“There is but one man I wish to marry,” she whispered to the closed door. Her senses filled with the very thought of the man who had unknowingly captured her heart as a child, and still held it in his hands. He remained in ignorance of her affection, and, if Lady Catherine had her way, shall remain so forever. “Although I am not in love with my cousin Darcy, I am not strong enough to stand up to my mother.” She let the curtains fall back over the glass before letting her head lower in shame.And I fear I never will be.
The crunching of gravel beneath her feet gave Elizabeth Bennet a small sense of power over her roiling emotions. She had come to Rosings at the wishes of her dear friend Charlotte Collins, whose new husband, Elizabeth’s cousin and the heir to her father’s estate of Longbourn, had been sent to London at the behest of his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.A month’s separation is not conducive to matrimonial bliss.Yet, that great lady would not be ignored, and the new Mrs. Collins was not at liberty to travel with him. So, to Hunsford she did go.
However, Elizabeth determined to cut her walk short to not allow her dear friend to spend an inordinate amount of time alone.Be honest, Lizzy! You do not wish to meet Mr. Darcy in these woods!Mr. Darcy, who only the night before had professed his love and disdain in the same breath.But how could I ever accept such an arrogant man as my husband?
They had a history before she came into Kent, she and the master of Pemberley. His words at the Meryton assembly months before were seared into her woman’s heart.Tolerable!She sniffed.Not handsome enough to tempt him, indeed!Yet, he had proposed marriage the evening before, despite his obvious revulsion for her family. Elizabeth knewthe union would have provided security for her relations, would give them connections and advantages of which one could only dream. But accepting him was impossible!
It is apparent he feels I am beneath his notice, yet he proposed marriage? Does he think I could truly accept him—after such words?
She continued to walk, kicking the stones from her path. If shehadbeen disposed to accept him, his exploitation of Mr. Wickham had dissolved any kindness she might have toward him.That and his treatment of my dear sister. To ruin Jane’s happiness with Mr. Bingley is unpardonable!
Yet, she believed Jane’s broken heart could mend, and it had already begun. But Mr. Wickham’s lot in life was cast. His future was determined—he with humble beginnings as the steward’s son on Mr. Darcy’s family estate—the hope of a promised living was all he had to look forward to. Now, a poor foot soldier with little chance of a secure future or the means necessary to support a family.
Yet, he has still lived an admirable life––unlike the owner’s son.
Mr. Wickham had spoken of the elder Mr. Darcy’s benevolence, as did her relations who had been raised not five miles from Pemberley. They had affirmed the Darcys’ charity and love for the local townspeople. Did the present masterhave no honor for his parents’ legacy? For his family name? Did their compassion not touch his cruel, stone heart?If only old Mr. Darcy had not had a son—“Mr. Wickham’s future would have been secure, and Meryton would not have been forced to endure months with Mr. Darcy!”
Returning to the parsonage along a path she seldom frequented, she came face to face with the man himself upon his great horse.
“Mr. Darcy!”
“Miss Bennet”—he easily dismounted and stepped toward her. “I have been riding in the grove for some time in the hopes of meeting you. Will you do me the honor of reading this letter?”
She instinctively accepted the missive. He bowed, mounted his horse, and rode off toward Rosings, soon out of sight.
If anyone saw me accept that...She quickly slipped it into her pocket and hurried toward the parsonage, all the while praying Charlotte was still out visiting her parishioners.
After only a few paces, the letter weighed heavily on her thoughts. She stopped along the path and sat on a fallen log to read…
Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, that it may contain any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which last night were so disgusting to you. Its writing could not be avoided as charges were brought before me, which I felt honor bound to defend—my character and very being demands it.
The first charge regards my friend and your sister. I will answer that in the most concise manner possible, yet I fear you will mistake my meaning. I did separate Bingley from Miss Bennet, and I rejoice in my success for several reasons. The most notable are as follows:
She does not love him, nor does he love her. My friend is a fickle being. He does not realize the pain he causes amongst new acquaintances as he makes love to them all.
Please believe me when I say that the eldest Miss Bennet is all that is lovely, and Bingley did have feelings for her. But, just like all before her, his feelings will not last. He is besotted with the idea of being in love and never the woman herself.
I also found no genuine regard in your sister toward Bingley. There was anundeniable attraction, but he is a handsome man––his genial manners and kind attentions make young ladies blush and reciprocate his affection. Yet she did not. Your sister’s responses to his overtures were nothing more than had she been reading a book on horticulture.
Also, as an obedient daughter, she would have responded as instructed by your mother, a woman of little understanding but apparent avarice. Miss Bennet would have most assuredly secured a marriage of convenience rather than one of true affection. Bingley deserves better, and as his friend, I felt it incumbent to safeguard his interests. Would you not also wish that for your sister?
Elizabeth fisted her hands and stood, pacing in the clearing. “The impudence! The arrogance! Hateful, hateful man!” She stormed down the path, determined to destroy the letter, and rid herself of the superior Mr. Darcy once and for all. But she could not. She halted her progress and ambled back toward her log perch, took a deep breath, and sat again to finish the missive.
The second charge laid before me dealt with Mr. Wickham. Mr. Wickham was the son of a veryrespectable man who had the management of our family’s estate. The elder Wickham was a devoted member of our service, and before I had left the nursery, married a widow with a young son close to my age.
My mother and father encouraged our friendship, and I enjoyed having a playmate. As we grew older, however, George Wickham began to show signs of defects in his character. His cruelty to animals began to extend to humans, and many a servant was abused by his hand.
His true character surfaced at Cambridge, where my father gave him a gentleman’s education in honor of Mr. Wickham, Senior. This is where our friendship all but ended. My playmate found more enjoyment in gaming and drinking, and other debauched activities.
After the death of both his father and my own excellent father five years ago, my father’s will gifted Wickham a living should it become available. Declaring no interest in the church, my former friend asked for and received three thousand pounds instead and abandoned our family for what pleasures I knownot. He then returned a year later when his funds had dissolved, attempting to reclaim the living.
After all this, the worst was yet to come. My sister, Georgiana, took a house in Ramsgate with her companion last summer, a woman in whose character I was greatly misled…
Elizabeth read on, brushing the tears from her eyes that had begun to escape at this new revelation.
Georgiana’s tender heart was convinced of his love but was then shattered by deception, as his intent was her dowry of thirty-thousand pounds. Had I not arrived unannounced, her future of misery would have been secured with her elopement to Gretna Green and an eternal shackle to the most unworthy man in all of England. She was but fifteen years old…
“Fifteen years old?” Elizabeth said aloud. “That is Lydia’s age.”
