Page 67 of An Accidental Meeting
Elizabeth sighed impatiently. “And you must considermysister as well.”
“Bingley intends to court your sister if she is willing,” Mr. Darcy replied with a charmingly crooked smile. “I can see no impediment there.”
Elizabeth's heart began to beat a little harder. “You know very well I am speaking of Lydia and not Jane,” she replied.
“I have a plan for that." He shrugged. "Well, part of a plan. I will require your help to complete it.”
“Are you . . .” She swallowed. “Are you offering only because you feel compassion for my position? I do not want a saviour, Mr. Darcy.” Shedidwant one, if it was him. But she would not allow Mr. Darcy to sacrifice his good name for her. Not unless he truly . . .
This was agony. Her judgement had been so faulty in regards to this man that she knew not whether it could be trusted. He was noble to offer, but she wanted his respect and his love, not his pity.
He reached for her hand again. Elizabeth hesitated, then allowed him to take it.
“I intended to keep you here at Pemberley as long as possible,” he said, “to show you I had changed, until I knew whether I had any hope. But . . .”
“But Lydia.” She worried her bottom lip. “Very well. Will you explain your plan to me?”
His complexion was rather pale, but he steadied himself admirably before speaking. “Part one of the plan is that you must accept my highly romantic proposal. My offer from April still stands.”
My offer still standswas hardly a romantic proposal, Elizabeth thought fleetingly, but then she was feeling a hundred different things all at once. It took a moment for Mr. Darcy’s words to penetrate through the haze.
“We can say your sister travelled to you and the Gardiners because I wished to be married soon, and at Pemberley. I suspect no one in Hertfordshire would think my selfish behaviour out of character."
Elizabeth's cheeks burned with embarrassment.
"Perhaps we can say Miss Lydia wanted to be the only sister to attend the wedding so that she could crow about it.”
"You have come to a quick understanding of her character."
"I mean no offence, but she does not require a complex study."
Elizabeth half-sobbed and half-snorted. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. "I am not sure,” she said when she recovered. It was vague, but all she could bring herself to say.
“That is too bad,” Mr. Darcy said determinedly, “for I have prepared my speech extensively, on the walk between the library and this room.”
So there was an actual proposal? No, this was not right. “You will regret this one day.”
Mr. Darcy grasped both her hands. “What I regret is not having asked to court you in Hertfordshire, after you left Netherfield with your sister. What I regret is having asked you in a manner so insulting that you had no choice but to reject my offer in Kent. What I regret,” he said fervently, “is that we are not already man and wife.”
The emotions of the day finally overtook her, and for the first time in her life, Elizabeth felt a little faint. She groped for a chair and almost fell into it.
Mr. Darcy watched her carefully, concern etched across his countenance. Elizabeth felt better once she was seated, and she turned her face up to his.
The tension in his expression eased, and he cleared his throat dramatically. “From the moment I first beheld your fine eyes and radiant countenance, I knew my heart was forever captivated. Your grace, your refined beauty . . .”
A shaky laugh escaped her, which resulted in the second appearance of Mr. Darcy’s unrestrained smile.
She could not help but stare a little. That smile made him a stunningly handsome man. And her laughter had encouraged him to press on.
“Each day you have spent at Pemberley has been an unanticipated gift,” he continued, “for it allowed me to bask in the warmth of your sparkling wit and compassionate spirit. Your smile brings the light of a thousand suns—”
“Enough,” Elizabeth protested, laughing aloud. Who could ever have imagined that Mr. Darcy could be so ridiculous? “Enough!”
“Your timing is perfect,” he said wryly, sounding much more like himself. “For I had run out of commonplaces, and there was no time to compose an ode to your perfections.”
“That was quite a proposal,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head.
“That was not the proposal,” Mr. Darcy said, clearly pleased with himself. “That was only to make you laugh.”
