Page 11 of He Insulted My Entire Family Before Proposing

It was exhausting, being proposed to by a man one despised almost enough.

CHAPTER 4

By breakfast the next morning, Mr. Collins knew nothing and sensed everything.

This made him dangerous. He could not interpret a silence, but he could make a great deal of noise around one.

"Our esteemed guests at Rosings were perhaps fatigued yesterday," he said, eyeing Elizabeth over his egg. "Mr. Darcy appeared most solemn at dinner. Lady Catherine, whose penetration is unequaled, remarked upon his gravity."

"Did she prescribe for it?" Elizabeth asked.

"Her ladyship advised moderation in all mental exertion."

"A remedy she has long practiced on behalf of others."

Charlotte coughed into her napkin.

Mr. Collins frowned, not because he understood but because he suspected understanding was occurring without him. "I am sure Mr. Darcy's mind is of a superior order."

"Then it can survive moderation."

After breakfast, Charlotte contrived an errand that required no errand at all and sent Elizabeth out before Mr. Collins could improve the silence further. Elizabeth had not gone far along the lane beyond the parsonage before she saw Darcy waiting where the road narrowed near a stand of trees. For one wild second she considered pretending not to see him. Unfortunately, the lane contained no credible hiding place, and the nearest bush was insufficient for dignity.

He came toward her with a letter in his hand.

"Miss Elizabeth."

"Mr. Darcy."

He looked as if he had spent the night in argument with himself and both sides had lost. His coat was immaculate. His face was not.

"I have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you."

"The grove has been patient."

He accepted this without reply. The letter in his hand was thick, closely folded, and sealed. Elizabeth looked at it as one might look at a weapon whose owner insisted it was only a tool.

"I will not renew the sentiments which were so disgusting to you yesterday," he said.

Disgusting. He had chosen the word with care and pride, repeating her judgment to prove it had not wounded him. This, Elizabeth thought, was pride trying to make a wound look like dignity.

"This letter," he continued, "contains an explanation of my conduct in the matters you laid to my charge. I ask only that you read it."

"Only?"

His gaze sharpened.

"Forgive me," she said. "After yesterday, I distrust the word only from you. It tends to precede a considerable demand."

"I ask no answer."

"That is wise."

He held out the letter.

She took it. Their gloves touched. It was nothing. It was absurd that a mere brush of kid leather could unsettle her.

He bowed and walked away.