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EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, the Bennets returned to Wilhelmina's cottage. According to Mr. Bennet, they had quite a way to go before their cousin could forget the slight she suffered at their hands. In Elisander's opinion, Wilhelmina was the same as ever. She didn't strike him as a woman with a grudge. She seemed no less excited to share her inventions with the brothers Bennet. She showed them a pair of boots with tiny rockets attached to the heels. The shoes excited her, but when she smashed into the wall three times as she tested them, she decided her invention was a resounding failure.
Wilhelmina left to nurse her bruises, while Mr. Bennet enjoyed an afternoon nap. Kier and Elisander were alone in the drawing room, reading books—as they often were. They were sharing thoughts about their favorite novels when a knock on the door put an end to the discussion.
“Who could it be?” Elisander asked. Wilhelmina had no butler, so there was no one to greet their guest.
Kier crept across the room and peeled back a curtain. “It's... Darcy Fitzwilliam,” he reported.
“The captain?” Elisander's nose twitched with distaste as he closed his novel. “What could she possibly want?”
“To speak to you, no doubt,” Kier said. “If she's come all this way, the lady must be in love with you.”
“Don't be absurd,” Elisander growled.
“Well, she certainly isn't in love with me,” Kier sighed. “Since she is likely here to call on you, Elisander, you should be the one who greets her.”
“If I must.” Elisander could feel his shoulders falling as he made his way to the cottage's front door. Darcy Fitzwilliam was a beautiful woman, but her scowling face was still among the last he hoped to see.
When he answered the door, the captain avoided eye contact with him.
“Captain Fitzwilliam,” he greeted her with cold civility. “What a pleasure.”
“Mr. Bennet.” Her hands were clasped behind her back, and her face was as stony as ever. “How is your health? Are you well?”
“Of course!” Elisander chuckled. “Did you expect me to be unwell?”
“No. I was attempting to make polite conversation, which is, I believe, what most people do?”
Elisander sneered at the sarcasm in her voice. He didn't like her, but he was such a gentleman, he could only be hospitable. “Would you like to come in, Captain Fitzwilliam? We could have... tea?”
“No. I have no interest in tea,” Darcy coldly brushed aside the idea. “Actually, Mr. Bennet, I was hoping you might join me for a walk.”
“A... walk.” Elisander's false smile was overturned by the thought. Declining wasn't an option, but he didn't anticipate more time with the disagreeable lady.
“Yes. A walk. You move your legs, put one foot in front of the other...”
“I know how to walk, Captain.” Elisander glowered at her. “Forgive me. I was momentarily surprised by the invitation. I suppose I should accept.”
“Do you want to accept?” Darcy asked with a snort. “Or do you find my company intolerable?”
“No. Not intolerable at all,” Elisander lied. “Lead the way.”
Darcy's shoulders squared as they entered the garden. Her body was so full of tension, it was obvious to anyone.
“Those clouds are a bit ominous,” Elisander noted, pointing at the sky. “I hope the rain doesn't spoil our walk.”
Darcy's reply was terse, if not a bit rigid. “It's England. I always expect rain.”
Their walk continued in silence as the sky grew darker still. Unlike Captain Fitzwilliam, Elisander did not struggle to start and sustain conversations; however, he could not think of a topic to interest a worldly woman like Darcy.
“It is really going to rain,” Elisander warned her. “I can already feel a mist on my cheeks. There will be a deluge soon.”
“Is your constitution so delicate that you cannot withstand a bit of rain, Mr. Bennet?” Darcy teased him.
“Not at all. But I suspect it will be more than a bit of rain.” Elisander grimaced as his gaze turned skyward. “I would rather not be caught in a downpour.”
Darcy was undeterred by the threat of rain. She kept walking, even when the first droplets lightly smacked her forehead.
“Captain!” Elisander exclaimed as the rain picked up. “Captain, do you think we might cease our walk and turn back? We are already a significant distance from the cottage. In fact, I believe we might be closer to Ros—”
“Mr. Bennet,” Darcy interrupted. When she faced his direction, her expression was even more serious than usual. “In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I love and admire you.”
Elisander's astonishment could not be conveyed by a single expression. He stared, stuttered, blushed—and ultimately doubted. The lady spoke well, but until that moment, she had only shared feelings of distaste for him. She thought he was inferior. His entire family was beneath her. How could he begin to unravel such a thorough change of heart?
Despite his deeply rooted dislike for her, the affection of such a woman was flattering, and he felt a bit guilty for the pain he was about to inflict on her—until she spoke again.
“Believe me, Mr. Bennet, I have tried to ignore these feelings. It should have been easier to abhor you than adore you. You are outspoken, headstrong, and even a bit intolerable at times. Even so, I find myself drawn to you. Your family is rather poor and perhaps a bit silly, but I shall try to ignore our unequal standing, should you choose to accept my offer of marriage.”
Suddenly, he had no pity for Darcy's impending pain. “I am sure you expect a favorable answer,” Elisander began. “However, I am afraid I must disappoint you. I have never desired such feelings from you. What is in my heart does not match—or even begin to approach—the sentiments you have unexpectedly expressed.”
Darcy's arms crossed, and her complexion was pale with anger. Her features subtly twitched as she fought to feign composure.
“So this is the reply I am to receive?” When she paused, Darcy's lips formed an icy, tight smile. “I am to be rejected. Very well. Your decision is of little importance to me, but I am a bit curious as to how you arrived at your answer.”
“Of little importance? Really?” Elisander chuckled at the lady's response. “Is that intended as an insult? I'm sure it is, but haven't you insulted me enough? You call me intolerable and belittle my family, and in your next breath, you expect me to accept an offer of marriage? I'm not sure I've heard anything more baffling! Furthermore, am I to forget the part you played in vilifying my brother? You tried to ruin Joseph's happiness with Bin Li. Am I supposed to ignore that?”
“It's over now,” Darcy grumbled. “You won that battle.”
Elisander's head was shaking with disbelief. If she was calling it a battle, she had not yet accepted her friend's engagement to his brother. How, then, could she possibly accept Elisander as a husband?
“I have every reason in the world to think ill of you.” As he spoke, Elisander wiped rainwater from his cheeks. “Can you really deny that?”
“I have no wish of denying I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your brother, or that I lament my failure,” Darcy coldly confessed. “In truth, I should hate you, Mr. Bennet. You allied yourself with the thief, Georgette Wickham. I should despise you for the foolish friendship you appear to be fostering with her.”
“Captain Wickham helped me!” Elisander exclaimed. “That is more than you have done. You've only ever hindered me.”
Darcy's fists clenched until her nails were on the verge of piercing her skin. “If only you knew how much help that lady provides. That horrid woman ruins lives, Mr. Bennet. You have no idea.”
“She's been kinder to me than you,” Elisander said. “I say that, even though I was once robbed at gunpoint by the lady in question. That should give you some idea of the way you have treated me thus far!”
“You have such a low opinion of me. Is it because I wounded your pride?” Darcy gave him a pitiless pout. “I should have concealed my struggles and flattered you instead. I should have falsely sang your praises and disguised my reservations. Unfortunately, I am an honest woman, and I am not ashamed of the feelings I shared with you. Did you expect me to rejoice at your inferiority, Mr. Bennet? Should I have reveled in the prospect of acquiring relations whose condition in life is decidedly beneath my own?”
Elisander could feel himself getting angrier and angrier. The last of his composure was rapidly slipping, so he held a breath until his fury passed. He closed his eyes and hoped the rain would wash away his rage.
“This was the most vile proposal that has ever been uttered. Of that, I have no doubt,” Elisander chuckled. “At least you spared me any concern I might have felt in refusing you. However, my decision was made from the moment you opened your mouth. No prettier words could have tempted me to accept an offer of marriage from a woman who has only expressed her disgust with my beloved family.”
Darcy's astonishment was obvious, but for once, she had no counterattack.
Elisander continued, “I find you vain and conceited, with a selfish disdain for others. You might be the last woman in the world I would ever think to marry!”
“Are you done?” asked Darcy, who expressed her disinterest with an intentional yawn. “You have said quite enough to make me ashamed of this proposal for the rest of my life. Even so, my feelings were genuine enough that I shall leave you with a wish for your happiness and health. I am sorry to have taken up your time. Farewell.”
Darcy hurried away in haste. As he watched her go, Elisander replayed every astonishing word in his mind. No matter how many times he reviewed the conversation, it was no less perplexing. If nothing else, he was secretly impressed with himself for having stirred such affection in a hard-hearted woman like Darcy Fitzwilliam.
With a heavy sigh, he turned in the direction of Wilhelmina's cottage.