Mr. Darcy sat in his guest room at Rosings infuriated. He couldn't believe he was sitting here for some girl he barely knew. For some girl who society in every way would consider inferior. But there he sat angry and though he wouldn't admit it, he didn't want to admit it to himself now, hurt. She knew nothing of his character. Every accusation she had made was wrong but every accusation was a knife to his heart.
Perhaps she was right he thought. Perhaps he was too proud and he had been too vain to see it. Perhaps he was not the judge of character he believed himself to be. Could he have been wrong about her sister? Yes he thought he could be. But about Wickham he knew he was right. He did not blame her though he had seen this happen before. He could see how he could so easily be made the villain. And he knew she had heard him talking to Bingley at the ball about her. If only she could know how much had changed now. He wished that he had danced with her. Of course she had judged him so harshly.
He wanted to forget her. He hated to see the hurt and accusation on her face. Even worse now was the knowledge that in some of the cases she was right. He must forget her! She had declined his offer and he would not grovel. But every time he closed his eyes he saw her. He heard her laugh. Then he would remember their earlier meeting and feel ashamed.
He knew what he would do. Perhaps she would never marry him. Perhaps she would never love him, but she would know the truth about him. While she was right about some things, she was wrong about others. For this he did not blame her. He blamed Wickham and the gossiping people of her town. He would present to her his side. He would not lie in his account and he would not bend the truth in his favor. He would openly admit his mistakes. He would prove to her that he cared.
He began to write. No detail was left out. She deserved the truth. In the case of her sister she deserved an apology, actually her family deserved more than that. The words came from him easily because he wanted her to know. Even his mistakes came easily because he wanted her to understand his side. He wanted her to forgive him. Most importantly he wanted her to know him. And he knew even if he would never admit it that he wanted a reason to hope, even though there wasn't one. The letter didn't take very long to write, although it contained several pages of his minute hand writing.
The next day he took it to her. He knew where she often walked. He had met her there several times before, when he had surprised her by joining her. He waited for several hours. It was a beautiful day but he couldn't focus on it, he was to nervous waiting for her.
Then she came and for a second all he could do was stare at her. Then she saw him. She looked very surprised and began to turn away. He quickly caught her attention and gave her the letter. He was leaving that day. He intended to correct one mistake. And he promised himself he would try to be the man she deserved even if he never could.