Mr. Darcy's Letter

by Abigail Reynolds

  Mrs. Gardiner sighed. “I do not know, but I do believe this much, that he cares about you and is also suffering.”

  “His suffering may be great, but he admitted to being with another woman!”

  “He also mentioned heavy drink, and he would not be the first newly engaged young man to make one terrible mistake. Men can be very weak creatures, my dear. If he is truly repentant, it may be in your best interest to listen to him.”

  “I cannot. I cannot!”

  “What, then, will you do?”

  How could she think about the future when she was being ripped in two? “I will go home to Longbourn, I suppose. Tomorrow morning, since it would be too late today.” And there she would learn to face life again without him.

  “I think it is best for you to stay here, my dear. Going home would cause talk, and it would be better to allow some time to pass.”

  A knock sounded on the front door, and Elizabeth knew instantly who it must be. “Please do not make me talk to him! I could not bear it, not now.”

  “I will take care of it.” Mrs. Gardiner left the room, and could be heard giving instructions to the manservant that Miss Bennet would not see Mr. Darcy today.

  She returned a few minutes later with a fresh cup of tea which she exchanged for the full one Elizabeth still held. “Here, this will warm you,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “Now drink up, there’s a good girl.”

  Because it was easier than arguing, Elizabeth drank, even though the tea was sugared more than she liked.

  It still tasted bitter to her. She wondered vaguely what Darcy would be doing now, and why he had tried to see her again. How would she ever explain this to her parents? Her father would tell her that Darcy was a foolish fellow who was not worth her time, and her mother would counsel her to look the other direction in response to his indiscretions.

  At her aunt’s urging, she finished her tea, staring blankly at the wall opposite her. It was better to think of nothing at all.

  “Come, my dear, let me take you upstairs. You will feel better after a rest.”

  As if she could possibly sleep now! But for lack of anything better to do, Elizabeth agreed. In her room, she allowed her aunt to unbutton her dress and settle her into bed as if she were still a child.

  Finally Mrs. Gardiner left, and the tears Elizabeth had barely held at bay began to fall, first slowly, then in a torrent of sobs that faded only when sleep unexpectedly overtook her.

  ***

  There were many wakeful souls that night at Darcy House. Darcy’s valet and his butler were standing a short distance from his study - just far enough so the master could not quite see them if he emerged, as he had told them emphatically and repeatedly to go to bed and to leave him alone, an option which they had given at least five seconds’ consideration before dismissing as ridiculous. A yawning footmen in the gallery leaned back against the wall, his ears alert for the sound of the butler’s footsteps lest he be discovered in such dereliction of his duty. A second footman had a more fortunate position below stairs where he took it upon himself to entertain the kitchen maid, who could not retire lest the master have a moment of hunger, but who was more than happy to entertain herself with the footman as well.

  The cause of it all, oblivious to the activity around him, had uncharacteristically slammed the study door shut and turned the key. That left him no outlet for his rage apart from pacing like a caged tiger. He had spent the afternoon enduring a brutal set down from Lord Matlock and exhausting two horses. It still had not been enough to take the edge off the helpless anguish that filled him, so he had taken the unusual step of going to a gaming hell, where he discovered that even a combination of strong drink and high stakes could not distract him. He had snarled at a few acquaintances before one friend took him by the arm and told him in no uncertain terms that whatever was bothering him, he should go home and stop inflicting it on others. So here he was, all alone with his thoughts.

  Solely to have something to do with his hands, he poured himself a glass of port which he then proceeded to ignore in favor of leaning an arm against the mantelpiece and staring into the fire. The flames were high, since only a few minutes previously he had been savagely poking at the logs. What in God’s name was he supposed to do now?

  He could still see Elizabeth’s cold, angry face in his mind. He had been desperately anxious to see her; it had been so long since he had heard her laugh, since he had held her in his arms, and she had occupied almost his every thought and longing. He had dealt with Wickham and other unpleasantness almost without concern, for all his energy had been taken up in missing Elizabeth. Her delayed arrival had seemed an eternity, but at least he had the opportunity to spend a few minutes with her, even if she had been soaked and miserable. Today he had hurried to Gracechurch Street at the earliest decent hour, needing her so badly he could feel it eating at his insides. It had not even occurred to him that she would not be pleased to see him. Annoyed about the previous evening, perhaps, but she would understand – not refuse to allow him even to explain.

  He had left before his fury made him say too much, and after half an hour’s walk to calm himself, he had returned to the Gardiner house to try once more. This time, though, the manservant refused to admit him, nor would he bear a message to Mr. or Mrs. Gardiner, much less Miss Bennet. Furious, Darcy had no choice but to depart. He had made enough of a spectacle of himself as it was.

  How could she believe him faithless? His loyalty to her had remained untouched through many months; did she think it could change so quickly? Then again, after that nonsense in the morning paper, it would be hard to think otherwise. By God, if he had read in the newspaper that Elizabeth had been found in another man’s arms, he would have been ready to commit murder.

  He would not stand for it. Elizabeth might hate him right now, but eventually she could be brought to see reason. He had the upper hand here; if all else failed, he could ride to Longbourn and inform Mr. Bennet that he had already taken Elizabeth’s virtue. She would not deny it - she was too honest for that - and she would have no choice but to marry him. But by God, that was not how he wanted to win her! Not after the sweetness of how she had come into his arms, or the sensual pleasure of exploring her body, nor the joy she had given him which had kept him going these last terrible weeks.

  He slammed his left fist into the marble mantelpiece. The pain of it was almost a relief. He cradled his throbbing hand to his chest. He needed Elizabeth. That was all there was to it.

  This was even worse than that horrible night at Rosings after she had refused him. Now he knew better what he was losing. He had thought then that he could reach her by writing a letter, and only discovered later how wrong he had been. But after that experience, after losing the warning against Wickham that made her unable to protect her sister, surely she could not refuse a letter from him now?

  It might not work, but there was nothing else he could do.

  CHAPTER 24

  Elizabeth was the first one awake at the house on Gracechurch Street. In truth, she had hardly slept at all, and had been awoken by a nightmare where she was being devoured alive by a monster with Mr. Darcy’s face.

  There was no point in trying to fall asleep again after that. She doubted that even her aunt’s doctored tea would work.

  She wandered down to the kitchen where the maid was just building up the fire to heat water. There were several of the cook’s delicate pastries remaining from the previous day, but Elizabeth found she had no appetite, so she repaired to the sitting room where she endeavoured to the best of her ability to keep her mind completely blank. She was sufficiently successful at this that her eyes were only slightly reddened by the time the family appeared for breakfast.

  Her aunt and uncle spoke to her with an almost painful gentleness, as if they expected her to shatter like a porcelain figurine at any moment. Elizabeth half-wished she was in fact a porcelain shepherdess; porcelain could feel no pain. She ate breakfast because it was expected of her, though she could no
t remember afterwards what she had eaten, only that it sat like a lead weight in her stomach. When Mrs. Gardiner suggested that her niece might accompany her and the older children a walk, Elizabeth weighed the advantages of distraction against the pressure of having to keep up appearances, but the deciding factor was that if she went out, she might, by some unlikely chance, see Mr. Darcy, and that would be more than she could bear. She elected to remain at home, claiming she wished to finish reading her novel. Mrs. Gardiner looked unconvinced, but did not argue.

  When the family had departed, save the youngest children in the nursery with their nurse, the house was as quiet as a house in London ever was in the daytime, with the sound of horses and carts, the cries of street vendors, and the clanking of dishes from the kitchen. Elizabeth could not settle to any activity, and moved from embroidery to a failed attempt to read a book and then to mending, which had the virtue of being useful and therefore important.

  She heard a knock at the door and froze for a moment, wondering if it might be Mr. Darcy and what she would do if it was. But it was still too early for callers, so it must be a delivery or business of some sort. She heard the manservant shuffling down the corridor and the squeak of the front door opening and closing, and relaxed only when no further sound came her way.

  Some minutes later the manservant appeared in the sitting room with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss Bennet, but the gentleman told me to give you this letter and asked that you do him the honour of reading it.” He held out a folded envelope.

  Nausea rose in her. Elizabeth closed her eyes as if she could make it disappear. She did not have to ask who the gentleman was; she had half expected this. After all, it was what he had done at Hunsford - the letter she should have read and had not. She licked her dry lips. She might wish to refuse it, but there really was no choice. She opened her eyes and held out her hand for the letter.

  She waited until she was alone again, then opened the envelope with shaking hands to find several pages in the familiar close-written hand and began to read.

  My dearest Elizabeth, if you will forgive me for speaking so of you, once again I find myself putting pen to paper to attempt to explain that which must seem inexplicable. There is no apology that I can make which is sufficient to justify my absence last night. Until the very last moment, I expected to be with you, but events overtook me.

  As you have no doubt already heard, I was in attendance at Lady Regenfield’s soiree. This was not planned; I had sent my regrets long ago, but I received an urgent request from Mrs. Hurst for my immediate assistance there with regard to her brother. This is not the first time I have received such a summons in the last few weeks. Bingley, although normally the most temperate of individuals, has an unfortunate tendency to become belligerent when he is deep in his cups, something which has occurred on more than one occasion owing to his recent state of mind. Previous to this, I have only had to go to him and convince him to leave the public event, and I assumed that would be the case yesterday as well and that I would be able to meet you at dinner. In hindsight, it was a mistake to do so, but I erred in thinking I could deal with the problem quickly as I had in the past.

  When I arrived at the soiree, Mrs. Hurst informed me that Bingley and his betrothed were with Mr. G., a previous suitor of Miss Sinclair, who had been refused by her father for the excellent reason that he is a notable rake. Apparently he bears a grudge toward Bingley for succeeding where he himself failed. Mr. G was also in his cups and in a resentful frame of mind, such that he was continually leveling insults at Bingley in a transparent attempt to provoke Bingley into challenging him. Mr. G, who is known to be an excellent marksman and a secret duelist, would not let the matter lie, and I judged he was near success at that point. Miss Sinclair, I am sorry to say, seemed to find the situation more flattering than anything else, and did nothing to discourage Mr. G. She would not agree to leave, and Bingley refused to depart without her. Since I was due to meet you, I sought the assistance of Lord Regenfield, a gentleman of excellent breeding and manners, in separating the two gentlemen.

  Once that was accomplished, Bingley agreed to leave, but Miss Sinclair was nowhere to be found. That is when I would have left, save for a set of unfortunate circumstances. Shortly after I arrived in London, I was clumsy enough to sustain a trifling injury to my arm, which I had not seen fit to mention lest it worry you. It had been healing nicely, but apparently not as well as I thought, for it re-opened at the soiree. With the aid of Lord Regenfield, I retired to a private sitting room where a servant rebandaged my arm. Naturally, this involved removing certain items of my attire. The servant took my coat to clean the worst of the blood from the inside, since I did not wish it to soak through at dinner, and returning to Darcy House for fresh clothes would have made me intolerably late. He was also to bring me a shirt, since mine was ruined. Feeling somewhat the worse for wear, I reclined on the sofa and closed my eyes. When I heard the door open, I assumed it was a servant returning with the shirt, but it was instead Miss Sinclair and Mr. G, who were apparently seeking some privacy of their own. On discovering my presence, Mr. G immediately departed the scene. Miss Sinclair, however, noticed my bandaged wound and inquired about it. I requested that she leave, but she refused.

  There were several lines thoroughly crossed out at that point, then the letter continued.

  I am sorry, Elizabeth, but I find that I cannot describe to you the next occurrences, except to say that Miss Sinclair’s intentions were not to offer me assistance. Suffice to say that several minutes later, when Mr. G

  returned, unfortunately accompanied this time by Bingley, I was still half-dressed and Miss Sinclair was sitting beside me. Mr. G., no doubt for some malicious reason of his own, loudly proclaimed that I had asked Miss Sinclair to accompany me to the room. I did not dignify his charge with a response, since I thought it unlikely that anyone would believe him, and expecting that Miss Sinclair would deny the accusation. It appears I was wrong in that regard. Mr. Bingley, being as I have mentioned none too sober, issued a challenge to me in such physical terms as were not beneficial to my wounded arm. Fortunately, Lord Regenfield was later able to assure Bingley that I had been alone earlier, after which Bingley thankfully regained his wits and withdrew his challenge, but only after a protracted scene in Lord Regenfield’s private sitting room where Bingley received a blistering set down from that gentleman. Miss Sinclair’s father also made an appearance which was unpleasant to all concerned. All in all, it was quite late by the time matters were settled, and unfortunately my physical state was such that any travel would have been inadvisable, forcing me to remain at that house for the night, attended by Lord Regenfield’s doctor.

  I can produce no witness to my innocence during the time I was alone with Miss Sinclair. I can only appeal to your sense of justice. If you think it likely that I would fail not only you, but also my aunt and uncle, in order to behave inappropriately with another woman, one whom you know does not have my good opinion, and was moreover engaged to my good friend, there is nothing I can say to reassure you. As for the rest, this is a true accounting of everything that occurred, and if you doubt my word, I encourage you to ask Bingley about the matter, as I anticipate you may be seeing him in the near future. His engagement to Miss Sinclair is at an end, and he is unaware of your recent dismissal of me. I will leave it to you to decide whether and when you will end our engagement, since it is possible that Bingley and your sister may yet have a chance at happiness if he is not immediately disillusioned about our prospects. It hardly requires saying that it may be wisest to wait on another account, since circumstances may prove such that you have little choice in the matter. I would ask only that you send word via a servant that you have read this letter, as I do not wish to spend the rest of my life wondering if you have done so. I will remain outside your uncle’s house for some time in hopes of receiving that message.

  My sentiments toward you, of which you are well aware, remain unchanged, but to spare
us both further embarrassment, I will not repeat them here. I am beyond hoping that any further expression of them will make a difference. If you should at any point change your mind, I can be reached at Darcy House on Brook Street. I will only add, God bless you.

  Fitzwilliam Darcy

  Elizabeth put her hand over her mouth, blinking back hot tears. She did not know what to believe. He had been wrong, certainly, in abandoning her at his uncle’s dinner; yet, if his story was to be credited, his intentions had been good, but he had been delayed time and again without any sense of when it was reasonable to leave until it was too late. His loyalty to Bingley was admirable, but what of his loyalty to her?

  And then his offer to delay ending their engagement! It was generous in as much as it would be a gift to Bingley and Jane, yet at the same time, it served his own interest by protecting him from further gossip. She hardly needed the reminder that she might still have no choice but to marry him if she proved to be with child; that thought had kept her awake half the night, uncertain whether she wished for such a fate or to avoid it.

  The manservant cleared his throat. “Mr. Darcy also left something which he said is yours, with instructions to give it to you after you had read his letter.” He motioned outside the door, and the kitchen maid stepped in, cradling a squirming bundle of black and white fur.