Page 34 of Moments of Truth
Elizabeth’s hand trembled as she received it, her heart beating with a swiftness that recalled a racehorse at full gallop.
“Ask the boy to wait, Nancy. We may send him back with a reply.”
The maid departed, and Elizabeth broke the seal, glancing at her friend in astonishment.
“Read it, Lizzy. I shall fetch paper, quill, and ink.”
Elizabeth unfolded the message. At once she recognised Mr. Darcy’s hand, precise and elegant, and began to read.
Rosings
Friday, April 10, 1812, Evening
Dear Miss Bennet,
I hope this note finds you well. Upon reflection, and after reading your kind letter, I perceive how grievously remiss I have been. I have caused you needless distress. Believe me, I regret it most sincerely.
Plainly, I ought to have spoken openly and candidly, rather than permitting my pride and reserve to cloud every effort at communication. I entreat you to believe that it was never my intention to wound or to confuse.
I leave for London on the morrow; but I shall seek, at the earliest moment, an opportunity to make amends. Until then, accept my heartfelt regret, and believe that I long to speak with you properly, as I should have done from the first.
Yours most sincerely,
Fitzwilliam Darcy
The note was brief, yet its words transformed everything. Only the day before, Elizabeth had marvelled that Mr. Darcy could humble himself enough to avow his love. And now, confronted with the tender remorse of his apology, she felt her own regret pierce deeper. He had put aside his pride for her sake; what folly it had been not to give him a chance. It seemed beyond question that he truly cared, since he was willing to sacrifice his vanity, risk his dignity, and seek reconciliation where another man might have retreated into silence.
Elizabeth’s thoughts flew back to Charlotte, whose decision now appeared both wise and provident. Both she and Darcy had written almost at the same hour, each groping toward the other through the barrier of wounded pride.
Her emotions rose tumultuously as she considered how to reply. She had not imagined, minutes earlier, that she would face such a decision before the night was out.
Charlotte soon returned with the writing materials. Elizabeth silently handed her Darcy’s note. Charlotte read it, sighed deeply, and pushed the fresh paper toward her. “Write, Lizzy. It must be short, it must be guarded—but for heaven’s sake, write something!”
Elizabeth sighed in response and then carefully dipped the quill pen into the inkwell and wrote quickly and effortlessly as if someone else was dictating the words to her.
Hunsford, Friday Evening
Dear Mr. Darcy,
I thank you for your unexpected note. Your words and your sincerity are gratefully received. Much remains unsaid between us, yet I trust that time will grant us another opportunity. I look forward to speaking with you properly when Providence shall bring our paths together again.
Safe travels,
Elizabeth Bennet
She reread the note, shaking her head in dissatisfaction, for there was so much more that might have been written, thoughthe moment was not yet ripe for so full a disclosure. At the very least, she hoped that by leaving open the possibility of further discourse, they might one day resolve their misunderstandings, soften their resentments, and discover some path to reconciliation. Only a few minutes earlier—before the message had arrived from Rosings—she had believed she might not see Mr. Darcy again for a very long time, if ever. Now, with her pen having traced but a few hurried lines, a faint glimmer of hope stirred amidst her doubts.
Elizabeth sealed her reply in haste, scarcely able to believe she had written so little. Yet brevity seemed her only safety; anything longer might have betrayed too much of her heart, and she trembled at the thought of her secret feelings laid bare before him. Handing the folded note to Nancy, she whispered, “Pray give this at once to the boy, and bid him deliver it directly. Wait—he has travelled at this late hour, and it would be unkind to send him away unrewarded. Take a sixpence for him.” The maid curtsied, clutching the message as though it were a treasure, and hurried out of the parlour. Elizabeth’s eyes followed her until the door closed, her breath caught between relief and dread, her hands trembling in her lap.
As the sound of Nancy’s steps faded into the passage, Elizabeth pressed her palms together and lifted her gaze to the fire, half-hoping, half-doubting that her words might be received with gentleness. Would Mr. Darcy discern the sincerity hidden within those restrained lines? Or would he take them as cold civility, a mere courtesy born of obligation? A pang of fear seized her—what if he thought her indifferent, or worse, disdainful still? She longed for him to perceive in her note the quiet wish for reconciliation, the tacit confession that her judgments had been hasty, and that her heart, though guarded, was not insensible to his regard.
Charlotte, seated beside her with watchful calm, leaned close and said softly, “Do not distress yourself, Lizzy. Whatever words you chose, Mr. Darcy will perceive the spirit in which they were written. A man of his character cannot mistake an honest intention, once it is placed before him.”
Elizabeth turned her face slightly, meeting her friend’s steady gaze with a wavering smile, but her uneasiness was not wholly quieted.If only he might forgive my rashness, she thought,and believe me capable of better sense. That he condescended to write again, after so decisive a refusal, is proof of his forbearance. Surely he deserves from me every effort at candour and humility. And yet—have I not already sunk too low in his opinion to be redeemed?
When at last she rose and went to the window, she spied the boy crossing the lane with nimble steps, her letter clutched carefully at his side. Her heart beat painfully fast, as though each stride carried away a piece of her fate. Would Mr. Darcy open her lines tonight, before sleep claimed him, and before his journey began? Would he discern them as she intended—a token of regret, a plea for patience, a faint but genuine wish for future understanding? Or would the moment pass, her words lost to indifference, the chance gone forever? In that instant, Elizabeth felt all her hopes bound up in a single slip of paper, and with it, the fragile possibility of restoring herself in the eyes of the man she had so unjustly misjudged.
SIX
