A Touch of Night by Sarah A. Hoyt Page B

or possibly being needed in the kitchen to help with breakfast.
    But he turned to her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips and his jade-green eyes filled with an unfathomable expression that -- in anyone else -- she would have said was sweetness.
    "Please, forgive me, Miss Bennet," he said. "This is not a question I ever thought I would be asking, nor believed I would ever have occasion to ask." He resumed pacing and looked decidedly above her head as he spoke. "You see, I had long ago resigned myself to the idea that Georgiana's children would one day inherit Pemberley."
    Was the man truly about to tell her that he had no interest in women? "Mr. Darcy," she said, again, in a tone that she hoped was of warning.
    "No, please listen to me. Please listen, for I have to speak. My cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, told me already that it is most risky for a... for one like me to confide in anyone, least of all a woman. But indeed, ever since the ball at Netherfield, when you penetrated my secret and did not in any way... And did not denounce me..." As he spoke, Darcy continued to pace about the room -- three long steps -- detour around the vase -- three long steps. "I've known since then that you are the best of all women and that I can rely upon your kindness and goodness as in no other. As, indeed, I thought I could never rely on anyone, male or female, who was not similarly afflicted." He paused and directed an uncertain look at her, before staring at a point above her head, straightening his shoulders and putting his hands -- still holding gloves and hat -- behind his back, as if he were on parade upon some martial ground. "Please, don't make me wait for an answer. Please, I beg you to relieve my suffering."
    Elizabeth stared, trying to prevent her mouth from opening into an unbecoming look of bewilderment. She ran his words through her head, but she could not make head or tail of what he meant. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy," she said. "But I have not the pleasure of understanding you."
    He looked startled, and chuckled a little to himself. "It is possible I am not expressing myself very clearly," he said. And to her everlasting horror, he knelt at her feet, and set his hat and gloves aside and struggled to capture her hand.
    "Kindest, loveliest Elizabeth, will you do me the honor of being my wife and the mistress of Pemberley?"
    She could not have been more shocked had Mr. Darcy actually changed shape into a lion -- or perhaps a dog -- right before her eyes. For many minutes she was unable to utter a word.
    He looked up, in confusion, and finally stood and resumed his pacing. "Oh, I know what the world will say. The inequality of our connections. Your family's occasional total lack of propriety. Even perhaps the difference in our fortunes. But you must understand all that is as nothing to me. Nothing, compared to having a wife who understands me and who is willing to overlook my... eccentricity."
    At this she could contain herself no longer. "I would not call it an eccentricity, sir. In fact, I would call it something very much more to the point. Something in fact, which could mar any attempt at a married life."
    He blinked at her. "Hardly," he said. "Really, I have great control over myself. Oh, I know it might not have looked like that in Hertfordshire. Something about your proximity, perhaps..." He shook his head. "For I have to admit that my feelings for you were of the most violent even then. But once..." He swallowed. "Once we are settled, I presume that it will resolve back into the pattern it has followed since my adolescence. In fact, it should bother me two or three nights a month, no more. The rest of the time, I should be a perfectly normal husband to you."
    "Normal?" Was he truly telling her that his disgraceful behavior with Mr. Bingley had been instigated by his feelings towards her? It was too much. Even in all her reading, Elizabeth had never come across anything quite that strange.
    He sighed. "Well,