Hertfordshire, June 1812
It was on the first day of June that Netherfield Park, located near Meryton in Hertfordshire was reopened at last. The gentleman who had taken its lease some seven months before arrived alone for a visit, the same one he had deserted some seven months ago on the advice of his friend and sisters. On the fourth day of that month, he finally visited Longbourn, reacquainting himself with the Bennets, particularly the eldest, one Miss Jane Bennet. After staying the requisite fifteen minutes for a formal visit, he departed, but not before Mrs Bennet had pressed him into returning for a family dinner the following night. After all, she reminded him, he had promised to take a family dinner with them before he departed in November. By the tenth of that month, Jane and Bingley were engaged, having found a private moment to declare their mutual despair at the loss of the other following the ball at Netherfield and proclaiming their undying love for the other.
As soon as Mr Bennet's approval had been sought and given for the betrothal, letters began to be written and sent to family and friends, nearly all of them legible, despite their haste in being written, apprising them of the wedding date some two months hence, the twentieth day of August. Within the week, letters began to be received from family and friends in London and Scarborough, and even one from Derbyshire arrived congratulating the pair. Many of these letters were read aloud or shared with the family with great enthusiasm. For her part, Elizabeth, Jane's younger sister, had relished reading his words of congratulations and had surreptitiously run her finger over the words in the letter written in a familiar hand when Bingley had handed it to her to read.
Although he did express his sincere congratulations to the couple, Bingley's greatest friend, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire, had declined the request that he stand up with his friend. He cited business matters which had already been scheduled in the north at the same time as the ceremony as his reason for not attending, ensuring Bingley that he would reorganise his plans if he could but expressed that these arrangements had been in place for some time and could not be altered. He wish the couple well and invited them to visit at Pemberley sometime in the autumn if they liked.
Elizabeth was disappointed that he would not attend — and unlike the reset, she knew the real reason why he had declined to come. He did not want to see her again, a fact which left her feeling rather heartbroken. Although she had soundly refused the offer of his hand only two months ago, she now realised that she missed him terribly. When the news had reached Longbourn that Bingley had returned, she had hoped that he would as well. She was not entirely certain what she felt for him yet, but she had begun to think she could fall in love with him. Her thoughts were all in a turmoil, but she did know that she wanted to see him again.
However, with him not attending the wedding, all hope for that seemed lost. She laughed at herself for even thinking of their renewing their acquaintance — of course, all hope was lost; what man would offer marriage to a woman a second time after being so vehemently rejected the first time? No, Darcy would not be returning and certainly would not be offering for her again. Of that, she could be certain.
Over the next few days, she took long walks to Oakham Mount in an attempt to sort out her tumultuous feelings regarding the man. One of those mornings, she took her journal with her and sat for several hours as she attempted to write out what she was thinking and feeling. For whatever reason, she decided to write her thoughts down in a letter, in a letter addressed to Mr Darcy.
My dear Mr Darcy,
For I am afraid you have become very dear to me, despite my proclaiming you the last man in the world I could be prevailed upon to marry. Instead, in these last months, I have begun to think of you as the only man in the world I could imagine marrying. It is maddening, sir, that after so soundly rejecting you, and then having all my errors in judgement pointed out to me so clearly, that I cannot seem to forget about you now. I wish you had come with Mr Bingley, although I know you did not because you never wish to see me again. I wish I had been more moderate in my refusal, so we could have at least met as friends, or at the very least as acquaintances, although I think that seeing you again and knowing that I have lost your love would be nearly as painful as missing you. For I do miss you, you dear man. I confess that I miss the debates and conversations we had, and I wish, oh, how I wish I had understood you better when you were staying at Netherfield or when we were both in Kent. If only we could have spoken openly then.
She paused briefly to wipe the tears from her eyes, and one or two fell on the pages, making them pucker slightly before she picked her pen back up and wrote again.
I wish you would return to me, my dear Mr Darcy, or should I call you Fitzwilliam. I should, since this letter will never be sent and you will never read it. I am writing it for myself so that I might tell someone of my feelings and how they have changed over the last few months.
I also should thank you very much for sending Mr Bingley to Jane, and I know you know they are now engaged, and that they have you to thank for it. I wonder how the conversation with Mr Bingley went and how he received the news that Jane did care for him all this time, although I have not been bold enough to ask him. He obviously knows about your actions, or he would have never come, and I would think, given your letter to him on his engagement, that he has forgiven you for any interference. If he is like Jane, as I suspect, he may not have held it against you anyway, at least not once Jane had agreed to marry him.
I think that if I were to see you again, I could easily fall in love with you, but that seems rather foolish now, does it not? For I know that whatever chance I might have had with you has been ruined, for you would never ask me again to be your wife, even if any feelings of love lasted long beyond my refusal. What man in his right mind would ask a second time when the lady so cruelly abused you as I did that night at Hunsford? I wish, oh, how I wish I could tell you how much I misunderstood you and how I wish I could apologise for the terrible words I said to you that night. I was cruel, my dearest Fitzwilliam, and I know that I must have hurt you terribly when I callously tossed your offering back into your face. It would be amusing, were it not so terribly sad, that your letter to me had the effect of making me fall in love with you, for I believe, sir, that I must be. If it were not love, my heart would not hurt so much at the idea that I will never see you again, would it? I have little more to add, Fitzwilliam, other than to say once again that I miss you, and I regret the chance I had to know you better.
I believe this letter has become a ramble now, and I see spots where my tears have fallen. I am a foolish, foolish woman, Fitzwilliam, and you should count yourself fortunate that I refused you. Know that I wish you every happiness in the world and that I hope one day you find a worthy woman, a woman who will appreciate you as I did not, at least not until it was too late. I will end as you did and simply say, God bless you, my dear Fitzwilliam.
Forever yours,
E
After allowing the ink to dry, Elizabeth looked over the letter and deliberately tore the pages from her journal before folding the loose pages into the form of an envelope. She placed it carefully into her journal, feeling foolish for scrawling his name across the front of it, but it was done, and she would not worry about it any more. Elizabeth considered burning the whole thing later to rid herself of the evidence, as she would not want anyone else to read this. While it was a silly thing to do, telling someone, even if no one would ever read it, made her feel better.
Feeling resolved to lock these feelings away, not that she had gotten them out, she wiped her eyes with her handkerchief, trying to ensure there were no traces of tears on her face, and began her walk back down Oakham Mount to return to her home.
Elizabeth arrived home just as Bingley arrived for breakfast and greeted him. He noted the melancholy look on her face and saw a letter drop from her journal, but she had already entered the house. Bingley was surprised to see his friend's name written across it and supposed she intended to ask him to send it, tucked it into his pocket. Since he knew that Darcy and Elizabeth had met in Kent and that it was from Elizabeth that Darcy had learned of his error in determining Jane's affection and thought perhaps it was a note to say thank you or to convey some brief message. Regardless, Bingley determined to send it on her behalf, and it never occurred to him to speak of it again.
Quickly walking to her room, Elizabeth hid her journal before hurrying downstairs for breakfast. It was hours later before she recalled she had intended to burn the letter, and she was nearly frantic when she did not find it. She retraced her steps to Oakham Mount the following morning but never found it, and she hoped it was carried away or ruined so that no one could ever read it. She had not signed it, merely ended it with her initial, but still, she hoped no one had picked it up before it had been thoroughly ruined.
Bingley finished his letter to Darcy that same afternoon, adding a brief note that Miss Elizabeth had dropped this letter and he was forwarding it to him, assuming that his future sister had intended him to do just that. He wrapped his own letter around Elizabeth's and sent them both on their way to Derbyshire. An impulse hit him, and he sent it express, meaning it would arrive in Derbyshire a day or two sooner.