Introducing Mrs. Collins
Dear Mrs Collins,
I sent this out with a rider to meet the morning post, in order that it reach you swiftly.
It is clear that you need to hear this news urgently, but I ask something of you: that you do not match that urgency in your response but proceed with some caution.
What I have to tell you is not the worst news, but it is not what you would wish to hear.
However, I can reassure you on one point: I know where he is.
Colonel Fitzwilliam was indeed injured at San Sebastián, at the second siege.
He suffered a bayonet wound to his shoulder, as well as a blow to the head, and more besides, not all from the enemy.
It was a very bad business all round. He was very disaffected by how the siege played out, and there was more to recover from than merely bodily injury.
He was sent to Tolbrooke Hall and was not well cared for there, receiving scant attention.
By the end of November, he was desperate to leave that place and was sufficiently recovered to be able to do so, though barely.
He wrote to ask me if he could stay at Pemberley, and I of course accepted.
I was shocked by his appearance when he arrived; he looked very different – scarred certainly but also unkempt, verging on wild.
But it is his demeanour that has changed the most; he is not the man you knew.
He is plagued by memories of the siege. He is not up to company.
He wakes in fits and spends his days in a dimmed room.
I do not know his plans; I doubt he has any. He has improved a little since he arrived, but he has no wish to see anyone and has forbidden me to write to anyone of his whereabouts for the time being, and I have agreed thus far. (I break with him in telling you of this.)
Mrs Collins, I do not know what is or was between yourself and my cousin, but I have suspected something in the past. If you can put any faith in my judgment, I ask you to do so now.
He is no state to be to you again what he once was.
I care deeply for him, and what I believe he needs is to live quietly, without disturbance, in peace.
I do not believe that the renewal of whatever was between you will benefit him. I know it will not benefit you.
But you must do as you see fit. I only ask for your careful consideration, and as I write this, I realise I need not ask it. I have benefited from your careful consideration in the past; I have no doubt it is still your way.
Yours sincerely,
F. Darcy