Page 47 of Elizabeth Bennet Says Yes to Mr. Darcy

I looked at Elizabeth’s note lying before me. A single word: Come.

“Restore her freedom a second time.”

“She already has it.”

“Not in the neighborhood’s eyes. As long as our engagement remains possible, every visit, every kindness, every decision she makes will be attributed to the debt. If I announce that I’m withdrawing my proposal, she can choose without being accused of selling herself.”

Bingley stared at me.

“And if she wanted to marry you?”

“She can tell me after the scandal has died down.”

“Do you truly believe it will? The people of Meryton are still talking about the color of a bonnet someone wore to the last ball.”

“Then I will leave.”

“Darcy…”

“I will not allow her name to be linked to mine as the price of an obligation.”

The decision tore at me, yet seemed inevitable. I had already imagined her refusal. I had prepared myself to leave Hertfordshire certain I had helped her without reward. What I had not foreseen was the softness of her hand in mine, her laughter in the pavilion, her mouth returning to mine after my first kiss.

She had desired me.

That memory had nourished a hope I could no longer dismiss as illusion. But desire was not consent to marriage. She had told me so.

The next morning, I went to Longbourn before the usual hour for calls. Mr. Bennet received me in the library.

“The rumor has preceded you,” he said.

“I know.”

“Wickham is a skilled liar.”

“He uses a real fact to support a lie. It’s more effective.”

Mr. Bennet removed his spectacles.

“You intend to leave.”

“Yes.”

“Does my daughter know?”

“I’m going to tell her.”

He observed me for a long moment.

“You are sometimes as foolish as any other man, Mr. Darcy.”

I stiffened.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You intend to decide alone that your departure protects Elizabeth, then present this decision to her as a sacrifice. It seems to me we’ve already established that you excel far too much at this sort of benevolence.”

The truth of the reproach irritated me.