Color rose in her cheeks. Darcy offered her a faint, steadying smile.
“I assure you, Miss Elizabeth, I am quite capable of speaking for myself.”
Her eyes searched his for a moment, then she inclined her head and withdrew, the door closing softly behind her.
Silence settled.
Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair. “Now then, Mr. Darcy. Let us see what sort of man you are.”
“An honorable one, I hope,” Darcy said.
Darcy did not sit until invited. He stood, hands loosely clasped behind his back.
“I seek your permission to pay my addresses to your daughter.”
Mr. Bennet regarded him without expression.
“You seek to court Elizabeth.”
“I do.”
“And what precisely does that mean to you, Mr. Darcy? A fortnight of agreeable conversation? A season’s amusement?”
“It means,” Darcy replied steadily, “that I consider her a woman of uncommon worth, whose character I greatly admire, and that I would wish—should she continue to favor me—to make her my wife.”
Mr. Bennet’s eyes sharpened.
“Your finances, Mr. Darcy? Can you afford to take a wife?”
Darcy hesitated briefly, then said, “While I typically do not discuss my income on so slight an acquaintance, I understand the need for a father to ensure his daughter is well-cared for. My estate in Derbyshire yields approximately ten thousand pounds per annum. I possess a townhouse in London, no debts of significance, and investments managed by a steward of long-standing integrity. My sister’s dowry is secured, and my stepmother’s jointure protected.”
Mr. Bennet’s brow lifted slightly at the thoroughness. “Tell me about the other women you have courted in the past.”
Blinking in mild confusion at the sudden change in topic, Darcy said, “I am not entirely certain what you mean, sir; I have not courted any other women.”
“Not in London? Not during your travels? No disappointed heiress nursing wounded pride?”
“No, sir.”
Mr. Bennet tapped his fingers lightly against the desk.
“You are accustomed, I imagine, to society above ours.”
“I am accustomed to society of varying kinds,” Darcy replied. “I have found that rank is no guarantee of virtue.”
“Very good.” Mr. Bennet’s mouth twitched faintly. “Then tell me this: what is it you like most about my daughter?”
Darcy did not look away.
“Her mind,” he said at once.
Mr. Bennet stilled.
“She sees clearly,” Darcy continued. “She is quick without being cruel, observant without being petty. She possesses wit, but does not wield it thoughtlessly. She is fiercely loyal to her family. She is capable of indignation where it is deserved and mercy where it is needed.”
He drew a breath, voice lowering slightly.
“She does not flatter. She does not pretend. She challenges me—frequently—and I am the better for it.”
