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Elizabeth’s heart sped up. Why is he suddenly curious about my future? “I enjoy traveling and seeing different parts of the country. I suppose I could settle anywhere given the right inducement.”
“And what would be the right inducement?” His voice was low, making the words sound almost seductive.
Why was her mouth so dry? “Well, of course, if I were to marry someone from another part of the country.”
Mr. Wickham stopped walking, gently pulling on her gloved hand so she would face him. The unexpected contact made her blush.
“What if you were to marry a soldier who had no fixed home but moved from place to place?”
“A s-soldier?” Elizabeth echoed. “I d-do not suppose you mean Mr. Denny.”
He laughed gently. “Your wit is one of many things I love about you.”
Her breath caught.
Mr. Wickham smiled. “Yes, I use that word deliberately. I cannot possibly express how greatly I love and esteem you. And you would make me the happiest man on earth if you would consent to be my wife.”
Elizabeth had imagined this moment. She had believed herself prepared for the possibility. But she realized in a rush that she was not ready; it would have been far better if he had not asked the question. It had been easier to decide the question hypothetically than to be faced with the actuality.
She did not love Mr. Wickham, but she admired him. Perhaps she could love him in time. She had vowed to marry for love, but such a vow would not help her family if they were left penniless and alone. She could do far worse than a charming and attentive husband like Mr. Wickham. He was not wealthy, of course, but he was sure to do well enough. Elizabeth had never fostered any grand hopes of marrying an earl’s son or a viscount. And she could not imagine informing her mother that she had declined yet another eligible offer of marriage.
She gazed into his warm brown eyes, so caring and full of love for her. Mr. Collins’s words echoed in her ears: “It is by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made to you.” In the privacy of her mind, she had acknowledged the truth in his words; but now, miraculously, she had received another proposal. It would be foolish to think a third offer would come her way. Mr. Darcy would certainly never propose.
Mr. Darcy? Why am I thinking of him at this moment? But she could not completely suppress the pang of something—regret, perhaps—when she thought of him. No, he looks at me only to criticize. He does not even like me. He is irrelevant.
Noticing Mr. Wickham’s stricken countenance, Elizabeth realized she had long been silent. “Do you perhaps require some time to think about it?” he asked hesitantly.
“No.”
Now he looked even more stricken.
She took a deep breath. “No—I mean…I do not require more time. My answer is yes.”
***
Far too impatient to wait while his own carriage was made ready, Darcy took a cab to Gracechurch Street. During the ride he considered how to introduce such a delicate subject to a well-bred lady—likely two well-bred ladies since Mrs. Gardiner would almost certainly insist on being a chaperone.
Darcy was confident his plan was good, but doubt gnawed in the back of his mind. What if Wickham had immediately left Darcy House to propose to Elizabeth? Darcy’s mind shied away from the very thought, but he forced himself to conside
r the possibility. What if Elizabeth had accepted Wickham’s offer? The mere thought plunged Darcy into icy water.
Elizabeth would not break such a promise lightly; she would not end an engagement simply upon Darcy’s word. Darcy could not help spinning out a future for Elizabeth as Wickham’s betrothed. Wickham was unlikely to follow through on a promise of marriage, which would cause a scandal. It was the way of the world to blame the woman in such circumstances, and many women never recovered their social standing after a broken engagement. Elizabeth might lose all opportunities to make a respectable match after that. Most likely her parents would ship her away to live with some distant relative or find an obliging clerk in her Uncle Gardiner’s business to marry her quickly and quietly. She deserved so much more….
And if Wickham did marry her…such a future was not worth contemplating.
Darcy’s chest felt tight as his heart ached for this imaginary future Elizabeth. I must prevent it. I must.
He stared out of the window; why could the cab not go any faster? The carriage rattled and stuttered over cobblestones. What could he do if she had already accepted Wickham? Darcy dropped his head in his hands, trying to ward off a sense of dread. Perhaps there would be nothing he could do in such a situation.
Darcy clutched the door handle as the carriage lurched around a sharp corner. What if she loved Wickham? Darcy’s stomach churned sickeningly, and he closed his eyes, praying fervently that such was not the case.
The carriage swayed up to the front of the Gardiners’ house, and Darcy leapt from it the moment it stopped. He handed the driver some coins and was striding to the door before the carriage even rattled away.
The maid who answered the door looked at him wide-eyed.
“Mr. Darcy to see Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
The maid curtsied and admitted him to the front hallway as she scurried away to find her mistress. Darcy shifted his weight, barely noticing anything in the elegant but narrow room. Although he was unsure where this sense of urgency sprang from, he wanted to see Elizabeth immediately and ensure she was safe from Wickham.
