Pride and Proposals

If you are reading this letter, it means I have died. No doubt you will have learned the circumstances from Elizabeth’s letters to Georgiana. I do not wish you to mourn me. I had a good life. I could have wished for a glorious death in battle, but then there is something to be said for a death softened by laudanum and whisky and soft pillows.

I have left my affairs in good order. Thomas will, of course, inherit the estate, but I have settled an amount on Elizabeth and bequeathed her the house in Town, which is not part of the estate.

But that is not why I am writing this missive. I have a specific subject, one I thought to never raise with you but which now seems urgent.

I know that you love Elizabeth. In fact, you are in love with Elizabeth.

I am not angry. I can only applaud your taste and discernment. In hindsight, I realize that our engagement must have caused you some heartache, and I apologize most sincerely. I do not know how I would survive losing Elizabeth, and I am impressed at your discretion and endurance. However, at Rosings, I believed you disliked Elizabeth and thought her family beneath you. Only when I observed you in London following our betrothal did I begin to suspect the truth of your feelings. Your abrupt departure for America was confirmation of my suspicions.

Knowing your excessive sense of honor and guilt, you have undoubtedly, needlessly tortured yourself about your affection for Elizabeth. I never intended to breathe a word of this knowledge to you or anyone else. I had no desire to compound your guilt. Now on my deathbed, I understand how fortunate I am that the woman I love is loved by a man of honor whom I can trust.

I ask you to please help Elizabeth and take care of her. She is strong, but not always as strong as everyone assumes. My passing will be difficult for her. My parents will not be happy about my bequest and will make life difficult for her. You are the only one in a position to temper their disdain or help her with the legal issues. I thank God someone in my family will treat her with decency.

Elizabeth is a capable woman of good understanding, but her family situation is difficult. Many depend on her, but few take care of her. In many respects, she will be quite alone when I am gone.

Her father’s health is precarious, and her family’s finances even more so. The money I could free from the estate will help her support them, especially if she sells the townhouse. I believe Bingley has suffered some financial setbacks; his support for the Bennets cannot be relied on.

But the bigger problem is Wickham. Bingley sent regular support to the Wickhams for their extravagances. After Lydia’s death, Wickham continued to importune Jane for money. I offered to take over the management of the problem from Charles since Jane was entering her confinement.

I need not tell you that Wickham’s character has not improved over the past years. He is in his cups constantly and has run up considerable debts. I would be content to allow him to stew, but he has visited Longbourn and created all sorts of chaos for Elizabeth’s family. He flirts with Kitty, fights with Mr. Bennet, and tells Elizabeth’s mother tales of how you have mistreated him. He importunes the Bennets and the Bingleys for money and threatens to spread false rumors in Meryton about Lydia.

I granted him a small monthly income if he would keep a promise not to visit Meryton or say anything about the Bennet family to anyone. Yes, I know he is a worthless fellow and does not deserve any sum of money, but ‘tis a small cost for Elizabeth’s happiness.

Elizabeth never knew of my arrangement with Wickham. She would have suffered guilt and heartache for a situation she had no hand in creating. I have asked Thomas to continue the payments to Wickham after my death, but I have little hope that he will do so. He dislikes Elizabeth as much as my parents. I know not what Wickham’s next course of action will be, but he may badger Elizabeth or attempt some other means of trickery—particularly if he learns of my bequest to her. I know I can trust you to watch over Elizabeth and beware of Wickham.

There is another matter, a delicate matter, but it needs saying. I also know I can trust you to love her as she deserves to be loved. Do not let me or my death stand between you. If you wish to declare your love for her, do so with my blessing. The thought that you and Elizabeth might make each other happy lightens my heart considerably as I contemplate leaving this earth. You are a good man who would make her an excellent husband. Do not let some misguided sense of honor to my memory stand in the way of your happiness.

I caution you, however, that I know nothing of Elizabeth’s feelings toward you. While I did disabuse her of the notion that you dislike her, I know she has no suspicion of your true feelings. She once thought you proud, but I am unsure what sentiments she now harbors toward you. Perhaps I should have questioned her on the topic. However, I am only human and was never eager to discuss my love’s possible feelings for another man.

I can tell you this: I believe she could love you. In many ways, you and she are quite similar. But you must show her the best of yourself and not the face that you present to the rest of the world.

Beloved cousin. My oldest and dearest friend. I am only sorry I cannot say goodbye to you in person. You have been far more than a cousin to me—far more a brother than those of my flesh. Knowing you has made my life happier in many ways.

&

nbsp; With all my love,

Richard

Darcy was unaware how long he sat at his desk, staring at the letter in his hand. His heart was beating an erratic rhythm, and his eyes were moist. The fingers clutching the letter trembled slightly. A cold sweat had broken out all over his body.

He had been wrong. The letter’s contents were far more shocking than hidden treasure or a bastard child. While reading it, Darcy had received shock after shock. Even now he struggled to absorb all the information it had contained.

Richard had guessed his love for Elizabeth. Oh, Good Lord.

Darcy dropped the letter and buried his face in his hands.

He should feel appalled at this revelation, and part of him was. But unexpectedly, he also experienced … relief. His darkest secret had been known and understood by the one person who had the most cause to resent it.

Darcy rubbed his face with his fingers, staring at the letter on the desk—yet more proof his cousin had been a far better man than Darcy could ever aspire to.

Even more surprising was Richard’s tacit permission to court Elizabeth. It was the last thing Darcy expected to find when he opened the letter. He could hardly believe it still, despite rereading that passage twice.

But then Darcy envisioned himself in Richard’s position. If Elizabeth were Darcy’s betrothed when he was dying … Yes, he would be relieved to know she had someone like Richard who would love and care for her. Perhaps the letter was not so hard to understand after all. Richard had loved her dearly and wanted to ensure her happiness.

Of course, who knows if I could make her happy?

He laid the letter flat on the desk and smoothed it with his hand, perusing again the pertinent passage.