"Nothing happened, Mama," Elizabeth said wearily, though she knew the battle was already lost. "We were simply conversing. Mr Darcy was overwrought from the difficulties of the evening, and I offered him a moment's respite—
"Oh, my dear girl!" Mrs Bennet seized Elizabeth's hands before she could finish her explanation, squeezing them with enough force to make her wince. "This is better than I ever dared hope! As Mr Darcy’s wife, you shall have pin money beyond imagining, and jewels, and carriages with matching horses!"
"Mama, please—"
"And to think, I despaired of you ever making a truly advantageous match! Oh, you have quite outdone yourself, Lizzy! Quite outdone yourself indeed!"
Jane moved to Elizabeth's side, her hand coming to rest gently on her sister's arm in a gesture of support and sympathy. She alone seemed to understand that Elizabeth was less than delighted by these developments.
Mr Bennet surveyed the scene solemnly, and when he spoke, his tone was dry as autumn leaves. "What about Andrew Lucas?" he asked, directing the question at his wife. "I seem to recall, Mrs Bennet, that you were quite enthusiastic about him as a son-in-law merely three days ago. You spent an entire evening cataloguing his virtues and the advantages of his eventual inheritance."
Mrs Bennet waved dismissively at her husband. “Andrew Lucas! He is nothing compared to Mr Darcy, who is a far better match in every conceivable way. I cannot think what I was about, even considering Mr Lucas as suitable."
"How mercenary you sound, my dear," Mr Bennet observed mildly.
"I am being practical," Mrs Bennet retorted. "Affection is all very well, but a hefty allowance is quite preferable.”
Elizabeth felt a headache beginning to pulse behind her temples, a steady throb that matched the rhythm of her racing heart. This was rapidly spiralling beyond her control, transforming from an innocent misunderstanding into something that threatened to reshape her entire future. How had a simple gesture of comfort—a reassuring hand placed on a man’s back—transformed into a marriage arrangement that her entire family seemed to take as an accomplished fact?
The sound of footsteps in the corridor heralded the return of Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley, and the room fell silent with an expectancy that made Elizabeth want to flee.
Mr Darcy's gaze went directly to Elizabeth, and she saw in his face a resigned acceptance that matched the heaviness settling in her own chest. "Miss Elizabeth," he said, his voice formal and carefully controlled, "I have discussed the matter with Bingley. Given the circumstances—the witnesses to our private meeting, the nature of the discovery—it would be in your best interest for us to marry before your name is besmirched by rumours. Such talk spreads quickly in society, and once it takes root, it can be nearly impossible to uproot. The wedding should take place as soon as arrangements can be made, to minimise any damage to your reputation."
The words were perfectly correct, perfectly proper. He spoke as a gentleman of honour, doing precisely what duty demanded in such circumstances. They were also completely unacceptable to Elizabeth, who felt her independence and autonomy slipping away with each passing moment.
"I do not care for minor chatter," Elizabeth said, lifting her chin in defiance even as her heart hammered against her ribs. "Particularly rumours concerning something that did not occur. We were having a conversation, nothing more. I willnot marry simply to silence gossip over something I didn't do. It is absurd to suggest that a moment's private conversation necessitates a lifetime commitment."
"Lizzy!" Mrs Bennet gasped, her hand flying to her throat. "What nonsense you speak! What foolishness!"
"It is not nonsense, Mama. It is a principle—"
"But it is not only your reputation at stake," her mother interrupted, her voice rising with each word. "Think of your sisters! Have you given a single thought to them? If word spreads that you were found alone with a gentleman in a private room, it will taint them all. Jane's chances with Mr Bingley could be ruined! And Lydia, Kitty, Mary—none of them will receive respectable offers if you are known to be... to be..." She could not quite bring herself to finish the sentence, but the implication hung heavy in the air.
"Your mother speaks truly, Lizzy," Mr Bennet said, and Elizabeth felt her last hope crumble as her father’s thoughtful look faded into something more serious. "I dislike the notion of forcing you into anything—you know that I have always valued your independence of mind. But your sisters would definitely suffer due to such rumours. Mrs Phillips will talk—she always does—and once the story spreads through Meryton, there will be no containing it."
"I don't want people whispering about me because of something you did, Lizzy," Lydia added with uncharacteristic seriousness. "It isn't fair. I haven't even properly begun my courtship with Lieutenant Galway, and if there's a scandal attached to our family, he might stop calling entirely."
Elizabeth looked around at her family, feeling the walls closing in with each passing second. Her mother's eager face,her father's resigned expression, Lydia's petulant concern—all of them waiting for her to do the proper thing, the sensible thing, the thing that would protect them all from the consequences of an innocent action. Only Jane seemed to understand her distress, her gentle eyes filled with sympathy and concern.
"Elizabeth doesn't have to make a decision just yet," Jane said softly, her voice cutting through the rising tension like a balm. "This is a great deal to consider, and it has all happened so suddenly. Perhaps she should have time to think? It is only fair, given the magnitude of what is being asked of her."
"Time to think!" Mrs Bennet exclaimed, her voice shrill with disbelief. "What is there to think about? Mr Darcy is offering marriage! Any sensible girl would accept immediately and count herself fortunate!"
"Many women would long to be in your position, Lizzy," Kitty added with a mixture of envy and incomprehension. "To wed Mr Darcy of Pemberley! Think of the balls you could attend, the society you would move in! You would be introduced to the very highest circles!"
Mr Darcy cleared his throat, drawing all attention back to him. His expression remained neutral, but Elizabeth thought she detected a flicker of understanding in his gaze—perhaps even gratitude that she had not immediately capitulated to the pressure being exerted upon her. "I will await Miss Elizabeth's decision while I also consider the situation privately. This has been... unexpected for both of us. We have each been thrust into circumstances neither of us anticipated, and it would be unjust to demand an immediate resolution."
A long, uncomfortable silence fell over the room, broken only by the distant strains of music from the ballroomwhere some of the other guests continued their entertainment, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding in this small sitting room. Mrs Long looked disappointed at being denied immediate satisfaction. Mrs Bennet appeared on the verge of another outburst, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. Mr Bennet watched his daughter with an unreadable expression that might have been approval or simply resignation.
It was Lydia who broke the tension, her voice carrying a note of curiosity. "But Lizzy, if you're being hesitant, is it because of Andrew Lucas? Would you like to marry him instead?” The question hung in the air, simple and direct and utterly devastating in its innocence. Elizabeth felt all eyes turn to her once more, awaiting her answer with varying degrees of interest and concern.
Would she prefer Andrew Lucas?
She tried to picture it—a life with Andrew, comfortable and pleasant and thoroughly predictable. They would have a modest home, adequate means, and agreeable companionship. He would laugh at her wit and indulge her love of books. Their children would be raised with affection and care. It would be nice. A good life, by any reasonable measure. Many women would be grateful for such an arrangement.
But would it entirely please her heart?
Maybe. Or maybe it would not satisfy some deeper longing she had only recently acknowledged existed, a yearning for something more than mere comfort and compatibility.
