Pride and Proposals

Darcy considered what he could say without committing outright falsehoods. “I am happy to know she has such friends.”

“Of course, you must not breathe a word of this until I have the opportunity to visit her tomorrow afternoon!” Kirkwood placed his hat on his head.

“Please do send word of how you fare,” Darcy requested. Kirkwood gave a nod as he departed.

Darcy sank into his chair, gulping his brandy. Damnation! What was he to do? He hunched forward in his chair, resting both elbows on the table. He recalled his feelings after her betrothal to Richard. Could he endure witnessing Elizabeth’s betrothal to yet another man? Could he survive it without going insane?

America would not be far enough away. Perhaps India. Or China. Or the Arctic.

He felt as if he were witnessing a carriage accident he was powerless to prevent. His mind raced, considering and discarding ways he could prevent the disaster. The truth was inescapable: he could not stop Kirkwood from proposing. Nor could he prevent Elizabeth from accepting. Nothing could stop it.

Unless …

Darcy’s eyes opened wide.

Unless he proposed first!

When he had been ignorant of Richard’s intentions toward Elizabeth, Darcy had been at a disadvantage. Many times, Darcy had wondered how he would have acted if he had known of Richard’s plans in advance. Would he have proposed first? Would he have bowed out in favor of the better man?

Today, however, he had been given a warning. He could not prevent Kirkwood from proposing, but he could preempt him.

Darcy pulled out his pocket watch. Ten o’clock; too late for a visit to Elizabeth that evening. But he could call on her the following morning. Kirkwood might not feel comfortable making a morning call, but Darcy had no such scruples. They had nearly become family; he could claim enough familiarity. Or perhaps he was simply desperate enough

to defy convention.

After all, he had Richard’s permission to woo Elizabeth. Kirkwood did not.

Yes, he would go in the morning and propose before Kirkwood was even awake. Eight was probably too early, but nine …. Would he seem too desperate? Should he wait until ten? It would be agony.

Then a sobering thought struck Darcy; he nearly bent under its weight. What if she still disliked him? He understood little about Elizabeth’s feelings for him. He had returned from Pemberley with the goal of ascertaining the state of her affections, but he had expected to have weeks to learn her feelings and improve her opinion of him.

Their last meeting had not been auspicious and had left Darcy with the distinct impression that Elizabeth disliked his high-handed ways. Now Kirkwood was rushing in and forcing Darcy’s hand before he knew the state of Elizabeth’s heart. What if she felt nothing more for him than the distant affection one would bestow on an acquaintance? What if she actually disliked him?

Yet Kirkwood was correct. Elizabeth needed protection; she was too vulnerable as a single woman with a modest fortune living alone. All manner of perils could beset her. Servants might steal from her, unscrupulous men might seek to take advantage of her, or ruffians might invade her home.

She also required protection from the ton. They were ready to believe any gossip about a woman of no name and little fortune. But they would never dare whisper about Mrs. Darcy. Even the most vicious wagging tongue would know that Darcy would never marry a woman who had dallied with Wickham. No, their engagement itself would handily refute the rumors.

Elizabeth was a sensible woman. He would help her recognize the advantages in their union.

Yes, that was how to present it.

***

Elizabeth set down her coffee cup and stared at the day’s newspaper lying before her on the table. She had opened it with some trepidation, but to her relief, it had contained no repetition of the previous day’s scurrilous rumors. Likely it was only a short respite. The item in the previous day’s paper was salacious enough that no doubt everyone in London was talking of it by now. She was little enough known in the first circles, but her association with the Darcys and the Earl of Matlock heightened her gossip value.

Already, one invitation to afternoon tea had been “postponed,” and an expected invitation to a ball had not been forthcoming. For her own sake, she could certainly bear the deprivation, but she was anxious about the effect on people she cared about.

Mr. Darcy and his sister had been most kind, and she would not want their reputations to be tarnished by association. And then there was her family to consider. The news from London might not have reached Meryton yet, but it would, and she had no doubt the entire town would be talking of it. If only she could spare her parents such humiliation, so similar to what they had endured with Lydia!

Her eyes stung, and she blinked rapidly. She would not weep; Wickham was not worth shedding tears over.

Throughout the night, as she had tossed and turned in her bed, Elizabeth had considered whether she should have paid Wickham, but even now the thought made her ill. And in any event, the damage was done. Perhaps she should leave London altogether. If she were in Hertfordshire, the London newspapers would have little interest in her. Wickham might follow her there, but if she stayed at Netherfield, at least he would be unlikely to pester her parents.

Elizabeth added a little more sugar to her coffee. Yes, she would travel to Hertfordshire. It would solve many problems, and it would be good to be back with family.

There was a knock at the front door, and she heard Grayson’s footsteps as he hastened to answer it. Who could possibly be calling at this hour?

The door to the breakfast room opened. “Mr. Collins, ma’am,” Grayson intoned, his voice somehow managing to convey contempt in a mere three words. I must ask him how he manages that.