Page 38 of Beyond Pride, Past Prejudice

Dear Miss Elizabeth,

Elizabeth paused, savouring the word dear, so noticeably absent from both his first letter and her own.

“It is merely the opening of a letter,” her father would no doubt say, his voice tinged with humour. Yet she could not help but picture Mr Darcy writing that single word, his hand pressing more firmly, the ink drawn tighter than elsewhere on the page.

Being addressed as ‘Elizabeth’ also caused a flight of butterflies to flutter wildly in her stomach, igniting an insatiable impulse to dance.

“You are Miss Elizabeth when Jane is with you,” her father would continue with a hint of wry amusement. Yet she cared not a whit—in her dreams, he always called her ‘Elizabeth.’

I appreciate your response to my letter and the explanations you proffered, which I earnestly needed. We both indeed made mistakes. Yet you have placed me in a strange situation wherein I find myself failing to appreciate the very trait I hold most dear in my character—my honesty.

Nevertheless, it would be prudent for me to reconsider my manner of speaking to those around me and make adjustments when necessary. I also concede that superficial observations can lead to substantial misconceptions about an individual.

I place my trust in you and am prepared to accept my error regarding your sister’s sentiments and intentions.

But I can only urge Bingley to examine his feelings and intentions towards Miss Bennet and decide as he sees fit.

This need not involve an immediate journey to Hertfordshire; rather, it calls for action guided not by the judgment of others but by the counsel of his own heart and mind.

The duty of conveying this matter to your sister belongs to you.

My sister, Georgiana, who insisted on watching me write this letter, sends her regards and hopes that you will meet again soon.

Yours sincerely,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

∞∞∞

“You want me to be honest. That is your reason for asking my opinion on the letter,” Mary said, her voice almost trembling with astonishment and joy. Elizabeth had sought her opinion for the first time in their lives, and it was not on a trivial matter but about the second letter from Mr Darcy.

“Yes,” replied Elizabeth, yearning for another’s insight as she recognised that any reply from her aunt would require a full day’s wait. She had already written to Mrs Gardiner, yet it was an immediate response she longed for, and she surprised even herself with the urgency of her desire.

Mary seemed the natural choice as her confidante, as Elizabeth had decided not to tell Jane anything about Mr Darcy’s intention to speak to Mr Bingley.

As Mr Darcy had said, this time, Mr Bingley would have to act according to his own feelings and plans for the future, disregarding the opinions of others.

“It is an amicable missive,” Mary said.

“Amicable?” Elizabeth asked, somewhat disappointed.

“You asked for my sincere opinion,” Mary reminded her gently.

“Yes, yes,” Elizabeth urged. “Please, continue.”

“A sensitive and honest letter—”

“Not a love letter,” Elizabeth concluded.

“Indeed,” Mary murmured, her thoughts perhaps dwelling on the possibility that her burgeoning relationship with Elizabeth might suffer if she failed to discover love within the message.

“You are correct,” Elizabeth conceded.

“Will you tell Jane of this?”

“No, I believe it may be wiser not to. If Mr Bingley should reconsider his decision and journey to Hertfordshire, they will resolve the matter together. On the other hand, the letter fails to provide a definitive answer for her. I have already told her that Mr Darcy never said Mr Bingley loved her. In his first letter, he wrote that Mr Bingleypreferred Jane to any other lady in the country and that hispartiality for her was beyond what he had ever witnessed in him. How would you interpret that?”

“It appears to me that Mr Bingley is a man who enjoys toying with the affections of ladies yet flees when the game becomes too serious.” Mary spoke with confidence, surprising Elizabeth with an interpretation so astute it reflected her own thoughts.

When talking to her family, where she felt no need to assert herself, Mary revealed a keen wit and a clear command of expression.

It was a regrettable truth that she often lost this composure and clarity when in the presence of others.

“On the other hand, Jane’s sentiments did not appear too ardent last autumn,” Elizabeth mused aloud. “Yet we cannot be certain how she conducted herself in his presence. She insists that she demonstrated her affection.”

“In that case, it seems the gentleman is nothing more than a dallier!” Mary replied with evident anger, yet she remained content to discuss Jane rather than Mr Darcy’s letter, which bore no traces of ardent sentiment.

Elizabeth, however, felt the need for Mrs Gardiner’s opinion.

She hoped, in truth, that her aunt might know more details from behind the scenes of this particular play, where the characters and sentiments were entirely real.

In the end, it no longer mattered to her whether they were caught in a scheme that seemed to have been devised by her mother; all that concerned her was whether Mr Darcy’s letter had been a favourable sign.

Mrs Gardiner replied to her letter with promptness, mainly because she had received fresh news from Lady Oakham.

Yet their plan to bring Elizabeth and Darcy closer had undergone a remarkable change.

Lady Matlock had persuaded them that such a scheme stood the best chance of success if neither of the two involved knew too many particulars.

Darcy’s wish to see her, expressed in an indirect yet firm manner, was to be kept secret from Elizabeth.

He, in turn, had found out that Lady Oakham and the children would travel to Bath entirely independent of his desire to do so, and, by huge coincidence, the Gardiners had rented a house there at the same time.

Mrs Gardiner’s letter brought news so compelling that even Mr Darcy’s letter became a secondary matter.

My dear,

It is indeed a step forward to receive a response to your letter andhear that you accept that you share the guilt of that missed opportunity.

Lady Oakham has told me more than once that Mr Darcy has a most obstinate disposition and does things only in his own way.

Yet it appears, on this occasion, your influence has led him to change.

It is a development I find rather pleasing.

However, I have more important tidings than those contained within his letter.

I know you have made no promises concerning Bath, but the news that a certain gentleman may also be there might well persuade you to reconsider. Therefore, your uncle and I would be delighted to invite you and your sisters to spend a fortnight there with us.

Affectionately, your aunt,

Margaret Gardiner

Elizabeth ran with the letter in her hand to Mary. Her sister’s habit of hiding away from the rest of the household proved a blessing, for they could speak without fear of their mother overhearing.

“We are invited to Bath. All of us.”

Mary leapt from her chair, and her joy surprised Elizabeth even more than the news in their aunt’s letter.

The quiet, withdrawn Mary at last seemed eager to spend time in the company of the elder sisters she had always avoided.

Or perhaps, Elizabeth reflected with a pang of sadness as she looked at her sister’s radiant face, it had been she and Jane who had shut Mary out.

“And we are going, are we not?” Mary asked, breathless.

“Yes, I believe we are going. In fact, I am certain of it,” Elizabeth replied, handing her their aunt’s letter to read.

“Oh!” Mary exclaimed in surprise. “Mr Darcy will also be there.”

“Yes. It is a good opportunity for us to meet on neutral ground. Whatever may happen there will serve as a polite and gracious end to a conflict that never ought to have begun—proving that he and I are finally beyond pride and past prejudice.”

And although Mary still wished to discuss the many recent events, Elizabeth excused herself and slipped away unnoticed into the wood behind the house, where she could be alone.

She did not wish to reflect upon a decision already made, but she needed the solitude to calm her turmoil.

Dozens of plans for her meeting with Mr Darcy crossed her mind, yet, unfamiliar with Bath, she imagined their reunion taking place once more upon the streets of Meryton or along the road to Longbourn.

She longed to see him—she had to see him—and she was determined to make him understand that her feelings had changed.

Then she did what had already become a habit since her departure from Kent: she wrote to Charlotte.

Her bond with Jane was one of complete love and acceptance.

But with Charlotte, there had always been something different—a deep friendship in which they had, with great honesty, shared their troubles and dilemmas, searching together for answers and solutions.

Their friendship not growing cold was a great comfort to Elizabeth, for she was in need of her friend’s sincere and sometimes even tough opinion.

Her letter overflowed with the realisation that Mr Darcy was the very man she had been waiting for since they first began to dream of love, and she hoped that Charlotte would encourage her in this newfound resolve to win him back.