Page 1 of Roses from Pemberley
Prologue Spring 1812, Hunsford Parsonage
“I love you and wish to marry you.”
Elizabeth stared at Darcy in silence. She could not believe what she had just heard. After everything that he had said and done, she could hardly fathom that he would now propose!
“Do you hear what you are saying?” she asked finally. “You insult me and insult my family and then suddenly tell me that you love me - that you wish to marry me! What kind of delusion has come upon you? Of course I will not marry you! I do not even like you!”
Darcy, who had stopped his pacing, only stared at her. He had struggled for so long against his love, and had expected that she would at least be flattered, even thankful. But this! It was something he would never have expected. He stood for almost a full minute, his mouth slightly open.
“I have given you my answer, Mr. Darcy,” continued Elizabeth, “and now wish to be left alone.”
But Darcy was still a step behind, not quite accepting what she had said. “And this is your reply, then? That you dislikeme? That of course you will not marry me? Do you even know what you are turning away?”
“And what am I turning away? The opportunity to be tied to a man who thinks that I am only tolerable? Who thinks that my mother is vulgar and that my sisters are embarrassing? Who has shown by every word and action that he despises everything attached to me? And who, most importantly, has separated my sister from the man she loves? Why would I ever consider putting myself in such a predicament?”
“Because…” he said, now looking at her with piercing eyes, “I would have loved you with everything I have, with all the ardency and depth of one who’s never loved before. Does this mean nothing at all to you?”
Elizabeth had stood up while she spoke, but now sat down again. For a moment she wavered, surprised by the raw, unflinching expression she saw on his face. But in truth, she was feeling quite ill, and the headache she’d had earlier was now a hundred times worse. She needed to put an end to this - so she could go upstairs, sink into her bed, and close her eyes.
“I apologise, Mr. Darcy,” she said wearily, “that the mode of my rejection is not what you would have liked to hear. But it is the only answer I can give at present.”
He continued to look at her and remained immobile for some time. And then eventually nodded. She was confused by how sad he appeared. How utterly…dejected. Perhaps she should not have been so vehement in her rejection. Perhaps she had been cruel. But her ability to attend was waning, and she could think of nothing more to say.
After a few more seconds, he took a step back and then another; and eventually left without another word.
Elizabeth allowed her head to drop and felt a coldness come over her. And then she slowly walked up to her room, got into bed and closed her eyes.
CHAPTER 1 Aftermath
Darcy left the parsonage and wandered around the woods for a while, trying to calm his reeling mind. He could hardly believe how wrong he had been about everything. That the woman he loved could actually dislike him. That she actually appeared to hate him!
He sat down on a fallen log and put his head in his hands. This was it then. He would never marry her. They would never live at Pemberley and raise impertinent little girls and indulgent little boys together. He looked at the springtime trees then thought of Lady Catherine in her drawing room. Naturally she would be waiting, and expecting an explanation…
Then he thought of all the years he would have to live - without Elizabeth. He did not think yet about her reasons for rejecting him. For what did it even matter?
He laughed bitterly to himself when he thought about all the ladies who had pursued him over the years. He had thought it would be so easy. To fall in love. Then to propose. To live a life married to the woman he loved. He never imagined that he would be heartbroken. Could not fathom it at all. But his heartwasbreaking. He even noticed a tear or two running down his face. If only Richard could see him now.
Darcy sat on the fallen log for another hour and simply felt sorry for himself.
Eventually, seeing that the sky was growing darker, he picked himself up and began to walk back towards Rosings.
He looked into the drawing room on his way up the stairs and noticed that everyone had left. Thus he went into his own room and began to prepare for dinner.
Later that evening, as he walked into the drawing room, Lady Catherine immediately accosted him.
“So where have you been, Darcy? It was most irregular of you to leave right when our guests had just arrived. And I was forced to explain to Mr. and Mrs. Collins that this was not your typical behaviour. Now tell me, Nephew, why was it that you left?”
“I…”
“Yes, Darcy?”
An image of Elizabeth’s angry face flashed before him. “There was something I needed to do,” he answered lamely.
“Yes? And what was it?”
“I would rather not say.”
“Rather not say! When your behaviour has been so unseemly?”
