Chapter 18 Letter from Elizabeth Bennet to Fitzwilliam Darcy, 27 December 1811
My dear Mr. Darcy,
I have attempted to begin this letter several times, with different salutations:
“Dearest Fitzwilliam”
“My dear future husband”
“My beloved”
But as this is the very first letter I have ever written to you—though far from the last, I trust—it seems only proper to begin by observing the proprieties. And you cannot imagine the thrill it gives me to address you as my Mr. Darcy.
The enclosure of your letters gave me a long laugh, dear sir.
To think that we should each have endured our mutual imprisonment by composing long complaints to our relations!
How glad I am that you did not send them to your cousin.
I much prefer to enjoy them myself. Far from taking offence, I am quite flattered to have been termed a clever chit, not to mention compared to a military general.
I trust you will continue to interpret my clumsy errors as signs of strategic genius when we are married.
Such blindness seems to me a most desirable quality in a husband.
I have enclosed my own letters to Aunt Gardiner from the same period.
You will not find these so delightful, I fear, full as they are of my unjust interpretations of your character and motives.
I am more than a little tempted to burn them, but I cannot bring myself to destroy half the record of our courtship.
Once you have read them, I will keep all the letters together.
Perhaps one day our children will read them.
Our children! What a marvellous thought!
I trust you will not tarry long in London, sir.
All this business of settlements and licenses is most inconvenient to a young lady wishing to enjoy her engagement.
I should much prefer seeing you to making calls with Mamma.
It is an unavoidable duty, I know, and it makes her very happy to show “the future Mrs. Darcy” to all of Hertfordshire.
(And is it not an excellent appellation?
In that I certainly cannot complain.) But I should rather pass these happy days in your company.
Our wedding day cannot come soon enough.
Here, I ought to make some serious and eloquent declaration of my affections.
But will you understand me, dear sir, if I say that I am too happy to talk anything but nonsense?
My aunt Phillips called Jane the happiest bride she ever saw (and I must take this moment to remind you, just once, that I was, after all, entirely in the right as regards Jane and Charles, and I hope you will remember my remarkable good sense whenever we may disagree in future).
But in this, I am certain that I shall excel my sister, for while Jane does indeed smile a great deal of late, I seem to be constantly laughing.
Papa thinks I have grown as silly as my sisters. I tell him that I am merely overwhelmingly joyful, which I consider perfectly rational under the circumstances.
I want only one thing to make my joy complete, and that, of course, is your presence. Do make haste, my love.
Your impertinent and irrepressible bride,
Elizabeth