After putting some distance between himself and Rosings, he stopped and looked back at the manor house he had left in so precipitous a manner. Richard must be questioning his sanity! His cousin had guessed where he was going and had been alarmed at first. But he had wished him Heaven’s blessings then, had he not? When the time came, when he brought Elizabeth back on his arm his affianced wife, Richard would support him. Her Ladyship, now…Her Ladyship presented an immediate and highly volatile hurdle, her absurd notion of his being pledged to Anne only the first volley she would fire at him. The outrage she would marshal against his choice would be voluminous and well fueled by the bitter disappointment of her long-held designs. He thought better of his desire to bring Elizabeth back to Rosings this evening. It would be best not to expose her to his aunt’s wrath until Lady Catherine could be brought to silence on his choice of wife. His wife! The hard edge of urgency that had impelled him from Rosings softened at the joy that thought bestowed. Darcy turned and set his face toward Hunsford. There lay his future, his well-being, the comfort of all who were Pemberley. It was time to secure it!
He set off determinedly and soon covered the distance to the grove. The air among the trees was cool as he strode beneath their shelter, the memory of his walks there with Elizabeth bringing a secret smile to his lips. Soon…soon she would be his! The thought warmed him as he sojourned through the grove, but as the path began its descent toward the village, Darcy’s pace slowed. In order to obtain the devoutly desired lady, the offer must still be posed. Although Darcy knew he could depend upon her excellent understanding, he knew also that he must still say the proper words. The address he had composed for the familiar grandeur of Rosings had been worthy of its setting. Now those phrases and the sentiments to which they alluded appeared to him too large and studied to fit into the humble parsonage parlor. He did not wish to appear the fool in this most solemn occasion of his life.
You can still turn back! the voice of duty was quick to offer as he approached Hunsford village, but Darcy knew it for the lie it was. He could no more turn back now than fly. But the lid he had thought sealed on the multitude of objections to his course flew wide at the warning, and accusations of bringing disgrace to his name and family, of which he would rightly be charged, flew at him with the vehemence of repressed furies. The events of the Netherfield ball, the insults and impertinences to which he had been subject, the appalling behavior and lack of propriety he had witnessed — all returned to present their claims. The enormity of what he was about to do gripped him even as he approached the parsonage gate. He put his hand to the latch and paused. Here, only days ago, he had known his heart to be decided and had finally confessed to himself the illusion of completeness without her. He looked to the door at the end of the lane. Everything he desired, all that he most desired, was before him.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he instructed the wide-eyed maid who answered his ring. He was admitted into the front hall hurriedly and with an absence of ceremony, the maid ducking him an awkward curtsy and mumbling something about the parlor abovestairs. Taking her to mean that that was where he would find Elizabeth, he nodded and stepped back to give her passage. The sound of their shoes upon the stairs was overloud in his ears, much as it had been the day he had surprised her alone. This time, of course, he knew her to be alone, but the silence of the house struck him as akin to a breath held against the arrival of long-awaited news. The rattle of dishes, the closing of a door, any domestic sound would have been a welcome distraction to the beating of his heart and the plaguing doubts that were hammering at his brain. He came to the parlor door, pausing a moment to pull off his gloves and make a futile attempt to collect himself as the maid knocked and announced him. Then, with his beaver under one arm and his heart pumping violently in his chest, he stepped into the room.
Their eyes met immediately he crossed the threshold. “Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth dropped into a curtsy. Eager as he was to drink in the sight of her after almost two days, his bow was of the briefest sort. She motioned distantly to indicate he should choose a seat.
“You are not ill, then,” he affirmed hurriedly, stepping toward her. “They said you were ill; so I came to…I wished to hear myself that you were better.”
“As you see, sir, I am.” She returned his solicitude coolly, adding “I thank you” at the last, just before taking her seat.
He stepped away and lay aside his things before sitting down in a chair opposite the one she had chosen, his heart working madly as he considered the woman before him. Beautiful! So beautiful! Insistent, ardent impulses arose within his breast and trampled rationality underfoot, further muddling his thoughts. He wanted her; oh, how he wanted her! Her brow arched at his silence. Caught in open admiration, he looked quickly away. She said not a word, but the sound of his heart, his very breath, roared in his ears so that he could not think.
He must clear his head, regain command of his emotions! He stood and began pacing the room. Against wisdom’s counsel, he glanced over at her. Speak! his heart demanded. He stopped and turned to her, his address forming in his mind. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would you do me the honor — The full weight of the word descended upon him in a rush. Honor? The honor in this affair was all his, and he was preparing to put it wholly to shame in a way that the whole world would see and disparage! The icy displeasure of his family for the low connections he would bring into their midst, the cold embarrassment of his friends and peers when he was again among them, the derision of his enemies — all worked on him. He turned away to the window to stare unseeing into the early evening. But an hour before it had been so clear to him, and now he was back in the morass of doubt and indecision. His fingers slipped into his waistcoat pocket before he realized what he was doing. Nothing! Darcy’s lip curled in disgust with himself. Of course the silken threads were not there! He had given them to the winds. He turned back to the room, only to be immediately lost in Elizabeth’s lovely profile. Should caution follow them?
Beautiful, intelligent, graceful — she was all those things. Her voice thrilled him, her skill at the pianoforte soothed him, her disdain for artifice answered his own, her compassion was genuine, her mind delightful, her courage in carrying her point, even against him, excited his deepest admiration and desire. To have this embodiment of all the Graces as his own! Swelling pride at the idea of possessing her brought him away from the window. He must have her! He opened his mouth to speak, but the room seemed suddenly full of all her relations: her scheming mother, the wild younger sisters, her indifferent and tactless father, and the shadowy aunts and uncles in trade ranged themselves about her, rendering him mute. He fell back, feeling the eyes of all his own family upon his back, waiting in silent plea that he not do this thing. Near to choking with helpless frustration, he took back that step, then took another into the center of the room; and in that moment she looked up at him, her dark, magnificent eyes large and questioning.
Sweet Heaven, Elizabeth! Darcy’s heart rose in his throat, forcing the words out before it in an unstemmable tide. “In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed.” Hardly pausing, he gasped in a draft of air, his voice thick with overpowering emotion. “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” If it were possible, her eyes opened even wider at his words, and a deep blush colored her features. For his own part, the relief of confessing his feelings at last gave rise to such light-headed elation as might be afforded by a glass of strong wine. “Almost from the moment of our acquaintance I have felt a deep, passionate affection for you that has overridden all my efforts to the contrary.” His heart beat excitedly but now in a more steady rhythm, his words flowed freely. “It was not long before I knew myself to be enchanted by you, inexorably drawn and captivated. You have been in my mind and heart for months, Miss Bennet! I have gone nowhere, seen no one, and you are not there with me.”