Letters From the Heart

by Kay Bea

  I have also been given leave to tell you my impressions of a certain Mr Matthias Addison, for whom our cousin has some partiality. Mr Addison is the second son of a gentleman in Staffordshire. They met when Mr Addison was touring Rosings with his sister. After some conversation, introductions were made, and the acquaintance became a friendship over the weeks the Addisons were in Kent. It was not strictly proper, as I have reminded her, but Anne informs me she has not much use for any rule that would place additional restrictions on her already-limited society. Anne seems to find the whole of the affair quite romantic. She somehow contrived for the siblings to visit their relations again whilst Richard and I are at Rosings. Having thus done, it was no difficult matter for her to call on the pair with Richard and me alongside.

  Richard and I have since been in company with Mr Addison on two occasions. I find him to be a pleasant gentleman who seems most attentive to our cousin. If the blush on Anne’s cheek is any indication, I believe his attentions to be well received. I am now charged with working on our aunt to understand both the futility of a match between Anne and myself and the great benefits of allowing Anne to choose for herself. I would be better served to undertake the task of Atlas. On this matter, our aunt will hear no opinion but her own.

  Please tell the Bennet sisters I have been frequently in company with Mrs Collins, and she received their news and greetings with pleasure. She wishes them to know she is greatly anticipating seeing them when Miss Bennet weds next week. She asks after her father’s health but says nothing of her mother. I offered to include any letter she wishes to send along with mine; however, Mr Collins did not seem agreeable to the suggestion. He is most attentive to his wife’s every move and word. I cannot say I like the man any better now than I did upon first acquaintance, but I shall suffer the husband for the sake of his wife.

  Mrs Collins is changed from this past autumn. She appears somewhat thin and is not as likely to offer her opinion as was her wont, but this is perhaps simply the effect of adjusting to her new status.

  Our aunt wishes you not to neglect your music in favour of your new friends, no matter how amiable they may be. To be truthful, I am surprised she had no more to say on the subject of your befriending the Bennet ladies. I mean no offence to them or to her, but I do not believe she would have approved of the situation even as recently as Christmas. Perhaps her acquaintance with Mrs Collins is responsible for this change.

  Lady Catherine also offers her services should you require her assistance with your come out whenever that occurs, which she believes should happen as soon as it can be arranged—though she reminds me her services would not be required if I would only do my duty and marry. I presume she means I should marry Anne, but as she will not hear my refusal, I simply pretend deafness on the subject. Should Anne and Mr Addison reach an understanding, I believe I shall offer to purchase a special licence for their use.

  We depart Kent on April 6, and after a brief stop in London, I shall arrive at Netherfield the following afternoon. I believe we shall forego the remainder of the season and simply return to Pemberley. I have been too long away from our home, and there are many estate matters that require my presence. It is possible we can return to Hertfordshire in the summer, or you may invite the Bennets to visit us at Pemberley. We can discuss it on my return.

  I must close for now. Your aunt requires my presence, and I believe we shall once again be in company with Miss Elizabeth and Mr Collins.

  Your affectionate brother,

  Fitzwilliam

  April 1, 1812

  Rosings Park, Kent

  Dear Bingley,

  These many days in Kent have not passed as I had imagined they would. My aunt, of course, continues in her campaign to see Pemberley and Rosings united. I daresay my cousin Anne grows even wearier of the lady’s rantings than I.

  There is some little variation in the company when Miss Elizabeth and Mr Collins join us for tea or dinner. Even on those occasions, the conversation is not so lively as I had thought it might be. Marriage seems to have changed Miss Elizabeth. It is odd to one who has spent some time in her company to find the lady all but silent. When we first came into the neighbourhood, I took the liberty of calling on Miss Elizabeth and Mr Collins. As the lady and I had a prior acquaintance, I thought to bring her word of her family and friends in Hertfordshire. Naturally, I began with the news of her father’s improvement under the care of Mr Cartwright. I will not trouble you with the inanity of her husband’s reply to my interference in the situation; let it suffice to say that Mr Collins did not seem best pleased with this intelligence. Miss Elizabeth was not induced to conversation until I relayed the news of her sisters’ improvements and pursuits. Her dolt of a husband had much to say on this subject as well—none of it worth repeating.

  On the subject of the Bennet sisters, you need only bear your beloved’s guardian sister for a short while longer. Then you and Miss Bennet will be wed, and your days of chaperoned walks quite at an end. How much you will miss the other girls, I cannot say. Georgiana and I plan to travel directly to Pemberley after the wedding, so you are most welcome to stay at Darcy House with your new wife while you are in London. I shall assure my staff see to your every need whilst you are in residence. Not even your sisters would think of such a scheme, and you will therefore be safe from unwanted visitors. On the subject of your sisters, I rather suspect Miss Bingley’s new living arrangements will be more to her liking than to Mr Hurst’s. If he were more often sober, I would almost pity the man.

  I shall arrive at Netherfield the afternoon of April 8. Though I regret missing your engagement ball and, I daresay, even dancing with your new sisters, I cannot but feel relieved at spending less time in the company of Mrs Bennet. I am given to understand Miss Elizabeth and Mr Collins are to arrive April 7. Miss Elizabeth is greatly looking forward to seeing her sisters and father.

  Yours in friendship,

  Darcy

  April 1, 1812

  Rosings Park, Kent

  Dear Uncle,

  I am in great need of your advice. Not since the events of Ramsgate have I felt such acute distress, and to know this situation is, at least in part, of my own making is all the worse. I have been at Rosings these nine days, and each is more unbearable than the last.

  Do not be alarmed on account of our family. Indeed, they are all well. Lady Catherine and Anne are in excellent health, and there is news of Anne, which I shall share when I return to London. You might well ask what can have inspired such emotion, and I shall attempt to tell it.

  You will remember we spoke at Christmas about a certain young lady from Hertfordshire whom I wished to pursue but had not because of the vast differences in our relative stations in life. Your youngest son soon humbled me on that account, and I determined I would return to the neighbourhood and endeavour to correct my past behaviour in an effort to win the lady’s hand. On returning to Hertfordshire, I learnt Miss Bennet had recently wed her cousin who is Lady Catherine’s parson. I was, quite naturally I think, dismayed at the news. My unhappiness over the situation and my respect for the lady grew when I came to the knowledge she had not desired the marriage, but rather she had been forced into the situation by her mother.

  Now I come to the point. I have chanced to see Miss Bennet, now Mrs Collins, whilst I have been in Kent. She and her husband are frequent dinner guests at Rosings. I previously believed the husband to be merely a stupid sycophant. I have never been so wrong. Uncle, the lady is so altered as to be almost unrecognisable. Richard was so misfortunate as to ask me what it was I found attractive about such a mousy person. I daresay his jaw will heal soon enough. Even my aunt remarked that Mrs Collins is much changed from her first arriving at the parsonage. Her once sparkling eyes are now lifeless and dull. The witty, bold, impertinent woman who captured my heart has all but disappeared and is now but a silent wraith drifting through the shadows. She rarely speaks two words together in company, particularly in the presence of her husband.

&n
bsp; I am in equal measures devastated and outraged. I should very much like to inflict upon Mr Collins’s person thrice the harm he has done to my Elizabeth. Do not censure me for referring to her as such for it is how I shall always think of her. It was painful to think of her being lost to me forever; it is unbearable to know she is lost to one such as Mr Collins. I fear all reason has abandoned me, and each scheme I concoct for her protection is more unlikely than the last. She is lawfully bound to the man for life, and I take no comfort in my belief that her life will not be a long one. Tell me, Uncle, what am I to do?

  Your nephew,

  FD

  April 7, 1812, Netherfield Park

  Darcy woke that morning determined to arrive in Hertfordshire in time to join Bingley when he called at Longbourn. Though he suspected the ladies would be much engaged with whatever wedding details still required their attention, he also knew that Bingley would be unlikely to accept a full day outside the company of his beloved and would therefore be fixed at Longbourn every day until the wedding. He had convinced himself that Elizabeth was only missing her family and, perhaps, had been ill when he visited Kent. Thoughts of a much-improved Elizabeth sustained him during the long ride from London, and he found himself arriving at Netherfield with sufficient time to change into something more appropriate for calling hours. In addition to seeing Elizabeth, Darcy hoped to find the Bennet patriarch sufficiently improved for at least a brief conversation. He had made a promise to his Elizabeth, and he would see it done no matter the embarrassment it might cause him.

  Bingley made no mention of Elizabeth’s being in residence, but Darcy considered his friend was unlikely to know just how much Darcy longed to hear of the lady, and he certainly could not ask. It was for this reason he listened with patience as Bingley enthused over his betrothed and the anticipated joy of the coming days. Darcy found himself growing more and more anxious as they drew closer to Longbourn. When at last they reached the estate, Darcy approached the house with feelings of dread and longing. He would see her again today; perhaps here, amongst her beloved sisters, his Elizabeth would be restored to herself. The sounds of feminine laughter reached his ears, and his heart swelled at the thought of dark eyes once again sparkling with mischief. He quickened his pace, scarcely recalling his manners and waiting to be announced before moving towards the delightful sounds.

  When he saw the occupants of the parlour, he had to force the slight smile to remain on his face for fear of offending the ladies therein. He told himself the presence of only Misses Mary, Catherine, and Lydia along with Georgiana and Miss Bennet in no way signified that his Elizabeth was not in Hertfordshire. She might be visiting a neighbour or attending her father. Mrs Bennet greeted him with only slightly less enthusiasm than she showed Bingley. She had finally recalled that she was a mother with three unmarried daughters and he was a single man in possession of a good fortune. He found her sudden approval repulsive, particularly as he considered the fate of her second daughter.

  “Brother!” Georgiana cried out on seeing him. She moved quickly from her place amidst the Bennet sisters to greet him. “I have missed you!”

  “And I you, Georgie,” he said as he kissed her forehead. “Now, what has you ladies all giggling this fine afternoon?” He never received an answer as the question itself set off even more laughter.

  It was several minutes later that a question from Lydia shattered the fragile peace of his mind. “Did my sister and her odious husband travel with you?” There was a half-hearted admonishment of “Lydia! That was unkind,” from one of the sisters. Miss Bennet, he thought, but was not certain. Lydia simply ignored the reprimand and continued, “We were expecting Lizzy two days ago, but she has not come, and we thought perhaps they delayed their travel.”

  Mrs Bennet chose that moment to join in, “Of course, it is just like that ungrateful girl to break her poor sister’s heart when my Jane has been so looking forward to seeing her after all this time. And not even a note to explain her absence. She has no consideration for my nerves, but I shall not complain.”

  He ignored Mrs Bennet in favour of replying to her youngest daughter. “No, Miss Lydia, they did not. Your sister and her husband were in Kent when I returned to London. Like you, I believed they were to arrive here yesterday. I said as much in my letter to Bingley.” Darcy struggled to keep his composure. Unlike his first return to Hertfordshire, he could not hide his distress behind a display of taciturn incivility. These ladies were no longer strangers to him; they were his dear sister’s intimate friends, and ignoring them would be disgraceful.

  He was drawn from his introspection with the announcement that Mr Bennet, in fact, had recovered enough to escort his eldest daughter to her wedding. The news was bittersweet. For though he was glad to know the master of Longbourn was returning to health, he could not help but think how pleased Elizabeth would be at hearing the change. That thought took him directly back to considering all the reasons she might have for a late arrival, and none of them were pleasant.

  It was not spoken of again, but Elizabeth’s absence cast a dark shadow over the otherwise joyful days leading up to and immediately following Jane and Bingley’s wedding. The sisters would begin a tale of their childhood only to stop when it came to relating Elizabeth’s part in their adventures. Miss Lydia would look almost involuntarily to the window, while Miss Catherine gripped her pen more firmly and Miss Bennet and Miss Mary exchanged tight glances. For his part, as the hour of the wedding drew closer with no word from Elizabeth, Darcy found he was less and less able to convince himself she had only been ill in Kent. Only Mrs Bennet seemed oblivious to the pain of Elizabeth’s absence.

  Two days after the wedding, Darcy and Georgiana made a final call at Longbourn before beginning the journey to Pemberley. While his sister made her farewells to Lydia, Catherine, and Mary, Darcy requested an audience with Mr Bennet. He congratulated himself when he did not scoff at Mrs Bennet’s raptures over which of her younger daughters he had chosen to marry. He was admitted to Mr Bennet’s book room and found the older man sitting quietly, staring at a miniature of a young girl who could only be Elizabeth.

  The silence had just begun to grow uncomfortable when Mr Bennet carefully placed the portrait on his desk and raised his eyes to meet those of his guest. “I am told my family and I owe you a great debt, Mr Darcy. Before she married, Jane informed me that the change in my care and, therefore, the improvement in my condition were due solely to your intervention. I would offer my thanks if only I understood your motivation.”

  Darcy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I can assure you, sir, that my only motive was to see you restored to health for the comfort and well-being of your daughters.”

  Mr Bennet gave the younger man a piercing look. “Nonsense. You made your opinion of my daughters quite clear when you first visited the neighbourhood.”

  Darcy could not deny it. “I was wrong. Your daughters are very lively and their manners not fashionable, but they are good girls, all of them, and I had no right to judge otherwise.”

  Mr Bennet nodded his acceptance and returned his gaze to the miniature on his desk. “Lizzy was always my favourite. Did you know? No, I suppose you would not. When I learnt of your insult at the assembly, I called for my horse and was ready to ride out before she stopped me. She said you were not worth her tears or my anger. I am her father, and I know she was not being entirely truthful. Your words wounded her, no matter that she tried to laugh them away.” His eyes never lifted from the image of Elizabeth.

  “I should not have spoken them. I did not behave as I should have when I was first in Hertfordshire. I have since tried to be a better man, the man I ought always to have been,” Darcy confessed.

  Mr Bennet inclined his head in acknowledgement and said, “Then I wish you success. Perhaps you will not wait, as I did. Perhaps you will not fail your sister as I failed my Lizzy. They told me she was visiting friends of her Aunt Gardiner’s in London. I knew, of course, it was a lie. But not in my wildest
imaginings did I conceive of the truth, and now my Lizzy is bound to a man I know was raised without an ounce of kindness by my illiterate and miserly cousin.”

  He finally raised his eyes to meet Darcy’s. “Still, you owe us nothing. You were under no obligation to return or to offer your assistance. So why are you come, Mr Darcy?”

  “I made her a promise, Mr Bennet, and I mean to keep it,” Darcy answered solemnly.

  April 21, 1812

  Hunsford Cottage, Kent

  My Dear Mrs Bingley,

  How well that sounds! Please forgive me, dear one, for not being in attendance at your wedding. My heart was truly broken, and I thought of little else that day. I fear a slight accident prevented my being able to travel. You will think me a goose, and a clumsy goose at that, when I tell you that the very morning we were to depart I stumbled over the hem of my gown, fell down the stairs, and struck my head on a table. I did not wake for a full day. Do not trouble yourself—for I am now much improved—only I could not travel for many days after.