author's note: thank you all so very, very much for the encouraging reviews on the first chapter, they really made my day:) (and I'm super glad that my English seems to be up to par in your eyes, it is indeed not my native language but one I've studied at school and I'm forever perusing the dictionary for the right words, always worried that I'm going to end up with something completely wrong and ridiculous.) for those of you who asked, I can promise that there will be a certain letter for you to read at some point in this story, not today, but eventually:) part 2 lays out the proposal and is slightly different in style than the first part, I guess, as it's more "traditional" and also looked at without the benefits of hindsight, unlike the events in the first chapter. in this chapter, I've borrowed lots and lots of stuff almost straight from JA and I'm not entirely sure if it works. but for better or for worse, here goes:
Part 2: The Proposal
28 July, 1939. Meryton, Kent.
Elizabeth sat on the beach, her eyes on the waves. It was the morning of the Netherfield party and the atmosphere in Longbourn was hectic. Her mother had been fussing over Jane once again. Even she had noticed that in the recent days, Jane and Elizabeth had spent less time in the company of the inhabitants of Netherfield than was their wont and had decided to lecture Jane on her apparent inability to secure Charles before he went away. Who knew how long the war would last, her mother had said. If Jane could not make Charles propose before he left, his interest might wane. Or worse yet, he might not be coming back for another reason entirely and if that were the case, it would be best if they were married before he left. Poor Jane had been in tears. It was bad enough that Charles had been acting so oddly cold and distant. To add to that the idea that something might happen to him in the war was too much to bear. Elizabeth had scolded her mother and taken Jane upstairs and comforted her until she had fallen asleep on the sofa in the room the two sisters had shared ever since their younger sisters were born. In an attempt to avoid her mother, she had then slipped out of the back door and walked to the beach.
The waves were crashing on the shore in an even, lazy pace. She closed her eyes and listened to the sea, trying to calm herself. She did not know what to think of the recent events. She liked Charles but his sudden reticence was making her sister miserable. Could he really be so easily swayed as to change his mind simply because his haughty friend did not approve? And if he was, what did that say about his character? About the steadfastness of his affections? Did she even want her sister involved with someone who could so easily fall in and out of love? And what about Darcy? What sort of a cold and unfeeling man was he to do such a thing to his friend and her sister? To involve them both in a misery of the acutest kind, simply because he disapproved of her family? It was insufferable!
The sudden sound of footfalls approaching alerted her from her thoughts but she kept her eyes shut determinedly, hoping that whoever was coming would realize she wished to be alone and go away. Almost as if the person coming had heard her thoughts, the steps suddenly stopped. It was quiet for a moment and then she heard them slowly receding. Before she could rejoice in her restored peace, however, the comer seemed to change his mind and suddenly the footfalls were approaching again, this time at a rapid, determined pace. Sighing, she opened her eyes to see who it was. She was surprised to see the face of William Darcy staring down at her, only a few steps away.
"Darcy?"
"I wish you would call me William."
Elizabeth got up, dusting her skirt, ignoring his reply.
"Why are you here? Has the party been cancelled?"
"I…" he started, and then suddenly looked her sharply in the eye. "Why would the party be cancelled?"
Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders, returning his stare with a defiant one of her own. "I just thought, since we haven't seen you much recently, that perhaps Bingley had changed his mind. That perhaps he now thought that giving a party to such people as are found around here would be unthinkable."
Darcy fleetingly thought there was something in her words that sounded familiar, but he was too distracted by his own thoughts to recognize it. Why was she behaving so oddly? She seemed almost hostile. Or was she just trying to fish him into another debate? At a moment such as this, as if this wasn't difficult enough already?
Elizabeth watched as Darcy wrung his hands, seemingly distracted. He was certainly in a mood today. Without a word, he started pacing back and forth in the sand in an agitated manner. Just as Elizabeth decided she'd had enough of his strange behaviour and made an attempt to leave, he stopped all of a sudden, grabbing her by her arms, a fierce look in his eyes.
"Elizabeth," he almost choked on her name, "It will not do!"
She stood, looking at him, stupefied by the unexpected turn of events. His grip was so hard it was almost painful, his face so close she could feel his breath. What will not do? she wondered. Charles and Jane?
Before she could form a reply, he continued, encouraged by her silence. The words rolled out of his mouth in a quick, agitated rush, as if he did not think of them at all, as if he was struggling to get them out before he changed his mind about whatever he was planning to say.
"You can't marry that toad of a cousin of yours! Elizabeth, I won't let you."
Astonishment seemed to have robbed her of words and she could only keep staring at him, her mouth agape. Marry Bill Collins? What on Earth was he about?
"I know, I know I shouldn't be doing this. Believe me, all summer long I've tried to fight it. But it feels like you've put a spell on me and I seem to be unable to shake it off. I've tried to reason with myself, to remind myself that we come from different spheres and it would go against my family's expectations, my better judgment, to choose someone like you. What my family would think of me, handing the Darcy legacy in the hands of a simple country girl with a mercenary mother willing to throw her daughters on the path of any rich man that happens their way? And just to think if my aunt Catherine would see you, your hands six inches in engine oil, every feeling revolts! Heaven and Earth, she would undoubtedly say, are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?"
He let out a rueful laugh at that thought and Elizabeth felt a sudden wave of nausea hit her. Was this some sick joke he was playing on her? But he was not done and she stood, paralyzed by his absurdity.
"All these concerns seem perfectly natural and just when you're not around, but Elizabeth, I feel that every time I see you, reason evades me. My feelings simply cannot be repressed. You must, I'm sure you must know that I love you? Most ardently! Will you do me the honour of accepting my hand?"
His last words were finally enough to shake her out of her stupor. He loved her? And this was the manner he chose to tell her about it? It took all of her self-discipline not to slap him squarely on his cheek.
"Enough!" she cried, "Unhand me at once!"
He recoiled, almost as if she had slapped her. She suddenly realized he'd had no doubt of a favourable answer. This angered her even more and all the compassion she might have felt for having to hurt his feelings was instantly gone. Could he possibly expect any woman to react favourably to such a proposal, let alone herself? Had he no sense of how offensive he'd been?
She tried to compose herself enough to answer him with patience, but as soon as she heard her voice, shaking and resentful, she realized all efforts at calmness were in vain.
"The honour, you say? What honour could there possibly be in accepting a man who claims to love me against his reason, even against his will?"
She saw his face paling, but he said nothing so she continued.
"I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I apologize if my refusal should cause your pain, but then again, I'm sure that the feelings which you've said to have prevented the acknowledgement of your regard before today should help your overcome it quickly enough."
As she pronounced these words, Darcy again changed colour, surprise and resentment fighting an obvious battle in his every feature. Struggling to appear composed, he said nothing for a few minutes. Then, with a forced air of calmness, he replied:
"And this is all the reply I'm going to get? One might wonder why, with so little endeavour at civility, I'm rejected. But it is of no importance."
If she'd been angry before, she was now furious. How thick could he be?
"I might as well wonder why, with so evident a desire to insult me, you chose to tell me you liked me against your better judgment? Was that not some excuse for incivility, if indeed I was uncivil? But I have other reasons to dislike you, you know I have. Even if I had liked you before, which I most certainly did not, do you think that any consideration could've tempted me to accept the man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps forever, the happiness of my sister?"
She paused, noticing that he was listening to her tirade with no feelings of remorse apparent on his face.
"Can you deny it, Darcy?" she cried, indignant, "Can you deny that you're responsible for Bingley's recent behaviour?"
When he replied, his voice was tranquil to such an extent that she felt a sudden urge to throttle him.
"I have no wish to deny it. Towards Bingley I've been kinder than towards myself. "
Her face grew red hot with anger. There he stood, supposedly claiming to love her, yet at the same time confessing to separating her sister and Charles from each other, without a morsel of regret.
"You did not just say that! Are you completely obtuse?"
She saw him start at this, but before he could reply, she continued:
"You are the most insufferable, unfeeling man I have ever met! From the very first moment I met you, your manners have impressed me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit and your selfish disdain for the feelings of others! Ever since you first laid eyes on me, you have done nothing but stared at me disapprovingly and argued with every single opinion I ever pronounced!"
"And this," cried Darcy, his tranquility gone, taking hold of her arms once again, his expression stormy, "is your opinion of me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to your calculations, are heavy indeed! But perhaps my offenses might have been overlooked had not your pride been hurt by my honesty in admitting my scruples about our relationship? If I had seen fit to flatter you with the idle compliments I've seen your cousin use? But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Could you honestly expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? To congratulate myself on the hope of relations whose manners are so thoroughly disgusting and vulgar?"
Darcy paused as the sudden realization that he'd gone too far hit him, and he instinctively let his hands drop, releasing her from his grip. Never in his life had he beheld anything more frightening than the cold anger in her eyes, and the icy calm of her voice as she made her reply chilled him to the bone.
"You are mistaken if you think that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way than as it spared me the concern which I might otherwise have felt refusing you. You could not have made the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it. You, sir, are the last man in the world I could ever marry."
Her posture was rigid as she straightened her shoulders and turned towards the house, willing the angry tears not to come.
On the beach he stood and looked after her, with a growing feeling of nausea. What had he done?
