“Do not make yourself uneasy. If you wish to talk, we are happy to listen.”
Elizabeth sighed heavily and began her tale.
“As you surmised, the problem is with a gentleman. My first impression wasnotauspicious. The first words he said within my hearing were‘She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me—"
An hour later, the entire story lay exposed, from the ignominious beginning to the mortifying proposal.
“And then… then… well, I do not actually know if I should be proud or shamed, but Ipanicked. I, who pride myself on self-reliance and rationality, just panicked. I had every person I ever met shouting instructions to me, so I finally turned and ran.”
All three of her companions stared, mouths slightly ajar in surprise and sympathy.
“Two abominable proposals in four months. That may be some sort of record,” Mr Wythe finally said.
Everyone chuckled, and the tension in the room released.
Mrs Wythe asked, “Did you sayanythingto the so-called gentleman?”
Elizabeth coloured deeply and lowered her gaze to her hands. “Not a word. That is the shameful part. I—”
She exhaled slowly. “I have a bit of a temper, and in the first rejection, the other so-called gentleman refused to take no for an answer. The two gentlemen could be compared in relative stature as a worm and a hawk, and I… well… I was deathly afraid of what I would say to the hawk if he provoked me. I fear… well, as like as not, it would have beenvery unpleasant.”
All three nodded, deeming 'very unpleasant' the correct response to such an abominable proposal.
“My mother tried to force my acceptance of the first proposal from the worm. You can imagine her reaction to the hawk. I was but six weeks from my majority, where I would have relative freedom. It might be the relative freedom to be poor as a rat, but I justcould notallow the biggest choice in my life to be dictated by someone else. There is a saying:Marry in haste, repent at leisure.I prefer not to repent at all.”
Mrs Wythe leaned forward and took her hands again. “When is your birthday, dear?”
“Next week.”
“Let us remove the ‘poor as a rat’ possibility. So long as you are willing to enter the trades, we will happily assist you,” MrWythe said. “I know any number of businessmen who would snatch you up in a heartbeat. You can live perfectly comfortably on your own, or better yet with us, until you find a husband somewhere between the two extremes—perhaps a rabbit or gazelle?”
Everyone laughed, and Elizabeth continued.
“All this time, I have been reconsidering the hawk.Logistikonhas for the past several weeks been annoyingly persistent. It says that perhaps the gentleman is shy, or uncomfortable in crowds, or so in love with me he becomes tongue-tied.Thumosis less sanguine about those ideas butdoesseem to be impressed that he is the handsomest man I have ever seen, whileEpithumetikonasserts that a handsome gentleman may not be the worst thing in the world. I will never be comfortable with any decision until I learn more about him.”
“Do you wish to share the gentleman’s identity? You know it is not necessary.”
Elizabeth offered the last tiny little bit of her story she had held back.
“I have been reluctant to tell anyone, though I hope you do not believe it is due to lack of trust.”
“That is entirely sensible. A lady cannot be too careful with her reputation.”
Elizabeth laughed darkly. “I agree. My sister Mary prattles on about that often, though she is not entirely wrong. She says that ‘loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable; that one false step involves her in endless ruin; that her reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful.’ I hope you do not feel I mistrust you?”
“Of course not. You are guarding your heart and your life. Frankly, I would be disappointed if you had told us earlier. It would show less sense than we expect from you.”
Elizabeth smiled at Mrs Wythe, a woman she would introduce to her Aunt Gardiner at the earliest opportunity, but then grew pensive, sighed, and began.
“You may well know the man. It is Mr Darcy of Pemberley.”
Mr Wythe drew a sharp breath, while Mrs Wythe and Margaret merely stared.
“That explains some of your odd conversations I overheard in Kympton,” Mrs Wythe replied.
“Yes, ma’am. I was trying to learn more about him—trying to feedLogistikon.”
Mr Wythe said, “I do not know the gentleman, but I do know of him. He runs more cattle than sheep and has a different broker for his wool. He is reputed to be a very honest man, a fair master, affable to the poor, but somewhat aloof and standoffish. I could find out more if you like, but not right away.”
