Page 9 of Elizabeth Bennet and the Scottish Laird

“Marry me.”

Mrs Bennet gasped. Her embroidery slipped from her lap to the floor. Neither Elizabeth nor MacKinnon moved to retrieve it.

“I shall sign papers,” MacKinnon continued, his tone steady and practical, “giving you full authority over the household and any improvements to the estate you deem necessary. You will continue managing affairs exactly as you have been. Your mother and sisters remain at Longbourn. You will have security. They will have a home. I shall have the satisfaction of knowing the entail did not destroy a family.” He hesitated. “Truth be told, Miss Bennet, I found no happiness in sending my daughter to live with my great-aunt after her mother’s demise. Alas, I had no choice in the matter. I know nothing about raising children and the absence of a mother meant that my daughter would fare better under a female relative’s guidance. But my great-aunt is advancing in years, and she shall not be able to care for my daughter for much longer. This means I am now in need of a bride, and a mother to Moira.”

Silence crashed into the room after his passionate speech.

Mrs Bennet found her voice first. “Mr MacKinnon, this is most unexpected. Most generous, indeed, but Lizzy?” She looked to her daughter.

Elizabeth's tongue felt thick. Wrong. She forced words out. “You would marry a woman you have known for three hours?”

“I have observed a fair bit in three hours.” His tone remained matter of fact, as though he were discussing the purchase of livestock rather than matrimony. “You are clever. Capable. You love this place. That is clear in every word you speak about it. You have managed an estate through difficult circumstances without complaint. Those are the qualities that matter in a partner. The rest we can work out as we go.”

“The rest.” Her voice sounded distant. “You mean affection. Regard. Any semblance of marital felicity.”

“I mean we would be starting as strangers, aye. But honest strangers with clear expectations.” He spread his hands on the desk, palms down. Strong hands. Working hands. “I shall not lie to you. I am not offering a love match. My heart is buried with my wife in Skye, and I have no expectation of replacing what I lost. But I can offer respect. Partnership. Fair dealing. Security. And I think you could offer me the same.”

“Mr MacKinnon,” Mrs Bennet interjected, her voice trembling, “you honour us with your consideration. Such generosity! Lizzy, you must see how very—”

“I must have time.” Elizabeth stood abruptly. The chair scraped against the floor. Mrs Bennet flinched. “You have given me much to consider, sir. More than I can possibly answer immediately.”

MacKinnon rose as well, his movements unhurried. “Of course. Take whatever time you need, Miss Elizabeth. I am not going anywhere.”

But that was not entirely true, was it? In a month, perhaps less, they would all be going somewhere. Away from Longbourn. Away from everything familiar.

“If you will excuse me.” Elizabeth did not wait for permission. She walked from the study, her steps measured and controlled until she reached the stairs. Then she fled to her chamber, her half-boots loud on the treads.

Malcolm MacKinnon was not unkind. He spoke plainly and he visibly respected her intelligence. It had not escaped her notice that he was also warm without being effusive, practical without being cold. He would be fair to the tenants, kind to her mother, generous to her sisters.

But marry a complete stranger?

Walking over to the window, she pressed her palm flat against the glass. Her breath fogged it. When Mr Darcy had looked at her, the very air between them had seemed charged with something she could not name.

“No,” she said out loud.

She would not think of the man who had insulted her family and separated Jane from Mr Bingley. He was nothing to her and his outrageous proposal had only cemented her poor opinion of him.

On the other hand, Malcolm MacKinnon offered both security and respect. It need not be love, but it would be, at the very least, a practical partnership built on mutual benefit. Most women in her circumstances would accept without hesitation.

A tentative knock at the door interrupted her musings.

“Lizzy?” It was Jane. “May I come in?”

“Yes, enter.”

Jane entered, closing the door behind her with a quiet click. Her black crepe gown rustled as she came to stand beside Elizabeth at the window.

For a moment neither spoke. They looked out at the fading light together, as they had done so many times before.

“Mama told me,” Jane said finally. “About Mr MacKinnon's proposal.”

Elizabeth said nothing. What was there to say?

“It is very generous of him.”

“It is.”

“But you are not certain.”