I am truly overwhelmed with your responses, how the reviews keep coming. I was pretty distracted at work today, LOL! I really wanted to wait 24 hours between posts so my story would get bumped up in the list, but with your huge response I couldn't do that all to you. You all have so many interesting ideas on what Darcy's proposal will be; maybe some of you should write your own twists.

Sorry I left you hanging before. I hope this chapter makes up for it. I've kept editing it to add little things here and there, so by holding it for a little while you are actually getting a better product. Is it apropos that today, on my wedding anniversary, I am putting Darcy's proposal out into the world?

3. Mr. Darcy Finishes Making His Proposal

It sounded to me, that perhaps having rejected the path of taking me as his mistress even against my will, Mr. Darcy might possibly be about to offer me marriage. I had of course been proposed to twice before, once by Mr. Collins who had been unwilling to recognize my rejection and once by Mr. Darcy. While that very man stood before me now, he seemed both like and unlike the man I had last seen in Kent a year ago. The former had accepted my rejection, bitterly, angrily it is true, but had done nothing in an attempt to force my hand. He had written me a letter, seemingly not in an attempt to make me accept his suit, but to help me understand certain matters better. This Mr. Darcy had a not previously revealed ruthless streak which was so wide as to have subsumed all else, or so it seemed.

There had been only one man previously whose addresses I had seriously sought, whose warmth had appealed, like a gentle fire well confined by a grate draws one close on a cold day. It was certainly not Mr. Wickham (or if I had ever thought like that, I had fully excised it from my mind). No, it was the cousin of this great man himself. I had become fond of Colonel Fitzwilliam from our acquaintance in Kent, had imagined a possible life with him. It beckoned with pleasant discourse, amiable interactions. Of course my girlish fancy had its wings clipped when he warned me off explaining how he had to marry well as a second son.

I had not long to wait to find out if I was right about Mr. Darcy proposing marriage for a second time, for Mr. Darcy laid his proposal all out for me, his voice deep, certain and resolute.

"I have decided, Miss Elizabeth, that I shall bind you to me more strongly than in mere body, more permanently than through just a simple agreement. You see, I have decided, before God and all of Meryton if they wish to attend, I shall take you to wife if you will have me.

"It will be almost as imprudent a match as I could make, only slightly above marrying one of my washer women or your fallen sister herself. My aunts shall be in an uproar, I shall have to send my sister away to stay with the Earl and the Countess until she marries. Indeed, my years of close association with Richard (for that is Colonel Fitzwilliam's given name), of almost brotherhood with him, shall most likely be at an end. Likely even Bingley and his sisters too, shall turn away if they see me in the street. I shall enter into your disgrace, shame my very ancestors by my choice."

The warmth with which Mr. Darcy spoke of this degradation was similar to how he addressed me in Kent. He had obviously learned naught from my prior castigation of him. He would have been most displeased to know in that moment I was comparing him unfavorably to Mr. Collins.

"But as disguise of any sort is abhorrent to me, you shall know exactly what bargain we shall make and I will hold you to it all, every jot and tittle, for as my wife you shall obey and we will not be parted until death claims one of us.

"To the world, you shall be the one that gains much, but between the two of us, we shall know that you have given me everything, have sold your soul. Yes, you shall be the mistress of Pemberley, shall have such pin money, such jewels as that role commands, and I shall set your family up with a respectable home, ample and sufficient to all their needs, provide an allowance that funds servants, a good table and all the rest (so long as you do what is expected of you), but you shall never see any of them again, not so long as they bear the name Bennet."

I opened my mouth to refuse him just then, and perhaps Mr. Darcy could tell he had gone too far for he amended, "But I shall not be a cruel master, not completely cruel in any event. Should your sisters make respectable enough matches, I may condone a short visit by you to their married homes, but they shall not trade in my name nor gain any advantage by it. I will, perhaps, if you please me well-and I shall tell you how best to do it-permit some few letters (always read by me before being posted or coming into your possession), but that is all.

"When you write of me, indeed when you speak to any about me (be they friends, the local society or the lowliest kitchen scullery), you shall always praise me, express the deepest love for me, never hint at any discord or lack of respect."

I nodded my understanding if not my agreement. It did not surprise me in the least that Mr. Darcy would wish to cut me off from all that I held dear. It would make my refusal easier, if I could but refuse when safe within my own house.

But how safe would I really be at Longbourn or our future cottage? We had no men in residence to protect us. Mr. Darcy could not force me to marry him, or at least I did not think he would force me through imperiling my family further than our own poverty could. But perhaps this was war, and in times of war enemy soldiers resort to rape; I knew this from the history books.

Mr. Darcy's face grew colder still, like hard marble in the tones of flesh. "But as for the fallen one and her bastard child, she and he shall be as if dead to you. Their names will never pass your lips, you shall never write to her or see them. No matter if she should become a paragon of virtue or he grow up as the kindest lad, I will fund no occupation for him. No redemption from a marriage to even nobility itself, or accolades will ever reconcile me to you having anything to do with either of them."

While earlier that day, I could have been happy to think I might be able to excise Lydia wholly from my life, cut her cancer from my flesh, now, now, I could but not think about the bright eyed child she had been, rosy of complexion, happy and gay. Too, overlaid with that was the image of seeing Lydia with her black-haired son as he took his suck, or when she rocked him as Mamma had rocked us. Lydia might be selfish, lazy and of loose morals, but she was not wholly bad.

"Have you understood all that I have laid out thus far? Have you any questions?"

I shook my head.

"Very well, now, now we get to the heart of what I expect from you as my wife. I am reconciled to the idea that you can have no tender feelings for me and never will. What I cannot win, I will purchase the semblance of, the simulacra. I have decided to be satisfied that no one else will have as much of you as I can. If I cannot have your love, I will have your body, and have it I will.

"Make no mistake, do not succumb to girlish fantasies, imagining me to be someone that I am not. I am a selfish being, prone to arranging all matters to suit myself. I shall not play the part of some fop of a romantic hero who does not exert his marital rights while hoping and praying to earn his wife's love. Such a man is a fool and I am no fool.

"No, the very day we are married, perhaps with the ink not yet even dry on the registry (we shall leave straight from the doors of the church, not remain for any sort of celebration), I shall claim all of my rights. This shall be the way of things always and forevermore. I am a man of strong desires, and I will play them out with you.

"Do you understand the marital rights I speak of?"

I nodded and colored. I had always had a sense of them from a young age, when I had accidentally seen a stallion cover a mare, and there had been the joined dogs in the village, who all the little boys threw stones at. But if I had known none of that, Lydia's discussions of all her exploits could not fully be avoided. I had no illusions about what could take place between a man and a woman, but of course had no real notion of how it would feel to be the object that all of this was visited upon.

"I am glad," said Mr. Darcy, "that I shall not have to explain it all. Expect my attentions daily, for I shall couple with you as often as I want.

"I will fill you with children, enough to people all of Pemberley if I so choose. And I shall not care if you have had a dozen sons, I shall never leave you alone.

"Even when you are full to bursting with my child, I shall plant my seed as vigorously as before. You shall have no rest and should expect none, save for if the midwife deems it necessary for your health as I understand is needed for a time following the birth. But even during such a time, I shall still visit you for there shall be no risk in employing your hands and mouth in my pleasure.

"But I am no brute, with no care for your feelings. I shall endeavor to have you enjoy my attentions. After the first time or two, you shall not lie still but shall actively engage in all we do, shall fully express your earthen nature with me. For while you may have properly restrained it as society demands, within your breast I have no doubt dwells a wanton to rival and best the one who once was your sister."

Mr. Darcy stared at me then, his eyes licking at my lips, my neck, my breasts and then sweeping lower, as if he could see what lay below, beneath the many layers of my garments.

And how did this frank perusal make me feel? I felt so many things, most strongly anger and shame. But underlying this all, which only made me further ashamed, was want, confirmed by an inward slickness. From various things I had gleaned against my will from Lydia, this was my body's way of preparing for an invasion, preparing to welcome "it" within.

Oh, the mortification I felt, in recognizing the rolling wildness within me! For the first time I had a notion of what might have caused Lydia to stray from a righteous path, to cast off every notion of decency. All this I felt without Mr. Darcy touching me with any hint of intimacy. True he had lifted my chin, held my wrist, but those were not acts designed to ignite any passion.

Mr. Darcy's voice and eyes continued their assault on me even as I tried to crush everything I was feeling underneath the anger. "But whether you grow to like my attentions or not, they shall come and you shall never turn me away."

Mr. Darcy took a step away from me and then began to circle me. I was obliged to turn with little half steps to keep his face in view, for I had an irrational belief that he would not seek to take me (as I felt he very much wished to do, in speaking so frankly about my marital duties should we marry), so long as I did not turn my back to him. During this part of our conversation, or rather his monologue, his mind appeared to take a philosophical turn.

"And why should you, for before God you shall become one with me. What could be more pleasing to Him than me rescuing you from your earthly damnation and redeeming you with my name? And if the cost of this rescue is you submitting, always submitting to your bridegroom, what of it? For is that not the point of womanhood, to marry, restrain a man from fornication by giving him a proper outlet within those sacred bonds which alter sin to sanctification, and bear his children?"

I gave no answer, deeming these questions to be rhetorical, and indeed Mr. Darcy seemed to have no desire for me to speak, for he continued on, stopping now to look me in the eye as he took up my hand. Although I had halted, the world seemed to keep spinning and perhaps I grasped his hand back to avoid stumbling.

"What is more, when you are Mrs. Darcy, you shall thank me for the privilege of accepting my seed, of bearing my children, of being the vessel for my desires. You shall convince me you want nothing more than to serve me in this way. You shall be the perfect Mrs. Darcy to all outward appearances.

"While I do not want to change your arch manner, your clever repartee, the essence of who you are, added to all of this, your greatest accomplishment will be the appearance of your love for me, for I shall have paid for it. It shall not matter if we are alone or before company. If asked about our courtship, you shall declare that we married for the deepest love. If we are alone and I am deep within you, you shall tell me how much you enjoy my attentions, and how much you love me.

"I may not be able to control your thoughts, but you shall never share your discordant private views, not with anyone, even myself, even with a journal, even with a chicken in the chicken coop. For these disloyal thoughts shall be locked deep within you, the key melted away in a forge, the lock impossible to pick. I may not have your love, your true devotion, but I will have the appearance of it, all of my life. This shall be enough to satisfy me."

My mind whirled at the effort it would take to hide my true self away, to always pretend. It would be a difficult if not an impossible endeavor. I did not think that I was equal to the task, that anyone could be. But the fact that I made no reply seemed to be encouragement enough to Mr. Darcy.

"So will you accept this Faustian bargain? What say you? I am not about to make professions of love (for any love I might have once bore for you long ago died on the vine for lack of watering) or beg for the privilege of your hand. In truth, it might be better for us both if you refuse, but I do not think you will, for you love your family too much."

Mr. Darcy released my hand, crossed his arms and leaned back a bit. He seemed supremely confident and self-assured. I both hated him and envied how calm he was about the whole thing. His conscience should have been pricked by all the evil he suggested, all of what he was putting upon me.

I was overwhelmed by what Mr. Darcy had offered and the conditions accompanying it. I felt I should be insulted, should refuse right then, but I also did not feel that I could afford to be insulted or act in an imprudent manner.

Had I accepted his proposal before or even given it a thoughtful consideration, had I set aside my willful pride and told Papa what I knew of Mr. Wickham, perhaps Lydia would have never gone to Brighton, perhaps my dear Papa would still be alive. I knew I was of far less value now than before on the marriage mart, was unlikely to get any other honorable offer.

So I resolved not to make the same mistake as before. In the pleasantest tone I could muster, I told Mr. Darcy, "I thank you for the honor of your offer."

"Honor has naught to do with it," Mr. Darcy rejoined, his teeth flashing with an expression somewhere between a smirk and a sneer.

"Still, I thank you for it. Might I have some time to fully consider the matter before I decide?"

Mr. Darcy's lips twitched and I had a thought that he bore some disappointment that I did not agree just then. Arrogant, insufferable man to expect me to throw my whole life over in such a way without any reflection! But if it truly bothered him, he said naught about that.

"Yes, it is well for you to think carefully upon the matter and all of its conditions. Yet, time runs short. Should you not want your mother and your sisters to move into that hovel of a cottage you have arranged, we must be wed by April 26th, if not before. It will be easy enough to procure a common license; I should not wish to make arrangements at the last minute. It would be better to see to it all tomorrow, if you can give me an answer by then."

I inclined my head. "Until tomorrow," I told Mr. Darcy.

I turned to go and my shadow faithfully followed me, not uttering a word, but even so I daresay I felt his eyes trace my form, could hear him thinking so loud about how much he wished to grab me and seize what he was not completely convinced I would give him the legal right to have in mere days.

Mr. Darcy walked me up to Longbourn's door itself, and then turned to go as soon as the door opened from within. It was Mary opening the door. She must have spied our approach from a window, for she evinced no surprise.

Just then I heard Mamma. "Who came to call on us and why has he left now, without coming in?"

I made no reply, simply hurried to my room, closed myself within and wept.

A/N: I am very curious to hear from you all what you think of Mr. Darcy's proposal and whether or not he is cruel for asking for all of this. Does he have tender feelings he is hiding, or is he just ruthless and willing to use his power and privilege to get what he wants, other people's feelings be damned?

Also, now that you've heard Darcy's complete proposal, do you think I have the right title or does anyone have a better suggestion? Let me know your thoughts.

As you now well know, review and you'll get the next chapter that much sooner. Thank you, again.