Page 18 of A Forced Marriage
Elizabeth shook her head gently. “No, Papa, I believe I shall be well by the morrow with the application of some ointment. It is merely a sprain, nothing appears to be broken."
"I want you to know," Mr. Bennet began, "that I believe you, Lizzy. I do not for a moment think you compromised yourself in any way. I trust your judgment, and I know you to be a young woman of sense and propriety."
Elizabeth looked up, some colour returning to her face, but her father held up a hand to forestall any response.
"However," he continued, his tone grave, "you must understand that there were other eyes upon you tonight. People who witnessed the scene, people who—being what they are—will soon have rumours swirling around Meryton. And these rumours, my dear, can do untold harm to the prospects of your sisters and yourself."
Elizabeth's heart sank, and she opened her mouth to protest, but Mr. Bennet gently cut her off.
"I only supported the idea of a forced marriage because I must consider the future of this family," he said, his voice tinged with regret. "Now that Mr. Bingley seems to be showing interest in Jane, and you have already rejected whatever it was Mr. Collins would have offered, our options are limited. Your other sisters, it seems, are not inclined to consider Mr. Collins either, and should Longbourn fall into his hands, as it is likely to do, what then? It is important, Lizzy, that we secure good marriages for you and your sisters. A scandal would ruin any hope of that, which is why I find myself supporting this marriage, much as it pains me."
Elizabeth tightened her grip on the teacup, her mind racing with thoughts of protest, but before she could speak, Mr. Bennet leaned forward, his expression softening.
"Tell me, Lizzy," he said, "why do you hate Mr. Darcy so much?"
Elizabeth took a deep breath, setting the teacup down with trembling hands. "He is the most disagreeable man I have ever met," she said, her voice low but firm. "He is proud and haughty, and he spoke down to me at the assembly, as though I were beneath him."
Mr. Bennet listened quietly, nodding as she spoke. "Perhaps," he said gently, "you have been too hasty in your judgment, my dear. Everyone at that party was speaking ill of the gentleman, and it may have affected his mood. Have you considered that?"
Elizabeth hesitated, her mind flashing back to the assembly, the whispers, the sideways glances. "But there is more," she said, her voice quivering. "Mr. Wickham told me of how Mr. Darcy wronged him, how he deprived him of his rightful inheritance. How can I marry a man who could do such a thing?"
Mr. Bennet sighed deeply, rubbing his temples as if to ward off a headache. "Lizzy, have you considered Mr. Wickham’s motives for revealing such things to you? A young woman, with no prior connection to Mr. Darcy—why would he share such a tale with you? Could there not be another side to this story? You must be cautious in whom you place your trust."
Elizabeth frowned, her thoughts conflicted. "But Mr. Wickham was so... sincere."
"Ah, but sincerity can be a mask, Lizzy," Mr. Bennet replied, his tone thoughtful. "Do you see now why I warned you and your sisters to keep your distance from the militia? They are not always what they seem. When I rode with Mr. Darcy to Netherfield, I saw a gentleman who may not be quick to make acquaintances, but one who is respectful and carries himself with dignity. I find it hard to believe that Mr. Bingley, a man of such amiable character, would count Mr. Darcy as a friend if he were not, at heart, a good man."
Elizabeth bit her lip, her mind reeling. "But Papa, how can I marry a man I do not love? A man who insulted our family and believes himself superior to us?"
Mr. Bennet reached across the desk, taking her hand in his. "Lizzy, sometimes we must make sacrifices for the sake of those we love. I have always wanted you to marry a man you loved, but life, my dear, has its own plans. Marrying Mr. Darcy may be a sacrifice you must make for the good of our family, for your mother’s future, and your own. I wish there were another way, but this is the reality we face."
Elizabeth felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back, unwilling to let her father see her cry.
Mr. Bennet rose and walked around the desk, pulling her into a gentle embrace. "Go to bed now, Lizzy," he murmured. "Perhaps you will feel better in the morning."
Elizabeth nodded, her heart heavy with a sense of inevitability. She left the room, the tears finally spilling over as she made her way to her bedchamber. She stifled the sobs that pushed at her throat, determined that no one would hear her cry.
Chapter 10
Darcy lay in his bed, the room shrouded in darkness save for the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains. He turned restlessly, the fine linen sheets tangling around his legs as his mind churned with the events of the evening. His decision to marry Elizabeth Bennet, had been made with a sense of duty, and it still filled him with a tumult of conflicting emotions.
What would society think? The son of the prestigious Darcy family, master of Pemberley, marrying a woman of no significant fortune, no grand connections? A country girl, whose family, though respectable, lacked the refinement and status that were so deeply ingrained in his world. The thought of his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, flashed through his mind—her disapproval would be fierce and unyielding. She had long harboured plans for him to marry her daughter, Anne, and the thought of Elizabeth Bennet, with her sharp wit and independent spirit, would be an affront to all that Lady Catherine held dear.
And what of Georgiana? His sweet, innocent sister, who looked up to him in all things. How would she perceive this union? Would she be disappointed, even scandalized, by his choice? She had gone through enough already. Darcy could almost see her wide, questioning eyes, her confusion at his decision to marry a woman who, by society’s standards, was farbeneath him. Would she, too, be the subject of whispers and gossip, merely by association with his choice? He doubted that though. Georgiana was the better version of himself, and he couldn’t see her hating Elizabeth in any way, regardless of what society had to say.
He turned again, staring up at the ceiling, his mind a relentless storm of doubts and fears. He had always prided himself on making decisions with careful deliberation, guided by duty and the expectations placed upon him by his birth. And yet, tonight, he had been driven by something else—something that stirred within him whenever he thought of Elizabeth Bennet. Something that made him agree to a pressure he could have easily fought.
Elizabeth Bennet. Her name echoed in his mind, conjuring an image of her face—the way her eyes sparkled with intelligence, the graceful curve of her mouth when she spoke, the fierce independence that set her apart from other women. Darcy had to admit, she possessed a beauty of her own, one that went beyond mere physical appearance. It was a beauty of spirit, of character, that captivated him in ways he had not anticipated. There was something in the way she challenged him, questioned him, that both unsettled and intrigued him.
Could it be that he had been too hasty in dismissing her as unworthy? Had he allowed his pride and societal expectations to cloud his judgment? The more he thought of her, the more he realized how much he admired her strength, her wit, and her refusal to be cowed by his haughty demeanour. She was unlike any woman he had ever known, and that, perhaps, was what drew him to her so powerfully.
Yet, even as these thoughts took root in his mind, the doubts lingered. What would it mean to marry her, to bring her into his world? Could she navigate the complexities of hislife, withstand the scrutiny and judgment of those who would undoubtedly look down upon her?
Darcy sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as he tried to quiet his restless thoughts. He had always believed in doing what was right, in upholding the honour of his family. But tonight, the line between duty and desire had blurred in a way that left him uncertain.
But what choice did he have? He had made his decision, and there was no turning back. He would protect Elizabeth’s honour, even if it meant defying the expectations of those around him. And perhaps, just perhaps, this marriage, born of necessity, could be something more. He could see now that there was a strength in Elizabeth that matched his own, a meeting of minds that could lead to a union of respect and, in time, perhaps even affection.
With a final, resolute sigh, Darcy closed his eyes. He would do what he must, not just for the sake of duty, but because, in some inexplicable way, he was drawn to Elizabeth Bennet. There was a beauty in her that had caught his attention, a brilliance in her eyes that challenged him in ways he had never before experienced. She was not the woman he had imagined himself marrying, but perhaps, she was exactly what he needed.
