Page 11 of The Marriage Articles

“Lizzy,” said Mr Bennet. “You have come home at a most opportune moment. Mr Darcy has been so good as to call, and he has made me a proposal which concerns you closely.”

He let the word sit in the air a moment, enjoying it. Mr Darcy did not move from the window.

“A proposal?” Elizabeth said.

“Mr Darcy has called to make you an offer of marriage,” said her father, “and I have given him my blessing, which, as you know, I bestow with the liberality of a man who has five daughters and a limited imagination. There is one condition only. That you will have him.”

He rose from his chair as he spoke, gathered his newspaper under his arm, and came round the desk.

“Papa,” Elizabeth said.

“I have performed my part, my dear, which as you know is the part I execute best, the brief and ceremonial part. The substance of the matter remains entirely between the two of you.” He paused at the door and looked back at her. For an instant his customary amusement was gone, replaced by a look of serious and tender solicitude, which he concealed at once. “I shall leave you to your discussion.”

The door closed behind him.

For a moment neither of them spoke. Mr Darcy remained at the window, and Elizabeth remained near the door, and the fire, which had indeed been lit, made the only sound in the room. Her fingers were cold and her hem was muddied, and she resolved, with the stubbornness of the cornered, not to be the more uncomfortable of the two.

“What is your true reason, sir?” she said. “You stood in your own garden and told me plainly that my family was beneath your notice.”

“I did,” he said. “I will not pretend I never said it.”

“And what of your statement at the Meryton assembly?” She took a step into the room. “You told Mr Bingley, within my hearing, that I was tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt you. What alters a man’s palate so entirely in a month, Mr Darcy? I should dearly like to know, as a matter of natural philosophy.”

She had the satisfaction of seeing colour rise in his face, though his voice stayed level.

“You heard that? I had hoped you had not.”

“Half of Hertfordshire heard it.”

“I should not have uttered it. Bingley was pressing me to dance, and in my desire to escape his enthusiasm, I said the rudest thing that came to my mind. It was unpardonable and it was false, and I have been thoroughly ashamed of it ever since. I assure you.”

“Ashamed of being overheard, perhaps.”

“Ashamed of the words.” He said it plainly, without any of the ceremony she had been arming herself against. “I found you charming from the first evening I saw you, Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth had not prepared herself for this, and the admission left her a moment behind her own argument, which was not a position she was accustomed to occupy. She recovered by the readiest method available to her, which was disbelief.

“And how am I to consider the remainder of your conduct? You hold my family in contempt. They were your own words, not a fortnight since. I will never accept a husband who views my mother and sisters with disdain, Mr Darcy, not for the grandest estate in England, and had my father consulted my inclination before granting his blessing, you would have been saved the trouble of this journey from Netherfield.”

“Your father did not ask it, I think, because he knows the world better than to suppose the blessing is the difficulty.” He had moved away from the window now, and stood with one hand on the back of a chair, holding himself very still. “I will not lie to you, Miss Bennet. I do not relish the connexion. Your mother’s behaviour is not what I would choose in a mother, and your younger sisters are not what I would choose in sisters. But I think very highly of you, and of Miss Bennet, and I believe that you and I would suit very well. That is the whole of my position, and I would rather you refuse me for the truth of it than accept me for a prettier account.”

“You do not relish the connexion!” Elizabeth repeated. “I beg you will not strain yourself with enthusiasm, sir. A lady likes to be wooed, but she can bear a little moderation.”

“I have never been good at flattery, and I did not suppose you would thank me for attempting it at this late date.”

“You are correct. I should not.” She moved to the fire, because her fingers were still cold and because it gave her somewhere to look that was not his face. “We do not know each other, Mr Darcy. That is the plain truth under all the rest of it. We have exchanged perhaps a hundred words in our lives, and the majority of them were uncivil. How can you stand there and propose marriage to a woman you have hardly spoken to? It is not rational. You are a man who prides himself on being rational above all things.”

“That is an objection with an answer,” he said. “The answer is that it can be remedied. We may learn to know each other once we are married. Half the marriages in my acquaintance were arranged on less acquaintance than ours, and a good many of them prosper. My own parents were such a match. They met a handful of times before the settlement was drawn, and they were happy.”

“You speak of your parents, Mr Darcy, but the world is full of examples of a very different nature. I have seen enough of marriage to know the misery of a husband who holds his wife’s understanding in contempt, and the degradation of a woman who discovers she is merely tolerated. I will never enter into an alliance where respect is lacking on either side. I will not be the wife who is despised, sir.”

“I do not despise you.”

“No, but you despise my family.”

The fire ticked. Somewhere above them a door opened and shut.

“Why should I bind myself to you over a misunderstanding neither of us intended?” she said, her voice softer now. “It is absurd to pledge a lifetime to one person because of a moment’s misjudgement. You know it is.”