Page 76 of Mr. Darcy and the Mysterious "Miss B"
“Then at least you will have tried,” Jane replied. “But I do not think it is too late. A man does not fall in love as deeply as Mr Darcy has without the capacity for forgiveness.”
Elizabeth looked between her sisters, drawing strength from their love and support. Jane was right—she had to try to make this right. She only hoped that Darcy’s love was strong enough to overcome the wound her lack of faith had inflicted.
Chapter 27
Elizabeth
Elizabeth sat at the small writing desk in her chamber, a sheet of paper before her and a pen poised in her trembling hand. She had been staring at the blank page for nearly an hour, trying to find the words that might begin to repair the damage she had done.
The house had settled into evening quiet around her. Jane had gone to bed after spending the remainder of the day offering gentle comfort, whilst Lydia had retreated to her own chamber. Even the Gardiners had retired, leaving Elizabeth alone with her regrets and the impossible task of crafting an apology worthy of Darcy’s forgiveness.
She dipped her pen in the inkwell and began to write:
My Dear Mr Darcy,
I hardly know how to begin this letter, knowing how poorly I have served both your character and the trust you placed in me. I can only hope that you will read these words with the same generosity of spirit you have always shown, even to one as undeserving as myself.
I was wrong. Utterly, completely wrong to even consider the accusations brought against you by Mr Wickham and James Morton. I see now that I allowed my own fears and insecurities to cloud my judgement, and in doing so, I wounded the one person I would least wish to hurt.
Elizabeth paused, reading over what she had written. The words felt inadequate, too formal for the depth of her regret. She needed to explain not just that she was sorry, but why she had doubted him, why she had been so ready to believe the worst.
She continued:
I know that an apology cannot undo the pain I have caused you, but I must try to explain my actions, if only so you might understand that my doubt was born of my own failings and not any true question of your character. I have been so happy these past weeks, so content in your affection, that I began to fear it could not last. I am not used to such happiness, and perhaps I—
The pen scratched across the paper and then stopped altogether. Elizabeth looked down to see that the nib had bent, rendering it useless. She set it aside with a frustrated sigh and searched the desk for another, but found none.
Rising from her chair, she made her way to the door. Her mother’s chamber was just next door, and she was likely to have writing materials at her disposal.
She opened a drawer and placed the candle holder on the surface as she riffled through the drawer. She found what she was looking for at the back and pulled out a quill. As she did, she noted folded pages of a newspaper in the corner. Retrieving them, she held them to the light.
They were torn out pages from the scandal sheets that had first started her journey towards her engagement with Darcy. They were numbered in order of publication. She glanced into the drawer again and found another piece of paper. Her mother’s handwriting stared back at her and her blood grew cold. A list of dates and locations was written there clear asday.Matlock Ball—Attended by Caroline B. Darcy. Hursts. Earl of Matlock? Uncle. Lady Catherine De Bourgh? Aunt?London Tattler. London Caller. Morning Post.
Next to the newspapers were tick marks. Elizabeth lowered the pages. Her mother? Could her mother be responsible for all of this? She left the room and walked down the stairs, finding her mother asleep on the settee in the drawing room, a book beside her.
“Mama,” Elizabeth whispered, moving to wake her mother. “Mama, what is this?”
Mrs Bennet stirred and opened her eyes, immediately focusing on the papers in Elizabeth’s hands. Her face went pale in the moonlight.
“Oh dear,” she said weakly, struggling to sit up. “Elizabeth, what are you doing with those?”
“I came looking for a quill and found these in your desk.” Elizabeth held up the drafts, her voice shaking. “Mama, did you write the announcement about Mr Darcy and Miss Bingley?”
Mrs Bennet’s chin lifted with a hint of her usual defiance, though she looked thoroughly caught. “I may have started this campaign but it is not what you think.”
“Explain because it certainly looks just like what I think.”
“I was simply furious with Mr Darcy for interfering with Jane and Mr Bingley. Mr Bingley was Jane’s chance at happiness. Darcy ruined it all. So, I thought he should see what it is like to be forced into a courtship he does not want. I knew from Lydia how fond Miss Bingley was of him, and how much he disliked her. So, I thought I would write to some of the newspapers and say Mr Darcy had been seen with Miss Bingleyin a compromising position. I assumed there would be a ball of some sort, there always are in Town during the season and Lydia said Miss Bingley is a keen attendee at such events. And I included that he is the nephew of Lord Matlock, to give it some credibility. It was the paper that shortened the name to Miss B for anonymity’s sake.”
A chill ran through her. “You did this out of spite?”
“At first, yes. I wanted to punish him for what he did. He was rude to you and ruined Jane’s chance.” Mrs Bennet’s voice softened. “When I saw a story had been included in the paper, I simply wrote another, stating an engagement was imminent. I wanted to show him what it was like for Jane to be so trapped.”
“Mama, how could you? That is… that is wicked.”
“Is it? He deserved it. Besides, it turned everything around for us all.
“That is not the point! You manipulated us both into a situation we never wanted. You created lies and spread them publicly—”
