“Elizabeth,” said he, “we have received a packet from Longbourn. It is addressed to us both.”
“A packet? What is inside?” she asked.
He opened the outer envelope and discovered several letters tucked inside. Having moved to stand beside her husband’s chair, Elizabeth started when she realised that at least two of the folded notes within were from her mother.
“William, what do you think this might mean?” she asked quietly.
“I do not know, dearest, and we will not know until we open it,” he replied, pulling her down and into his lap.
She kissed his cheek. “Yes, I think I will need your arms around me to read whatever this might contain.”
“Would you like me to read them to you? Or perhaps read them first so they do not upset you?” he asked.
“I am well, William. I only have suspicions; nothing is yet certain, and I should not be negatively impacted by reading a letter,” she protested.
He nuzzled her cheek with his nose. “I know, love, but I do not want anything to upset you, especially when we suspect you might be with child. It is early days yet, and I realise you are a strong woman, but after …”
Elizabeth stopped his words with a kiss. “All will be well, William,” she whispered. “We both suspected a loss just after Christmas, but we will be well this time. I have faith that things will be well.”
He hugged her tightly, closing his eyes against the tears that gathered there, and kissed her forehead tenderly. “We have faith,” he repeated. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes. “Let us see what your parents have to say, and not put it off any longer.”
With that said, he handed her the note that had “open first” printed on its front. She opened the message from Mr Bennet and began to read aloud.
Mr and Mrs Darcy,
Oddly enough, I have come to a startling conclusion over the last few months, and a conversation with my wife has spurred us both to action. We have finally come to understand that we have both been terrible parents—even more, since we have abdicated our responsibility towards all of them in the last years, allowing the two of you to carry the weight of ensuring our youngest daughters were prepared for the wider world. I have little doubt that you have rescued our youngest daughter from certain ruin, and Kitty would have eventually followed.
The two of you have been married over two years and, in that time, have been responsible for far more than a young couple ought to be. You have ensured Longbourn’s success, forcing me to take an interest and do what I should have been doing for years. You sent my youngest daughter to school, provided a companion for the others, and probably had much to do with Mary and Jane marrying. I know that Jane met Mr Hastings while at Longbourn, but had you not acted to rescue me from my foolishness, Jane may not have had the opportunity to marry, as she would have been taken for unsavoury purposes. The two of you have saved our family, and instead of being grateful, I have acted as a child upset by a reprimand when I have failed to do what I knew to be right.
For my failure to act as I should, my failure to take responsibility for my children, and my petulant behaviour since you rescued me, I apologise most sincerely. My wife has included her apologies in a separate letter. It may be a case of too little, too late, but I hope you can find a way to forgive me for my failures. I want you to know I have also apologised to my wife for my failures regarding her; had I actedas I should, she would never have acted as she did. Her attitude towards you, her actions, and the letters she wrote were all my failure to care for my wife as I ought to have. I should have done more, so I must also apologise to you. Do not hold her ignorance against her; I should have done more to remedy it.
Sincerely,
Thomas Bennet
Elizabeth buried her face into her husband’s neck when she finished the letter. She released her grip on it as she wrapped her arms around him, nearly suffocating him with the strength of her embrace.
“Tell me, love, what are you thinking?” he said gently as her tears abated.
“I am amazed that he could write such,” she whispered. “Is it terrible that I am frankly astonished to know he has finally realised what I have thought for many years? I always thought the way he treated Mama and my sisters was unkind, perhaps not as much as I should have, because he seemed to value me. But when I learned that he traded on my marriage to you to rescue him from his mistakes, he did not care whether I cared for you, but you were rich and could assist him. In this letter, he takes responsibility for even my mother’s actions, claiming that he knew better but did not bother to correct her. This is the first time in two years that he has expressed even a little gratitude for what we—mostly you—have done for my family.” Once again, she hid her face in his cravat as the tears flowed.
Darcy caressed her hair, pulling out her pins as he went. “Hush, love,” he said. “Perhaps we should retire for a rest before reading any more of these letters.”
She giggled. “Do you meanrestor sleep, sir?” she teased, arching an eyebrow at her husband as she recalled how often they had used the excuse ofrestingto mean something else entirely.
“Perhaps werestfirst, and then you might sleep,” he growled into her ear, his breath tickling her ear and causing her to shiver. “If you are as we suppose, you will benefit from a nap beforewe go out this evening.”
She yawned. “At this rate, it may take me a week to finish all these letters,” she laughed. “Come, husband,” she said as she stood from his lap. “Come tuck me in so we might rest together.”
While it did not take quitea week, it did take several days for Elizabeth and Darcy to read the missives from Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet’s letter contained the same overtures her husband’s had, yet these expressions did not strike Elizabeth as the most astonishing. Throughout her life, she had been subjected to her mother’s belittling her and endured a ceaseless barrage of criticism regarding her appearance, manners, and demeanour. It seemed that, according to Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth had never been pretty enough, ladylike enough, or sufficiently demure to fit that lady’s idea of what her daughter should be. As a result, Elizabeth had always felt her actions and achievements fell short of her mother’s expectations. In addition, Mrs Bennet frequently bemoaned Elizabeth’s unmarried state, having achieved the age of twenty and still unwed, and repeatedly proclaimed that she would never marry as “no man would ever want her.” These thoughts had replayed through her head for years until the love of Fitzwilliam Darcy had finally convinced her they were all untrue.
But in black ink on paper, some words carried an unexpected weight. Mrs. Bennet’s letter contained a surprising declaration of pride for her daughter. This unexpected sentiment threatened to overwhelm Elizabeth, stirring a tumult of emotions she struggled to contain. The words “I am proud of you” echoed in her mind, a simple affirmation that struck with profound significance since she had never heard those words from her mother before.
As Elizabeth read those words, she gasped, bringing her husband immediately to her side. They had been enjoying a quiet moment in their shared sitting room as they read their correspondence, she reclining on the chaise lounge and him in an armchair next to her, but he quickly stood and knelt before her. Beginning to cry, Darcy wrapped his arms around her, and it was only the steady presence of her husband’s arms wrapped securely around her prevented her from collapsing entirely. Hespoke not a word, but his presence and unwavering strength served as an anchor as she sought to calm herself.
With her husband’s arms around her, Elizabeth attempted to process this emotional realisation. Her mother’s approval, something she had long believed unattainable, had finally materialised, leaving her grappling with feelings of astonishment, validation, and even a touch of vulnerability.
“She says she is proud of me,” she finally whispered when she calmed somewhat. “I cannot recall her ever saying anything remotely like that. She …,” Elizabeth drew a deep breath, “she has read of my success in the papers and sees how well I am doing in London, andthatsuccess is the thing that she chooses to be proud of me for. She had read about me in the gossip sheets and heard Mrs Phillips and others speak about my success, which made her realise what a terrible mother she always was to me. She knows I would never invite her here as things currently stand between us, and now she wants to apologise.” She sat up, not relinquishing her husband’s touch, as she thought. Finally, her need to move overwhelmed her, and she got up and began to pace.
