“You would likely feel the same, sir, if you had five daughters and your estate was entailed away from the female line.”
He made a noncommittal sound. “Yes, ma’am, you are most likely correct.”
They walked on in silence until they reached the hermitage. Then Darcy spoke again. “Miss Elizabeth, you do not seem accepting of an alliance with your cousin.”
“No, I do not aspire to marry my cousin, though he is the heir to Longbourn.”
“Why not?”
“Sir, that is an impertinent question. I shall pretend you did not ask it.”
She took a step, but he did not move. “Miss Elizabeth, I did not mean to be impertinent. I only wish to understand. I thought women married first out of prudence, and if they are fortunate, love or respect for their betrothed follows.”
She studied his face for several moments. His question was sincere. “Sir, every woman would answer differently. For example, my friend Miss Lucas would accept a marriage of convenience. But for myself, I have always wished to marry for love. And if not love, then I must at least be able to respect my husband.”
He regarded her steadily. “And you do not respect your cousin? He seems a respectable, well-looking man. From the attention the young women paid him when we took tea in your mother’s rose garden, it appears they all think so too. Why do you not respect him?”
Elizabeth flushed and refused to look at him. “Mr. Darcy, that is a very personal question, and I barely know you. It is improper for you to ask me.”
He drew a breath. “Forgive me, ma’am. I am only trying to understand how women think and where love fits into the mix. I do not mean to embarrass you.”
She searched his face. “Mr. Darcy, there seems to be a private history shaping your questions. Have you known the caprice of a woman?”
He flushed to his ears, but he answered her. “It is only fair that you question me since I questioned you so personally. Yes, I have…” His eyes looked pained as his gaze flickered on her face.
Elizabeth remained silent. After a long moment, he spoke again. “I never saw it coming.”
Elizabeth pressed his arm briefly. “I am sorry, sir, for your disappointment. I can see you cared for her. And as for your question, in my view, respect is integral. A woman puts herself completely into her husband's power, both spiritually and physically.”
Darcy turned to her. “And you were saying, you do not respect Mr. Collins.”
“No, I do not. He is not a respectable man. He speaks improperly to me, and his inferences make me shudder. In truth, I fear him. I would never willingly place myself under his control in the married state.”
Darcy was silent for a moment. “I am sorry that the heir to your father’s estate is not respectable. It would have been a sweet resolution to the entail.”
She nodded in agreement. “Yes, my father was hopeful when he first laid eyes on him. My cousin presents well, tall, handsome, and courteous. But his character is depraved.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Depraved, ma’am? Do you have evidence of this?”
She flushed. “In truth, I do not. I assumed it from his sundry remarks and the things he says when he teases me. I believe he takes pleasure in raising my ire, sir.”
“So, his poor deportment may be due to a wicked sense of humor and not necessarily because he is a blackguard.”
“Yes, I take your meaning, Mr. Darcy. I apologize for jumping to conclusions. Please forget what I said before.”
Darcy inclined his head. “I will put it out of my mind.” He sighed. “In my own case, I believe the woman I once courted viewed an alliance with me as a marriage of convenience, without any of the warmer sentiments.”
He offered his arm again, and they walked on. “In hindsight, I see she did not feel for me what I felt for her.”
Elizabeth said nothing, but as they walked together, she began to understand this reserved man a little better. He was guarding his heart from every woman, not just women of her circle. And not just from her.
That same afternoon, Mrs. Bennet and her three daughters visited the modiste in Harpenden. Mr. Phillips lent them his carriage, and Aunt Phillips accompanied them. For the first time, Elizabeth and Mary were each allowed a new evening gown. Until now, they had worn only Jane’s hand-me-downs.
Mrs. Phillips turned on her youngest niece. “Young lady,” she said to Mary, “you will wear what we tell you to wear. Look at you, covered from neck to wrist, and that dreadful yellow-brown fabric makes you look sallow. No man will want a wife who looks half-dead.”
Tears sprang to Mary’s eyes. Elizabeth pressed her hand.
“That is right, Mary,” Mrs. Bennet added. “You never listen to me, but you will listen to your aunt. We will not waste this opportunity to find you a husband, but you must do your part.The Harpenden seamstress is well known for dressing a woman to advantage.”
