"You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings—" Darcy began to say, beginning to think of extracting himself from his humiliating position.
Then Elizabeth looked at him again defiantly.
"I have not said enough. Your high-handed, arrogant ways have passed for it seems your whole life with no one to call you upon them. I do. You said that I must listen to you. I did. Now, you must make answer to me."
She had backed him up against the wall, her eyes veritably flashing with anger.
"Do you understand that your separating my sister from your friend was an effort misled at its source?" she asked, her gaze piercing him deeply.
"I do," he said without hesitation. Something in her manner inspired instant humility in him. Since her explanation of Jane's feelings, he had begun to suspect that he had failed to see the signs of affection — on both sides — for the simple reason that Bingley's attachment to the eldest Bennet girl would throw his friend in greater danger from the second.
Now that he had succumbed to his need for her, he could see how hypocritical he had been and writhed under her unflinching appraisal of his character.
"Will you tell Mr. Bingley that you were misled, that you led him into an unjustified abandonment for your own selfish reasons?" she asked, drawing still closer.
"I will," he promised.
"Let me see you do it," she commanded, and he sat and wrote while she watched, suggesting another word here and there. When she was satisfied, he signed and sealed and gave it to her to post.
She smiled at the letter, seeing in it Jane restored to Bingley. She ran out to give it to a servant, but returned swiftly. Darcy did not move. When her gaze again met his, she still had a trace of smile on her face, and he was as mesmerized by it as the snake by the flute.
"And how do you explain your conduct to Mr. Wickham? I could see that you wanted to offer some explanation. Pray, do." She placed her hands on her hips and waited.
On more solid ground, Darcy falteringly told the tale of Wickham's greed and his attempt to elope with Georgiana.
"You say Col. Fitzwilliam will back your tale?" she asked, suspicious. He affirmed it.
She considered while Darcy sweated.
"Wickham is a terrible liar," she said at last. Darcy could only agree.
"It is any wonder that I believed him? You never told me otherwise, though you say you liked me all this time. You knew that I and my sisters kept company with him and did not tell us what a scoundrel he was?" she asked in rising anger.
Darcy had risen to face her, and found he could retreat no further, but wished the wall would close over him to protect him from her rage.
"I must write, I must warn Papa, to keep Kitty and Lydia from him," she said, frantically turning to the writing desk and dashing off a note.
"I do not think him any danger to them," Darcy found the self-possession to offer. "He is hunting a fortune, after all."
Elizabeth sighed harshly, rose and turned to him again.
"Do you think that because a scoundrel engages in one form of villainy that he is incapable of another? Well you disclaim being a man of the world."
She turned from him contemptuously and returned to the note. She shed some tears over the wording, then addressed it and again ran to post, leaving Darcy alone again.
He did not wonder that he maintained his position, but readied himself for her anger when she would return.
She stalked to within inches of him. Her anger radiated from her, and she leaned toward him until he could feel her breath when she spoke.
"You insult my family and say that you love me. Now you see that I am every bit as wild as they. Admit that you were wrong. Say that I am unworthy of your love and that you were wrong to offer it."
"I cannot," he admitted.
"Why?" she demanded.
"Because I love you," he explained.
She placed a hand on either side of his head and leaned in to speak.
"You dare to say you love me — still?" she asked angrily.
"I do," he said.
She gazed at him. He had cowered as far as he could, and no further. Her cascade of anger came to an abrupt end, and she began to laugh.
"Mr. Darcy," she said in her mirth. "You will at last make me think that you are somehow serious. I cannot imagine how any love could withstand my anger of the last few minutes.
"Are you really yet so out of your senses that you think that you love me?"
"I am not out of my senses but for longing for you," he said flatly, then placed his hands about her waist and drew her to him.
She allowed him and looked at him bravely still.
"Your friends will think you mad," she observed.
"Let them," Darcy said.
"You will have Mama for a mother-in-law," she said meaningfully.
"I will do her a son's duty in respect for her having made me the perfect wife," he said.
"I say you are mad, Mr. Darcy," she said fondly, reaching for his hair with stroking fingers.
"As long as you say yes, Elizabeth," he said.
She started a fraction at his use of her name, but his arms about her, his face under her fingertips, his gaze steady upon hers all combined to make her content — and more than content — to stay in his embrace.