Love Letters from Mr. Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Novella

by J Dawn King

  “I have arranged for my carriage to transport you in comfort to London.”

  She raised her brow and slowly said, “You have? My ticket is paid for.” Her smile widened.

  He wanted to return her expression, but the weight of the morning’s events did not allow it. The confrontation with his aunt was foremost in his mind. “I have made my decision. None of my close friends and family travel by coach.”

  The look passing over her face was something he did not recognize. What he did know was that she had gone from uncertain to angry in an extremely short period of time.

  She stood and stepped closer, her voice low, but firm. “Do you even begin to comprehend how high-handed you sound?”

  He was incredulous. “You would prefer being pressed up against strangers than accept the comfort I can offer you? An unattached lady traveling alone breaches the rules of propriety. Do you not care to preserve your reputation?”

  She threw her head back and looked down her nose at him, affronted at his arrogance. Before she could open her mouth, he unwisely continued.

  “Elizabeth, with the danger of Lady Catherine’s threat to expose my beloved sister to derision, I will do all in my power to protect those who are my own, whether you desire it or not. You may be used to unrestricted independence and the unruly conduct of your sisters, but mine deserves every effort to protect her good name.”

  Richard lowered his voice in warning. “I believe I would stop talking now, cousin.”

  Darcy was livid. He spoke directly to the colonel. “Our aunt was angry enough to remove Elizabeth from the parsonage, Richard. Who knows what she is planning now that neither you nor I are there to restrain her.”

  Richard raised his hands, palms out, and backed far away from the couple.

  “Be reasonable, Elizabeth. My sole aim is to make the best of this horrid situation.”

  She stepped so close, he could see every colour in her beautiful eyes. Flames of fire threatened to consume him and his instinct was to retreat. He would not.

  To an outsider, she looked like the epitome of a composed lady, with no concern other than the good company of a gentleman. Darcy briefly wondered why someone so wise could not see that his course was the only appropriate one to take.

  “Mr. Darcy, I am Miss Elizabeth to you. Now, look at me from my bonnet to my boots.” When he refused to do so she barked. “I said look!” When he finally did so, she continued. “Do I look like one of your tenants? Am I your sister? Your daughter? Your servant? Your wife?” She quietly fired questions as directly as bullets from a gun. “At this point in time I am nothing to you. Nothing! And you are nothing to me.” Her voice quieted with each word until it came at him in a hiss. “Why would my traveling alone in your carriage be any more appropriate than traveling coach? You are so busy trying to be my master that you are blind to the circumstances.” She stepped even closer. “You call my sisters unruly and you called them even worse at Hunsford, yet none of them have displayed conduct like your own.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “My mother, who may be silly, is, unlike your own aunt, not malicious—ever.”

  He stepped back from her, grateful no one was within hearing distance and entirely confused at her lack of understanding. He only wanted to care for her and offer protection. He loved her.

  “Know this, Mr. Darcy, that with the conduct of your family, it would be a degradation to attach myself to you. I bid you good day, sir.” With that, she spun and walked back to the bench, picked up her book, and opened to a spot somewhere in the middle.

  He could not move. What had happened? How had the conversation degenerated to such a point? Her words and expressions were so reminiscent of her refusal at Hunsford that he wondered at allowing his love to deepen and bloom the past few days. Did she not know what an honour it was for him to offer for her? He felt pain in the same area of his heart that had pained him at her rejection of his proposal. However, this time, it was far more intense.

  Removing his hat, he ran his hand through his hair. Taking measured breaths, he counted until he felt himself calm. Seeing her use her handkerchief to dab at her eyes leached all the anger from him. In spite of his ire and her own, he still loved her with his whole soul. Her reminders of why she had rejected him pricked his conscience. She had been correct. He had acted the arrogant master.

  Darcy shook his head. He would force himself to become a better man if it took the rest of his living days. Nevertheless, the reality was that his disconsolate heart was still beating and so was hers. They would find a way through this.

  He began walking away from the village, removing himself so he could no longer cause her pain.

  The gaping hole in Elizabeth’s own heart was the single-most vivid testimony that she had allowed herself to develop feelings for the man currently slogging through the high grass lining the roadway. From behind, his shoulders were bent and he looked like a man defeated. She was both angry at him and at herself. He had failed in his metamorphosis to a better man, and she had failed to keep her distance until he had proven himself to be a man she could respect.

  Certainly, she understood his tendency to control. It was the nature of having responsibility over so many. Nonetheless, his displaying tender qualities which had melted her heart and touched her deepest emotions, only to snatch them away leaving her faced with a haughty master, was reprehensible.

  They had made no progress at all since the failed proposal. All his words of love and tender expressions were for naught. The cavity in her chest expanded painfully, and she soon soaked the linen she was wringing in her hands.

  Elizabeth was unaware the colonel had sat next to her until a large square of embroidered fabric was placed almost under her nose. In a very unladylike gesture, she harrumphed.

  “He is a hard man,” she whispered.

  He heard. “You know that is not so.” Though kindly uttered, the words were firm. “Impossible, yes. Hard, not at all.”

  She wiped her eyes and closed her book. There was no longer any need to keep up her pretense of reading.

  “Why does he do this to me?”

  “We were all of us, the Darcys and Fitzwilliams, raised in pride and prejudice against those not of our circle. From the time we were at our nurse’s t…well, ah, well…” Colonel Fitzwilliam gulped and then started again. “From our first breath we were taught the superiority of elevated rank. Our heritage, our education, and our peers eat and sleep position and power.”

  “Yet, you are not like him.” She tried to keep the derision from her tone, but failed.

  “Darcy came out of university to a father whose health was failing rapidly. The heavy millstone of responsibility was dropped on his shoulders, and he has carried it alone.” Richard inhaled audibly. “I made the choice to enter the army— a decision which exposed me to a world where privilege and title meant nothing, where a man’s value was his character, not where he lived or into which family he was born. From my travels, I see much change where my cousin has not the freedom to move beyond his societal constraints. I doubt he had opportunity to appreciate his need to look to a much different future. Or, at least he had not until, I believe, he met you.”

  At her intake of breath, he looked her in the eye.

  “You hold tremendous power in your hands, Miss Elizabeth. With it, you could crush the life out of my cousin to where he is left a shell of his former self. Or, you could, if you are set against him, use kindness to ease him into a lonely future. Or you could make him the happiest man in England. Personally, I am hoping for the latter. He is a far more generous cousin when he is pleased.”

  She rolled her eyes at the blatant untruth of the last comment. “He is not generous to you when he is not pleased? I cannot believe that to be so.”

  His chuckle shook the bench they were sitting on. “In spite of what you observe on the outside, he is the kindest, most generous man I know. He withholds nothing from those he loves, and, yes, he loves me as a brother, as I do him. There is no man I trust a
s much as Darcy. No man I would want by my side during a fight. Honour flows in every bone in his body. You own his heart. Only you can gift him with the joy he deserves.”

  “You have given me much to ponder, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and I thank you for being direct.” She was surprised to note the sky was still clear blue, rather than filled with the storm clouds pressing in on her. However, it was not her way to be surly or down. She would put her powers of reason to work.

  Resolved, she straightened her spine and looked at the man beside her. He was a good friend to Mr. Darcy— far more so than Mr. Bingley. Somehow, she could not imagine the gentleman her sister Jane was in love with recognizing when the best offence was a retreat.

  Elizabeth stood to walk to where Mr. Darcy lingered along the roadside, breaking fallen twigs into small pieces and throwing them back into the greenery. The sound of a quickly approaching carriage stopped her in her tracks. She had a decision to make. If she took the time to sue for peace with Mr. Darcy, the coach would depart without her, leaving her at the mercy of the man who had caused her turmoil. If she climbed into the coach, she might never have the opportunity to make amends. As she shifted from one foot to the other, the crinkle of the three letters in her pocket she had placed there to reread on her trip to London reminded her of the beauty of his words. They were sincere. Each and every syllable came from his soul. She sighed heavily as she stepped away from the horses and started walking towards London, to meet the man who had touched her troubled heart.

  “Mr. Darcy.” He looked up at her greeting. Then he looked past her to the carriage door being thrown open by the gloved hand of a woman. It was his carriage!

  “What is…?” was as far as he got.

  Elizabeth looked behind her to see what had unexpectedly caught his attention just in time to see Miss Anne de Bourgh step down onto the road unassisted. Her posture was erect and her face lit by a beaming smile. Behind her came an older man who appeared to be in service; possibly Mr. Darcy’s flustered valet.

  “Oh, good. I had thought we would have to travel much farther before catching up with you. Darcy, your man here is in need of a restorative drink. He has been coughing and clearing his throat since we left Rosings.” Miss de Bourgh looked from one cousin to the other and then to Elizabeth. “Well, are you coming or not? I have not been past Hunsford village in decades and I am excited to see what is beyond my normal scope. Get in here, Miss Elizabeth. Richard, throw her trunk up to be stowed. Darcy, what are you about? Trying to walk all the way to London?”

  Without any further ado, Miss de Bourgh, again without assistance, climbed back into Mr. Darcy’s carriage and settled into the far corner.

  Elizabeth shook her head and saw the gentlemen were doing the same. She looked to the colonel and then to Mr. Darcy.

  “Apparently I am to ‘get in here’, as are you.” She giggled when she spied Miss de Bourgh’s chin lift, tilting her pointed nose towards the cloth-draped ceiling. She was a mirror image of her mother; regal and of the opinion that her wish was the only one that mattered.

  Mr. Darcy’s valet, whom she later learned was called Parker, offered his hand to help her into the conveyance. Mr. Darcy strode towards them as the colonel did Anne’s bidding by hefting Elizabeth’s luggage.

  When Darcy, his valet, and the colonel hesitated at the door, Anne bellowed. “Quit standing there with your mouths open. We need to leave and we need to leave now. Get in.”

  Within seconds, her trunk was tied to the back and the three men joined them inside. A call from the driver, a flick of the reins, and the carriage left Hunsford village in a small cloud of dust.

  “I can imagine you are wondering how I come to be traveling with you to London, cousins.” She gazed upon each man and then nodded to Elizabeth. “You must understand, Miss Elizabeth, that both Darcy and Richard have never appreciated a good surprise. They are far too staid in their opinions, and I say it is time they looked beyond their own noses to discern what constitutes the happiness of others, not just themselves.”

  Elizabeth thought it a sentiment she could agree with, so settled back against the comfort of the squabs to await the explosion. It was not long in coming. She was surprised at its source.

  “Annie the Bug, what are you about?” Richard sat back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest. Unlike Darcy, he gave the appearance of not having a care in the world. However, his eyes were alive, piercing his cousin in an apparent effort to unsettle her.

  “Do not call me that, Tricky Dickie. I am an adult and expect to be treated as such. You…you are an…” Miss de Bourgh turned to Elizabeth. “I need a word. Give me a word that fits him.” She pointed her finger at the colonel.

  “Ingrate.” Darcy inserted.

  “Gentleman.” Elizabeth kindly offered.

  “Gentleman?” Miss de Bourgh turned the full force of her gaze on her. “You caused no end of trouble in my household, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. The least you can do is assist me against these two ingrates.” She looked across at Darcy. “Thank you for the word, William. I am in your debt.”

  “I imagine you are,” he whispered under his breath, though loud enough for all to hear.

  “Annie!” The colonel again tried to rein her in enough to get some answers. “I will not ask you again. What have you done?”

  “Richard Fitzwilliam, I am not one of your soldiers you can order to obey. In less than a year, I will be the mistress of one of the largest estates in Kent. You will show me respect or you will get out of the carriage and ride your miserable horse to town.”

  The colonel’s jaw dropped open and his eyes grew wide. Elizabeth expected him to address her arrogance in demanding his removal from the equipage. Again, she was surprised by what concerned him most.

  “How dare you call my horse miserable. I will have you know, my horse is one of the finest in the King’s army. During the heat of battle, my steed never so much as flinched at the sound of a rifle. He never tired and he never quit. On more than one occasion, he saved my life.”

  Sarcasm dripped from her tongue. “Oh, so the real hero in the Fitzwilliam family has four legs instead of two. Did your miserable mount earn a promotion as well? Does he wear his medals on his saddle so everyone knows of his valour?”

  “Children!” Darcy interrupted, as if stopping rebellious misfits from harm. He looked back and forth to each of his cousins. “Let us halt this prodding and discover why Anne is here. Anne, it is unkind to bait Richard about his horse. He may never fall in love with a woman, but no person, not even you, can question his fidelity to his mount.”

  Elizabeth watched as the colonel punched Mr. Darcy on the arm hard enough to make his cousin grunt in pain. Miss de Bourgh laughed heartily and kicked at Mr. Darcy’s shin. When he acted the injured victim, Elizabeth at first was concerned. Then she realised his heavy leather Hessians covered the area his cousin’s soft, fabric slippers had aimed for. No harm had been done.

  Over the next few minutes, Elizabeth’s head bounced back and forth between the family members like a ball volleying between three toddlers as they all chimed in to tease and torment each other. In the end, the atmosphere cleared, and Miss de Bourgh began her accounting of the morning. Both gentlemen paid rapt attention. So did Parker and Elizabeth.

  “For many years, I believed my only purpose in life was to become Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley.” When he started to speak, Miss de Bourgh stopped him with a raised hand. “Pray do not be concerned, cousin. What I told you in my room, I meant. I have never had a desire to be your wife. What I wanted was freedom. A woman bound to a husband becomes no more than a possession to him. I have had every minute of my days and nights, for all my life, decided by someone else. I felt imprisoned in my own home. Then, when Uncle George died, you started coming to Rosings to care for the estate, Darcy. The first year you visited without your father, I overheard a heated conversation between you and my mother. At that time, I found out what my future would be if I did not marry. The very thing I
wanted. Freedom. All I had to do was stay docile, obedient, and unwed until the age of thirty. Then, no more.”

  “Has your life been so bad?” The words from Darcy’s mouth were kindly said. His whole countenance had evolved to one of empathy and concern.

  Tears filled Miss de Bourgh’s eyes, which she hastily brushed away.

  “I came to feel that each day was a battle I was unprepared to fight. To cope with the harshness, I withdrew to my bedchambers and used ill health as a reason to avoid having meals together where I was subjected to constant criticism.” Sighing heavily, she continued. “My attempts at explaining to mother that the reason I was not accomplished like other ladies was because I never had opportunity to learn fell on deaf ears. She accepted no culpability for my lack of training, for nothing Lady Catherine de Bourgh could ever do would be wrong.”

  “Then I am sorry, cousin, that I did not recognize your plight and assist you sooner.” Elizabeth could hear genuine regret in Mr. Darcy’s voice.

  “I am happy you feel that way, Darcy, as this is exactly why I am here. I have eleven months to learn to manage an estate, to learn how to walk, talk, dress, and dance like a lady, and to widen my circle of friends until Rosings Park becomes a destination full of interesting people and is worth living in. I expect you both to take me to balls, to the theatre, and the opera. I want to be seen on your arms and invited to the best houses. I want society to know that I am the daughter of a knight and the granddaughter of an earl. And I want the men to want me as their wife and for their sisters to want me in their company. I want it all, cousins. And I want it now.”

  Shocked silence filled the carriage. Into the silence, Elizabeth whispered. “Carpe diem.”

  Mr. Darcy translated. “Seize the day.”