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Mr. Darcy completed his third circuit of the room. “Very well, thank you.”
“Are you angry about the item in the newspaper? I cannot express how I regret that my troubles should harm Miss Darcy’s reputation.”
Mr. Darcy stopped pacing abruptly and stared at her, leaning over the dining table. Elizabeth flinched backward. He must be very angry indeed! “I am angry, Miss Bennet. I am livid, furious. But not at you. This is not of your doing. And I have no concern about Georgiana’s reputation. People of sense will know she is blameless.”
She is blameless, but not me, Elizabeth thought.
Nevertheless, she experienced some small measure of relief that his anger was not directed at her. But she was still at a loss about the purpose of his visit or the reason for his extreme agitation.
Finally, Mr. Darcy sighed explosively, pushed both hands through his hair, and positioned himself behind one of the breakfast room’s chairs.
“I am concerned about you. You are so vulnerable as a single woman living alone. You have already been subjected to malicious gossip and have become the target of even more dangerous behavior. I am endeavoring to stop Wickham, but he has moved lodgings, and the men I hired have not yet located him.” Mr. Darcy’s mouth was set in a firm line. “I fear these attacks will escalate unless you give him what he wants. And even then—he has friends who know about you and may view you as easy prey.” As if he could not stand to look at her, he lowered his gaze to the table.
Elizabeth sighed. Apparently, Mr. Darcy was building an argument for her to relocate to Darcy House or to the Gardiners’ house. Although she herself had contemplated traveling to Hertfordshire, she chafed when others sought to plan her life for her.
Mr. Darcy lifted his head, and his dark eyes caught hers; she almost gasped. He was obviously laboring under the influence of some strong emotion. “I feel in some ways responsible. I brought Wickham into your life, and your continued association with my family has made you an object of his greed.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips against the exclamations of frustration that threatened to burst forth. “You take too much upon yourself, sir. I do not hold you or your family responsible.”
Mr. Darcy’s hands grasped the wood of the chair back so tightly his knuckles were white. “But you also would not be in this tenuous position if it were not for your engagement to Richard and his subsequent death.” Mr. Darcy bit off every word as if he hated to say them. “He would despair to see you alone and unprotected.”
“I am neither—”
Mr. Darcy raised a hand to forestall her protest. “I am aware you do not see yourself this way, but others do because of your situation. I cannot rest for worrying what slander or malicious behavior you will be subject to next. You have already been subjected to violence in your home!” He ran one hand across his face as if to calm himself, while the other gripped the chair as if his life depended on it.
Elizabeth regarded him with open-mouthed shock. He could not rest for worrying about her? What could he possibly mean?
Abruptly, he abandoned his post, striding down the length of the table and sitting in the chair beside her. His proximity was rather alarming. This close, she was keenly aware of his intense gaze, his masculine smell, the lock of inky hair falling over his forehead. And the extreme agitation of his emotions. Elizabeth swallowed hard, confused about Mr. Darcy’s behavior and her reaction to it.
“I cannot leave you defenseless, Elizabeth. Do not ask it of me.” His voice was low and rough. “I must protect you—for your own sake as well as in memory of my dear friend and cousin. The best protection I can offer you is my name and my hand, if you would take me. Would you accept my hand in marriage?”
Elizabeth’s mind was absolutely blank.
She realized her mouth was open, but no sound was forthcoming. She closed it with a snap.
Although Mr. Darcy had led up to the proposal quite logically, Elizabeth had been taken quite by surprise.
No, surprise was not a strong enough word. Astonishment? Stupefaction?
She was also surprised by her own reaction. The thought of marrying Mr. Darcy should make her laugh at the ridiculousness of it; she had only recently accustomed herself to not expecting his disdain. However, part of Elizabeth felt an unexpected warmth at the thought.
Unfortunately for Mr. Darcy, the other part of her was angry.
How could he propose in this cold and practical manner? Every conclusion was laid out quite logically, but clearly his feelings were not engaged. Oh, he must experience some concern for her, anxiety even. However, that was hardly an emotion on which to build a life. No doubt he felt a certain fondness—for Richard’s sake at least—and perhaps she should be grateful he seemed to tolerate her company. But she could never enter into a marriage which offered no more than tepid affection. How could he believe she would?
“Miss Bennet?” Mr. Darcy’s voice intruded on her thoughts. She recognized that she had been silent a long time and struggled to find the right words for a reply.
Her mouth felt suddenly dry and her tongue impossibly thick. “I thank you for the honor of your proposal, but it is impossible for me to accept.” She attempted to maintain an even, moderate tone that did not betray the disturbance of her emotions.
Mr. Darcy’s expression altered little, confirming her sense that his emotions were not engaged. “I beg you to consider—”
Elizabeth ignored the interruption, her indignation gathering force. ?
??I do not consider security of any kind to be a suitable reason to wed. If so, I would have accepted Mr. Collins’s proposal two years ago.”
“Mr. Collins made you an offer?” Horror was plain on Mr. Darcy’s face.
Under other circumstances, Elizabeth might have found his disgust amusing, but she was too caught up in her own agitation. “I appreciate your concern for my safety, but I must believe there are other, less extreme steps which would address the potential danger.”
