Mr. Darcy's Letter

by Abigail Reynolds

  “But… perhaps the gentleman is correct in his view of her sentiments.”

  “I am sure he believes himself correct; but I am equally certain he is not. My niece is a direct woman, and if she were set irrevocably against a man, she would not hide it from me or anyone else. In this case, she seems unable to believe anything but the best of him, yet looks away whenever he is mentioned, and seems sadder each day in his absence. Sad enough, in fact, that we determined it was best to send her home to recover her spirits. But my wife and I both regret that two such pleasant and insightful young people should suffer so owing to a misapprehension of each other’s intentions.”

  “I see.” He did not in fact see. “I invited Miss Elizabeth to call on my sister while she was in London.”

  “Yes, I recall that. Later she seemed to be of the opinion that she would no longer be welcome to do so. I am not certain why that might be, but she seemed quite firm in her impression.”

  As if Elizabeth could ever be unwelcome! Darcy was certain Mr. Gardiner must be overstating Elizabeth’s feelings for him, but was it possible that she was no longer irrevocably set against him? He did not deserve such a softening of her regard, but if it existed, perhaps it could be deepened with time. She had not seemed unhappy to see him at the wedding until the very end, when she turned away from him in tears, but perhaps he had misinterpreted that. Women often cried at weddings, did they not? Maybe it was nothing more than the emotions of the moment.

  If it was true, he could show her there was more to him than she had seen in the past. If it was true.

  CHAPTER 17

  After a week back at Longbourn, Elizabeth decided that nothing in the world could please her. In London, she had constantly thought about Mr. Darcy, hoped against hope to see him, and regretted all her lost opportunities, to the point that she was glad to return home. Indeed, Longbourn was a pleasanter place than it had been when she left. Many, though not all, of their neighbours were now acknowledging the Bennets again, and they began to receive the occasional invitation. Whispers no longer followed them on the streets. Kitty had regained her spirits once Lydia’s marriage was announced; much like her mother, she could not see any reason that this was not cause for celebration. Jane’s usual equanimity was more in evidence now, though from time to time Elizabeth would catch her looking off into the distance with a sad expression, and with strong suspicions that her sister was thinking about her former suitor. Jane displayed no interest in discussing Mr. Bingley, although when pressed, she would say only that he was the most amiable man of her acquaintance, but nothing more than that. Given the circumstances, Elizabeth refrained to the best of her ability from teasing. But still, her mind was filled with nothing but Mr. Darcy.

  Mrs. Bennet demanded her least favourite daughter’s company more often than had been her wont, requiring Elizabeth to provide detailed reports of Lydia’s wedding to all of her friends. It was not clear what they made of the substitution of one Mr. Wickham for the other, and whether any credence was placed in the reasoning that it had been a natural error to assume that Lydia had run off with the Mr. Wickham that they knew, rather than with the brother to whom he had presumably introduced her. When Elizabeth described Mr.

  Thomas Wickham to her family, her father announced his great pride in a new son-in-law who knew how to make love to everyone. Privately Mr. Bennet questioned her further about the arrangements, but she pleaded ignorance and referred him to her uncle. She did not reveal her knowledge of Mr. Darcy’s role in the affair, nor that she had seen him in London.

  Elizabeth felt overall that the outcome was as positive as could be hoped under the circumstances, but nonetheless she often found herself noticing a new emptiness in her life. It was not difficult for her to guess the reason for this change. She was determined to forget her feelings for Mr. Darcy and to think of him merely as a generous friend, and on occasion was even successful at this for several minutes at a stretch.

  One afternoon she and Kitty paid a visit to Mariah Lucas at Lucas Lodge. Mariah had received a letter from Charlotte and was excitedly recounting all their adventures at Rosings. She only mentioned Mr. Darcy’s name twice, but each time, Elizabeth felt as if a pit were opening deep within her, and that everyone must have noticed her reaction. All her memories of Kent were now deeply entwined with the figure who remained all too clear in her inner vision.

  On their return to Longbourn, Hill informed her that her father was asking for her, and even then Mr.

  Bennet emerged from his library, closing the door behind him. “Ah, Lizzy, you are quite the person I have been hoping to see,” he announced with a certain glee.

  Elizabeth was certain that some major teasing was to follow, and resigned herself to whatever embarrassment her father might raise on this occasion. “I am at your service, sir.”

  “There is a person who has requested a private word with you. I assume you are at leisure to see him?” Mr.

  Bennet rubbed his hands together.

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Not Mr. White? Please, you may give him my answer, which you know quite well.” She was not in the mood for a repeat performance of Mr. Collins’ proposal, no matter how much it might entertain her father.

  “And miss all the fun? Certainly not, Lizzy. I expect you to speak for yourself.”

  She sighed and gave a resigned look. “Very well.”

  “Do let me know if there is bloodshed; I can send to town for the surgeon.”

  Elizabeth glared at him as she laid her hand on the knob, then she took a deep breath and let herself inside, immediately closing the door in her father’s face. She opened her mouth for a few pre-emptive words, then was struck dumb when she realized the gentleman peering out the window before her was too tall to be the portly, balding Mr. White. It was Mr. Darcy.

  Her mind went blank. She grabbed the back of the chair nearest her for support.

  He turned to face her, his countenance at first severe, then lightening into a slight smile. “Miss Bennet.”

  Attempting to recover her composure, Elizabeth approached him and held out her hand. “Mr. Darcy, this is indeed a surprise.”

  He took her hand and bowed over it, then, after a slight hesitation, gently touched his lips to the back of it.

  Elizabeth almost jumped from the sudden sensation that ran down her arm and deep inside of her. She had forgotten she was not wearing gloves, and the softness of his lips against her tender skin seemed to burn like a brand. Her heart began to flutter as her eyes locked with his well-remembered dark gaze.

  He did not release her hand immediately. “I hope not a completely unpleasant one, though from your expression, perhaps it is.”

  “Not at all. I was expecting someone else, and was startled, but it need not follow that the shock is unpleasant.”

  His smile faded as he dropped her hand. “You were expecting someone else?” It was practically an accusation.

  “Not actually expecting, but when my father told me… well, suffice to say my thoughts ran to someone with whom I do not at all wish to have private conversation, hence my surprise.”

  He seemed to relax a little. “Will you not have a seat, Miss Bennet?”

  Sensing this was not the moment to tease, she declined to point out that he need not offer her a seat in her own house. His tension reminded her of something, but she could not place it, not when her body was tingling from his presence. She forced herself to recall that he could not offer her what she most wished for, but it made her proud that he had sought her out for any reason.

  He did not sit, but instead leaned an arm against the mantelpiece. “I asked your father for permission to speak to you…” He hesitated, as if trying to make a decision. “To speak to you about a rather complex matter.

  If I may?”

  “I am all ears,” she said. “I assume it must be a matter of some import to bring you such a distance.”

  “It is to me. Your opinion of the matter remains to be determined.” He chewed on his
lower lip for a moment. “I have spent the last several days in the company of my friend Bingley. He is severely out of spirits, and I am concerned for his well-being.”

  She had not known what to expect from him, but it was certainly not this. “I am sorry to hear it, sir.”

  “He has been distressed since his return to London. It is a matter of the heart, as I am sure you understand. I had hoped that once your youngest sister was married, he might return to Netherfield with a certain intention in mind, but it was not to be. Although he is greatly desirous of such an outcome, he believes it will never be possible because of the recent scandal. I pray you forgive me for my bluntness; I mean no disrespect to you or your family. Bingley’s position in society is precarious. He is valued for his wealth, but despised for his background. He does not feel he can choose a bride who is touched by scandal without endangering his position and that of his entire family.”

  Had he come all this way to tell her that Bingley would not return to Jane? If so, he had wasted a trip. It had never occurred to her that there was any reason to hope for such a thing. “I understand.”

  “Have I offended you, Miss Bennet?” he asked almost tentatively.

  “Not at all. I am aware of the facts of the matter.” The taste was bitter in her mouth.

  “I have tried to find some solution to this dilemma. In the past Bingley has fallen in and out of love quickly, but it seems his feelings for your sister are deeper and more durable. I would like to see my friend happy, and I hope I am right in assuming your sister would be made happy by such a development as well.”

  “I cannot violate any sisterly confidences, but I will not contradict you.”

  He nodded his thanks. “I have found only one possible solution, one way of raising your family’s status sufficiently to overcome the gossip. I do not know if it will please you, but I have decided to make the effort nonetheless.”

  Elizabeth’s pulses quickened even further. For a moment she thought it was possible that he intended to make her an offer after all, but that would hardly be displeasing to her. What could he mean?

  “If you, Miss Bennet, were to find it in your heart to accept an offer of marriage from me, such an alliance would elevate your sister’s status enough to overcome Bingley’s worries. The sister of Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley would be considered eminently eligible for him. I know that you once felt I was the last man in the world you could be prevailed upon to marry, but this circumstance, in combination with my hope that I have risen at least a small amount in your estimation since then, suggested to me that you might be prevailed upon to offer a different answer now.” He paced back and forth, his hands behind his back, not looking at her.

  “Mr. Darcy, I …”

  He held up his hand. “Please, Miss Bennet, allow me to speak my piece before you offer a response. I wish to address some of the concerns you might have over such a union. Regardless of your current feelings, it would be my hope that with further experience of me, you might come to feel some sort of affection for me, but I realize that may not be the case. I would, however, do whatever I could to make your life as happy as it may be.” Perspiration began to appear on his brow. “I cannot promise to make no demands of you. Not only does Pemberley need an heir, but, as you are well aware, I am subject to ardent feelings toward you which I doubt I would be able to ignore indefinitely, and I will not disguise it. However, I am willing to try to keep my demands on you to a minimum.”

  By this point Elizabeth was biting her lip in an effort to keep from laughter. She rose to her feet. “Mr.

  Darcy, this is quite unnecessary. I…”

  “I will not ask you for a response now, but rather that you give the matter some consideration. It is, after all, a major decision.” He did not look at her.

  “May I ask a question of you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Is Mr. Bingley aware of your intention to sacrifice your own marital prospects for his benefit?”

  If possible, he flushed deeper. “I have not told him. I did not wish to give him hope that might be once again disappointed. But in any case, it is no sacrifice for me. As you know, I have long desired to make you my wife, so I would also be a beneficiary. The truth is that you are the only one being asked to sacrifice yourself for the happiness of your sister and Bingley. I can only promise to do my best to repay your sacrifice in our life together.”

  “Would you be asking this of me if it were not for Mr. Bingley and Jane?”

  He looked down at his boots. “Not at this point.”

  Elizabeth wanted to close her eyes as hope was replaced by sinking pain. If only she could flee the room!

  But he would still demand her answer, and now she did not know what it should be. At least he was being truthful with her. She would rather have died than discover after they were married that it had not, in fact, been his wish. She lifted her chin. “So it is for your friend that you are making this offer?” She was pleased that her voice did not tremble.

  “At this time? Yes, I would have preferred it to be different, that it could be a matter of making both of us happy, but I owe Bingley this much.”

  “Your loyalty to your friend is admirable.” Elizabeth’s throat was tight.

  He took a step forward, looking pained. “I am loyal. My sentiments do not alter easily. My presence here should tell you that much.”

  She wondered if he was speaking of her as well as of Bingley. Perhaps he did still cherish tender sentiments towards her, and that sweetened the sacrifice for him, but could it be enough? Or would she one day discover that he resented her for the degradation she would bring to his family name? No, he would not do that; he was too honourable to blame her for his own decision.

  He was a good man, an honest man, he would treat her well, and she loved him. Could that be enough, when what she longed for was to hear that he desired above all things to marry her?

  Her indecision must have shown in her eyes, for he drew closer to her, and said, “I will do anything within my power to ensure your happiness, I promise you that.”

  His endearing tentativeness gave her the strength to claim her own wishes. It was enough. Even if he had reservations, he wished to marry her, and they had a better ground for affection than many couples. “Then our happiness is assured, since I intend to make you happy as well,” she said firmly.

  He blinked. “You do?”

  She was tempted for a moment to tease, to ask if he would prefer that she make him miserable, but it was not the proper moment. “Yes, Mr. Darcy, I do.”

  “Does that mean… that you will make me the happiest of men?”

  She laughed to see the look of delight dawning in his eyes. “Yes, I will marry you, though I must make one small confession.”

  His shoulders tightened. “What is it?”

  “That I am not doing this for the benefit of either my dearest Jane or Mr. Bingley, but on my own behalf, and that you would have received the same response if you had not mentioned them.”

  An expression of utter astonishment came over his face, but was quickly overtaken by a look of heartfelt delight which created an answering acute pleasure in her. “Do you truly mean that?”

  “Although I may on occasion espouse opinions that are not my own, I assure you that in this case I am not doing so. It gives me the greatest of pleasure to accept you.”

  He stepped toward her, stopping mere inches away, and raised his hands to touch her cheeks with the lightest of caresses. “My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.” He seemed almost to be tasting the syllables of her name.

  She shivered with the intimacy of it, overtaken by an unexpected desire to fling herself into his arms. Her entire being seemed concentrated at the point where she felt his consuming touch. She had not known there could be such pleasure, and she longed for more of it. Almost without thought, she lifted her finger to trace the curve of his lip.

  His sharply indrawn breath told her he was far from indifferent. His hands moved to cup her face
in a gentle hold, and with agonizing slowness, his eyes never leaving hers, he moved the last few inches until their lips met.

  It was an astonishing discovery for Elizabeth, as if her very being was reaching out to his. She did not think she could bear to have this moment end.

  His lips drew away just far enough to whisper, “I have dreamed of this, but not dared to hope.” Then his arms were around her, crushing her to him. “Forgive me, but I cannot believe this is true.”

  Elizabeth laughed happily, then raised her face to him again. “I assure you I am quite real.” She brushed her lips against his, glorying in her daring.

  He returned the kiss with interest, and his gentleness began to move into something new. Elizabeth shivered as sensations previously unknown began to rush through her. For the first time in her life, she understood what it meant to be weak at the knees. How could the mere touch of lips create such a flood of longing within her?

  Elizabeth became suddenly aware of the strength of the body pressed against her softness. A warmth deep inside her seemed to spring into life. Mr. Darcy made a sound deep in his throat, then began to scatter kisses across Elizabeth’s face, moving down to the exquisitely tender skin of her neck, creating a new, unexpected source of pleasure, intense enough to make her pull away in shock. Her voice trembled as she said, “Sir, my father will be wondering what has happened to us.”