Page 30 of Beyond Pride, Past Prejudice

Elizabeth reflected deeply, but as had often been the case of late, decisions concerning Mr Darcy were not easily made.

The letter had seemed a good idea only a few hours earlier, yet now, alone before the sheet of paper, she hesitated again.

It was not the unconventional Elizabeth, the one who had never been troubled by the rules of their society, who faltered, but the Elizabeth in love, who now questioned how the man she loved might receive a letter from her.

Did he still need her explanation, or had he already moved on to another chapter of his life where all that had occurred in Kent was no more than an unpleasant memory?

Engulfed in deep emotions she remembered the first few times they had met, wondering how their relationship might have been different or would have progressed had she not heard those terrible first words about herself that had coloured her view of him for so long.

She recalled moments when he had looked at her with admiration, amused or curious about her ideas, interested in their conversations.

Yet, that first impression had never faded from her mind.

No matter what he did, she still saw him as the proud man she had first met at the Meryton assembly, who had criticised her neighbours and found her not handsome enough to tempt him.

On the other hand, Lady Oakham believed that Fitzwilliam had admired her from the beginning.

Was it possible that he had been attracted to her, yet he had done everything possible to exhibit his superiority, despising the Meryton assembly for not being equal to the gatherings he was accustomed to, only to find a reason not to recognise a feeling that was troubling to him?

She tried to imagine a different story, where she had been given the chance to see him in a better light, to appreciate his intelligence, his refinement, and that mocking smile that resembled her father’s.

In this story, she could introduce him to her family as they were—a loving but sometimes frustrating group of ordinary people with flaws and qualities, but most importantly, bound by love.

At that moment, Elizabeth had a clear idea of the letter she wanted to write to him and the reason.

No matter what the future would bring, this man she deeply loved needed to see her and her family as they truly were, for even if she were to remain nothing more than a memory to him, she wished that memory to carry with it a touch of longing or regret.

Mr Darcy,

Thank you for your letter, which I feel cannot go unanswered. Whilst I may, on this occasion, transgress the conventions of decorum, it is more important to let you know what I think than adhering rigidly to customs I find obsolete.

Your letter, sir, has conferred upon me most essential enlightenment concerning the despicable character of Mr Wickham, and I express my sincerest gratitude for entrusting me with such a painful disclosure, thus sparing me from potential dangers.

With the aid of my father and aunt, I began to see the true nature of Mr Wickham not long after you departed Hertfordshire, yet none of us imagined the depths of his villainy.

In your letter, you referenced two distinct offences of a quite different nature that I laid upon you. I shall continue my letter by only mentioning one, and it is of such magnitude as to eclipse any other concerns I may have. It pertains to my sister Jane.

You told me that you had observed Mr Bingley attentively, as you usually do, and you noted that his inclination towards Jane surpassed anything you had ever witnessed in him before.

In essence, your words suggested that there was a strong possibility Mr Bingley felt a genuine affection for her.

Yet you continued by declaring that my sister’s expression and manner were such as might have led even the most perceptive observer to conclude that, however amiable her nature, she was not in the least impressed by Mr Bingley.

In other words, she betrayed no sign of being smitten.

You presumed she was indifferent, and the regrettable discussion you overheard about an alleged betrothment between my sister and your friend led you to believe that Jane was only interested in Mr Bingley’s wealth.

Even writing this allegation, my pen trembles with anger and sadness. I trust you comprehend the depth of my rage when confronted with such assertions during our conversation at the Parsonage.

If I may be permitted to opine, we share the guilt for that ill-fated meeting, which resulted in frustration and resentment for both of us.

From the moment I discovered your role in Jane’s unhappiness and your avowed belief in the inferiority of my family, no persuasions could have swayed me to believe in your affections.

For, sir, it is my conviction that love is not merely a sentiment but a condition of the mind and soul that exerts its influence over one’s entire existence.

It is not enough to admire another’s virtues; one must also accept their flaws, while the inferiority of one’s family cannot be judged superficially.

We are speaking about people you did not have the chance to know, and I expect you to give credence to the idea that you could be wrong in some respects.

I agree that errors were committed on both sides, and it is with regret that I reflect on my own loss of composure. Instead of accepting your reproaches where they were pertinent and trying to make you see your mistakes or misconceptions, I behaved in a manner I now find utterly reprehensible.

But I am only human and beset by imperfections. I become enraged when members of my family are wrongly accused of vile deeds. And that was the case with my sister Jane.

Your image of her is completely wrong and offensive. Jane is to our family what Miss Darcy is to yours—the epitome of purity, kindness, and joyfulness.

Jane Bennet is the friendliest, most caring, and most patient person I have ever met. To those who know her well, she is admired as much for her kindness and modesty as for her beauty.

Yes, Mr Darcy, she is reserved, deeming it unseemly to exhibit her emotions in public.

If she appeared indifferent, it was solely because she expressed her sentiments only privately, eschewing public displays of affection.

Jane fell deeply in love with Mr Bingley the first moment she saw him, considering him the love of her life, even though he disappeared in such a shameful manner.

In contrast, Mr Bingley’s conduct proves his lack of genuine affection, having merely dallied with her heart before leaving without explanation.

I ask you, then, to ponder upon who bears the greater culpability in this affair—my suffering sister or Mr Bingley, who amused himself for a few weeks with her poor heart and then left without a word.

Or there is another possibility: it is conceivable that Mr Bingley’s affections were sincere, but being a man who respected his family and friends, he chose to take their advice despite what his heart told him.

In such a case, your interference has destroyed the prospect of happiness for two deserving souls.

I shall tell you the truth with the same honesty you showed me.

The rumour of a forthcoming betrothment between my sister and Mr Bingley did indeed travel through Meryton, though Sir William bears no blame for its circulation.

Regrettably, it was my mother who allowed the tale to spread.

I am deeply ashamed of her tendency to indulge in such talk.

And yet, her eagerness to see my sister well married is, in its way, understandable.

I hope you can see her for what she truly is: a mother fearful for her daughter’s future and not a lady without scruples who is willing to resort to devious machinations to see her wed.

Our parents have faults, but they are also worthy as they granted us the freedom to choose our life partners.

While Mr Bingley’s wealth brought my mother joy, it also held no sway over Jane’s affections.

My mother may have been enchanted by Mr Bingley’s fortune.

Still, I do not see anything wrong in wanting your daughter to have a comfortable life.

I noted that Lady Matlock also seeks a prosperous match for Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Is this not a common aspiration among families?

I accept that members of my family occasionally display behaviour that falls short of the ideal.

Still, I ask again, is it not the same in all families?

Please observe, sir, your family. If, in your scrutiny, you discover your own family to be impeccable, I shall readily accept our inferiority compared with yours.

I must also exonerate another member of the Bennet family from your harsh judgment: my father.

There are innumerable attributes I could employ to describe him; still, I shall content myself with this observation—any admiration you harbour for me, sir, is due not to my modest beauty, which is scarcely comparable to that of other women, but rather my independent spirit and thirst for knowledge.

I am, in essence, the product of my father’s guidance.

If your admiration was genuine, it is impossible to discount the influence of my father on the woman I am today.

I hope you will place in me the same confidence I place in you, sir, and reflect and reconsider the image you have of my family, even if you make this effort only for Jane and my father.

My decision to write to you, however unusual it may seem, was guided by two fundamental reasons.

The first is the regret I carry for you having judged my family, Jane in particular, too severely.

The second, which is no less sincere, is my deep remorse for my behaviour and for the harsh words I proffered at the Parsonage, which brings me little pride in recollection.

I am a person who has the capacity to change even if sometimes I seem full of prejudice.

I hope you believe me when I say that in the same circumstance, with only a little more diplomacy on both sides, we could have had a civil conversation from which we might have emerged with a better solution, whatever that may have been.

I genuinely hope we may continue with amiable feelings that reflect respect and affection on both sides.

Yours sincerely,

Elizabeth Bennet

∞∞∞

“What happened during your visit to Mr Darcy?” Mr Gardiner asked at dinner. He was interested in having a good relationship with the gentleman, who had shown an interest in his business.

Elizabeth looked at Mrs Gardiner for guidance, and her aunt made a discreet sign to let her speak.

“It was a gathering of ladies, my dear,” she answered.

“And you did not see Mr Darcy?”

“No, it seemed he had a previous engagement.”

Fortunately, Mr Gardiner was unskilled in deciphering the emotions of ladies, so he did not see the sadness in his niece’s face nor the regret in his wife’s.