Page 62 of The Widower of Pemberley

“Elizabeth, look at me.”

Elizabeth did.

They stared into each other’s eyes. Elizabeth’s heart thumped. It was like it was beginning to beat again. His eyes were warm; they seemed approving. There was a slight smile around the edges.

“I do not think ill of you,” he said. “There are few women who are less mercenary than you are—you insisted on understanding my character before you accepted my proposal. I do not distrust you, not when I am in sound mind—I apologise that the sight of Mr. Wickham made me forget myself. I do not think it will happen again. We will have no discussion of ending this engagement. Marriage to you is what will be best for me, and it is what will be best for you. It will be my duty to care for you and those who belong to you, and I am glad to take on that duty.”

Elizabeth let out a little sigh.

She could not argue with him. She was being stupid, but she desperately did not want to cast herself off from him into the cold world, and it had taken all her strength to say as much as she already had. She relaxed into her chair. The numbness began to dissolve away. She pressed a shaky hand against her mouth, and a few tears leaked out. “You truly do not wish to end the engagement?”

“No. Not at all. We shall marry this evening. And it is wholly reasonable for you to be concerned as to how your futuresupport will be secured if I die. Only a fool would not put some thought towards that, and I am happy that you are not a fool.”

“I did not!” The tears came fast. “I only thought about poor Georgiana and Emily. Especially Emily! You cannot fulfil your duty to your daughter and sister if you die. You see how Emily needs you. I may lose my father today, tomorrow, soon. But I can never lose the twenty years that he raised me and loved me. I have viciousness enough in my soul that I liked the thought that you might kill that scoundrel, but it is not worth the risk.”

He pressed his lips together. He shuddered. “But I must. Surely you see that I must meet him. I have no choice.”

“You heard what my sister said. There is always a choice.”

Mr. Darcy’s face was frozen for a time.

Then he looked deliberately at her and said quietly, “I swear to never punish one of our children because they insist too strongly upon being close to one of us. No matter how much frustration may result from the situation.”

“Oh!” Elizabeth half laughed. “I had forgotten that.”

“I had not. You were right to challenge my pique. I was not in my right mind, and I would have done wrong if I had acted on that anger. And you were correct—Emily does need me. Jove! Why did I need to see Wickham’s face today? I had been so eager to see you.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I would have greatly preferred that he had not visited as well.”

He smiled. “You really were throwing him from the house?”

“That man would not listen. I had already threatened to call a footman to drag him away and had near reached the point when I would have rung for one. He is only a coward when speaking to other men, not with women.”

“I imagine you were then relieved when I arrived.”

“Exceedingly—though matters then became serious in a way that I would have preferred to avoid.”

“I can scarce believe I said so much. Or that Wickham said what he did… Do you wonder at all…?”

Elizabeth blinked. “What? Do I wonder whether you killed Mrs. Darcy? No. Certainly not onhisword. But satisfy yourself by bringing suit against him for slander.”

“It is my place to punish him for what he didwithMrs. Darcy. Elizabeth, you must tell me when you are frightened, and you must…I know that I am not a man whom you can feel great affection for. I know that I am too reserved, too harsh, and I have learned today that there is violence in me. I know that you would never have chosen to marry me if you had been in a situation where your choice was wholly free. But I shall do what I can. Your well-being is amongst my chief concerns.”

“Why do you think so ill of yourself?” Elizabeth asked. “You can show ill temper. You were suspicious. You have little patience or regard for social niceties. You are arrogant and you do not like to dance—though you dance elegantly when compelled. But none of that is a reason for you to think that no woman could be fond of you.”

He did not reply.

There was something in his eyes.

Like a wounded animal.

Elizabeth’s heart went out to him. She wanted to embrace him and promise that he was admirable and that he was loved.

She was too shy to reach out and take his hand.

They sat quietly for two minutes.

He said nothing. He gripped the document case tightly with both hands. His knuckles were white.