As early as the day seemed to my company, I truly desired nothing other than to be alone with my currently disheveled thoughts. The turmoil of the previous day had kept me awake, alone, late. The parks of Rosings, as unnecessarily tidy as they were, provided the only possible escape from my own thoughts. However, not even a hurried breakfast before fleeing the confines of Mr. Collins's home could distract me in any manner. Oh, how much relief I would gain from making Jane privy to this, to describe it with my blatant frankness, absolutely horrid occurrence. I glanced around as I wandered through the brilliantly orchestrated park, allowing the land to ensnare me with its calm simplicity. This negligence of my thoughts allowed my feet to wander as well, bringing into my perception the dreaded sight of Mr. Darcy. With effort, I suppressed my chagrin and fought the rising heat as it crept up my neck and stilled to face him. He looked cold, almost distant, with not even a trace of the anger or passion from the day before palpable in his rigid form. I idly wondered what he was truly feeling behind his obviously well practiced mask. He made short conversation, clearly expressing his wish to be away, before handing me a thick envelope and walking away with a quick, lengthy stride.
My natural curiosity enabled the dismissal of his rude demeanor and my own rankled pride. How that man did infuriate me so! But that was beside the obvious occurrence and I walked carefully in the opposite direction of Mr. Darcy. I could feel my heart flutter in my chest as I worked my thumb under the elaborate wax seal keeping the contents of the letter safe, displaying to my mind the obvious discomfort and anxiety this unexpected event was heaping upon my emotions and physique. As I managed to open the thick paper, sealed with obvious care, I was astonished at the sheer volume of writing. One sheet, filled with cramped, even writing, front and back, and another, similar in appearance spoke volumes about Mr. Darcy's opinion on the included matter. Glancing into the envelope itself, I felt my eyes widen infinitesimally as this purveyance found the envelope itself to be completely corrupted by the black scrawl I knew to be Darcy's. That he had written so much in so little of a time! - And in his state of mind! I shook off the amazement and set my feet carefully before surveying the letter in question.
"Be not alarmed, Madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments, or renewal of those offers, which were last night so disgusting to you." I fought down my instinctual snort of disbelief. I had not expected, nor wanted, any of those matters that had indeed riled by bitter disgust. I read on, not the least bit surprised at his denial of humble conventions. The perfect mix of pride and prejudices that resided within that man would seem to make him incapable of any moral, human feelings. I truly did snort this time as I continued down the thick parchment as I came across his hastily written words.
"You must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I demand your attention; your feelings, I know, will bestow it unwillingly, but I demand it of your justice." It was here that my habitual sound of incredulity could not be suppressed. My justice? My justice! What justice did I owe this scheming and ungrateful man? The same man to whom justice appeared as a blind, fleeting thing, used only for convenience or convoluted leverage to an end.
His next words surprised me greatly, as they addressed not his lack of humiliation or the same humiliation I had bestowed upon my family with my incredulous refusal, but instead concerned the points I had accused him of in my anger and impulsiveness. I read with a growing dread as he explained of that which, several hours ago, I had been so sure. His blatant tone of disapproval, obvious even in his written words, expressed his refusal to apologize for his ghastly behavior. Here I was not surprised. A man as proud as he would never stoop so low as to seek forgiveness from one he considered so low.
As he began to speak of Bingley's apparent disillusionment with my gentle sister, I felt the warm tide of anger begin to lap at my mind once more. He thought her cold and distant? How dare he! - Her disposition was not outwardly ferocious in her expression of love, but still! That he dare take away her love, her suitor when he knew full well that she had and desired no other! I could scarcely contain my anger, only just managing to keep from turning and seeking him, looking for a confrontation.
Was he such a friend as to be completely oblivious to his companion's true intent? He was as so to my sister! I knew not how to forgive him for such an erroneous crime, even if misguided and resented, but I could see his reasoning behind such a decision. My sister was not known for her blatant affections, something she kept hidden from all but her closest relations, but to separate such young, blossoming love for such a misconception was so wrong as to incite my anger against the aggravator once more. But I was pressed to move on through his letter, however despicable; I knew for certain that, should my emotions grab my control over my reason and logic, that I would not be able to discover Mr. Darcy's own reasoning behind sending me the letter in question.
Mr. Darcy, however much his letter exuded arrogance and contempt for my feelings, spoke of his own regret at separating the couple.
"Your sister I also watched. - Her look and manners were open, cheerful and engaging as ever, but without any symptom of peculiar regard, and I remained convinced from the evening's scrutiny, that though she received his attentions with pleasure, she did not invite them by any participation of sentiment. - If it be so, if I have been misled by such error, to inflict pain on her, your resentment has not been unreasonable." Unlikely as it was that they were sincere and not a device used to placate my temper, I moved on. He had apologized, but that would no more remedy the dilemma than bringing Jane back to London. Mr. Darcy himself would have to admit to his friend his purposeful deceit and though Darcy seemed not to care for any other's conception of his own person, he might care not to lose his only friend.
He spoke of my dear Mr. Wickham, who was never unkind in his attentions, as though he were a common criminal. But his description of the man's lust for wealth and his pecuniary frivolity stunned me into speechlessness. My mind whirled with no direction. How could such a sweet man be so lacking in basic virtues? But then I saw it with clear thought. His whimsical affections directed at myself before they turned on poor Miss King were merely the peak of the mountain if what Mr. Darcy said was true. How could I have been so oblivious to his true nature? But, as Mr. Darcy proceeded to point out in his lengthy exposition, Mr. Wickham was accustomed to seducing the minds and hearts of the most innocent women, even those most dear to Mr. Darcy. However, I could not pass judgment now on Miss Darcy. After my self-deception in the case of Mr. Wickham I would not dare to subject anyone, of whom only word of mouth was my instructor, to my apparently biased judgment.
Wickham seemed more and more the monster in this situation and Darcy more and more the victim. The pity we had given Mr. Wickham was nothing more than a ploy designed to set us against his former family, a family that had, however prematurely, rid themselves of such a nuisance. He was neither honorable nor pitiable now that his foul actions were revealed, even if only to myself and no other.
"I first began to think of him in a very different manner," Well, that should have been likely. Anyone whom had seen such a discrepancy committed by a trusted confidant would likely be astounded by such actions. "The vicious propensities- the want of principle which he was careful to guard from the knowledge of his best friend…" Friend? An interesting term indeed. If friend could still be put to use in this situation, I would be shocked to the core. Even after his wrongs, Darcy considered Wickham a friend to the bitter end of what was once a wistful relationship. Fascinating, to me at least, that this should be so. Could one such as Darcy possess such loyalty? - Such forgiveness? I dismissed the notion, wishing to put aside the betterment of Darcy's character until later.
But Darcy did not stop at this confession. He rambled on and on, filling the letter to the edges as he described in voracious detail the scandal that surrounded his young sister and Mr. Wickham. Such a disgrace to the family name! - And yet he had accused me of shame and weakness in my own family! I had to accept his situation however, it was not in his nature to be rational in anger. I could feel my heart dropping into my feet as I read on in horror. I had been so wrong, oh, so wrong! Every notion I had had about this man, his family, and his connection was absolutely incorrect. Here I was, one who put so much stock on my near "perfect" judgment, learning of the same situation about which I had feelings that were opposite. I could not contain my utter abhorrence at myself.
"How despicably have I acted!" I cried. "I, who have prided myself on my discernment! - I, who have valued myself on my abilities! Who have often disdained the generous candor of my sister, and gratified my vanity, in useless or blameable distrust. - How humiliating is this discovery! - Yet, how just a humiliation! - Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind. But vanity, not love, has been my folly. - Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were concerned. Till this moment, I never knew myself."
Never before had I spoken words that rang so true in my heart, mind, and soul.