Page 10 of A Prudent Engagement

But the meaning was clear if he meant to hint that she would marry him.

“He spoke fluently, eloquently, today,” Charlotte replied.

“When my papa died! I must think about that and grieve. I have no time for the notion that Mr. Darcy of all people might be in love with me! It is nonsense.” Elizabeth rose and paced. “It must be nonsense. I could not accept his kindness in conveying me home if it is true, since he then must think that I mean to accept him, and I will not.”

“Elizabeth.”

“No, I will not. Even though we might starve. I do not mean to—oh, but I must, must I not? It is like you said—I could endure the loss of station and comfort well enough, but my mother and sisters… I have no right to force poverty upon them all. Not now that they will have little chance of marrying themselves. But I could not. I would not marry a man towards whom I did not feel any love or affection.”

“Do you really feel nothing towards Mr. Darcy?” Charlotte asked. “You looked to him for comfort, and you were comfortable enough in his presence to cry about Mr. Bennet, which you would not even do previously.”

Elizabeth had no notion of what to think of that.

She paced back and forth several more times.

It really was the most likely case that Mr. Darcy was in love with her and that he meant to make her an offer. That was what her rational brain said.

“Perhaps,” Charlotte suggested, “you ought to attend to Mr. Darcy more closely. You have always been convinced that he disliked you. Knowing that his opinions are much the opposite must cause some change in your views of him. We shall take the carriage with him tonight. It will be some hours after dark before we arrive in London, and then we shall be with him again tomorrow morning. Study him, without interpreting everything he says through the eyes of wounded vanity.”

“Is that all it has been? He truly is rude at times, and he treated Mr. Wickham abominably. You would not have me marry a man who behaved in a dishonourable manner! Papa is dead. I should not think of anything but the fact that he is dead. Why did he need to die?”

“I imagine for the same reason all of us do. The body ceased its usual operations.”

Elizabeth replied with a sound that was half laugh, half sob.

“It is not just his insult to my vanity,” she said. “You cannot wish me to marry a man like him—but you married Mr. Collins, and Mr. Darcy is…” Elizabeth flushed and fell silent. She pressed her hands to her face.

“Incomparably Mr. Collins’ superior?” Charlotte chuckled. “If you say such things openly, you will certainly offend me, but I am aware of both the virtues and defects of my husband. You could do very well to marry a man who has virtues you can admire, even if he also has many defects that you dislike. But, Eliza, my dear, dear Eliza, we must prepare.”

“Do you think Mr. Collins will be quick in taking possession?”

“We will not, I assure you, hurry to have you removed.”

“You already said as much. I apologise for making you repeat yourself—but how can you be sure that your husband will not hurl us from the house the instant he reaches Longbourn so that he can live on his own estate within a week?”

“It is a matter that the two of us have discussed a little before. Mr. Collins means to keep the living and rent Longbourn out. He does not wish to lose such proximity to Lady Catherine, and his employment as a clergyman is congenial to him. The actual fact is not likely to change his plans.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Mama was right, and the two of you always considered Longbourn very much your own when you spoke in private. Rent it out. Rent out Papa’s library, Mama’s bedroom. Rent it all out, the house where I have always lived.”

“Would you be happier if we became resident?”

“I would be happiest if Papa never died.”

“I ask about possibilities.”

“Oh, Charlotte! And you have forced me to think that I might resolve every difficulty by making a sacrifice. And not even a great sacrifice, for Mr. Darcy is exceedingly pleasant to look upon. But he is such an arrogant man. And so quiet. He would be difficult to live with. I know what you mean to say—he is neither always so arrogant nor so quiet. What a daughter, what a monster I would be if I refused him! But if I gather my courage, if I am determined that I shall like him, and I shall accept him—inevitably it will prove that we have misunderstood common kindness and politeness, and he will not make any offer at all. Or if he does like me, those considerations that must be in his mind about how poor of a match I am will drive him off.”

“Mr. Darcy does not seem to be an unsteady man.”

“How do we know? We have only heard tales about him—tales of such different tenor.”

Charlotte did not immediately reply.

“And if he has any hesitation, it will be enormously magnified the instant he sees my mother once more in Hertfordshire, or when we reach Gracechurch Street and he realises what a degradation it would be to set foot in my uncle’s house. He will make no offer at all.”

“Eliza, I thought you meant to refuse him. So—”

“But I cannot, and you know I cannot. Oh! I shall speak nothing more about this. It is all nonsense.”