Page 4 of An Interrupted Proposal
“As much as is necessary.” Darcy dipped the pen in the ink but was stopped from writing more by his cousin falling into his chair, his eyes narrowed in suspicion, and a furrow creasing his forehead.
“What are you thinking?” Darcy asked.
“Does it not strike you as strange that Wickham has confided in Miss Bennet? She is not his normal prey.”
Darcy set his pen in the holder. “True, he is known to chase after younger girls with fluff for brains, more like Elizabeth’s younger sisters––” His eyes grew wide. “Oh lord,” he muttered as he slouched into his chair.
“What is it?”
“When I first encountered Wickham in Meryton, he was speaking to Elizabeth and her sisters. Upon my approach, I looked only at Elizabeth until I realized someone stood beside her and turned and met his gaze.”
Philip groaned. “He knows you too well to not realize your interest in her.” He sat forwards and poked his finger at the paper before them. “It is even more important that she be madeaware of his disposition. She, and probably her entire family, are surely targets he would think nothing of ruining to gain what he would consider a victory over you.”
Darcy ran a hand over his mouth. “If he has not already done so.”
Philip considered this before shaking his head. “You left the area. He may believe you were not so enamoured as he thought. For the greatest victory, Miss Elizabeth Bennet would be his main focus.”
“It concerns me how well you know him.”
The irritating grin returned to his cousin’s lips. “I am a soldier,” Philip said with a single shoulder shrug. “He is the enemy. It is my duty to understand him and his motives and to anticipate his actions.” He pointed at the paper. “Begin at the beginning.”
CHAPTER TWO
What Have I done?
Elizabeth sat before her mirror, staring at her reflection and questioning everything she had once believed.
Moments after Mr. Darcy left the parsonage, the weight of his words and the consequences of her reactions had settled upon her and she sank to the floor, tears flooding her cheeks. No matter her feelings regarding the man, she was not insensible to the honour of gaining his attention, let alone his affections. However, whether she desired such attention was not what caused her to weep so. It was the fear that she had most assuredly destroyed any chance for her sister’s happiness. What man––in particular, an extremely proud man––would condone his friend courting the sister of the shrew who had refused him?
Upon hearing movement within the parsonage, she quickly gathered her things and made her way to the room appointed to her. It would not do to have a servant or the Collinses find her in such a state. After bathing her face and holding a cool cloth to her eyes to reduce the swelling and redness, she had taken up her current position before the mirror.
Every younger daughter of Longbourn was raised understanding she could not hold a candle to the eldest Miss Bennet. This did not mean they believed themselves wanting in beauty; it was common knowledge that the Bennet sisters were the loveliest girls to be found in their corner of Hertfordshire and the surrounding area. That said, Mr. Darcy’s comment at theMeryton assembly had confirmed an unspoken fear: her beauty, paltry dowry, and meagre accomplishments were insufficient to secure a worthy husband. Mr. Collins’ subsequent proposal and his comment regarding the unlikelihood of her receiving another had firmly cemented this understanding in her mind. All hopes of marriage and children of her own had been firmly thrust away as she planned her future as the spinster aunt to Jane’s little ones. Then Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire, with his ten thousand a year, declared he ardently admired and loved her.
Elizabeth tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and tilted her head, first one way, then the other. She pressed the cool rag to the puffy skin under her eyes for a few minutes longer before beginning her examination anew.
“Whatever could he see in me?” She sniffed and began removing her hairpins. “How could I go from tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt him to dance, to winning his affection?"
Once she had taken down her hair, running her fingers through it to be certain she had not missed a stray pin, she began to brush it. At Longbourn when she was distressed, Jane would brush her hair and all her worries would seem to float away; but Jane was not here. The rhythm of the strokes did calm Elizabeth’s nerves somewhat, until the similarity to Mrs. Bennet frayed them once more. This was how Charlotte Collins found her friend a few minutes later.
The door opened slowly after a quiet knock, and Elizabeth’s hostess slipped inside and closed the door behind her. She took the brush and continued the soothing strokes while humming softly, and Elizabeth felt her anxiety begin to subside. Once every knot had been removed, Charlotte plaited the long silky strands and tied a ribbon about the end. When she was finished, she laid her hands on Elizabeth’s shoulders.
“Would you like to speak of it?”
Elizabeth bit her lip as tears glistened in her eyes and met her friend’s gaze in the mirror. “You cannot tell a soul. Particularly not Mr. Collins.” She waited for her friend to hesitantly nod. “I have been rather foolish, I believe.”
“In what way?” Charlotte asked as she lowered herself onto the foot of the bed.
Unable to face her friend directly, Elizabeth continued to stare into the mirror. “I fear I have permanently ruined Jane’s happiness.”
A smile tugged at her friend’s lips. “However did you manage that in the short time I was at Rosings Park?”
Elizabeth slowly turned to meet her friend’s gaze directly. “Mr. Darcy visited whilst you were gone.”
Charlotte’s eyes grew larger, and her lips opened, but Elizabeth held up a finger. “Do not say you knew it were so.”
“But hedoesadmire you?”
Elizabeth nodded her head twice.
