Yours truly, Mr. Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Denise O'Hara

  “It is a delicate situation, Miss Elizabeth. I do not have the authority to reveal that information. But I assure you, if there was not a lady’s reputation to consider, his conduct would be made public.”

  Mrs. Bennet reentered the room then and on seeing Mr. Bingley with Lizzy instead of next to Jane, she had the most puzzled look on her face.

  Noticing this, Lizzy said, “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Bingley. I think I can manage from here.”

  “Anytime, Miss Elizabeth,” he said and returned to his place by Jane, much to Mrs. Bennet’s relief.

  Lizzy stayed where she was and looked out of the window, contemplating this new information. Had she gotten everything wrong? How was her judgement of character so off course? She took out her letters and reread them. The circumstances about the letter writer’s sister would be just such a situation that might have caused Mr. Darcy to keep what he knew of Mr. Wickham private. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. For a moment she contemplated that it might be Mr. Darcy who had written the letters. But no, it could not be.

  “Ah, Mr. Bingley! How are you this morning, sir?” asked Mr. Bennet as he entered the sitting room. “I must tell you I have not had such a nice day out of doors in quite a while. And I very much enjoyed the conversation I had with your friend, Mr. Darcy. He has excellent taste in literature, I give him that.”

  “I am very happy to hear that you enjoyed yourself, Mr. Bennet! We must do it again sometime.”

  “We just may, Mr. Bingley. I came to fetch my reading glasses. Oh, yes, there they are. Alright then, carry on,” he said as he left the room.

  Lizzy did not know who the letter writer was that she was beginning to have admiration for. Regardless, it was beginning to look like Mr. Darcy was not the villain he was made out to be.

  Dear friend,

  Thank you for your advice. I have had conversations to inquire of those, as you say, who have steady good sense. Thus far, I have found that you were, in fact, correct in your understanding of human nature, and I have much to learn. I thank you.

  I have enjoyed the book immensely. I am taking my time and savoring it. I have not been disappointed. I am using my time to reflect on my new understanding and reading your wonderful book, so please excuse my letter for being short. The next will be filled with questions and opinions about the book.

  Your friend

  Whom had she asked he wondered? He doubted it was Miss Bingley, for they did not seem to interact much as of late. That only left Mr. Bingley. He would find out if Miss Elizabeth had made any inquiries on the subject of Mr. Wickham.

  “Whatever has made you ask such a thing Darcy? Miss Elizabeth just asked me about that gentleman yesterday?”

  “Did she? And what did you tell her? Please start from the beginning, Bingley.”

  After Bingley related the whole of the conversation, Mr. Darcy sighed with relief and smiled. His plan might just work. It was a very good sign if she were beginning to question Wickham’s lies.

  She had also brought up an important point in her conversation with his friend. One Darcy could not in good conscience dismiss or ignore. “Thank you, Bingley. You handled that very well. Would you repeat her questioning, how did she phrase it, my having not made Wickham’s conduct public knowledge for the benefit of all that may cross the man’s path?”

  “Those were her words, yes. She said it seemed shocking that you would allow unsuspecting people to be taken in by such a person.”

  “She is very direct in her rebuke of me,” Darcy looked at his friend with a smile.

  “Yes,” Bingley replied with a knowing smile. “From my acquaintance with her I would say Miss Elizabeth can be quite decisive in her opinions. It is obvious she is a favorite of her father’s for that very reason. Her words do make one stop and think.”

  “Indeed, those words will hang on my conscience if I do nothing to begin to remedy the situation. I believe I owe something to a young woman whose future is no less important than my sister’s was. I shall begin with a call on her uncle. If you will excuse me, my friend, I have urgent business to attend to. If I am not back for tea, do not wait for me,” he said as he left Netherfield and headed to a farm on the outskirts of town to pay a call on a Mr. King.

  Chapter Eleven

  Good Day,

  I am very pleased you are enjoying the book! I had every reason to believe you would. As I mentioned in my last correspondence, it was a gift. I do not think I mentioned that it was from my sister, who like myself, loves to read anything new she can get her hands on. I place a high value on passing down the appreciation for such vital pleasures which also benefit the mind in ways few other activities can. Perhaps I feel as I do because, like you describe your own father, ours was a scholarly man who kept a good library.

  From what I have learned of you thus far, I believe you to have a keen mind and ready opinions. I thank you for your comment of my having imparted to you some meaningful advice. It does make one feel good to be useful. I believe that is a truth universally acknowledged regardless of age or gender.

  I have also learned much from your profound observations. I am happy to inform you that I have put your clarifications to my questions to good use. I am trying to take into account the many circumstances which I may have formerly misinterpreted or allowed myself to be blind to as a result of prejudice. Your forthright counsel has not fallen on deaf ears, I assure you.

  The weather has been exceptionally fine, has it not? If it is either too warm or too cold, the time spent outdoors is already determined. I do hope we are in for a damp and wet day soon. I feel the need to go exploring in a particularly fine wooded area I saw near Meryton!

  I am eagerly anticipating your comments on the unique piece of literature you are reading.

  Yours Truly

  Elizabeth stood leaning against a nearby tree and read this latest letter. She liked this letter writer very much. He expressed himself so well and she could imagine many enjoyable conversations with him. She wondered if they would ever meet. She stayed where she was for a time rereading his letter and reflecting on what an interesting situation this was, getting to know someone by their written words alone. She had to make herself break her contemplation and return to accompany Jane into town.

  Mr. Wickham was in a foul mood that morning. Miss King’s Uncle had suddenly called off Wickham’s engagement to his niece. His only explanation being that Mr. Wickham was not the man he had thought he was. By early morning, his former fiancé was being whisked away to another part of the country, out of Wickham’s reach forever.

  Darcy. Somehow Darcy had something to do with this. As he walked out of the barracks, he saw the Bennet sisters coming into town. Thinking their soothing attentions might just be the balm for his open wounds, he began to head in their direction. Before he had taken but a few steps he noticed Darcy and Mr. Bingley approaching the two eldest Bennet sisters. What have we here? wondered Wickham. He was surprised to see Elizabeth on friendly terms with Darcy.

  He stayed until closing time at the local pub and plotted out his revenge on Darcy. Surely it was not too late to get Elizabeth back? He staggered out of the pub and tripped over a step. Falling on his face, he hit the edge of the stoop on the way down. All of his companions rushed to his aid. His head was bleeding and he was unconscious.

  Dear friend,

  I apologize for not waiting to finish your book before replying, but I find I am savoring it like a fine tea.

  I rarely enjoy conversations such as I have been participating in with you. I wonder at this form of communication being underrated for strangers who wish to become better acquainted! It seems to me that, without our features showing our surprise or censure in our expressions, we have time to ponder the other person’s thought without being ready with an answer in a moment’s time. There must be a great advantage in taking the extra time to consider matters before drawing conclusions. I may just have to discontinue any other means of interacting with a few particular indivi
duals for the sake of better relationships.

  Your idea of it feeling good to be useful is a simple but illuminating one. I have never thought of it that way. On consideration, I suppose we must sometimes actively choose to provide others with opportunities to be useful, that they, too, may get the satisfaction from it. A willful and independent attitude will always have its merits, but those very traits might also prevent us from sharing those occasions of need with others, resulting in a beneficial interchange between two parties. I am determined to act on your information and see if it does not bring a mutually favorable experience to me and the other who shall be involved in the experiment. I will keep you informed of the developments.

  You now have me looking out my window each new day in hopes of there being the conditions outside which you have me expecting to find inspiring!

  A Friend

  Lizzy returned from her morning walk and was instantly met by her mother upon arriving back at Longbourn. “Lizzie, Lizzie, where have you been? Mr. Wickham has been in an accident and is asking for you,” said her mother. “You must hurry!”

  “Are you sure he is asking for me? How bad is his condition?”

  “Yes, yes, he is most certainly asking for you.”

  Confused Lizzie hurriedly left with her Mother in the carriage.

  “Ah, Mrs. Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, thank you for coming so quickly,” Dr. Antrobus said as the ladies entered his practice. “Mr. Wickham was unconscious when he arrived but has woken up now. He has a concussion. He just keeps saying your name, Elizabeth Bennet. I must warn you though; his sight seems to have suffered. It is hard to tell with cases such as this, only time will tell if he regains his full vision. I was able to sew up the gash in his forehead nicely though. I doubt he will be left with any scar at all, ” Doctor Antrobus explained. “This way, ladies.” He ushered them into a room at the back of his practice. “Mr. Wickham, Miss Elizabeth Bennet is here.”

  “Elizabeth? Is it really you?”

  “Yes. How are you?”

  “Is anyone else here?”

  “I am here, Mr. Wickham. It is Mrs. Bennet.”

  “Thank you for coming. You were always so kind to me. And I have gone and thrown all of it away. Please grant me forgiveness for my actions for which I am truly sorry!” he began to cry.

  “Now, now, Mr. Wickham, you are among friends. Do not distress yourself,” comforted Mrs. Bennet.

  “You are too good,” he replied with much emotion still in his voice. “What have I done? Oh, what have I done?”

  “Calm yourself, sir. You must try,” the lady once again admonished.

  Taking a deep breath and regaining some decorum, he asked, “Mrs. Bennet, may I have a private word with your daughter?”

  “Of course, of course!” said Mrs. Bennet as she hurried out to give them privacy.

  “Would you not rather I send for Miss King, Mr. Wickham? Lizzy suggested.

  “I have called off the engagement and sent her away. Who knows what is to become of me now, but I need to explain to you what happened on the last night I spoke with you,” he said with such despair and so quietly she could just barely hear him.

  After a long pause, he spoke slowly. “I had just returned from helping my friend in need, you know, when I ran into Darcy after the Netherfield Ball. He asked me what I was in such good spirits about. I felt on top of the world and shared my happy news with him. I told him he might congratulate me for I had the most wonderful girl in the world and my Mother’s ring in my pocket.” Mr. Wickham’s oration stopped as his face showed his extreme distress, and he needed a moment to collect himself.

  Taking a deep breath, he sighed and continued, “Darcy reminded me that I would never make more than a soldier’s wage and I can barely make it on that, much less support a wife. He said, among other things, that I was as selfish a being now as I had ever been. He said I would leave you alone if I were any kind of a man. I knew he was right, as hard as it was for me to admit and even harder to accept. But I knew I had to face the truth. I decided to go for a clean break from the only woman I will ever love, and I thought I might as well settle for a woman with money. I know it was wrong of me, but I was convinced at the time that I was acting in both of our best interest. But I could not go through with it. I could not put you out of my mind, no matter how hard I tried. Please, I beg for your forgiveness, my dearest Lizzie!” he asked as he began to cry in earnest.

  “Mr. Wickham, please do not distress yourself! I have long understood the difficulties finances can have when it comes to making a connection.”

  “Is there, is there any chance I might still claim your heart, Elizabeth? No, do not answer that! I have no right. I do not yet know if I am to be a blind man for the duration of my life. Please forgive me for asking such a foolish and selfish question!”

  “There will be time to discuss such things when you are a little better, Mr. Wickham. Right now you need your rest.”

  “May I hold your hand in mine for but a moment, my dearest Lizzie?

  She gave it to him and he kissed it so lovingly. He had done it once before when they were walking behind the others of their group. It stirred something familiar inside of her but not as it had the first time. She felt compassion for him and pushed aside all else for the moment.

  “I will come again to visit, Mr. Wickham. You get some rest now.”

  As she and her Mother rode in the carriage home, her thoughts and emotions were in disarray. She remained wary of his true character. However, one would have to be a very fine actor to be as effective as he was in his sincerity. It was all so confusing! His account and Mr. Darcy’s were so opposite of each other’s. Who was to be believed?

  Chapter Twelve

  “Well, ladies, it is good of you to visit my patient again today. I am happy to report that Mr. Wickham’s head wound is healing nicely, and he will soon be released,” commented Doctor Antrobus.

  “That is good news, is it not, Mr. Wickham?” asked Mrs. Bennet. Her partiality for a man in uniform and Mr. Wickham’s turning his attention back to her daughter had quickly returned him to his favored position with the lady again.

  Yes, very good news indeed. I cannot help but ask you, Doctor, where am I to go? For I fear the barracks are no place for a blind man.”

  “Of course, you will need special attention, Mr. Wickham! You must come and stay at Longbourn for a few weeks until your condition is better known.”

  “Mrs. Bennet, you are too kind, madam! But then you always were the most compassionate and accommodating of friends I have ever had the privilege of knowing. Thank you, I feel I had better accept your generous offer.”

  Some in the household of Longbourn were thrilled by their guest who was as charming and delightful as he used to be. Lydia and Kitty in particular could not do enough for their guest. Within a few days, he acknowledged that his sight had come back somewhat, though he could still only make out shadows.

  “If only I can see your lovely face once again, my dear Lizzy! I would then be satisfied with this burden I bear,” Mr. Wickham lovingly said to her one day when she came to see if there was anything he needed. They were soon interrupted by Hill, informing Lizzy that she was needed by her mother.

  “I will return soon, Mr. Wickham,” she said as she put down the book she had been reading and followed Hill downstairs.

  Alone, Mr. Wickham quickly picked up and looked at the book. He recognized it immediately as Darcy’s. Georgiana had been reading a copy of it when they were together. She had talked about it quite a bit. He had helped her choose a nice edition as a gift for her brother. He thought back to how she had simply written in the back of the book to F. from G. How did it find its way here?

  When Lizzy returned and picked up her book he asked, “What is it you have there? Is it a book perhaps? I can barely make it out but it seems I must get used to identifying objects just from there shapes.”

  “Yes, that is very good. You are making good progress, sir. It is in fact a book.
”

  “Oh, and what book are you reading, may I ask?”

  “It is Don Quixote.”

  “Is it indeed? Why, it is a favorite of mine. How did you come to be in possession of it? I mean, is it from your father’s library? Pardon my surprise, it is just that publication can be quite expensive, unless, of course, it is a cheap copy. Though again, I would be surprised at such being in your father’s library.”

  “Well, I, well,” she stumbled, being caught off guard by the inquiry. “It is not from my father’s library. I happened to find it. I am looking into finding its owner, for you are correct; it is a very fine copy indeed. I did not realize you were such a lover of literature, Mr. Wickham.”

  Deciding this presented a good opportunity to allude to the inscription shy Georgiana had hesitantly put in the back of the book, he replied, “Oh, yes, I suppose that did not come up when we were first getting to know one another. It has, to be honest, a very personal meaning to me. I gave it as a gift to Father,” he emphasized, “shortly before he died.”

  Elizabeth sat there stunned. To Father from George could be the meaning. Had Wickham been the one sending the letters? “That would have special meaning to you, indeed. And I understood you were an only child, is that correct?”

  “Well, I am my father’s only….” he began. “But that will be a long story for another time. I will share it with you, but another time perhaps?” he said as he ran his hands through his hair and sighed deeply.

  “Certainly, I shall look forward to it. And Mr. Darcy has only a sister. Would you mind telling me their given names?”

  “If you want to know, I shall tell you. They are William and Georgiana.”

  Lizzy felt a definite disappointment on hearing that Darcy’s given name was William, instead of one that began with an F. She had not until that moment become conscious of how much her feelings for him had changed. If she were completely honest with herself, she admitted she had been hoping he had been the letter writer. Suddenly realizing she had been silent as she was contemplating Mr. Wickham’s answer, she asked, “And is Miss Darcy much like her brother?”