This had been his doing, and his mistake.
He could explain how the mistake had happened, so that she would understand, and so that she could tell her sister how it had happened.
And lastly, he needed to explain everything aboutWickham, not only to justify himself, but to ensure that Elizabeth would know what sort of man he was, in detail, and be able to communicate that to her sisters still in Longbourn.
Darcy sat down again.
The first matter it is incumbent upon me to speak of is my behavior in the library on the night of Bingley’s ball at Netherfield. I now see that my kissing you at that time, and in that way was in fact reprehensible, and perhaps unforgivable.
My chief excuse is that I honestly believed you wished me to kiss you, that you were in that room to offer me an opportunity to do so, and that you had lifted your face up and looked at me in that manner that I can recall as a perfect image even now, to entice me to kiss you.
I see now that this was all an illusion.
Or if it was in some way true, it was as you said, unconsciously done. I believe you that it was not your intent. I saw what I wished to see in your face, and then I acted in an undisciplined and dishonorable manner.
I have never had any great experience with the fair sex. I always believed — this is something that was taught to me by my father — that every woman who was not my superior in rank and fortune was desperate to convince me to marry her for the sake of improving her position in life. I learned to think of myself chiefly in the nature of a treasure chest whose lock was constantly being tried. This led me to avoid female company, and when in company with women, to be cautious in my dealings.
Furthermore, I have always been a man who took religious and social duties seriously, and these principles forbade me from treating with women under terms of close intimacy without the promise of marriage.
Perhaps this is a partial cause of my inabilityto understand your motivations and the meaning of your expressions. While my explanation may help you to understand, it does not in any way excuse my behavior. That was wrong, and that was dishonorable, and I will do as much as I can to make recompense to you — even though the situation is such that it is impossible for me to return to you your ability tochoose,and I regret that more than anything.
No — I regret equally that I never asked you to marry me. I simply assumed.
The second matter with which you confronted me this morning was the subject of your sister and my friend, Mr. Bingley. It seems that you have learned that I was instrumental in the separation of those parties, and the breaking of an attachment which had seemed to have a fair promise of marriage.
I did this, and since I must trust your superior knowledge of your sister, it seems that I have caused harm to both parties by doing so.
It had only come to my attention during the night of the ball that it was widely expected for the two of them to make a match. I spent an hour after our dance observing your sister and Mr. Bingley closely. Your sister appeared to me to be reserved in his company, and to not smile more frequently at him than at others. It became my firm belief on the basis of this observation that she was wholly indifferent to him. On this basis, and on the conviction that your sister would not be in a position to refuse the offer merely due to indifference, I decided then that I would counsel Mr. Bingley to depart for London for the sake of breaking the connection the next day. I also decided that I would absent myself as well, because I believed that I had become too influenced by you for my own peace of mind.
I say this to defend myself against the charge of having dealt this damage to your sister out of spite and anger. Thedamage was done to her, and done by me, but my motivation was an interest in the wellbeing of my friend, and not an intention to harm your sister.
As you know my intent to absent myself from the neighborhood was overthrown by our conversation in the library, and the significant consequences which flowed from it.
When I spoke to Bingley the next day about Miss Bennet, I was angry, and I was full of a conviction that the members of your family could be relied upon to take any action which would improve their situation. I spoke more harshly and passionately than I would have otherwise to Bingley. However, in truth, I believe that my high emotions at the time did more damage than good to my cause. The central point which convinced him was solely the belief in your sister’s indifference.
Bingley has always been a diffident man, with little trust in his own powers, who preferred to adopt the judgement of others to that of himself, at least when he believed those others to have a sound judgement. It was only when I calmed from my first anger and was able to explain the reasons for my belief in Miss Bennet’s indifference with reference to the details I had memorized while closely observing the couple the previous night that he was convinced to retreat to London.
After he had finished writing the part of the letter which pertained to Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet, Darcy rose from the seat. He shook out his wrist. It hurt from the cramped and tight grip he had held the pen with.
The story of Mr. Wickham and Georgiana’s elopement was easier by far to write. As Elizabeth already knew that Georgiana had attempted to elope with Mr. Wickham, there was no reason for him to hold back any details, as he believed that the truth of the matter would encourage her to both continue to look favorably upon his sister, and for her to drop from her mindany notion that Wickham might be worthy for Georgiana.
Darcy penned the tale of the young man’s relation to his family, and when he finished writing it out, Darcy added to the letter:
I hardly need to add that what I have written about Mr. Wickham’s failings is to a great extent irrelevant. He was a penniless man who attached himself to a great heiress merely fifteen years of age, and with whom there had been a relationship of close trust to the family that has been completely ended.
Furthermore, rather than applying in any way to the girl’s guardians for the opportunity to court her, and to see if the attachment with this heiress barely out of her school room remained after an appropriate period of time, he conspired with her paid companion to convince the girl to elope, removing herself from the protection of her family and friends, and eloping to Scotland, unprotected — the question of whether such a man is sincere in his attachment hardly need arise in the mind of the guardian before he determines to end the scheme, and separate the young couple forthwith.
If you think I must defend my actions in that respect further, I believe we have simply so different a notion of what the duty of a guardian is towards one who is not yet of age, and in their protection, as to concern me greatly given the chance that fate may yet require us to raise children in partnership at a future time.
Darcy looked at that line.
Frowned.
He did not want to suggest anything about their marital congress.
He could not go to her again while she disliked theprospect. Forcing a woman, even his wife… forcing her… or even having her whilst she merely tolerated him out of duty.
I don’t want that. That isn’t what I want. I need her to desire me, to lust for me as I lust for her. I need her to look forward with pleasure towards my touch.
