He felt a spasm of anxiety.
“You must know that I love you. That I cannot stop myself from desperately wanting you. The power of my feelings controls me. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
Elizabeth stared at him wide eyed. She pressed her hand against her mouth.
Silence held.
Birds twittered. A small lizard ran across the forest path behind Elizabeth. A light breeze rustled the leaves.
Darcy knew that she would accept him. What then took her so long to speak?
“Please, I beg you,” Darcy said, “remove my suspense, and say that you will make me the happiest man…” He then frowned. The commonplace phrase did not sound right in his head.
“Mr. Darcy, I cannot make you happy. If I believed that — but it is pointless to wish. You would always be filled with a sense of regret, a sense that you had made a mistake by marrying me, and I have no wish to be married under such circumstances.”
Her response was a gut punch.
It was barely possible to understand the words. She was refusing him? On grounds of his own happiness?
Darcy stepped forward towards her, holding out his hand. He wished to take her hand, or stroke her cheek, or simply touch her.
“Oh, no.” Elizabeth stepped back, shaking her head. “Do not look at me with such wounded eyes! You cannot — do you think of what I suffered? It was not easy. I loved you. I — you made it clear that you did not care enough for me. I understand you better now. You are haunted by the memory of Anne. I understand. Heavens! I cried over the matter more times than I could count — my mother thought I was unhappy since my clever scheme to trap you had failed — I had no scheme! And then… then… I heard about how a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush a thousand times from Mama, from letters from Mr. Collins, from everything. And now… you…you — I have overcome that feeling. I have moved beyond it. And I assure you, I did.”
The whole was spoken fast. It seemed to come out in almost one long breath.
The whole time Darcy stared at her. Red spots on her cheeks. Flashing eyes.
He felt sick.
“I had not realized… I did not know you felt so much.”
She wiped tears from her cheeks. “Mr. Darcy, you have many virtues, but a keen awareness of what others feel is not amongst them.”
He couldnotlet her go. He needed to talk her into agreeing to marry him… “Elizabeth, please, do not think of—”
“I thank you kindly for the honour of your proposal,” Elizabeth replied. “But I assure you that my response is firm and will not be shaken. I am convinced I would not make you happy, and of more importance, that I would not long be happy in amarriage with you. No sensible woman would marry a man who is so haunted by the ghost of his first wife that he cannot look at her without guilt.”
“I…” Darcy swallowed back something. He felt a pang through his heart, but this was right. “I ought to make myself a shrine to Anne’s memory, as your cousin suggested. I forgot—”
“Mr. Darcy, you loved her, and you never gave yourself the chance to grieve.”
“I did not love her. I couldn’t make myself feel that she was more beautiful than other women. I always looked at other women. I was not raised to behave as many dissolute gentlemen do, ignoring their vows, disrespecting the oaths I took. I never entered intimate congress with any other woman but my lawful and wedded wife. But on occasion I thought of it. I could not stop myself.”
“Mr. Darcy, you took her away from Lady Catherine. I believe you made her happy.”
“I—”Why were his cheeks wet?Darcy wiped away the tears. “I should have sworn myself to celibacy. I let her convince me too easily to make the attempt again and again. To have an heir. I feared for her health. I could not keep her safe and alive. And there was a part of me that wanted—”
“You have told me.”
“I can’t help but hate myself.”
“You loved her.”
“I did not—”
“I do not say that you were infatuated with her. I do not say that you thought her the most beautiful woman in the world. I say that you loved her, you admired her, and you never gave yourself the right to grieve for her.”
“She held my hand. As she died. She told me to be happy. She told me to name the child Emily. So much red. Red, red, red. The soaked towel. Then the convulsions, and… I havenightmares about that night. I kept trying to do something, begging God to make it not true. Afterwards I kept myself busy with Emily, but… I didn’t want her to die. Do you believe me? I truly did not want her to die.”
