Miss Hawkridge peered at her more closely. “Did you find somewhere to hide the bones in his room?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Mr Darcy put them up the chimney.”
Miss Hawkridge had a slight smile playing on her lips, and Elizabeth prayed it did not portend any suspicions. “Excellent. And…did you discover anything else of interest while you were in there?”
Elizabeth shook her head, perhaps a little too insistently. “No. Did you?”
“No.” She was smirking, Elizabeth was sure of it.
“I really ought to be getting home, Miss Hawkridge. My aunt is expecting me.”
After what felt like an interminable pause, she relented. “As you wish. Let me just fetch my bonnet.” She walked away into another room, and Elizabeth opened the front door to get some air—and squeaked in surprise. Mr Hartham was on the top step, his arm raised to ring the bell.
“Mr Hartham! What are you doing here?”
“Miss Bennet—Elizabeth—I must say this before I lose my nerve. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
20
Elizabeth stared, doubted, coloured, and was silent, her astonishment rendering her quite beyond expression.What on earth is he about?He stood before her, looking in such a way as she had never before seen him. Uneasy. Lacking certainty. Perhaps even a little…fearful? It was nonsensical in every way. She had Mr Darcy’s kiss yet lingering on her lips, and now Mr Hartham’s proposal ringing in her ears.
“P-pray step inside, sir,” she managed to utter and stepped back, allowing him entry. A gust of sea air blew in with him, cooling her cheeks but doing nothing to restore her composure.
He turned to face her. “Elizabeth, I would like to ask you to be my wife.”
“Yes, you said, but um, well, it is all just very surprising,” she said.
“Is it? I should have thought my regard for you was plain.”
Truly, it was anything but. He certainly seemed earnest, but it was still too fantastical to credit any truthto it. “We have been good friends, it is true, but you said straightaway you had no interest in courting me.”
He smiled, with warmth. “And yet found myself doing just that. You must know how positively enchanting you are to me.”
No, in fact, she had not imagined any such thing. She had thought quite the opposite.Is this another situation in which my vivacity has misled a man?I must refuse him gently; I hope, above all things, that we might remain friends.Let it not be said that she had learnt nothing from her travails with Mr Darcy.
“Sir…” She reached her hand towards him, thinking she might take his hat; he instead clasped her outstretched hand in his own.
“My aunt means to make me a gift of her estate,” he said earnestly. “A veritable paradise with an excellent income. You will like it exceedingly well. And of course we will always have the houses in Brighton?—”
It was at this moment that Miss Hawkridge reappeared, fussily tying her bonnet beneath her chin. “This is precisely why a woman’s touch is needed in a place, for without it, the servants— Oh! How do you do… Mr Hartham, is it?”
Her gaze fell to where Elizabeth’s hand was still enclosed within his.
Elizabeth started, then pulled her hand free. “Miss Hawkridge. Um. Mr Hartham and I were just?—”
“Talking of the future,” supplied Mr Hartham. He was easier now, cocking one hip and smiling broadly. “To the advantage of us both.”
Miss Hawkridge’s brow wrinkled, but she said nothing, darting quick looks between Elizabeth and Mr Hartham.
Elizabeth’s thoughts darted about just as madly asthe other lady’s gaze. What should she say? Surely it would be impolitic to refuse him in front of another woman? What if the conversation grew heated, or things were said that humiliated him? She liked him; she had no wish to cause him pain or even discomfort, and her memory of Mr Darcy’s mortification in the face of her rejection ofhissuit made her excessively cautious.
“Perhaps you might call again later, at Mrs Millhouse’s residence,” she suggested. “Then we may talk more on this subject.”
“Of course,” he said warmly. “In any case, I am late for a small gathering of fellows who wish to have their purses lightened.”
“Would not want to miss that,” said Miss Hawkridge. It was difficult to tell what she was thinking. Elizabeth did not think she could have heard Mr Hartham’s proposal, but it was impossible to be certain she had not heardsomething. Her countenance was as inscrutable as her gaze was penetrating.
Mr Hartham bowed to her and then bowed again, very low, over Elizabeth’s hand. He mouthed the word ‘later’ after he rose, then was gone as quickly as he had arrived.
