P&P The Untold Stories: Darcy Writes to Elizabeth

Darcy reflects on his proposal and decides to write to Elizabeth

April 9, 1812

Darcy walked so quickly on his way to Rosings from the parsonage that it might as well have been called running. Too many thoughts and feelings coursed through him to make sense of them. All he wanted was to be alone, and he muttered several prayers that he would be able to go to his apartment without seeing anyone, especially not his aunt, who would demand to know where he had gone and why he was so agitated. His cousin Fitzwilliam would be almost as bad.

Luck was on his side, and soon he was in the safety of his rooms, free of company. His valet had appeared at the door, but Darcy impatiently waved him away, and the man did as bid. Darcy tore at his neckcloth, tossing it aside once he had it undone, then removed his jacket, dropping it on the bed. He paced and shook his head, ran his hands through his hair and over his face, tried to sit, then stood and stared out the window which—unfortunately—faced the direction of the parsonage. He could not see it, but he knew it was there, knew she was there.

Elizabeth Bennet, who had refused him. Not just refused him, but cruelly rejected him. How dare she? She—the daughter of a country gentleman of no standing—had said that he was the last man in the world she would ever marry! Did she know know who he was? What she was giving up by not accepting him? She had acted surprised by his proposal, but she must have seen his interest over the last fortnight! He was hardly subtle. After all, he had sought her out many mornings so that they could walk together. How could she not have seen his actions for anything other than what they were—a mark of his deepening attachment to her and his attempts to decide if he could possibly marry a lady such as her.  He had done her a great honour by selecting her as the companion of his future life. He had fought his feelings, but they had grown to such a depth that he no longer could deny how much he adored her.

But she did not feel the same. She did not even like him.

Darcy fell into a chair and covered his face with his hands, struggling not to let loose the tears that burnt the back of his eyes. Elizabeth Bennet, the woman he had come to admire more than any other lady he had ever met, the one he longed to make his wife, had rejected him. It felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest; the pain was nearly unbearable. To add to it, he was horribly, profoundly embarrassed. It was no easy thing to decide to propose marriage, to offer yourself so completely to another, and to discover how unwanted you were was devastating.

For the next while, Darcy did nothing more than sit and review everything that had passed between them. Fitzwilliam knocked at the door, but he refused his cousin entrance, saying he had a bad headache and needed quiet and hoped to soon fall asleep. After this disruption, there was a slight shift in the direction of Darcy’s reflections. Whereas he had mostly considered the simple message that she despised him and considered him ungentlemanly, at present, he recalled why. Somehow, she knew he had played a role in separating her sister and Bingley, and Wickham—that cur—had spread his customary lies. Usually, Darcy did not care what his boyhood friend said or what people thought of him, but with Elizabeth, it did matter.

I have to tell her the truth about Wickham, some part of it at the very least, so that she can protect herself. He sighed. If she believes me. Given her low opinion of me, she might not.

He was still sitting in the armchair, which was set before a small writing table. For long minutes, he did not move. His mood was just about as poor as it ever had been, but he thought it was understandable and had no intention of forcing himself into a better one.

Still, as little inclined as he was to consider the matter, he knew he must inform Elizabeth of Wickham’s true character. It was the right thing to do and, perhaps more importantly, she should know how badly she had misjudged him. It was not that he wanted to injure her or make her regret her treatment of him; rather, she might learn a valuable lesson and be more cautious when she met people in the future.

Well, perhaps he did want to make her feel slightly ashamed of how she had spoken to hm. He would never admit it aloud, and he vowed he would not allow it to influence his dealings with her.

“I am resolved to tell her,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on the window. It was full dark, and for a few minutes, he wondered what she was doing and thinking. He stopped himself when he began to imagine her regretting her refusal, of her apologising to him and making some excuse such as having been ill, perhaps hinting she would like him to ask again.

“That will not happen, and I would never propose to the same lady twice!”

His cheeks felt flushed, and he had to spend several minutes walking about the room to ease his agitation. He poured himself a glass of wine, immediately swallowing half of it.

He concluded that he could not speak to Elizabeth again. He remained resolved to tell her about Wickham, but talking to her of him was impossible. The more he thought of standing opposite her, of looking into her lovely face—and dear Lord, those beautiful, expressive eyes—the more nauseous he became. Should he explain the situation to Fitzwilliam, disclose everything that had happened, and ask him to approach Elizabeth to tell her the truth about Wickham?

“No! Absolutely not.” In time, he might confide in his cousin, who was his dearest friend, but it was much too soon to do so. Darcy needed his harsher sentiments, most notably humiliation and anger, to soften first.

“The only alternative is to write to her,” he decided. Upon considering it briefly, he nodded. “Yes, a letter is just the thing. Surely, I shall encounter her if I am out of doors early tomorrow morning. I know where she likes to walk. Yes,” he repeated, again nodding and feeling more certain he was making the correct choice. A letter would be perfect. He would tell her about Wickham’s treatment of him and Georgiana and then address the less-important matter of Miss Bennet and Bingley. To avoid any possibility of her wanting to discuss it with him afterwards, he would insist to Fitzwilliam that they leave Rosings at once.

Returning to his previous seat, Darcy retrieved writing material. He stared at the blank page for a long moment, then began to write.

© Lucy Marin 2024

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