“Then you may return to Hunsford and not concern yourself with Lady Catherine. I shall depart for Kent tomorrow and will speak with Lady Catherine myself.”
Mr. Collins bowed low. “Thank you for your understanding, Mr. Darcy. I know you could have told me to mind my own concerns.”
“Not at all. I should have thought of it myself. In my defense, I have often tried to avoid any mention of the subject, for it is most disagreeable. Lady Catherinewillbe disappointed, even if her disappointment is her own doing.”
With another bow, Mr. Collins excused himself, his words brief and almost sensible. Darcy saw nothing of his departure, for his attention was all on Miss Elizabeth. She spoke first.
“I am curious, Mr. Darcy.”
“About what?”
Miss Elizabeth eyed him. “Whether you think our connection of sufficient strength to warrant approaching your aunt and declaring you will have me for a wife.”
“Not at all, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, “for I have a healthy respect for your ability to put me in my place should I step fromit. As Mr. Collins has suggested, it is time to inform my aunt that her wishes will never come to be. I shall make no mention of you, though my aunt will suspect that I have found someone I wish to marry.”
“Very well,” said Miss Elizabeth, willing to accept his explanation.
“Do you suppose you can withstand my aunt if she confounds me and journeys here despite my efforts?”
“Do you doubt me?”
“I would never presume.”
“Good.” Miss Elizabeth gave him a sweet smile. “I do not intimidate easily, Mr. Darcy. Should your aunt confront me, it is more likely my refusal to bend to her designs will offend her.”
“Then I am pleased to hear it.”
Miss Elizabeth watched him. “How long do you suppose you will be away from Hertfordshire?”
“I will return the day after tomorrow,” said Darcy, allowing no hint of uncertainty to stain his confidence. “Trust me, Miss Elizabeth—I have no wish to be away at all just now, and little desire to delay my return.”
The wonder with which she regarded him struck Darcy as amusing, especially at this late date. “Do you mean to proceed, Mr. Darcy—despite your aunt’s objections, whatever your uncle might say, the disparity between our stations, and every other rational objection to any accord between us?”
Darcy paused, wondering what he might say to her. Miss Elizabeth was not lacking confidence, he knew, and he had no concern about how she would comport herself in society—she would outshine them by far, in his estimation. No, what she required was confirmation of his intentions and respect, to know that he would not regret what he gave up to have her, resent her for her situation.
“I care little for society, you know,” said Darcy quietly, keeping his gaze steady on her to show that he was in earnest. “My behavior was not an act. There are few I call friends and fewer that I respect. What I can tell you is this: to me, you are worth far more than your dowry or the connections you can bring me. Though I mean to show you that I am in earnest, my fate is in your hands, for I will provoke your love, or you will not have me. This I know. So let us put such thoughts behind us, for I must depart on the morrow. It will be the two longest days of my life.”
A soft smile fell over her face. She reached out to grasp his hand, squeezing once and then releasing as was proper. “That sounds like an excellent notion, Mr. Darcy. Let us proceed.”
Chapter XIX
How Lady Catherine might react to learning that her cherished dream would not come to pass had always been a matter of conjecture for Darcy. A sigh of frustration, however, was not among the reactions he had ever considered.
“You are mulish, Darcy,” said she, looking at him, disappointment evident in her voice and gaze. “But I cannot say that I did not expect this.”
Darcy regarded her, trying to understand the lady’s reaction. “You are not angry?”
The woman regarded him, a trace of asperity mingled with amusement in her steady look. “Would it make any difference to you if I were?”
It was impossible to understand her, so Darcy responded without thinking. “No, it would not. Yet you have spoken about this matter for years without ceasing. I might have expected a more . . . heated response upon learning that I will not oblige you.”
“Then it appears you do not know me so well as you suppose. There is only one thing I would like to know, Darcy.”
“And what is that?” asked Darcy, this conversation already surreal enough for him to wonder if it was truly happening.
“Though I would not injure you by supposing otherwise, may I assume she is respectable?”
Darcy gaped at her. “Who?”
