Posted on Monday, 6 August 2001
Author's note: Just a thought of what might have happened if Bingley never returned to Netherfield, and Elizabeth never forgave Darcy for breaking her sister's heart ...
Caroline is weeping, my dear friend. The first time I have seen her shed honest tears. The pain is done and so is our friendship, but I know I selfishly betrayed you years ago. I do not understand why you stayed by my side, even when you discovered my treachery, but I am forever grateful that you have done so.
You have been the one forgiving soul in this blight I have made of my life. Your kindness to Georgiana will never be forgotten, either by her or myself. You challenged me, word for word, cruelty for cruelty, when I was determined to marry her off to someone of social equal. You reminded me what that cost, for both of us, and I found myself unable to barter her away as you so eloquently accused me of.
Georgiana is beyond contentment now, and I see that financial matters really have no concern when it comes to the heart and all its Byzantine mechanisms. Her husband adores her still, I can see the love in his eyes fire alight whenever she flickers across his sight. It matters not that he is a Colonial, and one of inconsequent birth. He will protect her and treasure her better than her brother ever could. So, I must do what a guardian must when there is a better challenger - bow and disappear as I am only a poorer second.
I realized the gravity of my mistake when I saw your face pale as you read the banns announcing her engagement to a gentleman of passing acquaintance. You whispered her name once before the paper crumpled in your grasp. I wanted to say something eloquent, something soothing, but what fell from my lips were disparaging remarks of her parentage and of her unsuitable background.
"She is a country girl. Nothing more, Charles. I simply do not understand why you must go on about someone so undeserving of your affections. Only that you have too tender a heart, and it is in need of some harsh lessons."
You did not say a word to contrast my lies, and I knew then I had done you great wrong. I also admitted then, but did not have the courage to tell you to follow your heart. To post that letter, that letter hidden between volumes of poetry on the second shelf, curled about with a ribbon loosened from her hair, to Longbourn where she waited, patiently, for nearly two years. However, in the end, I could not stand the thought of you begging forgiveness, especially when the person who wronged was myself. So I kept my lips pressed tightly, praying it will pass in due course.
I met Elizabeth only once after she rejected my suit. Her eyes were filled with unspoken adoration for the man anchoring her right hand. I did not know who he was, only that when she saw me, her face paled, her eyes cut away in disdain. She swayed her guide to cross the street so we may not have to greet each other. He didn't seem a gentleman, but when I turned to study them, he looked to be more when she blessed him with her particular grace.
Her rejection cut through years of taught control, but once again I straightened myself and went about on my business. Pemberley needed a master and I needed a task. And you, you required only her, and even though you did not return to Netherfield, it took you two and ten years before releasing the lease to another. And all that time I continuously told myself it was a good thing, an act of kindness I have performed, convincing you of her disinterest of your tender heart.
I wish I was wiser.
I wish I had told you to post that damned letter.
When you finally returned to Netherfield for those six days to appropriate the legal tenders, I was terrified. That was why I accompanied you, and when you saw her, I knew. I told myself it wasn't meant to be, between you and her, but when I saw the light in your eyes die as she escorted her children down the road, I was made a wiser, more shameful man.
She raised her head then and saw us. There was a tremulous smile and she braved that chasm of a distance to greet the two who betrayed her so casually in her gentle youth. She was kind. She was forgiving. She was honest in her concern for our welfare.
I saw how tight your fists were curled, and the painful way you held yourself. I saw your greedy eyes graze over the two fair-haired boys tugging at her skirt, laughing, demanding, loving and being loved.
I wish I had told you to post that damned letter.
When the words dried out, and old pains threatened to raise their ugly heads, she was the courageous one to wish us well and walk away, giving us a reprieve from making awkward excuses of farewell. I saw your eyes latch onto her form, and you were right, Charles. She was as beautiful as the night you first set your eyes on her.
I tried then to introduce you to someone, anyone, but no one was quite like Jane. And I knew this lack because I could never find someone of Elizabeth's equal. So, you filled your life with charity and work, setting noble deeds so far and wide, they talk of your goodness in Paris. And I, I stood by your side, the solemn Brutus to your Caesar.
In your deathbed, you began to whisper her name, once again the eager, guileless suitor to a beautiful maiden in a countryside that no longer exists. I ran downstairs, found the letter and returned to your side. You saw the aged, yellowed envelope in my hand and smiled.
"You will mail it for me, won't you, Darcy?"
"I will do one better, my dear friend. I will personally deliver it to Miss Bennet then fetch her so she will be with you when dawn comes. Netherfield needs a lady like Ms. Bennet to tame its country borders."
"Thank you, Darcy. You are the truest brother I know."
Caroline is weeping, my dear friend. The first time I have seen her shed honest tears. I prayed I could weep, but heaven doesn't allow Brutus and his ilk to shed false tears.
I wish I was wiser.
I wish I mailed that letter all those years ago.