Page 68 of A Prudent Engagement

Her hands trembled. “I do not mean to hurt you.”

“No. I trust your goodness that far,” Darcy replied in a voice that he hated for its coldness and its accusing tone—even though Elizabeth deserved it.

She flinched. “You must listen to me, let me explain.”

“Explain what? What is there to explain? It is a simple matter. You were able to refuse a man of Collins’s ilk when your father was alive and you were secure in your position and hopes for the future, but when a different man, one who I hope was not so repugnant as him but whom you disliked—Jove, Elizabeth, explain that to me? What—what did I do? Why? You considered me arrogant? I offended you? You preferred Wickham’s blandishments to my honest speeches?”

“I was prejudiced! I hardly knew you!” she cried out.

“Miss Bennet said that you disliked me as much as ever when we met again at Rosings, and that two days before your father died, you wrote that you looked forward to my leaving Rosings Park with great eagerness. At that time I had already decided to offer for you, and you were eager to never be imposed upon again by the sight of my face.”

She was silent.

“Is that true?”

“Please, Mr. Darcy, you must understand—”

“Is it true? I only ask to know the facts. I do not wish to pain us both with the commentary.”

She looked down. “That is true.”

Another sliver of hope had remained in his heart, crawling like an insect through the aorta and into the great pumping chamber.

It died as well and was swept away through the arteries.

She pressed her lips together, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Sitting was impossible; Darcy’s body demanded motion.

He rose but felt as though he was pressed down with a great heaviness. He walked through a pool of molasses rather than empty air. He could not look at Elizabeth.

He strode to the window and pressed his long arms to each side of the frame. “And upon what basis was your, no doubt justified, dislike of my character and person formed?”

“I understand you better now, and—”

“Just tell me why you disliked me. I wish to understand.”

“Must you always act as though I am under your command?”

There was that fire to her voice. He had annoyed her with his interruptions. That annoyance sounded more like the Elizabeth he loved. It hurt, and he could not reply for some time.

She did not speak either.

“Why?” Darcy said at last, speaking to the view of the inn yard below them. “Upon what did you base your dislike?”

“It is petty, it is silly to look back upon, and—”

“No softening.”

“You can be a difficult man.”

“I know that I am not so unbending nor so easy as the world in general might prefer.”

“No, and the world here did not like you. You were rude to us at the assembly, you acted as though you were much above being pleased by the company, and you insulted my appearance when Mr. Bingley urged you to dance with me. You generally were silent, you did not dance with any of us, and you have never let anyone forget that your station and position is above ours.”

The frustration was there in Elizabeth’s voice.

“And why should I act as though I am not the superior of everyone in this neighbourhood? They all are inferior to me.”