Expecting His Proposal, page 1


§ Darcy and Elizabeth Short Stories Series
(Stand-alone books you may read and enjoy in any order)
Pride and Sensuality
Expecting His Proposal
A Tender Moment

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About the Author
P. O. Dixon is a writer as well as an entertainer. Historical England and its days of yore fascinate her. She, in particular, loves the Regency period with its strict mores and oh so proper decorum. Her ardent appreciation of Jane Austen’s timeless works set her on the writer’s journey.
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“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
Jane Austen
Chapter 1 ~ A Favorable Answer
Rosings Park, Kent
The frequency of Elizabeth’s encounters with Mr. Darcy during her rambles within the park excited her hopes beyond measure. Their meetings were not at all by chance either, for he always turned back and walked with her. Their meetings were by his design—he wanted to spend time with her, away from the inquiring eyes of others. His scheme suited Elizabeth just fine.
He never said a great deal, and not wanting to give the impression of being just another doting female who was always speaking, and looking, and thinking for his approbation alone, Elizabeth sought to guard her discourse as well. How sick of civility, of deference, of officious attention he must be. How he must thoroughly despise the persons who so assiduously court him. Elizabeth was far too clever to behave accordingly.
When he did talk, he asked odd, unconnected questions—about her pleasure in being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, and her opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Collins’s happiness. In speaking of Rosings, he seemed to expect that whenever she came into Kent again she would be staying there too. The implications of his words could only mean one thing.
Her dear friend Charlotte, in whose home Elizabeth was a guest, had once or twice suggested to Elizabeth the possibility of Mr. Darcy’s being partial to her. Elizabeth always laughed, for it would not do to allow her friend to know just how keen she was on the idea.
Elizabeth proceeded slowly along the path. She was growing a bit concerned that the time was quickly approaching for Mr. Darcy to be away from Kent, and still, he had not proposed to her. Her confidence that it was only a matter of time waned with each passing minute. What on earth was I thinking that I might attract such a man?
She was no stranger to the fact that Mr. Darcy supposedly was promised to his cousin Miss Anne de Bourgh. Indeed, her curiosity to know more about the young woman who held the position she often had wished was her own was one of the things that persuaded her to accept Charlotte’s invitation. Even though it would mean spending weeks in the company of her odious cousin, Mr. William Collins, whose hand Elizabeth had wisely spurned, it would be well worth it.
Whenever Elizabeth found herself in the company of Mr. Darcy and his cousin at Rosings, she often looked at Darcy to see how affectionately he regarded Miss de Bourgh, but never once could she discern any symptom of love. On the other hand, Elizabeth had felt herself the happy recipient of a great deal of his attention.
He had given hints of admiring her in Hertfordshire as well. Never expecting she might ever see him again after he and his friend Charles Bingley hastily returned to London soon after the Netherfield ball, Elizabeth’s surprise in seeing him in Kent was palpable. Her delight in being the recipient of his ardent attentions once again was even more so.
She could not think of Darcy’s leaving without giving some thought to his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam’s leave-taking as well. Elizabeth had often been in company with both gentlemen over the past weeks. No doubt in his cousin’s company, Darcy’s attentions to her were nowhere near as unguarded as when she and Darcy were alone and he showed her those hints of his true character others did not often see.
Where Darcy was reserved, which some regarded as haughty and aloof, the colonel was eager to please. Though not as handsome as Darcy and certainly not as rich, the colonel, being the second son of an earl, was very much the gentleman—amiable and well-bred—with no problems at all recommending himself to everyone. I am certain the colonel charms people everywhere he goes. Indeed, he was the kind of gentleman whom most women dreamed of calling their own.
In fact, it was the colonel who found himself by her side whenever they were in each other’s company, and Elizabeth had begun to feel that he might fancy himself in love with her and might offer for her. How unenviable would she feel if put in the position of having to consider the proposal of the one man when it was the incidental touches, the stirring debates, the longing looks, and the rich baritone voice of the other that had made a lasting impression upon her heart.
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire, the brooding Adonis-like man with dark hair and dark eyes who too often crept into her dreams since the night they first danced together at the Meryton assembly and whose hands lingered upon hers a bit too long as they moved through the two dances at the Netherfield ball.
Perplexing man! How fortunate am I that I never gave him cause to suspect the true depth of my regard for him, else he might then have treated me with an equal measure of indifference as he affords Miss de Bourgh.
After congratulating herself that no one need ever know how much her heart had been engaged by the prospect of capturing Mr. Darcy’s fancy, she began to consider that all in all, she had no cause to repine. Her trip had indeed been very pleasant. The five weeks that she had now passed in Kent had made a great difference in the countryside, and every day everything she saw and heard reminded her why she loved the springtime. She was on the point of turning back, when she caught a glimpse of Mr. Darcy pacing in the lane just up ahead. She halted her steps and observed him. From where she stood, she detected he was absorbed in deep thought despite his animated gestures. Whatever was troubling him, Elizabeth was determined to discover, and she set off to meet him.
Startled, he quickly tucked the paper he was studying so diligently into his pocket. “Miss Elizabeth!”
“Mr. Darcy, I saw you walking back and forth, looking as though you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. Pray whatever is the matter?”
“The fact is I do have a great deal on my mind. I’ve been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you this morning.” His demeanor then became more urgent. “In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
His declaration sent her heartbeat racing. But why was she so stunned? Had this not been what she was hoping for— that she would be the woman to win this man’s heart. Still, she had been dreaming of the moment for so long, perhaps this too was a dream. “You love me, Mr. Darcy?”
“Indeed. I love you ... most ardently. Please do me the honor of accepting my hand.”
Elizabeth’s astonishment rendered her speechless. Did she proceed to prolong his suspense with half-hearted protests according to the usual practice of elegant females? That ridiculous Mr. Collins had accused her of that very thing when he had offered his hand to her in marriage last autumn. Of course, she had refused him and in no uncertain terms. The odious man then proposed to her friend Charlotte, and to Elizabeth’s dismay, Charlotte accepted him.
Cognizant that Mr. Darcy was speaking, the precise words he spoke escaped her as she attempted to rid her mind of the events of the past and focus upon her promising future.
A light touch on her hand unleashed a wave of excitement throughout her body. He had touched her hand before on several occasions. She even knew what it was like to feel the soft brush of his lips against her skin, but nothing compared to this.
“Miss Elizabeth, did you hear a word I said?”
“Yes, sir.”
His eyes questioning, Darcy said, “Yes, you heard me or yes, you will be my wife?”
“Yes ... I heard you. And yes ... I will be your wife.”
Now it was Darcy’s turn to be astonished. He had come to her with every expectation of a favorable reply. However, he had not expected it to be so easily bestowed. He had worked many hours composing the heartfelt words written out on the paper in his pocket—a detailed accounting of his apprehensions and anxieties.
Do I dare breathe a word of any of that now? Do I conceal my struggles and flatter her into the belief of my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination?
Elizabeth’s dark eyes beaming with joy taught him to think better of it.
No, I dare not to say anything of the sort and risk injuring her pride by my honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. Darcy raised her hand to his lips and brushed a tender kiss across her knuckles. Resting her hand upon his chest, he said, “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth, for making me the happiest man in all of England.”
And so it was—Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet—engaged to be married. Not wishing to draw attention to their newfound felicity just yet, they resolved during their return to the Parsonage House that no word of their engagement was to be shared with anyone, not even Elizabeth’s dearest sister, Jane, until Mr. Bennet’s consent was asked for and received. Further, Elizabeth was to continue as the Collinses’ guest for the next week, and Darcy would remain at Rosings. That way, they might enjoy a ple
Niggling thoughts that sought to encroach upon Elizabeth’s joy, she immediately dismissed. So pleased was she with the preference he bestowed onto her while neglecting all the other women of his acquaintance that Elizabeth was certain he held her in great esteem. Now she had proof for she was to be his wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy, the mistress of Pemberley—how sweet the sound. How could Elizabeth object to a scheme that would allow them to become better acquainted, free of the ill wishes and disdain of his aunt and the exuberant approbations of her mother?
Upon arriving at the Parsonage, Elizabeth invited Darcy inside, and the two talked of many things in keeping with their aspirations for future marital felicity until the time for him to return to Rosings was near.
Darcy said, “I wish we didn’t have to part just now. There’s so much I wish to say and so much I wish to do with you now that we are engaged.”
“Lest you forget, sir, we are to drink tea with Lady Catherine in a matter of hours.”
“There is that and I indeed look forward to it. However, it’s not quite the same as being alone with you—like this.” Darcy placed his finger on her cheek and traced a path that stopped short of her slightly parted lips. How breath-taking it was finally to be able to touch the woman who had captured his heart. How he wanted to trail his lips along the path of his fingers. He did not. “I do not know how it will be this evening, being in your company and desiring time alone with you as much as I do.”
“We must find a way if we are to avoid raising suspicions that we have reached an understanding. Tell me again that you appreciate my wanting my father to be the first to know.”
“Indeed. It is only proper that we should receive his consent before telling the world. There’s also the fact that you love your father very much.”
“Indeed. I confess to his having spoilt me exceedingly.”
“I could tell from seeing the two of you with each other when we were in Hertfordshire. I, too, intend to spoil you—in different ways of course,” cupping Elizabeth’s chin and lifting her face, their eyes met, “in all those ways a man spoils his wife.” He brushed his thumb across her lips. “You shall never have cause to regret your being so far away from Longbourn.”
What warm sensations pierced her core with the gentle touch of his hand upon her face. She had often entertained herself with fanciful musings of what it must be like to be kissed by this man—really kissed. Would this be the moment she dreamed of—his soft lips pressed against hers? Would her imaginings even come close to the reality? Moistening her lips, she was on the verge of closing her eyes when his hand fell.
Elizabeth inwardly exhaled. Perhaps his fierce wont of adherence to propriety dictated his actions, but oh, how she wished he had tossed such conventions to the wind. On the other hand, what if he had kissed her? Mr. or Mrs. Collins might interrupt us at any minute.
“You should know, my loveliest Miss Elizabeth Bennet, that I can hardly wait to make you mine. I simply want to shout it from the rooftop that we are to be man and wife. I long to carry you off to Pemberley. It’s quite unlike any other place I have ever seen, and I wager you have never seen such a place where nature and man have conspired more to preserve its beauty.”
“If half of what Miss Bingley says about Pemberley is true, I’m sure I shall be delighted.”
“I should like to suppose we will be married by special license, which means you shall see your new home in a matter of weeks.”
Elizabeth said, “I can hardly wait to share my joy with my eldest sister, Jane. Her spirits were quite low when I last saw her in London, but I can well imagine that she will be pleased. Who knows, perhaps our alliance will place her once again in Mr. Bingley’s path.”
Darcy’s countenance grew rather unreadable. Supposing it had more to do with the idea of his being tossed in Bingley’s sister’s path once more, Elizabeth sought to change the subject. Here again, talk of their imminent plans ensued. Once she returned to London, and she reunited with her sister, they were to journey on to Longbourn. Shortly thereafter, Darcy would come and speak with her father.
Elizabeth prayed her papa would have no misgivings over her hasty acceptance of a future life with Mr. Darcy. No doubt he will be surprised, but that is not to say it should be an unwelcomed surprise. Although the gentleman who sat next to her on the Collinses’ sofa had given most everyone to suspect he was proud and above his company when he attended the Meryton assembly, Darcy had shown his preference for Elizabeth from the start when he singled her out as the only woman whom he danced with outside his own party.
There was also the time he danced with her and no one else but her at a gathering at Lucas Lodge. His attentions towards Elizabeth had been nowhere nearly so unguarded as his friend’s attentions towards Jane, but he had sufficiently flattered Elizabeth’s ego enough to give her a favorable impression of his good character. Here was a man she could admire and respect—a man of consequence and one to whom she could easily surrender her heart.
When the militia came to town, Elizabeth met a handsome officer named George Wickham. Discovering that the gentleman’s opinion of Mr. Darcy was not so favorable as her own, she was not inclined to believe a single word against the upstanding man who had danced with her during the Meryton assembly. Elizabeth, who considered herself a fine studier of people, was able to look past all the officer’s disparaging remarks and see for herself what a fine and decent man Mr. Darcy was. Indeed, of the two men, she easily discerned that George Wickham was the less worthy of her affections even though both had done an admirable job of flattering her ego. It made perfect sense. George Wickham made a show of adoring the women of his acquaintance in general, whereas Mr. Darcy’s admiration of the finer sex was rarely put on display ... except with her.
Darcy took both her hands in his and drew them to his chest. Surrendering the one, he placed his hand on her chin. How Elizabeth wished they could remain in that attitude a while longer. Though she knew not where the Collinses were, she had every reason to suppose they would be returning to their home shortly. It would not do for either of them to see her and Mr. Darcy together, especially not like this. Charlotte would know immediately what was afoot. It was hard for Elizabeth to hide anything from her intimate friend. Of course, she would be delighted. Elizabeth’s cousin, on the other hand, were he wise enough to suspect anything, would likely be ill over the knowledge of an alliance between Darcy and Elizabeth given that he had provided the means of its coming about by virtue of Elizabeth’s being a guest in his home.
Unbeknown to the two lovers, they were not alone. Mr. Collins had returned home and entered his humble abode through the house’s rear entrance. Having enjoyed the privilege of speaking to his noble patroness’s nephew on more than one occasion, he immediately recognized the rich baritone voice emanating from the other side of the partially closed parlor door. Collins was a mixture of pride in being able to receive Mr. Darcy in his home once again and remorse that he had not been there sooner to welcome him properly. Straightening his attire, he stopped short of entering the room.
What have we here? Mr. Darcy. Cousin Elizabeth! Turning on his heels, he headed out the front door. My noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, will want to hear about this.
Chapter 2 ~ Formed for Each Other
Later that day, Elizabeth accompanied the Collinses to Rosings, where they were engaged to drink tea. Were it not for their agreement to tell no one of their happy news until after the intelligence had been communicated to her father and his blessings received, Elizabeth would be presented to Lady Catherine de Bourgh as her future niece that evening. She couldn’t help thinking, without a smile, of how the haughty aristocrat would bear the news once it was made widely known. What might she say? How might she behave? These were but a couple of the questions with which Elizabeth amused herself.
Much to her delight, it was now Mr. Darcy who sat next to her as she played the pianoforte as opposed to his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam. With a slight touch of his hand upon hers, Darcy said, “How are you this evening, my love?”
