Despite these disquieting emotions, she forced herself to examine the question. Mr. Darcy was far different from Lord Kirkwood. Despite the mode of his offer, betrothal to Mr. Darcy held … appeal. Certainly he was attractive—and kind. If she were truthful with herself, Elizabeth reluctantly admitted that under different circumstances, she might have been tempted to accept Mr. Darcy’s offer.
The thought rushed in with the suddenness of a tidal wave, washing away all other notions and knocking aside all of her earlier assumptions. The truth and clarity of her realization left her staggered. She desired Mr. Darcy.
How had her feelings about him changed? When had her feelings changed?
Could I be in love with him?
For a moment, the thought struck her with dizzying ecstasy—joy and wonder filled her heart to overflowing.
And then memory left her dashed back on the rocks of reality.
Richard.
How could she have forgotten about Richard for one moment?
Her hand flew to her mouth in horror. How could she consider replacing him in her heart so soon? Only a week ago, she thought she would never consider marriage again. Even contemplating such feelings about Mr. Darcy seemed like such a betrayal.
No. Impossible. Those feelings had died in her when she had buried Richard. She had been so certain.
“Elizabeth? Are you well?” Mr. Darcy was staring at her again, his eyes wide with concern.
Awareness returned. She had walked several steps into the room and was clutching a chair with one hand, while the other covered her mouth in a gesture of despair. “I must go. I beg you to forgive me,” she mumbled as she lurched toward the door, pausing only for a moment by her chair to collect her reticule. “Give my regrets to Georgiana.” Dimly, she was aware that Mr. Darcy was stepping closer to her.
“You are not well. You should not venture out—” Mr. Darcy’s hand on her
elbow arrested her progress. “I pray you, sit, and I will have some water brought.”
The room had grown stiflingly hot, and her stays compressed her lungs until she could barely breathe. I must leave now! Passing one more minute in Darcy House would be intolerable.
Elizabeth pulled her arm from his grasp without looking at his face. “Thank you, no. I must leave at once!”
Darcy released her arm abruptly, and she almost lost her balance. Keeping her eyes fixed on the doorway, she stumbled forward until she could grasp the door knob. As she opened the door, she glanced back at Darcy over her shoulder. His expression was so perplexed that she was almost tempted to return and comfort him.
But then I might never leave.
If only she could say something to reassure him and demonstrate that she wished to maintain their friendship, but she could think of no words that were not fraught. “I-I—” she stammered. “I beg you to give my regrets to Georgiana.” Had she said that before?
His mouth set in an unhappy line, Mr. Darcy merely inclined his head. “I will.”
The need to escape threatened to suffocate her. She darted through the doorway into the hall, closing the door firmly behind her. She was halfway to the main entrance when she remembered her cloak. But the day was mild, and the walk was short; she made the hasty decision to sacrifice it. The cloak could be collected by a maid later. Swiftly, she hurried out the door of Darcy House into the sunshine.
Chapter 16
Darcy stared at the plate of breakfast in front of him, willing his appetite to return. The eggs and ham should have provoked rumblings from his stomach, given that he had not been able to choke down a single bite of dinner, but the food’s aroma only rendered him slightly nauseous. He had slept fitfully, as his thoughts constantly returned again and again to the scene with Elizabeth the previous day. The disgusted look on her face as she realized Darcy intended to press her for an answer about her feelings toward him. What had possessed him to such foolishness … such offensiveness? He could well recall the echoing sounds of her boot heels racing through the entrance hall.
Yes, I am the man who prompts women to flee his presence. Any discussion of marrying me is so disturbing it causes one to race into the cold without a cloak.
Although to be fair, it is not all women who flee—only the one I wish to marry ….
Yes, no doubt there were any number of women who would not run from him. For instance, Miss Bingley …. Darcy shuddered.
He had realized too late—must he always be too late?—that Elizabeth had given him a perfect opportunity to reveal his feelings when she had demanded he account for the manner of his proposal. But he was so accustomed to concealing his love for her, it had not occurred to him to reveal it. And to be honest, her refusal had piqued his vanity, and his temper had flared.
Of all the times to lose my hold on my temper!
He had never before made an offer of marriage, but he was certain that anger was not supposed to be part of it.
He had been rough, demanding, angry—when he should have been gentle and understanding and loving. She was, after all, grappling with her grief for Richard.