Your Reproofs of Me ~ A Short Story

Posted on Tuesday, 1 August 2006,

Author’s Note: This is a piece I wrote as part of a challenge and thought you might enjoy it.

Darcy could not sit still. He could barely abide standing in his own house now, in his own study where a plethora of correspondence awaited his attention. His steward had left those matters for the master to attend, for only he could make the decisions that would resolve them. But Darcy could not keep his mind from wandering back to Kent where he had been but a week ago where he had deposited his letter into her hand.

She must have already departed on her return to Longbourn. I wonder if she even bothered to read past the first lines.

He paced back and forth in front of the hearth trying to recall the exact words he began the letter that had taken him all night to compose, and he shuddered as he remembered how he had opened it.

“Do not be alarmed, Madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments, or renewal of those offers, which were last night so disgusting to you…”

He shook his head and sighed.

Why could I not have been less belligerent? She would not wish to read more if she thought I was insulting her still, not to her face but now on paper.

Then he stopped pacing and remembered her face when last he saw her in the early morning light filtering through the grove of trees at Rosings. He knew she was upset, and very unhappy at meeting him once more after so disastrous a previous evening. But he recalled her eyes though still filled with anger showed also the smallest amount of sadness. She also appeared more tired than out of sorts due to a lack of restful sleep, no doubt also caused by him.

It is not in her nature to be irate for long. Even in our banter at Netherfield when her sister was recovering, she was playful with her barbs but never malicious.

He felt such remorse at being the cause of her remaining so unhappy at having to be confronted by him again, but at the time he had to make sure she received that letter.

What a letter to have written! I had to state in no uncertain terms the reasoning for all my judgments and decisions. And no matter how distressing it made her, she would have persevered to read it in its entirety.

He sat down again behind his desk, and with elbows leaning on the top, his fingers raked his hair.

She was right in all her reproofs. And my letter showed just how arrogant I have become, how conceited I have been for thinking I knew what was best for all parties.

He recollected how he had condescended to be in a conspiracy with Bingley’s sisters to dissuade him of his attachment to Miss Jane Bennet even to the point of withholding the fact that she had come to visit him, and had been in town the entire winter.

Why would I listen to the likes of Miss Bingley rather than that of a person I knew in my heart to be trustworthy? What is so lacking in my character that I would stoop so low

Then he remembered her reproof of him. “…your selfish disdain of the feelings of others…”

Have I been such in regard to Bingley’s feelings on this matter? Has not his continued listless manner all this time denoted a departure from the way he usually rebounds from all his other encounters? Does that not tell me that Bingley suffers still from his separation from Miss Bennet? Could it not mean that Bingley is truly in love this time?

He sighed and picked up one of business letters in a vain attempt to clear his mind of such reprehensible self accusation to his moral fiber. He had only gotten past the first three words when his thoughts were invaded by her words again.

“…and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”

Why should she marry me when I did not give her the reasons she required to do so? I gave her only what society deemed worthy, that of wealth and prestige. She was never a mercenary as were others.

He was reminded again of Miss Bingley’s attraction, and all the other ‘Miss Bingleys’ of the town who only wished to use him to further uplift their status. When he again thought of Elizabeth he felt shame at what he had offered her that seemed so paltry in comparison to what she would wish for in a husband.

She wished an equal, someone whom she could respect and admire, someone she could talk to about the important issues of the world, of her life.

He shuddered as he summoned to mind how he had acted towards her during his ‘proposal’ that seemed now more a list of excuses of his delay in making her an offer.

I treated her as though I was her superior and rationalized how much better I was than she. The fact is she is my superior. She has substance while I am but veneer. I strut and act the peacock.

With his eyes closed now, his hand massaging his forehead, he allowed himself to be swallowed in his own misery at the thought of his never again seeing her sweet face. His mind conjured up images of her from the past year. In each she was smiling while she gently admonished him, or lightly chided him to make an effort at civility to others.

Even then she knew of my deficiency, but her reproofs were tender and kindly spoken as a caress to a spoiled child, and only became harsh when I provoked her to anger.

He knew that what she had asked of him, what he was now asking of himself would be a hard fought battle within his being so used to being isolated from others, set apart from those around him in his self imposed exile. He had to pull down the barriers that separated him from the rest of the world, and show her how much good he could accomplish with what she had given him.

Elizabeth, I have learnt at last from your reproofs, and will try to mend my ways to be the more caring man that you bid me become. I will be more aware of those around me, and give a larger portion of myself over to that endeavor.

He thought again of the letter written with such bitterness, and was reminded of the second accusation she laid at his feet.

At least she will not be in the clutches of the man who had trifled with Georgiana. At least now she is warned of Wickham’s treachery and would have all her sisters be wary of him.

Knowing him as he did, that Wickham was an opportunist, Darcy reasoned the man would not bother if his goals were too lofty to obtain without effort, and would instead look for easier conquests.

At least I have saved her from that misery.

And through his own misery at resigning himself to having lost her forever, Darcy made a vow to her.

I have changed, Elizabeth. You have seen to that. And if we were ever to meet again you will take note of my altered attitude, and perhaps may choose to associate with me once more.

But as he thought of the prospect of her ever wishing to renew a friendship with him, he blanched.

No, there is no reason to even hope of that likelihood. She will never want to see me again let alone speak to me other than an impartial greeting of indifferent acquaintances. I have no expectations to ever be in her company again, but I swear I will use all she has given me, and move on with my life.

And with his resolve set now, he again tried to busy himself with his correspondences that needed his attention. His mind calmed in now his own desires to be the man that Elizabeth wished of him.

The End