At her words, he halted mid-kiss, tilting his head backto look at her. After a moment, he let a breath out, resting his forehead against hers.
“I am a beast,” he said. “You have been ill.”
“You are my husband,” she said softly. “You need not stop. Although we do have a problem—I am not of age. I suppose my father will not challenge it, however, and would give his permission after the fact.”
But at this he reared back. “What did you say?”
Elizabeth was confused by his obvious astonishment. “I am only twenty. It is yet a good four months until my birth?—”
“We are not married!”
“You said we were!”
He gaped. “I am sure I never did.”
“I could hardly have made up such a thing! You said it!” Realising that she was still seated on his lap, she hurriedly moved off onto the upholstered bench.
Elizabeth was mortified.Hadshe imagined it? Were his words a mere product of her imagination and illness? But no, she was certain!
“You spoke of the honour and privilege of marrying me, when I regained consciousness at the inn. It was almost the first thing you said to me. I am sure you did!” She grimaced. “I think.”
His brow smoothed, a hint of white teeth showing her a slight smile. “And so it would be both honour and privilege. You misunderstood me, my dear. I said that I told the innkeeper we were married, justifying our travel alone together. I only meant to explain to you that a marriagemight become necessary, if circumstances did not permit our remaining anonymous. Many know me. These things have a way of getting out—as you know, now, for yourself.”
“You did not argue the marriage when I announced it to my mother and Wickham!”
He gathered up her hands in his, holding on when she would have pulled away. “Of course I did not. You were brilliant. I will get a licence and we will quickly turn the lie into truth.”
She stared at him. “What you mean is that from the moment you heard of Mama’s plotting, you were doomed, your choices surrendered. What you mean is that I have forced you into a marriage, without your consent.”
“Rather, I think it was the push I needed, to take the step I wanted. I stupidly allowed the inferiority of your connexions and that total want of propriety so frequently displayed by your mother and your three younger sisters to stand in the way of my feelings.”
Elizabeth saw it then, all too clearly. He had been attracted to her, perhaps deeply attracted. But mere desire wouldneverhave been enough for him. He had expected to…to do better.
“In other words, had you not been forced by your conscience to rescue me, you would never have asked me to marry you. There are trunks atop this carriage. You were already packed when you received word of this plot by Mama and Mr Collins. You would have departed Netherfield and never looked back.”
Even in the near-darkness, she could tell his gaze slid away from hers; her heart dropped to her half-boots.
“What does that signify? I was wrong. My eyes have been opened.”
“Your desires have been tempted. It is not a good enough reason.”
“A few minutes ago, it was,” Darcy said, jaw clenching. “You were prepared to accept the marriage when you did not recall it.”
She tugged her hands away from his. “I was prepared to make the best of an unfortunate situation. I trusted that if you said we must be married, we must already be.”
“And so we must. You have announced the marriage to your mother—not known for her discretion—and who else heard, one can only guess. Collins, for one, has seen you in a disreputable circumstance. Will he be quiet? Not to mention Wickham.”
“My father can enforce my mother’s silence. Mr Collins is a fool—I cannot believe anyone would care for a word he utters. Mr Wickham believes us to be wed, and you have already said he is unlikely to return to Meryton to learn differently. If you take me to my uncle Gardiner in Cheapside, I can stay with my ‘inferior connexions’ until it all blows over and some new scandal comes along for small minds to fuss about. It might take some time, but if nothing comes of this incident, it will all be forgotten eventually.”
“You and Miss Bennet must always be excluded fromany like criticism of inferiority,” he said. “I did not mean to insult you.”
“Of course you did not. To you, it is simply truth—you are of one rank, and I am of another, a much lower one. My portion is abysmal, my nearest relations are embarrassing. Imagining Mama as your mother-in-law is unbearably preposterous. Why would you do anything elseexceptdepart and call it a lucky escape?”
He appeared to be struggling to find words to refute hers. And then he said ones she had not expected. “Because I love you.”
Almost, she threw herself back into his arms. It was the first time anyone had ever made such a declaration to her, and she was mightily tempted to hold onto it, to treasure it…tobelieveit. But she had an education in this particular circumstance that he likely did not. Briefly she touched the roughness of his cheek, her heart breaking, her conscience forcing her to be truthful, tonotdo the easy thing.
“My father fell in love with my mother many years ago, and nothing would do but that he should quickly marry her. Relating it now, it always becomes a cautionary tale to his daughters. They have been very unhappy together, I think. What you and I feel for each other is desire, an apparently fleeting emotion that cannot survive the first year of wedlock.”
