Darcy thought after Hunsford...after all I gave you Elizabeth's ;)

Pride is Blind

The late afternoon light filtered through the large windows of Mr. Darcy's house in Mayfair, casting long shadows on the polished floors of the drawing room. It had been several days since he had written the letter to Elizabeth Bennet, and yet, the events at Hunsford were still vivid in his mind, each detail more painful than the last. He could not seem to escape the echo of her rejection, nor the sharpness of her words.

Though he had left Rosings Park soon after the ill-fated proposal, coming to London had not brought the relief he had hoped for. In fact, it had only deepened his disquiet. The bustle of the city, the business he had hoped to attend to, the familiar comforts of his own home—all of it felt distant. He had been unable to focus on anything since that afternoon at Hunsford, where Elizabeth had rejected him so decisively.

He stared out at the crowded streets of Mayfair, his brow furrowed, his thoughts restless. The noise of London—its carriages, its people, the ceaseless movement of life—felt almost oppressive in contrast to the stillness inside him.

He had thought, in the immediate aftermath of the proposal, that he could shake off the sting of Elizabeth's refusal. But he could not. Her face, the conviction in her voice, those words of rejection—they haunted him, as if they had burned themselves into his memory.

And then there was the matter of the letter he had written. Darcy ran his hand over his face as he sank deeper into the leather chair by the fireplace. He had been confident when he wrote it—certain that his carefully chosen words would explain the complexities of his actions, would make her see reason. But now, in the silence of his Mayfair home, all he could feel was a deepening sense of regret. What had he been thinking?

He had written the letter as a way to defend his actions, to justify his interference in Jane Bennet's relationship with Mr. Bingley, and to explain the complicated feelings he had for Elizabeth herself. He had poured his heart into it, thinking that, once she read it, she would understand him. But now, the more he thought about it, the more he understood that the letter had been an act of pride—an attempt to vindicate himself, to lessen the damage to his reputation. How could he have been so blind?

Darcy rose from his chair and began to pace across the room, his mind turning over the words he had written. "You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you." That line alone made him wince now. What had he been thinking, making such a direct confession when he had no true understanding of her feelings? He had thought it bold, but it had only served to reveal his own arrogance.

He stopped near the large mirror over the fireplace, studying his reflection as if looking for answers in his own face. How had he allowed himself to fall so far into his pride? He had always prided himself on being a man of discernment, someone who could see through pretension and falsehood, but now he saw that it was he who had been blinded—not by other people's vanity, but by his own.

He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the rejection in Hunsford with painful clarity. The sharpness of her words had cut through him, but now, with distance, he could see why. She had rejected him not because of his wealth, not because of his title—but because he had been presumptuous, self-absorbed, and blind to everything that truly mattered. He had treated her with a kind of dismissive disdain, as though she were merely a figure to be won—a challenge to overcome—and not a woman whose feelings were worthy of consideration.

He had assumed that his wealth and status would make him desirable to her, just as it made him desirable to other women. But Elizabeth Bennet had seen past all that. She had rejected him because she valued integrity, respect, and kindness—things that he had failed to demonstrate.

Darcy ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. How had he not seen it before? How had he failed to understand that the very qualities he most admired in others—the humility, the respect for family, the integrity—were the ones he had so completely disregarded in Elizabeth? How had he not realized that, beneath his haughty demeanor, he had been unable to see beyond his own pride?

The more he thought about it, the clearer it became: he had been wrong. He had been wrong in assuming she would fall for his wealth, for his status, for the very qualities that had always made him feel secure in his place in the world. He had never been truly concerned with her as a person—only with his own sense of entitlement.

But now he understood. Elizabeth Bennet had rejected him, not because of his fortune, but because of his arrogance. And in doing so, she had taught him something far more valuable than any match of convenience or status could ever offer.

The realization struck him hard, and for the first time since Hunsford, Darcy felt the full weight of his mistake. It was not the rejection that hurt him the most, nor even the humiliation. It was the realization that Elizabeth had seen something in him that he could not see in himself. She had seen his pride. And now, he could see it too.

He sank back into his chair, his gaze unfocused as he thought of her again. Her wit, her fire, the way she had stood her ground in the face of his arrogance. He admired her more than he had ever admired any woman, and yet it was her refusal that had caused him to truly understand what it meant to love someone—not just for their beauty, but for their spirit, their strength, and their intelligence.

She had rejected him, and in doing so, had made him a better man.

Darcy closed his eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the lingering sadness in his chest. There was a sense of peace now, a quiet understanding that his journey was far from over. If Elizabeth could see through his pride, then perhaps there was hope for him yet.

But it would take time. It would take effort, humility, and a deep commitment to change.

He would become a better man.

The sound of the doorbell echoed through the house, but Darcy did not rise immediately. His mind was far too occupied with his own thoughts, and in that moment, he realized that he had already decided: he would return to Hertfordshire, not to seek her forgiveness, but to show her that he had changed. He would become the man who could love her with the respect she deserved, not just the man who thought he could win her with pride.

For now, though, he remained in the silence of his Mayfair house, knowing that he had far more to learn and far more to prove—not to her, but to himself.