“Forgive me, Mr Wickham,” Elizabeth apologised, feeling more than a little bewildered. He had seemed perfectly serious to her — until he had seen her shock and disgust. It was only then that the idea became so impossible to him. Wasn’t it?
But if that were true, then Mr Wickham was purposely concealing his true intentions — and blaming her in the process.
“No offense is taken, Miss Bennet. I would count it a great honour if you would consider my proposal. Take as long as you need.”
Elizabeth only nodded. She hardly knew what to say. She had known from the beginning that she could not accept him on so brief an acquaintance. But if Mr Wickham were truly the despicable man that Mr Darcy had painted him, the kind of man who would suggest elopement to a young woman for his own convenience, she would do better never to speak to him again.
The rest of the outing was pleasant enough. Mr Wickham was gentleman enough not to press her, and Elizabeth was grateful it was so. They finished their ices, and then he saw them off at the door, waiting until her aunt’s carriage could be brought around. Rather than seeing them back to the house, he hired a hackney and was on his way.
Elizabeth could almost feel her aunt’s eyes boring through her skull as they bounced along the road towardGracechurch Street. “Do not look at me like that, Aunt Gardiner. I have done nothing wrong.”
“I saw the way he was pressing your hand and leaning so close to speak to you, close enough so that I could not hear him. Pray tell, what did he have to say?” she asked, raising one of her brows disapprovingly.
Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “He was very charming, as usual,” she began.
“Of course he was. I would not have thought anything different. But what did he say?” Mrs Gardiner pressed.
She looked down at her hands, wishing she did not have to tell her aunt that she had been right about the man. Or at least, that her suspicions were almost sure to be correct. She sighed and glanced up at her aunt. “He asked me to marry him.”
Mrs Gardiner slowly nodded. “And what did you say?”
“I said I would have to consider it, that I was not ready to enter into an engagement.” Elizabeth wondered if she ought to tell her aunt that Mr Wickham had suggested they elope. No, surely not. He had told her he did not mean it, that he was offended she could have thought so. It would be unjust to tell her aunt as though it were a fact, when Mr Wickham had so earnestly protested that it was not. “I told him I would need time to think. He told me to take all the time I needed.”
“Yes, my dear, of course they all say that. But you cannot leave him waiting forever. That is cruel.” Her aunt clicked her tongue in disapproval. “If you have no plans to accept the man, then it is only right that you tell him as soon as possible. Really Lizzy, I know your mother has taught you that you must jump at any chance of marriage that comes along, but you must think about what you need in a husband, and what you want. Thisis a lifetime commitment, one that should not be entered into lightly.”
“I know, aunt. And that is why I hesitate as I do.” Elizabeth hung her head. Perhaps it was wrong to keep Mr Wickham’s suggestion of an elopement to herself, but she was too ashamed to tell all. “How is one supposed to know if one is making the right decision when choosing a husband? How did you know my uncle was the right man for you? I confess, I cannot seem to see myself married to Mr Wickham.”
“I cannot explain how you will know, Elizabeth.” Her aunt got a far-off, dreamy look in her eyes as she watched the lane pass by, smiling to herself. “Your uncle was the only man I felt I could be myself around. He listened to me, and before I ever felt anything akin to romantic love for him, I felt we had developed a friendship — an understanding that went deeper than the need for security.” She met Elizabeth’s gaze once more and shrugged. “Perhaps I have not told you before that there were three gentlemen who had proposed to me. But I could only see myself with one — your uncle. Indeed, I felt I could not live without him. And that is why I accepted his proposal in the end.”
“How am I to reject his proposal without hurting his feelings, aunt?”
“You cannot, really. You must reject him as delicately as you can, but in the end, if his feelings are genuine, he will be hurt. There is no way around that, my dear. It is still much better than becoming entangled in a match that you do not really want. Nor would you wish to break off an engagement. That would only be worse, both for Mr Wickham’s heart, and for your reputation. You must give him your answer soon, my dear niece. The longer you wait, the more painful it will be.”
Elizabeth nodded, thinking. She had thought that she had refused him during the earlier part of their conversation. But then Mr Wickham had brought up the idea of elopement and thrown her into confusion. He had asked her to consider his proposal and let him know what she was ready.
And that answer…what must she say? Elizabeth had no reason to doubt that Mr Wickham was sincerely devoted to her. He was overeager in urging her to elope, to be sure, and Elizabeth could not like either the immorality of the suggestion or the looseness of the joke — if it had really been a joke.
All that spoke for refusing him, and at the thought, she felt something not dissimilar from relief. But that must be only folly. Elizabeth well knew what her mother would have wanted her to do — to marry Mr Wickham, and quickly. Jane, too, liked Mr Wickham. She thought his manners almost the equal of Mr Bingley’s, and for Jane, that was praise indeed. Even her aunt and uncle seemed to like him, for all her aunt’s cautions.
What was it that held her back? She hardly knew. Elizabeth only knew that she would have given a great deal for certain knowledge of whether her doubts were justified.
Chapter 24
Darcy slouched in his seat, looking into the dimly lit room as men smoked pipes and played card games, sipping various drinks. His club was not particularly diverting that evening, but Fitzwilliam had insisted they go and see some of their friends.
“Do not look so gloomy, cousin.” Fitzwilliam said, holding up his glass of Scotch as if to toast him. “I assume you are pining over Miss Bennet?”
Darcy glanced at his cousin, who wore a wicked smile. He pushed down his jealousy and straightened in his chair. “I am not pining.”
“Come now, old chap. Do not be angry at me because I am in the lead with our little wager. Can I help it that she knows a superior man when she sees one?” Fitzwilliam puffed out his chest and chuckled. “I am sorry, Darcy. You know I only jest.”
“This is no time for jesting, Fitzwilliam. I do not think she has any intention of choosing either of us — not with Mr Wickham sniffing at her heels. This is a dire situation!” He let out a frustrated sigh, wishing there was something he could do.
“You do not really think she would consider the man, not after everything you told her of his true nature?” Fitzwilliam satup and finally had the decency to look concerned. He put his drink down and leaned forward.
“I tried to warn her, but she did not believe me. Don’t you see, Fitzwilliam? That foolish wager doesn’t matter. All that matters is saving Miss Bennet from that blackguard.” He sat back again, slack against the chair. “I’ve ruined our best chance of saving her, though. There were so many misunderstandings between us, and I only learned of them when it was already too late.”
“Surely you can try again? There has to be a way to convince her that Wickham is a snake.” Fitzwilliam made to stand, but Darcy grabbed his arm and pulled him back down, lowering his voice.
