Page 31 of A Maid of No Consequence (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

IF YOUR FEELINGS ARE STILL WHAT THEY WERE

O nce Darcy returned to Pemberley, he went directly to his study.

There in the main drawer of his desk, he found it, the missive she had secretly left for him.

Lifting it, he looked at the feminine script that held his name.

Never had he thought possible that a single letter could hold such promise.

He held it, pacing around the room a few times, before settling into his favourite chair by the window.

Rain had started to fall outside, and besides the patter of water hitting the windows, Darcy could almost hear his own heart beating faster in his chest. This letter could change his life, for the good or not.

Her feelings upon telling him of the letter were impossible to understand from her looks.

It was possible that this was a letter of rejection, even though he had not proposed yet.

Perhaps she wished to forestall his addresses.

He had rescued her from a dire fate, it was true, but it did not follow that he would wish her to accept him for that.

All of these years later, he still wanted her love, and nothing less would do.

And of course, it was possible—was it not—that this letter contained just that?

There was nothing for it, but to open it. He slowly lifted it, put it to his nose and noticed the faint scent of lavender. He closed his eyes, and could easily see the woman’s beautiful face, the writer of the letter. For goodness’ sake, man, just open it!

He sat back in his chair, took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. He unfolded the paper, slowly running his hand over Elizabeth’s familiar script.

Dear Mr Darcy,

This letter is about five years delayed. And so much has happened in the interim, it is difficult to know where to start.

When you called at Hunsford, I was indeed, taken aback by your declaration and your rather abrupt proposal. I had no idea you saw me as anyone other than someone to stare and scowl at, someone you were either trying to figure out, or someone that you did not particularly find tolerable.

Darcy stopped reading and ran a hand over his face. “This is not promising.” With slight trepidation, he continued reading.

I was astonished and confused, and my response to your proposal was cruel. Please forgive me for what I said to you. I was uncivil in my manner, and in my cutting words. For that, I am truly mortified.

However, when I read your missive, it was as if I saw another side of the very proper, very serious gentleman of my acquaintance.

It answered many of my questions and doubts and revealed a depth of character I previously had not seen, a man of great responsibility who had endured much at the hands of a liar, and who fiercely loved and protected his sister.

Your letter gave me much to ponder. I remember being awake for most of that night, re-reading and considering your words.

There was much I wished to tell you at that time, and it was my hope that we could speak in person so that I might apologise and renew our acquaintance in the absence of former prejudices.

But there was no time. My original letter was little more than a hastily scribbled note, written by a distraught girl who had learnt of a terrible accident befalling her dear parents and a much-loved aunt and uncle.

In almost illegible scrawl, I had asked, if you would perchance, give me time to get to know the real Mr Darcy well enough that I could trust him, but with the knowledge that I would have to leave at once.

I knew not what my future would hold, but anticipated the worst.I wrote, with my hand shaking, ‘should you find your way to Hertfordshire once again, might we continue our discourse?’

You know now what transpired after that. We had no communication until that day in London, when you stopped to help a fallen boy, and found me. I recognised you at once, and yet I was so ashamed of the life I now led, I wished you did not see me.

Since then, my world has been improved most happily, a circumstance I owe to your kindness.Much of our acquaintance had been centred on one miscommunication or misunderstanding, after another.

But in the short time since serendipitously meeting you again, I have seen the man I yearned to know better, even five years ago.

I know now that Miss de Bourgh was to blame for our lapse in acquaintance.

It was not your pride. You had not turned away from me intentionally.

I injured your feelings when I left abruptly and without explanation so soon after receiving your letter, and for that I am truly sorry.

The course of unexpected events has hurt us both deeply.

Of course, I did not know you never received my letter, and on the spring morning when my sisters and I were burying our family, I felt myself abandoned.

My sisters and I had lost our parents and our home, and we all had to do what we could to support ourselves.

Five years of facing life on my own has made me independent but mistrustful.

When you found me, I was at my lowest. I did not feel like Miss Elizabeth Bennet anymore, and I did not know that friendship or security could be found ever again.

That is exactly what you offered at every turn.

Since that first embarrassing moment at the bottom of the servant’s stairs, you have displayed decency and kindness and the character of a true gentleman.

I did not want to see it, and was frightened to trust it, but you have indeed been a friend to me.

But it is more than friendship that I feel for you, Mr Darcy. And I ask you one thing only, if your feelings are the same as they were five years ago, might you one day ask me again that question you so ineloquently phrased at the Hunsford parsonage?

If they are, and you do, I shall indeed give an answer that you may prefer.

In sincerity,

Elizabeth Bennet

If Darcy had wanted to get rest that night, he was to be sorely disappointed. The revelation that Elizabeth Bennet had asked him to propose to her again nearly took his breath away. It was all he could do to stop himself from mounting his horse and riding directly back to the cottage.