William, I love my sister, but I see her faults clearly. I am afraid that you may have begun to adopt her ‘maintenance of the distinction of rank’ nonsense. I know this may sound radical, but are we not all equal in His eyes? I do not know if I will be alive to teach you that character is far more important than an accident of birth and inherited wealth.
That is why my wish for you is that you find a woman whom you can love and respect, and she does the same in return. And, no, I do not mean only one of the first circles. For my part, as long as she is the daughter of a gentleman, it will be enough. What I do advise you is to not judge based on things which will not give you happiness or a good union.
Catherine is not only tone-deaf, but she is also uneducated. She always said that as the daughter of an earl she needed nothing beyond basic reading, writing, and sums. Your Uncle Reggie and I always believed that our sister was driven by indolence. She wanted the maximum gain for the least effort.
My prayer is that your father has helped you to understand that Catherine is not one to emulate in the way you see the world.
To his shame, as borne out by the way he had behaved in Hertfordshire and by the words of his proposal, Darcy had behaved far more like Aunt Catherine than anyone else. He had tried to comfort himself that Miss Elizabeth’s reproofs were for the most part wrong. Now, he saw they were all correct. He had been an unfeeling, arrogant horse’s arse. Rather than push them to the side, Darcy realised that to become a better man,one of whom his mother would have been proud, he needed to address all of the reproofs and make the needed amendments to his character. He was afraid his mother’s words would show him more ways he had erred, but he knew he must nevertheless read on.
I am only sorry that your father and I indulged you as a boy, which resulted in your being somewhat selfish. Had God allowed me to live on, I would have worked with your father to correct those faults in your character.
William, my dear son, do not misunderstand me. There is much positivity in you, far more than what I have spoken of here. Like your father, you will be the best of men who will care for all those who are dependent on you. That being said, I would be remiss if I did not point out the things I see which need to be changed.
That, William, is what true love is. We love one another enough that we are willing to be honest with them. If I loved you any less, what type of man you will grow into would not be so much of a concern for me.
“Mr Darcy, do you want to refresh yourself?” Carstens, who had been riding with his master, asked. He saw the tears prick Mr Darcy’s eyes but had not, and would not, comment on them.
As he shook off his mother’s words, Darcy realised the coach had come to a halt. They were at a coaching inn, and his valet was looking at him expectantly. “I am well and will remain here. Carstens, go do what you need to do and make sure the coachman, postillion, footmen, and outriders all have what they need to drink and eat,” Darcy instructed.
The valet alighted and closed the door.
Determined to finish the letter from his mother, Darcy sat back against the squabs and lifted the pages.
Now I must address the distasteful subject of George Wickham. I will attempt to open your father’s eyes regarding the boy, who is, in my mind, nothing short of evil. I pray I will be successful. In case I am not, you must be very vigilant with him. I get the feeling that the boy will not allow anything to get between him and that which he desires.
Before my lying in, I will speak to your father, and I will beg him to reevaluate all his support for young Wickham. I hope I will be able to influence your father in this matter.
Your father has another letter he will hand you on the day you marry. Until you read that one, these words will have to suffice. I agree; it is not enough, but it is all we have, my son.
The day I first held you was among the happiest of my life along with the day I wed your father, as will be the day I meet your brother or sister.
Never forget that I love you with all my heart. That love remains even if I am no longer in the mortal world.
Live a good life, William. With all my motherly love,
Mamma
Darcy felt some tears escape his eyes and roll down his cheeks. He cared not. He again thanked God for allowing him to find the letters. He wondered why Father never told him about the secret place in the wall.
It was then that Darcy remembered that his father’s death had been sudden and unexpected. His late father had, in Darcy’s opinion, thought that he had more than enough time to tell his son about the letters. At the same time, he thought about his arrogant and standoffish behaviour. How much would that have been different had he discovered Mother’s letters soon after Father’s death? That was unknown, so speculation gained him nothing.
He realised he needed to refresh himself. Hence, Darcy slipped his mother’s missive along with his father’s unread one into his inside jacket pocket. He alighted and entered the inn.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
For about a half hour after they departed the coaching inn, Darcy was deep in contemplation. He allowed his mother’s words to wash over him and wondered, if he had become the man she had believed him to have the potential of becoming, would Miss Elizabeth have still rejected him? As he could not change his past actions, Darcy told himself such thoughts were unproductive. All he could do now was to strive to be the kind of man of whom his mother would be proud.
Feeling ready, Darcy extracted his father’s epistle from his pocket. He broke the Darcy seal, the same one which was now his to use. He looked at his signet ring with the indented ‘D’ and some laurel around it. Seeing it reminded him that he had used it to seal the missive to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
He had to accept that even with her vituperative rejection of his proposal, she was never far from his thoughts. Now it was time to concentrate on his father’s writing.
25 March 1803
William,
My son,
I will hand you this letter after your tour (such as it is with the war on) because, like you, it is sometimes easier and better to put my thoughts in writing rather than try to verbalise them.
