Author's Note: Thanks too all those who reviewed, I was so happy, so much that I had to give you another chapter really quickly. This is the letter, the letter that changes all, well at least sheds light for poor Elizabeth, Darcy and Elizabeth fluff is soon to come.

Disclaimer: This letter is mostly from Jane Austen, she is an amazing writer so I don't take credit for it one bit. The only parts that belong to me are the parts I added to make it fit my story.

Chapter 10

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 a couple nights ago so disgusting to you. I write without any intention of paining you, or humbling myself, by dwelling on wishes which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon forgotten; and the effort which the formation and the perusal of this letter must occasion, should have been spared had not my character required it to be written and read. 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.

Two offenses of a very different nature, and by no means of equal magnitude, you last night laid to my charge. The first mentioned was, that, regardless of the sentiments of either, I had maliciously detached Mr. Bingley from your sister by trying to convince him of the inferiority of the connection, and the other, that I had, in defiance of various claims, in defiance of honour and humanity, ruined the immediate prosperity and blasted the prospects of Mr. Wickham. Willfully and wantonly to have thrown off the companion of my youth, the acknowledged favorite of my father, a young man who had scarcely any other dependence than on our patronage, and who had been brought up to expect its exertion, would be a depravity, to which the separation of two young persons, whose affection could be the growth of only a few weeks, could bear no comparison. But from the severity of that blame which was so liberally bestowed, respecting each circumstance, I shall hope to be in the future secured, when the following account of my actions and their motives has been read. If, in the explanation of them, which is due to myself, I am under the necessity of relating feelings which may be offensive to yours, I can only say that I am sorry. The necessity must be obeyed, and further apology would be absurd.

I had not been long in Hertfordshire, before I saw, in common with others, that Bingley preferred your elder sister to any other young woman in the country. But it was not till the evening of the dance at Netherfield that I had any apprehension of his feeling a serious attachment. I had often seen him in love before. At that ball, while I was waiting for an opportunity to dance with you I had the honor of talking with your Mother. Who had informed me of your sister's disposition and I knew that Bingley's attentions to your sister had given rise to a general expectation of their marriage. I had observed my friend's behavior attentively; and I could then perceive that his partiality for Miss Bennet was beyond what I had ever witnessed in him. 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. Mrs. Bennet quiet frankly told me of my error in judgment and warned me that if your sister received any pain from the relationship then it would be I who must take the blame. Knowing that my friend often jumps from one relationship to the next I decided to prove his affections for your sister. I did not want on any account, for her to be discarded if Bingley was not serious in his affections. That Madam is when you came in; I had just tried to convince Bingley off all the mishaps and wrongs in marrying your sister. After seeing that he was indeed sincere and that those things did not matter, I told him of my object of discussing this topic with him and wished him all the happiness in the world. I am sorry that you happened upon us during the most inopportune time and I hope you accept my apologies at thinking that I had been that malicious.

With respect to that other, weightier accusation, of having injured Mr. Wickham, I can only refute it by laying before you the whole of his connection with my family. Of what he has particularly accused me I am ignorant; but of the truth of what I shall relate, I can summon more than one witness of undoubted veracity.

Mr. Wickham is the son of a very respectable man, who had for many years the management of all the Pemberley estates, and whose good conduct in the discharge of his trust naturally inclined my father to be of service to him; and on George Wickham, who was his godson, his kindness was therefore liberally bestowed. My father supported him at school, and afterwards at Cambridge-- most important assistance, as his own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have been unable to give him a gentleman's education. My father was not only fond of this young man's society, whose manner were always engaging; he had also the highest opinion of him, and hoping the church would be his profession, intended to provide for him in it. As for myself, it is many, many years since I first began to think of him in a very different manner. The vicious propensities-- the want of principle, which he was careful to guard from the knowledge of his best friend, could not escape the observation of a young man of nearly the same age with himself, and who had opportunities of seeing him in unguarded moments, which my father could not have. Here again shall I give you pain-- to what degree you only can tell. But whatever may be the sentiments which Mr. Wickham has created, a suspicion of their nature shall not prevent me from unfolding his real character-- it adds even another motive.

My excellent father died about five years ago; and his attachment to Mr. Wickham was to the last so steady, that in his will he particularly recommended it to me, to promote his advancement in the best manner that his profession might allow--and if he took orders, desired that a valuable family living might be his as soon as it became vacant. There was also a legacy of one thousand pounds. His own father did not long survive mine, and within half a year from these events, Mr. Wickham wrote to inform me that, having finally resolved against taking orders, he hoped I should not think it unreasonable for him to expect some more immediate pecuniary advantage, in lieu of the preferment, by which he could not be benefited. He had some intention, he added, of studying law, and I must be aware that the interest of one thousand pounds would be a very insufficient support therein. I rather wished, than believed him to be sincere-- but, at any rate, was perfectly ready to accede to his proposal. I knew that Mr. Wickham ought not to be a clergyman; the business was therefore soon settled-- he resigned all claim to assistance in the church, were it possible that he could ever be in a situation to receive it, and accepted in return three thousand pounds. All connection between us seemed now dissolved. I thought too ill of him to invite him to Pemberley, or admit his society in town. In town I believe he chiefly lived, but his studying the law was a mere pretence, and being now free from all restraint, his life was a life of idleness and dissipation. For about three years I heard little of him; but on the decease of the incumbent of the living which had been designed for him, he applied to me again by letter for the presentation. His circumstances, he assured me, and I had no difficulty in believing it, were exceedingly bad. He had found the law a most unprofitable study, and was now absolutely resolved on being ordained, if I would present him to the living in question-- of which he trusted there could be little doubt, as he was well assured that I had no other person to provide for, and I could not have forgotten my revered father's intentions. You will hardly blame me for refusing to comply with this entreaty, or for resisting every repetition to it. His resentment was in proportion to the distress of his circumstances-- and he was doubtless as violent in his abuse of me to others as in his reproaches to myself. After this period every appearance of acquaintance was dropped. How he lived I know not. But last summer he was again most painfully obtruded on my notice.

I must now mention a circumstance which I would wish to forget myself, and which no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold to any human being. Having said thus much, I feel no doubt of your secrecy. My sister, who is more than ten years my junior, was left to the guardianship of my mother's nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and myself. About a year ago, she was taken from school, and an establishment formed for her in London; and last summer she went with the lady who presided over it, to Ramsgate; and thither also went Mr. Wickham, undoubtedly by design; for there proved to have been a prior acquaintance between him and Mrs. Younge, in whose character we were most unhappily deceived; and by her connivance and aid, he so far recommended himself to Georgiana, whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child, that she was persuaded to believe herself in love, and to consent to an elopement. She was then but fifteen, which must be her excuse; and after stating her imprudence, I am happy to add, that I owed the knowledge of it to herself. I joined them unexpectedly a day or two 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, acknowledged the whole to me. You may imagine what I felt and how I acted. Regard for my sister's credit and feelings prevented any public exposure; but I wrote to Mr. Wickham, who left the place immediately, and Mrs. Younge was of course removed from her charge. Mr. Wickham's object was unquestionably my sister's fortune, which is thirty thousand pounds; but I cannot help supposing that the hope of revenging himself on me was a strong inducement. His revenge would have been complete indeed.

This, madam, is a faithful narrative of every event in which we have been concerned together; and if you do not absolutely reject it as false, you will, I hope, acquit me henceforth of cruelty towards Mr. Wickham. I know not in what manner, under what form of falsehood he had imposed on you; but his success is not perhaps to be wondered at, ignorant as you previously were of everything concerning either. Detection could not be in your power, and suspicion certainly not in your inclination. You may possibly wonder why all this was not told you at the Netherfield dance or a couple nights ago; but I was not then master enough of myself to know what could or ought to be revealed, also I was still trying to sort out my own troubled heart. For the truth of everything here related, I can appeal more particularly to the testimony of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who, from our near relationship and constant intimacy, and, still more, as one of the executors of my father's will, has been unavoidably acquainted with every particular of these transactions. If your abhorrence of me should make my assertions valueless, you cannot be prevented by the same cause from confiding in my cousin; and that there may be the possibility of consulting him, I shall endeavour to find some opportunity of putting this letter in your hands I will only add, God bless you,
"FITZWILLIAM DARCY"

Elizabeth stared at the wall for quite sometime trying to sort out all her feelings. She had misjudged him, taken every act of goodness and twisted it into some horrible lie. She felt shame at what she had said and done that night. He was only trying to protect her sister, if only she had stayed to listen to the rest of his sentiments. Also with the story of Wickham, she should have known from the very beginning that Wickham was a fraud. That Mr. Darcy was the one being abused not Wickham, for at that time he had shown no real characteristics of ever behaving in the way that Wickham had explained. She only believed him because she wanted to find something against him to stop her aching heart, stop her from loving him.

She was saddened greatly knowing now that she had lost the only man that she had ever loved. For who now would ask for her hand again, she was sure that he hated her by now. She hadn't even given him a chance to explain and didn't trust him at all. It seems that Mr. Darcy also thinks that she dislikes him; in truth it is quiet the opposite. She cried for different reasons this time, for what she had lost. He was truly what she had always thought from the very beginning the very best of men. Now because of her pride and ill judgment of his character she had lost his good opinion forever. More than ever she wished she was with her sister, so that she could laugh with her at her stupidity.

Perhaps she thought, there could still be a way, still is a way to win him back. Mr. Bingley was his friend and so therefore he would attend the wedding. It was perfect she mused, give him some time to forget some of the horrible things she said and did, and they could start fresh. She would win his love back; she only hoped that he would give her a second chance. Little did Elizabeth know that the man she was thinking of was hoping for the same thing.

I must say that Mr. Darcy sure wrote a whole lot, wow. But any who, review please, I loved all the reviews from last time, it made me really happy. More reviews and I will update again.