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“However, you will be expected to associate with the highest levels of Society, and what better time to hone your skills than with Lady Catherine over the next week or so. Admittedly, she is at times meddling and condescending. But I assure you, she means you no harm.”

Elizabeth had heard quite enough. She cleared her throat. “Mr. Darcy. I suppose you think you have bestowed on me some manner of compliment—although I fail to discern what it is.”

“I love you—most ardently. I am offering you my hand in marriage.”

Elizabeth’s heart, her lungs, her throat all constricted. She coloured. She stared. She said nothing.

“Miss Elizabeth⁠—”

Any semblance of cordiality she had once suffered for this man had been extinguished by the manner of his declaration. “Mr. Darcy, in such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed; however unequally they may be returned.”

“Are you rejecting me?”

“I am, sir.”

“This is not to be borne.”

“Sir, there may have been a time when I would have expressed a sense of gratitude, but only for the briefest of moments. Truth be told, I once looked forward to meeting you. I thought surely the accounts from all who had the misfortune of making your acquaintance whilst in Hertfordshire were untrue. How could anyone who is revered as a landlord, a master, a friend, and a brother, engender such disdain from strangers? Even Mr. Wickham’s words, I refused to sway me completely.”

“Wickham!”

“Yes, he told me that the reports against your character had not been exaggerated. He further described your dear aunt’s manner as dictatorial and insolent—her temperament as haughty and scornful! What is more, he said you are just like her. His words have proved truer than I dared ever suppose. You are your aunt’s nephew in every possible way!”

Elizabeth embarked upon a lengthy discourse, indicting Darcy for his many offences against Mr. Wickham and his ill-opinion of her family. Shaking his head, he looked at her with an expression of mingled incredulity and mortification.

Elizabeth was not done taking him to task. All the conflicting emotions incited in her over the past weeks erupted to his detriment. “Your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain for the feelings of others are consistent with everything I had heard, long before I had the privilege of making your haughty acquaintance. As a consequence of your callous disregard for my own sensibilities when you professed your admiration, I have firmly sketched your character. I take great pleasure in telling you that you are the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”

Now it was Darcy who looked as though he had been punched in the stomach. Good. It is only fitting he should suffer the pain he has inflicted upon me!

“You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been.” Standing straight and tall, he jutted his chin. “Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.”

With these words, he hastily left the room. The next moment, Elizabeth heard him open the front door and quit the house.

Elizabeth stood at the window awaiting the carriage due to arrive to take her to Longbourn. Two days had passed since she last saw the haughty, presumptuous Mr. Darcy.

“You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire you.” To think she actually had listened to his oration and had stood amazed when hearing she had been such a target of his esteem. She had listened without speaking as one after another, he disparaged her mother, her father, and her younger sisters. Had she put a stop to his offensive declaration, she might never have known how much he despised her family and how much she in turn despised him.

Elizabeth’s heart swelled with indignation. The bits she overheard when she stood outside the door at the inn were all starting to make sense. When Mr. Darcy made mention of the family who was so despicable—the family he would never wish to align himself with, he was speaking of her family. He was speaking of my sister and Mr. Bingley when he boasted of trying to persuade his friend against making a grave mistake. What if he had succeeded? How devastated Jane would now be.

Everything Mr. Wickham said about him is true. How could it not be when she had levelled all of Mr. Wickham’s accusations against him, and he made no attempt whatsoever to deny a word of it? Standing there, gazing outside, Elizabeth was not of a mind to regret any of the words she had spoken to Mr. Darcy despite the hurt that was so evidenced on his face pursuant to her rejection. Even if he were guilty of none of these things, how could I possibly have said yes to a man who cares so little for my loved ones?

They are my family—the people I care most about in the world. I could no sooner give them up than I could give up the air I breathe.

His poorly chosen words meant to sway her echoed in her ears. “It will be impossible for you assume your life as Mrs. Darcy and maintain your ties to those people!”

Elizabeth stood away from the window when she espied a gentleman walking up the lane towards the gate. It was not Mr. Darcy, but rather it was the colonel. What could be his purpose? As much as she had admired him upon first making his acquaintance, she had learned to think less of him since their encounter in the lane. His own avowed habits of taste which demanded he marry a woman of substantial fortune had been enough to have his name scratched from her list. Still, he was noble and everything a gentleman ought to be. Perhaps he had heard of her pending departure, and he only meant to say goodbye. Just because she suspected the worst in everything that Mr. Darcy did and said, there was no need to assign such foul motives to his cousin.

The colonel had hardly taken his seat before he launched into a full assault in his cousin’s defence. The nature of his defence was rather uncertain to Elizabeth.

“Did Mr. Darcy tell you all the particulars of our disagreement?”

“No. He only confided that you hold George Wickham in some esteem.”

“How might anyone who knows of his plight help feeling sorry for him?”

“If you truly knew what that gentleman was about, I wager you would not be such a staunch supporter.”

“Please, sir, I have heard enough about the purported deficiencies in Mr. Wickham’s character from both your aunt and your cousin to know he is fairly deplored by your family.”