Page 1 of Mr. Darcy's Complex Courtship

Chapter 1: The Unfathomable Mr. Darcy

Thursday, 16 April 1812

Hunsford Parsonage

Elizabeth Bennet

Poor Jane. A soft groan passed my lips. Upon my initial reading of Jane’s words last week, I had missed the uncommon lack of enthusiasm in her remarks; this time, my sister’s subdued narrative stood out as an obvious indication of her continued malaise. I folded the letter and tucked the paper in my pocket.

Earlier today, I had discovered Mr. Darcy bore at least part of the blame for my sister’s heartache—and to think I had begun to question my firm disapprobation of him! His caprice made my sketch of his character a perplexing endeavour. Unlike the arrogant way Mr. Darcy had presented himself in Hertfordshire last autumn, he had been different these past weeks in Kent: awkward and mute much of the time, but somewhat pleasant on other occasions. And compared to his aunt Lady Catherine, he appeared almost humble. I had gone so far as to muse over possible excuses for his prior mistreatment of Mr. Wickham.

But Mr. Darcy’s callous tendency had been laid bare by none other than his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam, whom I had encountered on my morning walk. According to the colonel, Mr. Darcy had deemed Jane an unworthy match for Mr. Bingley—and convinced his friend to abandon her.

The utter audacity and rancour of that man—to blithely separate two people in love to their mutual detriment! No one deserved happiness more than my dearest Jane, who always placed the interests of others before her own. My hand curled into a fist and pounded the embroidered cushion beside me.

For anyone to disapprove ofJane, the kindest, loveliest, and most—

Distinctive clangs from the door-knocker disrupted my stormy rumination.

Had Colonel Fitzwilliam come to enquire after my health? He had expressed concern for my sudden reticence following his revelation today; to conceal my dismay, I had pretended to have the headache. Later, I employed the same excuse to avoid accompanying the others to Rosings Park House. I abandoned my slack position for a more presentable one.

The young maid, Patsy, entered the room. “Mr. Darcy, miss.”

Mr. Darcy.What didhemean by coming here?

As Patsy scurried away, he came towards me with a deliberate stride. “Good day, Miss Bennet.”

I should sooner have bitten through my tongue than wishedhima good day. “Mr. Darcy.”

“Mrs. Collins indicated you were indisposed, and I came to assure myself of your well-being.” He held me in an intent stare. “You do not appear to be ill. I hope you feel better.”

His cordial speech might have fooled me before today, but a man who had treated sweet, angelic Jane with so little feeling could have no true care formycomfort. “I amtolerablywell.” I used the frostiest tone I could manage.

“I am glad of that.” Mr. Darcy wandered through the room, pausing here and there before moving again. He sat in the chair across from me, but moments later sprang to his feet and confronted me. “I have tried in vain to conquer my feelings for you. Instead, they have grown stronger over time and with each subsequent meeting. There is no other course for me than to embrace this circumstance. I love you, most vehemently.”

What?Why would a man who had deemed Jane unworthy of his less-illustrious friend assert his love forme? He continued to speak, but my mind would not budge from that stunning declaration. No, this did not make sense.

My sight riveted upon the proud, disagreeable, and imperious man. Notwithstanding these weighty defects, I could not fault his appearance: his piercing dark eyes and well-defined features had undeniable physical allure. Likewise, his thick mane of dark, wayward curls framed his noble countenance with a whimsical elegance, and the superior fabric and perfect fit of his attire on his athletic form further enhanced his person. Not that any of this mattered a whit, since I could never form an attachment to him. Then the tenor of his speech burst through my musing.

“…and some will consider my connection to one so below me in standing to be an abasement. Of even more concern are thefrequent breaches of propriety exhibited by certain members of your family.”

I almost laughed aloud! Could he think disparaging my loved ones would encourage me to accept him?

“Yet my attachment to you has crushed any and all arguments against the union. So, regardless of the disadvantages, I am resolved to have you and no other at my side. Will you consent to be my wife?” Mr. Darcy shifted back on his heels, watching me with a hand upon his thrust-out chest.

No doubt he expected me to agree. Well, he would be disappointed. For the sake of my dear, long-suffering Jane, I ought to elucidate my disdain for him. Did he not deserve a thorough set-down for having contributed to my sister’s unhappiness?

A cutting invective danced on my tongue, and in my eagerness to express the insult, I sat taller. “Although the established custom is to…” Then the sheen of perspiration on Mr. Darcy’s temples caught my eye, as did the slight droop in his shoulders. What did this signify? Did he feel more anxiety than self-assurance? As the seconds elapsed, my zeal to rail at him dwindled. After all, if I indulged in such unladylike discourse, I should regret my indiscretion later. No, I should give him a courteous refusal, much as I had done for my cousin Mr. Collins last year.

“Miss Bennet”—Mr. Darcy’s eyebrows knitted—“will you not continue?”

“Pardon me, but your offer has come as a surprise. I had the impression you disapproved of me.”

He blinked. “No, far from it. My admiration of you is long-standing.”

Could his admission be true? Of course, it did not signify—nought could alter my resolve.Be polite, I reminded myself.“Um…although I appreciate the honour you have bestowed on me with this offer, I must decline.”

“You…you decline?”

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