Mr. Darcy's Obsession by Abigail Reynolds Page B

humiliate him?
    He turned away from the mirror. He did not want to look at himself anymore. Instead, he paced the narrow confines of the room, his footsteps muffled by the exquisite Persian rug. Past the window, past the door, and back. Past the bed where Elizabeth would never lie in his arms. The wrenching pain brought him to a stop. He leaned his forehead against the wall, feeling the pattern of the wallpaper pressing into his skin. She had made a fool of him. That was the one thing he could never forgive.
    His fury warred with the deep ache in his chest. Her treatment of him was nothing short of despicable, the words she said burnt into his heart, never to be forgotten. He never wanted to see her face again, never hear her name, only to forget that he had ever known a woman named Elizabeth Bennet.
    The heaviness of his life slipped back over him. He would never again experience the joy and freedom only her eyes could bring him, and now even his memories of her were tainted.
    ***
    Elizabeth was determined to think no more of Mr. Darcy, but the harder she tried to avoid thoughts of him, the more they intruded. He had clearly thought she would agree to his insulting offer. He had likely thought his offer generous, in offering her some degree of independence. She had hoped for a proposal of marriage. Elizabeth felt she could never wash the shame away.
    He had spoken to her of love. Remembering those words brought tears to her eyes.
    For the next week, she stayed within doors as often as possible, venturing out only when accompanied by her young cousins or her aunt. But one day, on returning to her room, she spotted a folded paper on her small vanity.
    She picked it up. It was fine, heavy paper and sealed on the back, with her name written on it in a firm, masculine hand. How had it come to be there? She would have known had it come in the post. Who could have placed a letter in her room? Only a member of the family or one of the servants, and none of them would employ such a subterfuge. Perhaps someone had bribed one of the servants to put it there. Suddenly she knew who it must be from.
    All the humiliation of that morning returned in a rush, the humiliation and the hurt that Mr. Darcy, the man whose companionship she had come to enjoy, would think her capable of agreeing to such a proposition. Darcy would never have made such a suggestion to Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn. Indeed, he had never said a word when her father was alive, because he had known she would never agree. Now, in her reduced circumstances, he thought her easy prey. And in truth, it was only her uncle's generosity that stood between her and a genteel poverty.
    At such a point, what would her principles matter to her? If she had flirted with every available gentleman as her mother had wished, she would likely be married by now, but she had insisted she would never marry without affection and respect. Brave words, but all they had done was to make her more vulnerable to the predations of Mr. Darcy. And he would not be alone in thinking her susceptible. Another man might not take no for an answer. Her reputation was all she had, and reputation could be ruined in the matter of a minute.
    She touched the letter. Half of her longed to read it, hoping for more words of love, but it could contain nothing respectable. The mere fact of reading it would ruin her reputation if anyone knew it, and someone in the household already knew of its existence. Perhaps that was what he hoped for, to damage her reputation enough that she had no choice but to accept his offer. The thought made her feel ill. There was only one thing to do.
    ***
    The butler handed Darcy a card. Mr. Edward Gardiner. He frowned, not recognizing the name. He was in no mood for yet another person begging a favour. Gardiner, though--that was Elizabeth's uncle's name. What would Elizabeth's uncle want with him? Perhaps it was some sort of message from Elizabeth. After all, she had no means to reply to