March 7, 1806
Sir,
I am in receipt of your letter delivered on March 6 of this year. I am not certain what you hoped to accomplish by the timing of its delivery, but I will attempt to address the points contained therein.
The simplest item is, of course, the wish that I might have a happy birthday and spend it with those I love. I thank you for the wish. I can assure you my day was both productive and happy because I was surrounded by those I love. In addition, I will admit to some surprise that you remembered the date at all. This was, I think, the first time you have acknowledged it even with just words since Mother died. In fact, it has been a date of so little importance that I would not have remembered it myself if my aunt, wife and sister-by-marriage had not conspired to make it a special day.
You are correct that the beginnings of the discord between us sits firmly with the introduction of George Wickham into my life. With your words you recognize you have failed me by favoring him, forcing him into my company despite everyone's objections and believing both of us to be something we were not. It is a realization rather late in coming. Even your comment that George is "plausible" shows that you are still trying to excuse what you and he have done. I also believe that, while you may see the action of bringing him into our life as the genesis of the problem, you cannot fully understand the impact that action had upon me.
George can be plausible. A good liar usually is. I was apparently never plausible, even when I told you the truth – and I must unequivocally state that I always told you the truth. Can you imagine the anger, frustration and despair I felt when I was never believed by you in any matter that involved George? Can you imagine how I felt to be lectured and punished again and again for things I did not do, while just outside your line of sight George stood and laughed at me? He planted evidence to make you believe his stories, waiting for times when I was without witnesses to prove I was nowhere the site of the incident. Even when others saw him or knew I had not commited the crime, when they brought it to your attention you would not believe them. I often wondered if you really thought I was stupid enough to do all those things of which you accused me so poorly that I would always be caught, or if George's pranks were simply an excuse for you to make me feel inferior as I gradually became the interloper in my own family home.
Without the excellent example and loving support of my mother, aunts, uncle and cousins I might have become exactly what George led you to believe of me in response to your unjust behavior. However, I did have those excellent examples of how an honorable man behaves and I took them to heart. Lord Ashby, in particular, provided me with a model to follow and the relief of knowing an adult I trusted believed in me. He, Alex and Richard did what they could to protect me from the trouble George was determined to cause. Did you never wonder why nothing untoward happened when my cousins were with me? Did you ever notice that my movements at Pemberley from about the time I was twelve years old were limited by the need to always stay within the sight of impartial witnesses and subsequent to that no vandalism or trouble could laid at my feet? Do you know what it was like to be prisoner to that need to always protect myself?
Still, no matter what I did, George found a way around it. Some things were self-serving, like the debts he ran up using my name while we were at school, many of which I paid over the years to avoid having them come to your notice and further erode your dismal opinion of me. Others were designed to drive a wider split between us, like George's sanctimonious comments about how he would not wish to inconvenience the young master by doing whatever it was you had decided on to once again push us together. My cousins and I were always amazed at how easily you were manipulated into believing the worst of me.
I had already heard of George's assertion at his trial that he was your natural son and your denial of that. Do you actually understand why all of us, eventually including even my uncle and grandfather, believed he was? Of course, the story originated with him and he spread it at school so well that others simply took it as fact. What else could explain your blatant favoritism and significant financial support? No debt of gratitude to his father could merit the attention and rewards you gave to George. Is it any wonder he believed he could convince you to disown me and give him Pemberley and the life of ease he craved? He made no secret of that ambition among his peers at Eton and Cambridge. Every bit of unfounded gossip he planted about me, every apparently offhand comment denigrating me he offered in his speech and letters to you was planned to support that goal. He became a skilled forger to find other ways to turn you against me and I would not be surprised that he has forged a will in your writing that leaves everything of yours to him. Have you looked for one now that you know what he is?
At one time the ultimate disposition of Pemberley would have mattered to me. On the day I turned my back on you, I gave up any expectation the estate would ever be mine to manage. Despite that, I will admit I still care about the house, the land and the people it supports and am annoyed that you have allowed it to decay through your blindness to George's faults and your unwillingness to make the efforts towards improving it. My wife's father has done something of the same on their small estate and I have seen the cost such indolence has on not just the income, but the family, the tenants and the neighborhood as a whole. I shudder to think how much greater that cost may be at Pemberley. From the earliest days of my youth, I remember your pride in the estate and all your lectures on how a good master behaves. I took those principles to heart as the best of the things you have ever taught me. I have taught them to my students and am using them at Rosings Park now. When did you forget those lessons you thought were so important for me?
Now you ask what you can do to make amends for the wrongs you have done me. It is interesting that you place the onus for deciding what actions to take upon my head, apparently expecting me to come up with some checklist of tasks you can complete at which point all will be well between us once more. I will not play that game or make redemption that simple for you. As you say, words are certainly not enough to bridge the deep gulf at our feet. I believe it can be bridged if you truly wish to do so but defining the plan and acting on it are not my tasks to undertake. I do not need the bridge. You, apparently, do.
Since I struck out on my own I have done my best to forgive the way in which you have treated me, or at least not to live in bitterness over the past. To a large degree I have succeeded. It may not have been the work I would have expected to take on when I was a boy, but I enjoyed my time as a tutor. Of course, I was fortunate to come into the employ of good people who treated me well, servant though I was. I have been equally fortunate in my marriage. I am glad I was in the right place at the right time to make Elizabeth's acquaintance and earn her love.
From my first reaction to your letter, I can see some bitterness does remain despite my conscious efforts to erase it. Both the letter and the bitterness were unexpected. Your message arrived in the midst of the birthday celebration and, at first, I felt that just by receiving it, let alone reading it, the mood of the evening was ruined. My companions, however, convinced me to let go of my anger and continue with the joyous evening they had planned. After a long conversation with my wife, I am able to recognize your letter for what it is – a tentative overture and statement of intent. I respond to your overture with cautious agreement to open communications. The next move is yours.
William A. Darcy
After he finished the final copy of the letter, Will folded and sealed it. The messenger had already been retained to carry Will's response back to Pemberley and was staying warm in the kitchen while he waited for the letter. When Will had spoken to the man the previous evening he had recognized him as the son of a tenant who farmed for Mr. Sheffield, Pemberley's nearest neighbor. The two had talked for a time about happenings in the neighborhood of Lambton and Kympton. Will had not been surprised to learn his father was at risk of losing several of his long-time tenants due to his inattentiveness to their needs.
The new steward at Pemberley did not command the respect old Mr. Wickham had earned. Of course, he also suffered from inadequate direction by his employer and a lack of information regarding the past events on the estate. In just a few years of mismanagement and neglect, Pemberley had lost its local prominence and reputation. Will wondered if his father would recognize the hint he had given suggesting he resume appropriate management of his ancestral home as one possible way to start making amends.
"Is the letter ready to go, Will?" Lizzy asked, stepping into his study through the half-open door. She had read his drafts and had prompted him to allow his father the chance to redeem himself.
"Yes, I have it here. I also have a letter to my uncle that I plan to have the messenger deliver on the way. He and Aunt Susan need to know my father might reach out to Georgiana as well. In fact, he may already have done so, since Aunt Catherine's letter would have reached him a few weeks ago."
"Aunt Catherine said she was very emphatic that he should not remove your sister from their care. Do you think he might do so anyway?"
"He might, although I hope not. I am more concerned about what he may write to her if he decides to apologize for his neglect. I think he may inadvertently end up confusing her or even causing her to blame herself. She already admits to feeling guilty that she is so much happier living with my aunt and uncle."
"Your aunt will help Georgiana make sense of her feelings now, and you and I can talk with her when they visit at Easter."
"I suppose you are correct," he said, standing and picking up the sealed letters. "Well, I had better get these to the messenger, so he can be on his way."
Will walked with Lizzy down the corridor as far as her study. She would be having her daily meeting with Mrs. Hidgins soon. After delivering his letters and seeing the messenger on his way, Will planned to go over the old planting records to see what crops had been planted before, how well they succeeded and where he might be able to change things to improve production in the year to come.
The messenger took the letters gladly, happy to leave early enough in the day he could make good progress before dark. He was also pleased at being paid extra for the return journey home. In his turn, Will was pleased to have a messenger he felt he could trust because the man was from the area of Pemberley. His errand complete, Will did his best to put his father out of his mind as he returned to the needs of the estate.