3. Chapter 3
Elizabeth,
I do not wish to quarrel with you. Might we speak about this rationally?
F
Mr. Darcy,
It would appear that rational thought is beyond you, and now I am incapable of speaking to you without becoming angry. If you wish to write to me, I will read it, but that is all I can promise at present.
E
Elizabeth,
I am sorry! I should not have shouted. I do not know what came over me.
That is untrue. I know exactly what came over me. Jealousy is a black beast and it overtook me today. Can you forgive me?
F
Mr. Darcy,
That is it?! That is all the reply I should expect? You are sorry? That you shouted? Truly? How do you not see what you should be truly sorry about?! I need a walk. I will read your reply when I return.
E
Elizabeth,
I have given it more thought, and you are correct. I should not have shouted, but more important is what led to the shouting. I should never have thought such things of you, my dear. I know better. I know you would never do such a thing—you would never dishonor me nor yourself in such a way. But when I saw you whispering and smiling at that man, looking so happy with him, I—I cannot explain it.
I lost control. I am sorry, my dear. I know not what else to say.
F
Fitzwilliam,
That is certainly a better apology than the one before it.
No, you should not have thought such things of me. Engaging in an affair outside my marriage would not only be wrong; it would go against everything I personally believe. It would be a betrayal of our trust, of our bond. I would never risk such a thing! How could you think it of me? Do you think I place so little value on our marriage?
And how could you think I would treat you so shabbily? I would never expose you to that kind of humiliation. I would never do something so vile, so evil! I would never, ever hurt you like that. And it would hurt me, too, for it would destroy what we have together, and that is the most important thing in the world to me. It would be incredibly foolish and selfish and shortsighted.
Besides everything else, every woman knows to remain faithful until she has given her husband an heir. I am insulted that you think I could be so stupid. And shallow. And hateful and cruel.
I would never think it of you. And I have greater reason! Are men not more likely to have a mistress than a woman is to have a lover? Do you not move through the world with much greater freedom than I? Do you not have the ability to walk away from such an encounter with little to no consequences and have no one be the wiser? Are you not under significantly less scrutiny than I am? And yet, I have not thought such a thing about you. Not once! Not even when Miss Bingley practically fell in your lap when we were visiting the Bingleys, or when Mrs. Carlton flirted so blatantly with you at the ball last month.
Because I trust you, Fitzwilliam.
As I thought you trusted me.
I need another walk.
E
Elizabeth,
I know you are right. I know you would never do such a thing. I do not know what came over me. I saw him, I saw you, and I was filled with rage and despair. I am wholly irrational when it comes to you, my love. When you smiled at him, the way you smile at me sometimes, it was as if my greatest fear were coming true. That someone else had stolen your heart.
I know it is nonsensical, but that is the truth.
This may not be wise, but I must ask. Who was that man? What was he doing here? Why were you speaking to him so familiarly?
F
Fitzwilliam,
You are right about one thing; you are terribly irrational. I am glad we are having this conversation through notes or I would have marched off in a huff by now. This way, I may pace to my heart’s content and then respond in a somewhat rational manner.
If you must know, I had never met that man before today. We had corresponded briefly before today’s visit because he is a tradesman I have purchased something from. He was making a delivery of a gift I ordered some months ago. For you—for your birthday next week. You probably saw me smiling the way I do at you because we were discussing you, and how much I thought you would like the gift.
It is quite intricate, and he was showing me a diagram of how it works. He was about to begin putting it together when you stormed in like a raging bull.
The poor man is likely halfway back to Liverpool by now and I shall have to figure out how to put the machine together myself. Mayhap I will ask Jonathon Fitzwilliam to assist me when he comes for dinner tomorrow. Or perhaps that would be too much like conversing with another man, which I am clearly not allowed to do.
I will be certain not to smile at your cousin when he arrives. He is a vicar, and family, but clearly I cannot be trusted to even be near the male sex.
E
Elizabeth,
How can I make it up to you? You are right and I am ridiculous. Knowing that you were arranging a gift for me only makes it all so much worse. Please, tell me how I may make it right.
F
Fitzwilliam,
I am trying to understand your point of view, and how I would feel if I walked into a room and saw you speaking to an unknown woman. I do not think I would begin shouting and expel her from Pemberley without asking a single question, but I might feel some concern over who she was and what you were doing with her. I would ask before acting, of course.
I am trying to understand your fear, though it seems outrageous to me. You are the far more desirable of the two of us. And I do not think I have ever given you reason to think I would stray—have I? But I know that fears are not rational and that we mostly just feel what we feel, without much rhyme or reason.
I accept your apology, and I will think on an appropriate penance for you. Mayhap I will carry the day in our garden discussion and I shall have the tulip border you thought would not suit the empty patch in the formal gardens.
E
Elizabeth,
How do you not know how desirable you are? In town last month, all you had to do was crook your finger and you could have had whatever male company you desired. Did you not notice how their eyes followed you when you danced? Or how you never sat out a set? I have never glared at so many men in my life!
I begin to see part of our problem now, dearest. We each think the other is more desirable than ourselves. Though I can say with some level of certainty that finding a paramour would be easier for you to do than me. What am I saying? I do not wish to encourage you. I can hear you laughing in my mind, telling me how silly I am being.
What I mean to say is this. Elizabeth, I would be devastated should you take up with another. And after seeing how good an impression you made on the men in town, and hearing some of their comments (which I will not repeat, so do not even ask me), I am more sensitive than usual. And I have been so busy of late with the spring planting, I worried I had neglected you. Seeing you today, well, it was perfectly designed to remind me that if you chose to, you could have another companion in a moment.
The confluence of events was not ideal.
I am speaking in circles. My love, please open the door and let me in. I am desperate to hold you.
Your Husband
16 May, 1813
Pemberley, Derbyshire
Dearest Elizabeth,
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for my gift. I have long wanted a telescope, but for one reason or another, I never purchased one. It was incredibly thoughtful of you, and very generous considering the circumstances surrounding its coming to be here.
Tonight, after I have made love to you so thoroughly you will never doubt my faith in you again, we may look at the stars together. You can show me your favorite constellations and I will keep you warm.
Thank you again, my sweet.
All my love,
FD