“I have already read them. After an evening of such unexpected developments, no familiar story could hold my attention.”
He snickered. “Then I shall leave you to your book,” and joined his cousins.
But Elizabeth was not attending, already amused by the absurd coincidence of the first line:It is a truth universally acknowledged that a woman in possession of a skull-splitting headache isnotin want of visitors.
Chapter 11: Possessing Equal Frankness
by Natasja Rose
Hunsford, Kent
Tuesday, the 7thof April, 1812
Elizabeth regretted not telling the maid that she was not home to callers, as the sound of the knocker sent spikes through her head.
Her headache had begun as a polite fabrication to avoid MrDarcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, for fear of saying several unladylike things in Lady Catherine’s exalted presence. Haunted by fragments of a pirate’s kidnapping—or were they dreams?—Elizabeth still couldn’t tell, yet somehow her life had slipped into the plot of a Gothic novel. Whether it had happened at all, or had merely been an exceptionally vivid dream, the headache was no longer fiction.
The emotional turmoil of almost coming tolikeMrDarcy at Rosings, coupled with the discovery that he was partially responsible for destroying Jane’s future hopes, all the conflicting intelligence, and the strain of suffering MrCollins, made Elizabeth feel as though her head would split in two.
Those wretched dreams of lives lived and realities that never were! They seemed so real while they occurred, but vanished like morning dew, leaving Elizabeth to question her own sanity! Could anyone even begin to comprehend her struggles?
How was she to determine the truth when each repetition muddied the waters further? For an instant, Elizabeth remembered her mother calling for salts and a cool compress to ease her poor, abused nerves. Perhaps Elizabeth should have been kinder to the lady over the years.
The maid Sally returned from the door. “MrDarcy to see you, miss.”
Oh, lord, must she entertain visitors now? Charlotte and MrCollins were at Rosings, and there was no one else to entertain him. “Pray bring tea, though I hope it shall not be needed. I will be down presently.”
She dampened a cloth in the basin and pressed it to her temples. It relieved the ache a little, though Elizabeth doubted that it would last. Perhaps MrDarcy would take mercy on her head and not stay long.
Certainly stranger things had happened…
“You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you—”
“I must do no such thing. I stayed away from dinner with a megrim, only for you to impose upon my suffering.” Elizabeth’s headache and temper flared, along with the memories of how badly this speech had ended once before.
Love could not exist without respect and affection, and while MrDarcy was not as haughty and reticent as he had been in Hertfordshire, could he claim to feel either for her? How could MrDarcy claim to love her when he barely knew her and had shown no indication of liking her?
“We have known each other for less than three months and spent most of that time sparring with one another!” The pain in her temples was not the lone reason tears burned her cheeks. “You do not love me, MrDarcy. You love an idea of me that is sure to disappoint you eventually. I would rather not be under your power when that happens.”
Her breath caught—so slight a thing she hoped he did not observe—and her thoughts lingered upon the unfamiliar spark about his eyes. Recognition or remembrance, perhaps? Might itbe that Elizabeth was not the only one remembering things that never happened?
Recovering from his aborted proposal, MrDarcy cleared his throat. “The timing could have been more fortuitous, I admit, but I could find no better occasion to speak to you.”
She exhaled in frustration. “Were I inclined to accept you, you would have had to confess all to your aunt and cousin.”
He hesitated. “And that would be a difficulty, as not everyone would welcome our match. But why should that matter to me?”
Again, he thought only of himself! His opportunity, his desires. Men held the advantage, but that did not mean Elizabeth had to like it. “Your objections to Jane marrying MrBingley also apply to me. My connexions are few, my fortune is meagre, and my mother will not change in essentials any more than Miss Bingley or your aunt. Why am I acceptable, where Jane is not?” Elizabeth rubbed her temples and attempted to stand. “I cannot speak on this further at this time.”
MrDarcy hastened to help her gain her feet, steadying her as the room swayed. “Is there a time more suitable that we may speak again?”
Convention had done them no favours in the past; Elizabeth relented. Perhaps it was time for candour. “The day after tomorrow, I will walk out after breakfast.”
Elizabeth met MrDarcy in the clearing she had favoured on her daily walks. It afforded a peaceful retreat, unlike the parsonage.
They stood in awkward silence before MrDarcy spoke. “You may not be satisfied with my reasoning, but I would like you to hear it, if you are willing to listen.”
It was as good a beginning as any. She dipped her chin in assent.
