Mr. Darcy

Elizabeth,

Your generous words lend me more credit than I deserve. I assure you that I feel the weight of both your censure and praise. Your objections in regards to my conduct bring me no pleasure, but I hope to give you no such pain in the future. After abdominal beginnings, I hope to prove a much more satisfactory husband than a suitor.

I am glad that you have enjoyed Pemberley's charms. Some prefer haughty furnishings and décor, thankfully my mother could not abide stiff and formal surroundings. Her choices reflect her tastes. Pemberley's trappings do honor to its beautiful architecture, but do not distract from them; whilst their deep cushions ensure the comfort of its occupants.

Your Uncle, Aunt, yours sister Jane, and assorted cousins are better company than I have entertained at Pemberley for a long time. Unfortunately, we may be receiving some less than pleasant guests in the near future. My Aunt wrote to inform me of her intention to come to my aid and help dissolve the ties of engagement to which we are both bound. I wish to prepare you for her arrival and to assure you that I have no wish to extricate myself from my situation. If she fails to reconcile herself to our marriage, I will ask her to leave the estate and cease all communication with her. Her daughter's illness may keep her from presenting herself here in person. I do not mean to cause you distress. Let me assure you that none of my other relatives will presume to interfere in such a way. You have already won the heart of the only person whose opinion I hold dear.

Georgiana adores your company. She cherishes Jane's society as well, yet she draws confidence from your presence. You have been here for less than a fortnight, and yet she seems to converse with more confidence and engages in discussion more readily. She has always spoken with ease around me, yet, I have never seen her at ease in general society. Often, Georgiana eyes wander in panic and her posture stiffens in the presence of others. I think I owe her present comfort to the company we have assembled here at Pemberley.

My estate has assumed a different air due to the companionship and energy of its current visitors. I fail to remember a period of time in which such bounteous and genuine laughter has echoed through the hallways and chambers of the estate. Pemberley's current state reflects what I wished to have in boyhood. My late mother suffered a series of miscarriages after my birth. I never experienced the boon of a compulsory friend in the form of a sibling. My mother and father softened the void considerably with their own affection, yet I always wished for a brother or sister. I frequently resorted to solitary play or reading as a child for entertainment. My Boar Hound, Kane, followed me around and kept me company at all times. Yet, I did not often socialize often with children of my own age. Perhaps this has contributed to my lack of comfort in consorting with my peers. Even to this day, I often enjoy the company of my elders to those of my own age.

Your Uncle Gardiner and his son John seem to enjoy the fishing holes at Pemberley to their fullest. Your Uncle holds many well informed opinions and a wide range of experiences in the trade from which he harnesses entertaining stories a plenty. My fishing trips with him are often dotted with pleasant debates covering subject matter ranging from the dinner table to foreign affairs. To my surprise, your cousin John takes his fishing quite seriously.

In fact, when we decided to break for luncheon yesterday we could not convince John to lay down his pole and partake of the picnic basket we brought with us. Your uncle and I sat up on the hill eating, talking, and enjoying the sunshine for a full forty five minutes before I decided to check on him again.

When I crested the hill that leads down to the stocked pond I saw a body floating in the water. As I looked closer, John's small figure floated with the slight current, lifeless and still. I was nearly beside him when, all of the sudden, John turned his head to the side and gasped for air. He smiled at me like and imp and said, "Mr. Darcy, do stay still, you are scaring all the fish away". To my fascination, he slid his head back into the water and kept floating. I tried to calm myself and stay still. I watched as the he propelled himself into the deeper water, taking in air at the side of his mouth and silently sliding his head back beneath the pool. His shoulders contracted, and to my surprise he emerged from the water clutching a large fish in his small hands.

Mr. Gardiner had arrived behind me on the shore and began to chortle. I wish you had been there to witness as your uncle and I gasped for breath with hysterical laughter. I guffawed until I thought I might drown with weakness. John helped tug me to shore after letting his catch go, and I emerged from the water, soaked to the skin and still breaking into fits of merriment. I still chortled as I ran to get a change of clothes. Dripping all over the gleaming entrance of Pemberley with John, I felt like a boy of about 10 years. Covered with muck, I did not enter the main house. Memories of Mrs. Reynolds and my mother scolding as I dragged mud across their clean floors played back in my head. Those memories, so unpleasant at the time, make me smile now. Your cousin and I changed in the stables and from a stall over he recounted with painstaking detail his technique for "bare-hand fishing".

I began writing with the intention of sending you something to help you understand my regard for you. However, I quickly found my gift for writing lacks the skill for assigning words to my affection. I decided to write some personal confidences down for your perusal rather than risking a poorly executed poem. I fear that you would have underestimated my regard had you projected it to be of the same quality as any poor sonnet I could hope to produce.

You must forgive me for lacking your creativity in deliverance of my letter. Slipping it into your walking coat seemed the most expeditious and private vehicle for its conveyance.

You have indeed freed me from the guilt I felt in writing you for the first time. Yet, I must apologize again now for using your Christian name. I could not help myself; the word flowed off my pen so naturally that it gleamed on the paper before I was cognizant that I had intended to write it.

You may need a new start in regard to your acquaintance with me, after what I have done and said I understand the necessity. I do not deserve this unstinting allowance for my faults. But to me, you will remain as you ever were. I could not wish for more.

Sincerely yours,

Fitzwilliam Darcy