“Mr. Darcy, you have given me ten reasons that our marriage is not to your liking,” she said, speaking carefully. She needed to prepare him. “I also have several objections to this marriage.”
His eyes were already narrowing, as he stared at her in disbelief.
His expression provoked her defiance. Why should he think he was the only one who had objections? She would match him one for one and come up with ten good reasons of her own whysheshould not marry him.
“I thank you, sir,” she said, “for the offer of your hand, and for delivering it with such gravity and—as I must allow—remarkable frankness. You shall have my answer in kind.”
She spread her fingers out, as he had done, and began to count.
“The first and most obvious reason is that the marriage would be a tremendous sacrifice on your part. You are being forced to marry me because you did something good.”
He looked relieved. “Well, as to that, Miss Bennet, no doubt I will grow accustomed to it in time.”
“That is hardly reassuring, Mr. Darcy. You speak about it as if it is a prison sentence.”
“A successful marriage is a matter of luck. There is no predicting how the cards will turn.” His lips tilted upwards, just a little. “In this case, there is a chance that it will not be too difficult.”
She did not answer. She still had a long way to go. “Second, though I appreciate your condescension in overlooking the vulgarity of my connections, I find it difficult to accept a proposal that begins with the suitor listing all the reasons he shouldnotbe proposing.”
Mr. Darcy started to object, but she shook her head at him. “Please, Mr. Darcy, I hope you will listen to me without interruption, as I did with you.”
He raised his brow, but did not argue the point.
“Third, I must consider that, since I have no fortune, if I accepted your hand now, people might accuse me of throwing my niece into the lake to capture your attention.”
“That is absurd!” exclaimed Mr. Darcy, seething.
“No more absurd than you standing before me, and asking me to marry you, just because my clothes were wet.”
“You rode in my carriage.”
“I was with your sister, as well as a child.”
“You were with me. And you came into my home. I am a bachelor. You are an unmarried young lady.”
It amused her that he felt obliged to explain all this, as if she did not have the wit to understand it. She looked at her right hand. What number were they on? Number four. Six more to go. Could she come up with ten? She felt it was imperative to do so. She needed her response to be symmetrical to his.
“Fourth, you have managed to insult my family, my situation in life, and my intelligence—all within the same quarter-hour. As a feat of rhetoric, I find that admirable, but I do not wish to marry someone who advocates it.”
Darcy let out a loud irritated breath.
“Fifth, it would be highly inconvenient to become mistress of Pemberley when I am not at all certain I would like to remove myself to the bleakness and wildness of moorland and heather and rocks.”
Heavens, she was already running out of ideas, with five more to go. There had not been time to prepare for this, and she was forced to rely on her wits.
He scowled at this characterization of his home, outraged by her casual dismissal of his estate when he must be very proud of it. If his London townhouse was anything to judge by, Pemberley must be a beautiful estate.
“Sixth, I must decline on the grounds that I do not think we would suit at all. As you pointed out, we are from different social spheres, which I believe to be an unsurmountable obstacle.”
Mr. Darcy looked like he wanted to say something, so she hurried with her next point.
“Seventh, from the portrayal you have given of your family and relations, I do not believe I would get on with them at all.”
She wondered if she could get away with saying they sounded self-important and narrow- minded, then decided to keep matters factual.
“Eighth, I worry that if I accept you today, you may continue to resent me, as you do now, for the rest of your life.”
“I do not resent you, Miss Bennet—”
