Posted on Tuesday, 10 December 2002
Hunsford, that fatidic April evening, 1812.
Elizabeth was suddenly roused by the sound of the door bell, and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of its being Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, who had once before called late in the evening, and might now come to inquire particularly after her. But this idea was soon banished, and her spirits were very differently affected, when, to her utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the room.
"Miss Bennet, I've come to enquire after your health. I hope you are feeling better". He stopped at the mantle and turned to look at her.
"Whatever do you mean, Mr. Darcy?". Elizabeth had been laying on the settee and sat up when he entered the room, for in her indisposition she was not willing to stand up.
"Mrs. Collins has told me that you have a headache".
"Yes, Mr. Darcy. I am unwell. I do have a very unpleasant headache."
"I ...well ... it is just ... that I have come to ask you ... something ... very important". He started pacing impatiently around the room, with his hands behind his back.
Elizabeth could not believe that he did not listen to what she just said. She had told him she had a headache ... but why would she expect that the cold man that purposely separated Jane from Mr. Bingley would pay attention to her words? Of course he did not care if she was feeling ill. Her blood started to throb in her head, and so thoroughly increasing the pain.
"Mr. Darcy, would you be so kind as to leave? This is not a good time for a visit." She started to rub her temples with her fingers. Does he listen to what I am saying? I cannot be more civil than this at present. And why does he have that tortured look on his face?
"Miss Bennett, that is...I really must have a word wi..."
"MR. DARCY!" Do you realize that you do not seem to care for what I say? I am telling you that I am feeling very ill, that I am indisposed to receive you at this moment, and I do not know in what other manner I can explain to you that it is utterly insensible, impolite and ungentlemanlike of you to continue this interview when I am in such a state!"
Now Mr. Darcy stopped his endless pacing to face her. His cheeks were fiercely blushing and his neck burned right down to his chest as he finally seemed to comprehend what she was expressing. He stared at her for several moments, feeling thoroughly embarrassed, and ashamed of himself. Dear Lord, was I really going to propose to her when she has repeatedly expressed to me that she is ill? What an inconsiderate bastard I am! I shall request for an interview at a better time.
"You have said quite enough, Madam", said he, "I perfectly comprehend your feelings". He took a deep breath and continued, his fingers nervously fiddling his signet ring as he spoke. "May I ... at some other time .... that is ... when your health has sufficiently improved ... may I request a private interview with you?" A slight smile appeared on his lips as his eyes begged for a kind answer from her.
Elizabeth thought he looked so humble and timid, as a boy who had just been scolded by his mother. She could only reply with the hint of a smile on her own lips, "Of course, Mr. Darcy, I would be pleased to receive you at some other time, when I have recovered my good health."
Mr. Darcy relaxed his features on hearing that he still had another chance of meeting with her and hopefully make her an offer of marriage. "Thank you, Miss Bennett for your kindness, and I hope we will meet again very soon".
"Good-bye, Mr. Darcy".
He bowed low, then looked tenderly at her for a few moments. He left the cottage, thinking that he had almost made the most inopportune and disastrous proposal that had ever existed.
I shall be more gentleman-like next time.