Betrayal

Betrayal

11 April 1812 Gracechurch Street

My Dearest Most Beloved Jane,

I am frustrated beyond measure that you will not be able to read this letter, but I have become accustomed to working out my frustrations with the pen, so a letter it is—even though you will arrive in a few hours, and I will simply hand it to you in person, or just say the words.

I must apologise for the sorry state of the page, for my tears are doing considerable damage.

How could he? How could a man pretend to be a gentleman, yet say such a horrid thing? How can a man boast to someone he barely knows of how vicious his friends are, as if such would give you pleasure? Perhaps he confused you with Miss Bingley, as I am most certain she would have enjoyed the tale immensely; although since she was no doubt a principal in the thing, she would not need to be told.

I must congratulate you on the forbearance you showed in leaving the hateful man behind to retire to your room. You need not chastise yourself over your refusal to go to Rosings for tea, nor to come downstairs to talk to him when the insufferable man came to call without a chaperone, nor for refusing to take your leave of him when he took his leave. You in fact showed an admirable level of restraint, and it shows just how much your character is to be esteemed .

In my fondest wishes, I wonder what I would have done, were I talking to the scoundrel, and he boasted about how his cousin Darcy saved Mr Bingley from the inconvenience of a most imprudent match , and then revelled in his cousin’s triumph.

In my dreams, I would either give him a setdown that would have him begging for his mother, or I take his walking stick and beat him half to death. In practise though, I believe my hated manners and even more despised timidity would have prevented both. I would have done just as you did. I would have left as quickly as possible, begged off visiting Rosings and spent the evening crying. Hateful Man! Hateful, Hateful Insufferable Man!!

I now find myself in a quandary. I cannot think of which of the three ‘gentlemen’ I think the worst of.

Mr Bingley is obviously either a rake just playing around with a country girl’s affections, or he is such a weak-willed milksop that he blows around as the wind carries him; and it apparently does not take much more than a breeze if he is willing to listen to advice from Mr Darcy , of all people.

Should you have shackled yourself to him, would he have been resolute and dependable, or would you have had his sister constantly underfoot, sneering at you, looking down at how you keep your home, and criticising how you raise your children? She would be little better than Lady Catherine.

What if you encountered some difficulties? Could you expect him to give your children the discipline necessary to grow up something better than our younger and sillier sisters, or worse yet, the superior sisters? He certainly made no effort to rein in his own sisters in his own house. You know as well as I do that you and I are only modestly tolerable because of the influence of our aunt and uncle. Would he abandon you if you were ill, or worse?

I will go no further. We should rejoice that you narrowly escaped a man less worthy than our cousin Collins, rather than having a real lover snatched away from you. Yes, Mr Bingley has certainly earned our disapproval .

What about the colonel himself? I am ashamed that a few days ago, I was encouraging your affections. What can a man say when he is proud of the fact that his cousin can lead a lamb to the slaughter. How much effort could it have taken, but I must say to take pride in that requires a certain kind of man that I wish to never have the displeasure to meet.

Most of my rage though is reserved for the worst of the lot, although I know not whether that is a rational assessment; or if I hate him so much just because he hates me.

I am left with the most vicious quandary. What could I or we possibly have done to offend Mr Darcy to such an extent that he not only quit the county, but dragged his friend away with him? All this time, since I happened upon him those months ago, and received such a look of derision, I have wondered if I would ever have the courage to just ask him given the opportunity. In the end, though my courage has usually risen to overcome any obstacles; I do not believe that I would. He is without a doubt the worst man I know, and to the best of my ability I shall never speak another word to him. I only wish that I could never have another thought of him as well, but at the very least I have come to a level of understanding and agreement with the man. I now hate him as much as he hates me.

I hear the carriage outside and can only hope that it is you arriving, so I must close and go down to offer what consolation and affection a sister can provide.

Your anxiously awaiting sister, Elizabeth