, Cousin.”
Welcome to Vauxhall
Pleasure Gardens
Pleasure?Bah!Pleasure! The faded sign at the gates was a slap to a wounded face, for he could not recall when he had felt more miserable.
Perhaps he had not anticipated proposing marriage to a virtual stranger as he had done, but he certainly had never expected to be so harshly rebuked and soundly
rejected! Did she not know enough of his character, enough of his circumstances to understand the honour he paid her?
She must, surely, for their few hours together had afforded them a familiarity almost unattainable between a man and a woman before marriage. It was inconceivable that she, intelligent as she was, wouldnothave understood enough of what had remained cryptic between them to grasp the magnitude of what he offered, as well as the sacrifice he would gladly pay for her. And yet she was insulting!
What manner of woman would take righteous offence at a confession of love? Surely it was nothing he had done wrong…. He tried to recount each of his many sins this day, or at least those of which he was perfectly conscious, but none of those had earned her indignation upon their commission. No, quite the opposite! And
when he finally did come to the honourable conclusion, that something must be done to satisfy their growing attachment to each other, she would hear nothing
of it!
