Chapter 12: London and Letters

The thought of being in love should have been comforting, but instead it filled me with an unspeakable dread. Loving another was not a blessing if she did not feel likewise. I examined all of my interactions with Miss Elizabeth, but there was nothing that could tell me how she felt.

I felt a sourness in my stomach, a bile in my mouth. I wish I could have been sick, for maybe then my distress would have eased.

Never before had I longed so much to be like other men. If I were like them, I could have, perhaps, deciphered Miss Elizabeth's expressions, had a way to know if there was any hope. What good were my eyes when they could not tell me how she felt, what the expressions that crossed her face meant? What good were my ears if I could not tell if she had warmed to me through the tone of her words? Was it to be like Miss Wilde all over again? If only I had never come to Netherfield or had left before my heart became engaged.

Although I intended to remain at Netherfield until Bingley returned, to seek his wisdom on this matter, I soon discovered that was not to be. Indeed, the very day after the ball, Miss Bingley sought me out and told me, "We will be closing up Netherfield and returning to London."

Naturally I asked why. At first, she told me that they did not think Bingley's business would be completed quickly and it was far better for them to open Mr. Hurst's home so that Bingley did not have to stay in a hotel, than to linger at Netherfield. But it did not take long for her to introduce another concern.

She told me, "Charles is so agreeable and kind that he will bind himself to Miss Bennet based on the strength of his admiration alone, with no thought to whether her own heart is touched, so long as she says 'yes.' I need you to help distract him from being so impulsive, and after all, you have mentioned missing your sister; this would be the perfect opportunity to see her."

I made no protest and merely nodded. It was far easier to leave Netherfield and Miss Elizabeth far behind. If I left, I could imagine there was hope, before learning for certain that there was none.

My valet of course packed all of my effects, but it is a habit of mine to always check a chamber before I depart from it to make sure nothing has inadvertently been left behind. In doing so, I paused before opening a certain drawer. I knew what it had contained and had no reason to think it had been disturbed, but still so long as I did not open it, it might be empty. I almost left the drawer untouched, until it occurred to me that it would be most improper for her ribbon to later be found there. That decided me on opening the drawer.

All the time before I pulled on the knob, I imagined that the drawer was empty. However, when I finally slid it open, a prolonged squeak as I pulled revealing that it was a tight fit, I found the yellow ribbon just as I had left it. Transfixed, I stared into the open drawer and at its only occupant. I studied the way the sunlight from the window glistened on the ribbon, making the top edge brighter than the yellow on its side, and the darker yellow on the part of the ribbon in the shadow cast by the side of the drawer. I also studied the shadow the ribbon cast, its darker twin. Without any conscious thought, I found my hand reaching for it, one finger stroking along the satin as gently as I might stroke a tiny fuzzy kitten whose eyes had not yet opened. And then I was reaching in and picking it up.

The ribbon weighed nothing, felt almost like mere air in my hand and yet I could feel, most slightly, its edges, soft but tangible. I wound the ribbon around my finger and then slid my ribbon wrapped finger along the side of my face and neck. I closed my eyes and did it again, this time imagining that rather than the yellow ribbon wrapped around my finger it was Miss Elizabeth's yellow gloved finger touching my face. I heard a slight sigh escape me and then blinked my eyes open.

I wondered why I was tormenting myself in this way and pulled the ribbon off my finger and then closed my fist around the ribbon. I pondered burning it in the fireplace, but my heart rebelled against having it gone. I debated for many a minute before finally shoving it into my pocket, next to my string. I pushed it down until it was completely concealed and then I left the room. While riding my stallion to London beside Hurst's carriage, my thoughts were not on the road but on whether the ribbon was secure. Several times I found myself imagining it spilling from my pocket and becoming lost upon the road. During each stop we made, my hand unerringly sought out the ribbon. Each time it was exactly as I had left it deep in my pocket. After I escorted my companions to their home, I rode for my own home.

Georgiana was glad to receive me and soon enough I shut Miss Elizabeth's ribbon in the back of a drawer in my own chamber. But this time, rather than being content to merely let it remain there, I found myself frequently opening the drawer to make sure it was still there, though I did not dare to touch it again.

A sennight passed and though I had seen Bingley and his sisters, we did not talk of anything of consequence. I could not tell if Bingley was sad that he had not furthered his acquaintance with Miss Bennet, but he did seem quieter and less jovial than usual.

Within the fortnight I received an odd letter from Mr. Collins. I should not have been surprised that a man who would deign to speak with me without an introduction would seek to impress me with his servitude through an unsolicited letter. I wondered, though, before I perused his letter, at his knowing how to find my address.

My Dear Sir,

I feel most fortunate to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honorable Lady Catherine de Bourgh and to have been fortunate enough to have met you, Mr. Darcy, her near relation. I am most thankful that I received the opportunity to pay my respects to you and also, lately, to assure Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh of your good health.

Mr. Darcy, please allow me to offer you the proper humility. I am certainly far beneath the notice of a gentleman blessed as you yourself are, with splendid property, noble kindred and extensive patronage. However, I trust that as a clergyman and given my close connection with my excellent patroness, that I am not unworthy of addressing you and obtaining some portion of your notice.

I cannot but reflect with utmost pleasure on the fortuitousness of our acquaintanceship. I happened to tell my distinguished benefactress of your condescension in dancing with my cousin Miss Elizabeth, and of your kind manner in allowing me to introduce myself to you. She was most pleased to hear the very handsome thought you voiced in your discernment of her noble character, that she would never bestow a favor unworthily in awarding me the living at Hunsford. It was such a complement to Lady Catherine and myself! You truly are the product of elegant breeding and I am most gratified.

My reasons for writing you are, first, that I think it only the right thing to thank you for your notice. You may be pleased to know that Miss Lucas has made me the most fortunate of men by agreeing to be my wife; we shall marry in January. While I originally planned to obtain a bride from among my fair cousins, I do not think I was unworthy of Miss Lucas's hand, given the expectation I have in Longbourn from the entail.

Second, I am convinced that it will greatly add to my happiness to be able to repay your condescension with a small service. I think it my duty to give you the speediest intelligence of some most unfortunate and disgraceful news.

Third, which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier as it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady who I have the honor of calling patroness, that such information must be communicated to you, post-haste. Twice, the right honorable Lady Catherine has condescended to give me her opinion (unasked, too!) that I must write to you about what I have heard in Meryton. As this has been sanctioned by the express authority of my excellent patroness, naturally I felt I would not be assuming too much to pen this letter to the address she supplied.

There is a certain Lieutenant George Wickham claiming a close relationship with the Darcy family and you specifically. This must be false, for why would Mr. Darcy, the son of Lady Anne, the grandson of an earl, associate with a steward's son? As the near relative of a very noble lady, one of the most illustrious personages of this land, you are most clearly not of his circle and any association could not be properly sanctioned.

Mr. Wickham has been disparaging you most severely. False reports began reaching my ears before you had been gone from Netherfield more than two days. I was most amazed at hearing such gossip and strenuously opposed such disgraceful and utterly untrue characterizations. I sought out further reports as I wished to write you most accurately about such a matter after relating them in whole to her ladyship. Lady Catherine does not look upon Mr. Wickham or his wicked falsehoods with a friendly eye! It is my Christian duty to warn you as such rumors and false testimony could be injurious to and might also taint your beloved betrothed, Miss de Bourgh.

What followed was an extensive report, some three pages long, in which Mr. Collins related each person who had shared a rumor with him and what it was in meticulous detail. I did not recognize a single name. Perhaps they were all drunkards or simpletons themselves.

The stories ranged from those with a grain of truth to the utterly ridiculous. It was claimed I spent my first five years mute but for barking like a dog, to learn to speak I required treats like a dog, or Mr. Wickham taught me to speak, by working like a dog. I was the result of bad blood. I was insane and belonged in an asylum. My intelligent speech was but a parlor trick, the result of memorization and not thought. Wickham completely all my work at university for the sake of pleasing my father. Wickham tutored me. Wickham was paid to be my friend but when my father died he never received what was due and I further stole his inheritance. My father wished Mr. Wickham was his son; Mr. Wickham was in fact his son, born on the wrong side of the sheets. I was master of Pemberley in name only.

I sincerely sympathize with you, it is to be much lamented and you are to be grievously pitied, which opinion I am not only joined by Miss Lucas, but likewise by Lady Catherine and her daughter to whom I have related the affair in whole once I returned to Kent. Let me assure you, Mr. Darcy, that all quality people discount these rumors as outrageous fabrications. I advise you to forgive the rumor mongers but never give any attention to this town or set foot in Meryton again. Such people deserve not any portion of your notice.

Finally, far be it for me to resent the behavior of my cousins, but I must relate my sincere apologies for their part in one last rumor: My cousins said that Mr. Bingley and you are simple and have been seeking gentlemen's daughters to improve your stock. Of course I vehemently denied that this could be so, but in a show of ill breeding that hardly comports with them being the daughters of a landed gentlemen (the ranks of which I hope to join soon when Mr. Bennet passes to his eternal reward though he may yet live many years), they laughed and said having babies from idiots was not worth fine dresses and carriages; they preferred military men. I regret to report that despite my attempts to correct their wayward thoughts that my cousins still seem to believe Mr. Wickham's account.

However, the Miss Lucases accepted my superior knowledge. I am most pleased with how Miss Lucas is of one mind with me.

Mr. Darcy, please accept my humble apology for the behavior of my cousins and the ignorant denizens of Meryton who apparently have not the proper respect for those of rank and their close relatives. Additionally, please excuse me for not having written to you earlier to assure you of the continued good health of her ladyship and that Miss de Bourgh is in tolerable good health.

As I understand the discourse between yourself and Lady Catherine is not frequent, I shall endeavor my best to keep you informed of all matters of consequence that occur there. I will gladly demean myself further should you have need.

I remain your humble servant.

William Collins

As I read this letter, I first felt relief that Mr. Collins would marry another besides Miss Elizabeth (I had worried when I saw her dance the first with him, bumbling fool that he was). However, when he mentioned the entail, this was rapidly replaced with fear for the Miss Bennets' future. I did not want to see Miss Elizabeth become a governess or a paid companion where at best she would have to become meek and unassuming to please her employer and at worse she might be forced to service a master's desires.

There is much evil in the world, and I recalled learning of this particular evil from my cousin Colonel Edwin Fitzwilliam a few years prior, shortly after I completed university. We were discussing the dissipate lifestyle of the Prince Regent (then merely the Prince of Wales), and he told me, "While the Prince has certainly taken mistresses a plenty, I am of the opinion that all of them welcomed him to their beds. That is as it should be. There are men who prey upon women in their employ, who force themselves on others. This is most abhorrent."

I asked, although I suppose I should not have, "What do you mean?"

He took this (as he usually did when I asked, "What do you mean?") as my request for him to educate me.

"Women as the gentler sex are most vulnerable. All is well when they are guarded by kind and diligent men, going from father to husband. However, when forced to seek employment, a woman is now subject to the whims of her employer, either to be protected or molested by him, and there are none to help her if he has ill intent."

Edwin paused and ran his hand through his sandy locks, paced, stopped pacing, bit his top lip and then continued, "Should he decide he requires her to satisfy his baser desires, well there is almost nothing she can do. Should she fight, others will have first-hand knowledge that she is a temptress, a woman of easy virtue; her attempt to prevent his actions will prove that they are lovers and sink her reputation. Should she allow it, the truth will win out sooner or later. When that happens, at best she may be set up elsewhere as his mistress; at worst, she will be expelled from the house with no references while her belly is already swelling with his child. I should know, as the woman who is under my protection was a governess before her employer took unwanted liberties with her, stripped her of respectability and forced her to seek another sort of position. Sylvia would have never sought me out, had this not transpired."

On another occasion Edwin asked me, "Tell me, Fitz, have you known the touch of a woman yet? The Earl and I were discussing the matter and he has charged me with seeing to it if the deed has not been done."

I refused to answer but he was determined, telling me, "Saying nothing answers the question for certain. It is past time by now, Fitz. Let me talk to my Sylvia. I dare say she might educate you in such a thing if I asked her to. You would like her, she was a gentleman's daughter, who has understanding and education. She would be patient and explain and demonstrate well. You do not wish, someday, to marry and have no idea as to how to go about the matter, now, do you?"

I found the whole idea abhorrent. How could he offer her in such a way and why would I want to share such an intimacy with a stranger who was paid to lay with him?

Even a casual touch from a stranger when exchanging a few coins makes me uncomfortable. I startle easily when touched by someone I do not see approach me. I dislike the touch of most people but have learned not to fear it, though George's faked affectionate nudges were distasteful to me.

With those whom I am comfortable, a simple touch causes no distress. I liked the embrace of my mother, Nurse Storey, and Georgiana. I had no difficult accepting Edwin's more manly thumps of approval if I did something well. Professor Hanson's congratulatory shaking of my hand or clasp of my shoulder was pleasant enough. I can lounge next to Bingley with perfect comfort and tolerate with no distress his sisters on my arms when I escort them.

I told Edwin, "I have no wish to violate God's laws. A man should cleave to his wife and no other."

Edwin laughed at me, "Good ol' Fitz, rigid and upright as always, following the law to the letter and all. You need to relax and enjoy the pleasures of life more. But I suppose you are not ready yet. Come see me when you are, and I will arrange everything."

I said nothing, determined that I should never seek him out for such a purpose. Why should there be anything wrong in rigidity when it comes to following God's commands? If anything, Edwin was the one who needed to change his actions.

I suppose my silence was answer enough as then he let me be (perhaps he believed I would come to him eventually).

The idea that Miss Elizabeth might someday be placed in a position like Sylvia's was horrifying. Surely it would be better if I sought Miss Elizabeth's hand in marriage; knowing her vulnerability to having to seek employment someday when her father was gone, surely she would accept even if she had no love for me. But then a small part of me wondered, would she accept if she was one of the Miss Bennets who had been saying such cruel things, and would I want her to?

While I did not know the younger Miss Bennets well, I knew Miss Lucas was Miss Elizabeth's particular friend. I hoped Miss Elizabeth had no part in such cruel rumors, but I also had no desire to visit Netherfield or the surrounding environs again and find out for certain that she had.

I shared the letter with Bingley. He commented, "How could any sensible person believe and repeat such rumors? I cannot believe that the elder Miss Bennets could have any part in such lies."

I was less certain. I asked Bingley, "Given Mr. Collins's volubility, why would he not tell me if the reaction of Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth was to defend us and oppose their younger sisters in this?"

Bingley sighed and said, "I do not know, 'tis most strange. Miss Bennet has always seemed most kind. I cannot imagine her being cruel to anyone; it does not fit her character. It cannot have escaped your knowledge that I have grown most fond of her and have even come to believe that perhaps Miss Bennet shares my affection. I had planned to return already, but my sisters always seem to have a reason that I should stay.

"When I imagine returning to Netherfield, it begins with immediately accepting Mrs. Bennet's dinner invitation and dining beside Miss Bennet. In the course of the dinner, somehow I am reassured that she holds me in affection and then I imagine after dinner, by chance, having a quiet moment with her in which I ask her to be my bride. However, I want no bride that is inconstant in her character, that is pleasing when seeking to impress but cruel behind one's back. Surely if it is the younger sisters relating these thoughts, the elders might quell and correct them even if their mother would not. I have no desire to dwell in a place where they do not properly value you, Darcy, as you deserve."

Bingley also told me, "It seems that I was too quick to think well of the inhabitants of that hamlet. I fear I made a grave mistake in encouraging you to join me there."

I considered the interactions I had observed between Bingley and Miss Bennet. "I cannot recall any particular sign of affection from Miss Bennet towards you." But I also reminded him, "I am not a good judge of such things in the best of circumstances and was distracted by Miss Elizabeth."

He smiled then and said, "I noticed your affection for her, but unhappily it now appeared we are both crossed in love."

Later we had dinner at the Hursts' town-home. Bingley inquired of his sisters, "What is your opinion of Miss Bennet?"

Miss Bingley declared, "She is a sweet girl, however I would advise you to stay away from her, as given her family, it would be a most unfortunate connection."

Mrs. Hurst nodded and agreed, "Most unfortunate."

Later, during the separation, when we had drinks with Mr. Hurst, he told Bingley, "That Miss Bennet is quite a beautiful woman. If I was a single man looking for a bride, I would not mind to marry her and get at her apple dumplin shop."

Bingley pinked a little but later he asked me, "Do you think I was predisposed to think well of Miss Bennet because she is so lovely, to allow my desires to rule over my head?"

I shrugged; I had no answers.

In the next few days, Mr. Bingley's sisters kept us busy by shopping for furniture we did not need. I considered this current occupation ample excuse for why I had not yet replied to Mr. Collins's missive. In truth, I could have found the time to write him back, but I had no wish to associate myself with that groveling sycophant.

However, finally reason won out. I told myself I was responding because my mother had always stressed the importance of replying to correspondence and I wished to be sort of son my mother deserved. However, the truth was, I finally wrote back because Mr. Collins was currently my only link to Miss Elizabeth.

I kept my reply short but cordial. I congratulated him on his good fortune in his betrothal to Miss Lucas, thanked him for bringing the matter of Mr. Wickham's falsehoods to my attention and wished good health to himself, his cousins, and all his relations.

While I dared not mention Miss Elizabeth specifically, those well wishes were entirely for her. I dearly wished I'd had a chance to talk with Miss Elizabeth and explain what George Wickham was about and why I acted as I did. If only she had given a hint that she desired that, I would have hope and be willing to bear the open derision that I feared awaited me in Meryton.