Foiled Elopement: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Renata McMann

  Chapter Nine – Proposal Issued

  Elizabeth pulled her hand away. She stood and paced toward the fire. She didn’t turn back immediately, wanting to compose herself. Her skin still tingled from Mr. Darcy’s brief clasp. Why had he taken her hand? He couldn’t mean to propose to her. They’d only known each other for the span of hours. Behind her, he stood.

  “Miss Bennet.” His deep voice swept over her, the hard edge gone.

  A serving girl appeared in the doorway, candle in hand. She looked between them, clearly nervous. “Mr. Buchanan said I was to light the candles, sir, miss.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Elizabeth said, relieved by the interruption.

  The girl nodded, coming in to move about the room, lighting candles. Elizabeth stayed near the fire. Mr. Darcy crossed to the windows and began closing the shutters.

  She wouldn’t let Mr. Darcy propose. She knew so little about him, and not all of that good. Yes, he was a dedicated brother, had a keen sense of honor, was a good fencer and possessed an intelligent mind. He was also an ineffectual guardian, appeared to possess a very serious nature and was accustomed to being obeyed.

  If he proposed, she had little doubt it would be out of chivalry, something he’d already shown himself quite susceptible to. She wouldn’t marry a man she hardly knew because his sense of duty ordained it. Her conscience wouldn’t permit her to do that to either of them, even if she was reproachfully aware of his fine appearance and undeniably handsome face.

  The trouble was that if he asked, that same conscience dictated she accept. She was aware how dire her circumstance was. Not only were her chances of a union in jeopardy, she’d put undue burden on her sisters as well. If Mr. Darcy was as wealthy as she assumed him to be, marrying him would mend her reputation and increase her sisters’ options, all in one stroke. In short, Mr. Darcy for a husband would repair all the trouble she’d created. For herself, she wouldn’t do it, but for her sisters . . .

  “Do you need anything sir, miss?” the girl asked.

  Elizabeth turned around, realizing the candles were lit. She shook her head when Mr. Darcy looked to her.

  “No, thank you,” he said.

  With a curtsey, the girl disappeared, along with Elizabeth’s time to wrestle with her conscience.

  Mr. Darcy stood and crossed to stand with her before the fire, which had burned low again. “My sister was very taken with you. I hope you become friends with her. She’s been too shy and has had difficulty making friends.”

  “I liked her. As I said, I have a sister her age.” Perhaps if they knew more about each other, her decision could be easier, or he would be dissuaded. “I have four sisters, actually, and no brothers. My father has never saved and his property is entailed to a cousin.” She scrutinized Mr. Darcy for a reaction. “I’m afraid we’ll be rather destitute when Father dies. My mother, a slightly silly woman, is desperate for the five of us to marry. My father has allowed all of us to be out at once, and my youngest sisters are rather flighty and ill mannered.”

  His dark eyes told her little. “Georgiana needs someone like you to watch over her. Her governess, a reprehensible woman, is gone. There will be more men like Wickham.”

  Elizabeth didn’t know if she was angry or relieved. He didn’t mean to wed her, but to employ her. Not angry, she decided, but insulted. “In the first place, I am not so desperate yet as to become a governess. In the second, I think Georgiana is too young and definitely too immature to be out.”

  “That was not my meaning, and I agree with you on both counts.” A line appeared on his brow. “I’m not trying to employ you. I’m attempting to ask--”

  “I think you are too quickly dismissing what could potentially be a serious problem,” she said, desperate to halt his speech. He was obviously determined to ask. She must learn more about him before he did. If anything would tell her the truth of who Mr. Darcy was, it was how he planned to treat his sister.

  “A potential problem?” She could read his eyes now, for they held confusion.

  Elizabeth looked toward the door, lowering her voice. “The situation Georgiana may find herself in. I should like to know how you plan to conduct yourself.”

  He frowned, looking rather severe.

  “There are several choices when an unmarried woman has a child,” Elizabeth continued “She can marry her seducer. She can marry someone else who is willing to accept her under the circumstances. She can have her baby in secret and send it away to someone who will accept a child for money. She can defy society, either with or without her family’s support, and raise the child as best she can. The child would never be fully accepted. Georgiana would have almost no chance of a happy marriage after publicly bearing a child in that case.”

  He’d become unreadable once more, leaving her unable to tell which he favored.

  “For Georgiana, only one of those choices seems remotely as if it would lead to happiness, but her shyness and recent actions make me suspect there isn’t a man waiting to marry her who is willing to accept her and her child,” Elizabeth concluded.

  He shook his head. “I want Georgiana to marry someone who will make her happy, not someone I can find who will agree to take her for her thirty thousand pounds. Nor do any of the other choices appeal to me. I cannot imagine allowing my niece or nephew to be raised by strangers.” His dark eyes glinted.

  Elizabeth searched his face. She tried not to be drawn in by his outward charms. Marriage was a decision that should be based on many things. Perhaps charm was one of them, but not the only or the most important.

  A slight smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, in spite of their topic. “I have thought of one way to keep the child in the family,” he said. “A way which would also save Georgiana’s future by concealing who the mother is. I could marry immediately.”

  She frowned. “I daresay that would work, and that you have someone in mind. As a fashionable gentleman, you must know many well-dowered candidates.”

  “There are several society women who would marry me quickly, and some who might even agree to the three of us going for a long trip and returning with a baby, willing to name it as theirs, but I doubt any of them would have the compassion to care for someone else’s child as their own.”

  The way he looked at her, his strong features outlined by the flickering candlelight, threatened to make her forget she needed to know him better. “Would you?” she asked. “If Georgiana bore a son, would you treat him as an elder son?”

  He grew contemplative. “Somewhat. My estate is not entailed and I have a good deal of income from other investments. If I had other sons, and I hope I would, I could give a greater share of those investments to them. None of them would be poor. A daughter would be easier. She would be dowered the same as my other daughters.”

  Was that his flaw, then, this nearly perfect seeming Mr. Darcy, that his world revolved around the material? “You talk about giving money, but what about love? Could you love Mr. Wickham’s child?”

  “I believe I could love Georgiana’s.” He reached out and brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek.

  Elizabeth went still in surprise. She knew she should keep talking, draw him out more, but her thoughts scattered with his touch. She couldn’t formulate the words.

  “Miss Bennet, you cannot help but guess who I feel would be best, for both Georgiana and a child she might bear. I can think of only one woman I’ve met who is compassionate enough, and who I would trust.”

  Elizabeth tried to steady her treacherous breath, which had quickened at his touch. She shot a glance toward the door. Where were the passing servants now? “Wouldn’t you want to be certain there is a baby? Why marry if you do not need to?”

  He dropped his hand. “I understand it can be difficult to be certain a woman is with child for quite some months.”

  She nodded.

  “I would not embarrass my future wife by asking her to claim she gave birth five months after our vows, and it would necessitate more lies,
mostly about when we met.” His eyes bore into hers. “Therefore, the wedding must be now.”

  “But Georgiana may not even be with child,” Elizabeth countered. “Embarrassment and fabrication seem small prices to pay to ensure you don’t spend the rest of your life with someone you wouldn’t have chosen.” Was he mad? Yet, the way he was looking at her, she was hard pressed to think so. Difficult to comprehend as it was, he looked almost as if…

  “We’re near enough to Scotland that we can be married tomorrow.”

  Married tomorrow? The intensity of his gaze threatened to scatter her thoughts. Where was her reason when she most needed it?

  “And there is the matter of your reputation. I am honor bound to repair it,” he said.

  His honor again. What about her heart? Or his? She took a step back, to gain space to think. “Why would I consent to this?”

  Incredulousness and hurt flashed in his eyes, quickly smothered. He shrugged, half turning from her. “If you do not consent, I will pay your family’s expenses in seeking you, as I agreed earlier. If you wish, I will find a woman to travel with us and take you south with me to meet them. I will also arrange for what you threw away, a hundred pounds a year. The money means little to me, and I suspect it would be helpful to you.” He turned back, eyes narrow. “If you do consent, I will put aside money for your mother’s and sisters’ care, should your father die without your sisters marrying. I believe five hundred pounds a year should be sufficient.”

  Now he would bribe her. Had she not proven to him how little his money moved her? What sort of woman did he think she was? Elizabeth looked him up and down, taking in his fine clothing, his nearly haughty demeanor. She could guess where the chink in his armor was, his pride. “You would object to my family. My mother’s family is in trade and she is, as I mentioned, silly. I suspect you would find my three younger sisters poor companions for your sister.” She tilted her chin up. “I do not want to give up my family.”

  “If I find myself unwilling to associate with your family, I will see that you visit them regularly without me,” he snapped.

  His expression was hard. Elizabeth suspected he was unaccustomed to being told no. He contemplated her for a long moment. She kept silent, letting him reconsider what he was proposing.

  “As you must realize, no matter what the two of us do, word will get out,” he finally said, his tone reasonable once more. “I’m only trying to do what is right, for Georgiana and for you. Not to mention, this will have an impact on your sisters.”

  “You would hold their fates over me now?” It was nothing she hadn’t already considered, but she was angry he would use it to have his way.

  “No. I am trying to be logical. I don’t know what society will think. If we marry hastily, there will still be rumors. I’m not saying it’s the perfect solution, only the best.”

  Elizabeth sighed. If only she had time to think, to ask for advice. He made marrying him sound so reasonable, but how could running off to Scotland tomorrow ever be reasonable? “In some ways, I don’t care what society thinks about me, but there are people in my family I would like to know the truth. There are four people whose opinions I value and who would keep Georgiana’s secret.”

  “You said your mother is silly.”

  So, he had been listening to her objections. That reassured her. “She is not one of them. My father. My elder sister. My aunt and uncle who live in London.” The four people she couldn’t bear to think she’d be foolish enough to permit herself to be compromised by a stranger in a roadside inn.

  “So many people can’t keep a secret,” he said.

  “How many people in your life will know?”

  “Only my cousin Richard and Georgiana.”

  “And Mr. Wickham,” she pointed out, as he was hardly trustworthy. “Not to mention your servants. How many of them will know?” There was no way he could keep a pregnancy from his servants. While they very well may be loyal, he couldn’t deny her right to tell four people if his household knew.

  “If there is a child, some of them will need to know. Many already know that Georgiana left with Wickham.”

  “I need some of my family to know, too, so they can understand my actions,” she said.

  A smile formed on his face, rendering him even more handsome. “We wouldn’t be having this discussion unless you’re considering the marriage.”

  “I am.” Though she hadn’t fully realized it until he pointed it out.

  “We could leave tomorrow morning for Scotland and return here before dark.”

  “Why do you keep insisting on tomorrow? My father or uncle will be here soon, to give me advice.”

  “If you refuse my proposal, I will have to find another woman, which will be a mildly time-consuming task.” The look he gave her held a strange intensity, belying his casual words.

  He had an answer to everything. Well, he could at least give her until morning. “I need time to think about your proposal.” She shook her head, feeling befuddled. “I must admit, the day’s events have taken me by surprise. I realize women sometimes claim they didn’t see a proposal coming when an objective observer might say they should have known, but you must admit I couldn’t have anticipated needing to make this decision today.”

  His smile was back, further derailing her thoughts. “I agree. Circumstances are unusual.”

  She nodded. “I shall go play now. You will have my answer in the morning.”

  “Early?”

  She nodded, bemused by his insistence. “Yes, early. Now, I shall go play. If you will excuse me.” She turned abruptly, before he could compel her to remain. She needed time away from him to think. Somewhere where his strong features and compelling looks didn’t befuddle her.

  She was surprised to find the common room relatively empty, eliminating her need to play. She expected after all the excitement, people would congregate to talk about the day’s events, but it was after dark and nights were short that time of year. There was a drunk patron asleep at one table. Two workmen ate a late meal in a corner. Mr. Matthews and Mr. Gregory were joined at their usual table by Mr. Buchanan. Mr. Gregory was writing something while the other two watched.

  “No, it was the miller who told Wickham to kneel,” Mr. Buchanan said, shaking his head. He caught sight of her. “Miss Bennet, did you see who called for Mr. Wickham to kneel?”

  “I did not,” Elizabeth said, crossing to their table. “What are you doing?”

  “Writing up what happened,” Mr. Matthews said. “It’s always best to have accounts put down as soon as possible.”

  “Why do you need accounts?” Elizabeth asked. “Was any crime committed?”

  “Certainly not,” Mr. Matthews said blandly. “Otherwise, as magistrate, I might have to take some action. We want people who come through town to hear the real story. These things tend to get distorted, and it’s nice to get the truth down.”

  “People who come through?” Elizabeth repeated, slightly alarmed. “You mean to deliberately spread the tale?”

  “No, certainly not,” Mr. Matthews said, looking affronted.

  “We do not,” Mr. Gregory affirmed. “It will spread, though, nonetheless, so it’s best to have an accurate account to refer people to.”

  Elizabeth sighed. They were correct, of course. The duel was very public, the incident spurring it had taken place in the common room. The story would be spread. “Did you use my name?”

  “We did, because it is so well known to the town, there is no point in attempting to conceal it.”

  “We used Mr. Wickham’s as well, because he doesn’t deserve to have his name concealed,” Mr. Buchanan said. “Perhaps the account will warn others away from him.”

  “But never fear, when we wrote up the information of how Miss G. was abandoned by her governess when she inherited enough to neglect her duty, and how Miss G. resisted the blandishments of the dastardly fortune hunter, Wickham, we called her Miss G. only,” Mr. Gregory assured Elizabeth.

  �
��Yes, we thought that would be more discrete,” Mr. Matthews said. “Mr. Darcy will be Mr. D. and appears only in the account of the duel, not in any way connected to Miss G.”

  “And we’ll have a copy made for you, and one for Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Gregory added.

  “That seems reasonable, and considerate of you,” Elizabeth said. She sighed, looking about the room. She needed time to think over Mr. Darcy’s offer, but her mind was swirling and her head throbbed where Mr. Wickham had struck her.

  “You looked troubled, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Matthews said. “Is it our accounts or did Mr. Darcy say something to make you unhappy?”

  She hadn’t known the three men very long, but they’d already shown themselves intelligent, caring and honest. Perhaps, in the absence of her father or uncle, they would offer serviceable advice. “Mr. Darcy wants me to go to Scotland tomorrow and marry him. It’s come as rather a shock.”

  “Why the urgency? Mr. Buchanan asked.

  “He has good reason, but no matter how good the reason, he’s a stranger.”

  “For what it’s worth, the postilion knows him,” Mr. Gregory said.

  Mr. Buchanan nodded. “We inquired. He’s Mr. Darcy, a wealthy man with a large estate in Derbyshire.”

  It hadn’t occurred to Elizabeth to doubt his identity, but the confirmation soothed her.

  “You aren’t needed to play this evening,” Mr. Buchanan said. “I only came in to check on you. Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll send for your dinner?”

  “Thank you.” Elizabeth realized she was feeling a bit fatigued by the tumult of the day. Not that sitting down to eat helped her escape it. Her mind still churned. If she didn’t marry Mr. Darcy, her mother would be livid with her for ruining her reputation. That anger would translate into endless criticisms and complaints. With her ruined reputation, it would be all but impossible for her to wed and escape her mother. To make matters worse, her standing would make it difficult for her sisters to marry. Did she have the right to do that? Kitty and Lydia, especially, would never forgive her. Her father and Jane would probably understand her actions, even if they didn’t approve, but would still suffer from them.