The words hung on the page, pregnant with implications he was only beginning to grasp.
She possesses a quality of mind I have rarely encountered in society. Not the shallow reflection of approved opinions that passes for thought amongst so many of our acquaintances, but true, independent reasoning. She corrected a gentleman who made factual errors despite knowing it would invite censure. She inserted herself into a potentially dangerous situationyesterday without regard for consequences to herself, acting purely because she believed intervention was necessary.
Was that admiration colouring his words? Darcy frowned at the page, then continued.
She is impulsive, yes. Perhaps too much so. But there is fundamental honesty in her impulsiveness, a lack of artifice that I find refreshing after years spent navigating the deliberate stratagems of the marriage market. She sought to help me because she believed it right, not because aiding me might advantage her. That counts for something.
It counted for rather a lot, actually. How many women of his acquaintance would have intervened in such circumstances? Most would have observed the fortune hunters’ manoeuvre him into compromise, content to let the drama unfold without personal risk. But Miss Bennet had risked herself instead.
That kind of instinctive courage was an admirable quality that might form a stronger foundation for marriage than the unfavourable compatibilities his family had been foisting upon him for years.
Moreover,Darcy wrote, warming to his argument now that he had begun articulating it,marriage to Miss Bennet neatly resolves the situation with Lady Catherine. My aunt cannot continue pressing Anne’s suit when I am already engaged elsewhere. The family may be displeased by the suddenness, but they cannot reasonably object to the match itself. Miss Bennet is genteel, well-educated, and respectable.
Bingley would laugh at this transparent rationalisation. Darcy could almost hear his friend’s voice: So you are marryingher to escape your aunt’s scheming? You cannot deceive yourself about what you actually want.
Very well. Honesty, then.
The truth is that I could do far worse than Elizabeth Bennet. She is intelligent enough to provide genuinely interesting companionship. She is spirited enough to prevent our household from becoming dull and possesses sufficient independence of mind to manage her own affairs and interests without requiring constant oversight. We suit each other better than many couples who marry with longer acquaintance and supposedly deeper attachment.
I do not love her. She does not love me. But I respect her, which strikes me as a sounder foundation for marriage than the romantic passion poets celebrate and reality so often disappoints. Love, if it comes, may develop over time as we learn to know one another properly. Or it may not come at all. Either way, I believe we shall manage to rub along tolerably well. Better than tolerably, perhaps. We might even be happy, in our own fashion.
The letter continued for several more pages, detailing practical considerations he would need to address. Informing his family properly, for instance, among other arrangements. By the time Darcy signed his name and sealed the missive, his thoughts felt considerably more ordered than when he had begun.
Writing to Bingley had clarified something important: he was not resigned to marrying Elizabeth Bennet. He was, surprisingly, somewhat eager for it. It was quite possibly the most sensible decision he had made in years. Certainly moresensible than the matches his family had proposed, all ambition and alliance with no other practical consideration.
The question now was whether Miss Bennet shared any portion of his developing conviction that their accidental engagement might prove fortunate rather than catastrophic. From their conversation yesterday, he rather doubted it. She had seemed determined to find some way of dissolving their understanding and returning them both to the independence they had possessed before her impulsive declaration.
He would need to make his case and explain why proceeding with the marriage served both their interests better than attempting to retract what had been so publicly announced.
Would she be persuaded? He could not say with certainty. But he had to try.
The letter to Bingley would be dispatched on the morrow. Tonight, Darcy would prepare his arguments for the conversation that must occur when he called at Castlewood again. He would make Miss Bennet understand that marriage between them need not be the disaster she feared.
And if she remained unconvinced despite his best efforts? That was a possibility he preferred not to examine too closely just yet.
***
The following afternoon found Darcy once again at Castlewood Manor, this time with purpose sharpened by a night’s worth of careful reasoning. Mrs Bennet received him with her usual effusive delight, but Miss Bennet’s expressionwhen she entered the drawing room carried wariness. Her eyes met his, as if seeking warning of impending difficulty.
“Mr Darcy.” She curtseyed. “Good afternoon.”
“Miss Bennet.” He bowed. “I hope I find you well?”
“As well as circumstances permit.”
Mrs Bennet settled herself near the doorway with needlework that would receive minimal attention whilst she monitored their conversation. Darcy had anticipated this and adjusted his approach, accordingly, keeping his voice low enough to suggest privacy whilst remaining audible to propriety’s demands.
“I have received congratulations this morning,” he began without preamble. “From several gentlemen I barely know. Our engagement is an established fact across the entire town. And thus, I have been giving considerable thought to our situation. Specifically, to your proposal that we attempt to dissolve our engagement once sufficient time has passed.”
Miss Bennet’s fingers tightened on the handkerchief she held. “And?”
“I believe we must consider the full consequences of such a course. News has a way of crossing to England. Letters will be written, acquaintances informed. Within a fortnight, our families in Hertfordshire and Derbyshire will likely know what has occurred here.”
“But we agreed—” She stopped herself, glancing towards the door before continuing more quietly. “We discussed maintaining appearances temporarily.”
“I know. And I have given that plan proper consideration. But I fear it fails to account for the reality of how such news propagates and what consequences follow from attempting to retract it. A broken engagement, even one dissolved by mutual consent with the most diplomatic explanations possible, creates its own form of scandal. You would be painted as having aimed above your station and failed to secure me, or as fickle in your affections. I would be labelled the sort of man who trifles with gentlemen’s daughters. Neither outcome serves either of us well.”
“So you propose we marry to avoid gossip? That seems a rather extreme solution to a problem of our own making.”
