AU: Hey guys!!! Okay, I know you've read this letter a thousand bajillion times, but I need you to read it in this particular story, seeing as how I added something to it that has never even been slightly hinted at in the book. I always felt that it should have been, but it wasn't. I suppose it's because Elizabeth is not vain. Hmm. Read and find out!!! Will post more soon!!!

Chapter Nine: The Letter that Changed Her Life

Elizabeth woke just as tiredly as she had fallen asleep. She pulled her dressing gown around her, and braided her hair. Her face was tearstained, and her eyes slightly swollen. She was the type, however, that looked beautiful no matter how disarrayed. She shut the door quietly, seeing as Jane was still sleeping, and turned to face the entrance to the room, when she came face to face with the person who had caused her all of her pain; Mr. Darcy.

"I have been waiting for you for a while now. Will you please do me the honor of reading this letter?" Mr. Darcy said to her, extending an envelope. She took it, and nodded. He made a slight bow and quitted the quarters. She expected no pleasure from it, but from the strong curiosity in her nature, opened it anyway. It read as follows:

Eight o'clock in the morning

Do not be alarmed, madam, upon receiving of this letter. It does not contain any repetition of the sentiments or renewal of the offers which were so disgusting to you yesterday morning. I write without any intention of causing you pain, or humbling myself, but the effect may arise from the contents which are included on these sheets of paper. Please pardon the freedom with which I write, but it is a requirement of my character that you read this.

Three offenses of a very different nature, and of no equal consequence, you laid upon my allegation. The first that came up was the matter of my detachment of Mr. Bingley from your sister, the second was my comment at the ball, and the third was that I had blasted opportunities and prospects of Mr. Wickham. If, in explanation of them, which is due to myself, I am relating feelings that offend yours, I can only say that I am sorry.

I had not been long aboard this ship, before I became aware that, in common with many others, that Bingley preferred your sister to any other young woman on it. However, it was not until the evening of his own dance that I saw any serious attachment to your sister. I have seen him "in love" often before. At that ball, while I had the honor of dancing with you, Sir William Lucas brought it to my attention that his attraction to her had risen to a general expectation of their marriage. He spoke as if it were a determined event, of which time itself was not certain. I observed them both very carefully from that moment on. I was so meticulous in my observations, that I detected partiality in him beyond what I had ever witnessed, as well as your sister's manners toward him. They were open and cheerful, but I remained unsure of her regard. It seemed to not be reciprocated, and I was convinced from the scrutiny of the evening, that there ought to be intervention. If you have not been mistaken here, then I certainly am the one in error. Your much superior knowledge of your sister makes the latter more probable. If it is so, then you have not been unreasonable in the least for your resentment. I shall not scruple to assert that your sister's serene countenance, might give one who is watching a conviction that no matter how amiable her temper, her heart is not likely to be touched. That I desired to believe her indifferent is absolutely true. But I will say that usually my decisions are not influenced by my hopes or fears. I didn't believe her indifferent because I wished to; I believed it on impartial conviction alone. My objections to the marriage were not merely those which were discussed yesterday morning; the want of connection could not be such an evil to my friend as it would be to me. There are other reasons for my disapproval of the match. They are still existing today, and of an equal impact upon either of us. The situation of your mother's family is nothing to the lack of propriety so commonly displayed by your three younger sisters. Pardon me. It pains me to offend you. But amidst your concern for your defects for your family, and this representation of them, let your consolation be that you and your elder sister are excluded from this.

Now, I will explain to you the part which I played in their separation. When his sisters' and I found a mutual feeling of uneasiness, I readily assumed my office of pointing out the dangers of such a choice. Bingley, has a great natural modesty, and depends more upon my own judgment than his. Therefore, there was great ease in dissuading him from such an act. However, it was extremely difficult to persuade him from visiting your sister again. On this subject I have nothing more to say, and have no more apologies to give. If I wounded your sister's feelings, it was unknowingly done. Thought the motives which fueled me appear to you insufficient, I have not yet learned to condemn them, for in my position versus your own, you might see differently.

The second thing I am to address is the night at the ball. This is another pain I have caused you, and I was also not aware of it. That evening I was in a most dreadful disposition, because I had been forced to a ball against my will. Georgiana was ill, and Bingley had required me to come despite the many arguments I had against it. I earnestly wanted to be with Georgiana, but in the end, Bingley won out. I came, expecting to dance with no one, and had a strong determination to be in a foul mood the entire evening. When Bingley came to persuade me to dance, I lost all remaining tolerance. I wished to deter him from his crafty swaying of my wishes. I, therefore, made my remark about you. You overheard, apparently, and I shall never forgive myself for doing this to you. There is no apology sufficient enough, no pardon I can ask for. I have long considered you the most beautiful woman in my acquaintance. You may not believe me when I say this, but it is in earnest. I do not deserve your forgiveness in this matter, however much I wish it.

Finally, there is the most weighty accusation, the one concerning Mr. Wickham. To have willfully and wantonly thrown off the companion of my youth, the acknowledged favorite of my father, a young man who had heavy dependence on our patronage, and had grown up believing it secured for himself, would be a depravity, much graver and more terrible than the separation of two young persons, whose affection of each other was only the work of over a week. To defend myself in this circumstance, I must begin by laying before you the whole of our history together. I know not what he has particularly accused me of, but of the truth which I shall relate to you, I can summon more than one witness.

Mr. Wickham is the son of a very respectable man, who for many years was in the management of all Pemberley estates, and whose good conduct lead to the trust of my father. Therefore, the kindness of my father was very liberally bestowed upon George Wickham, his godson. My father supported him at school, and after that at Cambridge. This assistance was most important due to the lack of funds of his own father, whose extravagant wife left him poor always, and unable to give him the education of a gentleman. My father was not only fond of his society, whose manners were always engaging. He had only the highest opinion of him, and hoped that one day his profession might be in the church. As for myself, it was many years before I cam to see him in a different manner than my father did. The want of principle, which he was sure to guard from his best friend and benefactor, could not escape the observation of a young man near his age, and who had the opportunities of seeing him in his unguarded moments.

My most excellent father died about five years ago. His attachment to Mr. Wickham was steady to his last breaths, and he had particularly recommended to me in his will, to promote the best possible advantages that his profession might allow, and if he desired to take holy orders, a valuable family living would be his as soon as the position became vacant. In addition to this, my father's kindness bestowed upon him a legacy of a thousand pounds. His own father barely outlived mine, and within half a year following these events, he wrote me to tell me that he did not desire to take orders, and that he expected some sort of compensation. He said he wished to study the law, and that the interest of one thousand pounds would be insufficient support. I knew that Mr. Wickham should not hold the occupation of clergyman, and the matter was soon settled. Mr. Wickham relinquished all hold of his profession with the church, and accepted in return three thousand pounds. It was a long time before I had any communication with him. All connection between us seemed to have vanished. I thought too ill of him to invite him to Pemberley, or to admit him into my society in town. I believe that his chief residence was in town, but his study of the law was a mere whim, and he had no real application for it. No communication existed between us for three entire years. This changed however, as soon as the living that was once to be his opened. He had not good living circumstances, and I had not a scruple in believing it, as he had quit his study of law. He was very confident that I had not another to provide for, and as he had found law useless, that it was only logical that he fill the space. He also reminded me of my father's intentions. You cannot blame me for refusing to comply. I would not speak with him. I instructed my lawyer to write him, telling him that all my father's wishes had been fulfilled, and that there were no ties that need remain between us. He dropped all acquaintance at this.

I must now be forced to mention a circumstance that I would give anything to forget, and that no obligation that was less than what is required in this situation would induce me to unfold it to anyone. I have already said this much so far, so I have no doubt of your confidence. My sister, Georgiana, who is more than ten years my junior, was left to the guardianship of myself and my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. About a year ago, I removed her from school, and went with her companion, Mrs. Younge to Ramsgate. Wickham also went, and I do not doubt for a moment by design., for it was uncovered that there was a previous acquaintance between them. He proceeded then, to recommend himself to her, and Georgiana, remembering him fondly from her childhood, was deceived into believing herself in love, and consented to an elopement. Her excuse must be her age for she was but fifteen. I am happy to add, that I owed the knowledge of this arrangement to herself. I joined them unexpectedly a day before the intended elopement, and then Georgiana, unable to support the idea of grieving and offending a brother whom she almost looked up to as a father, related the whole to me. I then released Mrs. Younge, and wrote Wickham, requiring his correspondence and contact with Georgiana to cease. I am pleased to say that Georgiana has recovered, though it has taken time, and remains only with a shyness a grade above what it used to be.

This is a faithful narrative of all the events we have been through together. I hope that I am acquitted of all cruelty towards that person. I know not what falsehoods have been presented you by Mr. Wickham, but his success is not to be wondered at, for detection could not be in your power, and suspicion not in your inclination.

You may possibly, and justly, wonder why this was all not told you yesterday. I was not the master of myself then, and had no discretion. For confirmation of the truth, you may apply to my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, who from our near relationship and constant intimacy, and more than that, one of the executor's of my father's will, has been unavoidably acquainted with all of these transactions. This said, I can only hope to put this letter in your hands in the course of the morning. I will only add, God bless you.

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Elizabeth's emotions were in such a jumble at the moment she could not make them out. It was with amazement that she comprehended the number of apologies in his letter. She did not think him capable! She read it again. And again. The more his words seemed to sink in, the more and more ashamed she grew. Then, she doubted. How could his words be true? But, there was an invitation to ask Colonel Fitzwilliam about these events. Maybe she would! Oh, how silly that would be. She scanned the sentences again, carefully reading each one. She could not deny it any longer. She was in the wrong. Mr. Darcy had good reasons for all his actions, perhaps not what he said at the ball, but despite what he wrote, she forgave him. She was wrong. So, wrong. And now amends must be made.

AU: This is where I begin to take things into my own hands. I had to borrow much from Ms. Austen, (all hail the brilliant novelist) but now I hope to make things more different than this tiresome dialouge. Well, the dialouge isn't so tiring as typing it. My brain is burned from all of the synonyms I've had to dig up!!! Well, I can't have you in suspense, now can I? I'm too much of a sucker. I can't wait to get to the sinking!!! It's going to be a true delight!!! Wow, you guys must be thinking I'm pretty twisted right now, right? Well, I kinda am. But that's beside the point. I think the sinking will be the most exciting part of the adventure. And the most romantic. Stay tuned!! I am, forever yours, Lady Annabelle.