Mary Lydon Simonsen - The Perfect Bride for Mr. Darcy

The morning after Mr. Darcys proposal, Elizabeth was able to leave Hunsford Lodge only after satisfying the Collinses that she was well enough to go on her morning walk. She was eager to get out of the house and away from her friends probing looks. Charlotte had seen Mr. Darcy leaving the parsonage the previous afternoon, but Lizzy had said nothing about his visit and had kept to her room after supper. She intended to share what had happened with Charlotte, but not now. She needed time alone to think.

To silence Mr. Collins and hasten her escape, Lizzy mentioned that she wished to begin the study of Fordyces Sermons . Mr. Collins had made a gift of the book earlier in the week when he came upon her reading a novel, a book he considered inappropriate for an unmarried woman to be reading without the supervision and guidance of her father. He would have been appalled to learn that she had read Tom Jones and Tristram Shandy in the library at Longbourn without any supervision and at the recommendation of her father. Finally, after multiple assurances regarding her health, the weather, distances, etc., she was allowed to leave the parsonage and immediately went in search of a place where she could reflect upon the events of the previous day.

Rosings Park had beautiful vistas at every turn, but Lizzys favorite was where woods and pastureland met. The contrast of the dark greens of the forest and the lush bright greens of the pastures made it a favorite stop, and at this slice of Eden, the de Bourghs had placed stone benches paralleling the path. It was the perfect place for reflection, but she was not to be alone this morning, as sitting on one of the benches was Mr. Darcy. It was too late to turn away because he had already seen her, so she pretended to be engrossed in her book so he might pretend not to have noticed her. But she soon realized his being in this particular spot was no accident. He quickly approached, and after asking her to do him the honor of reading his letter, he just as quickly departed.

After seeing Mr. Darcy well down the lane, Lizzy turned her full attention to his letter, and after finishing it, had to restrain herself from tearing it to shreds and scattering it to the winds. What pride and insolence! His purpose was clear: He wished to put behind him forever all memories of the scene at Hunsford Lodge. In this, they were in complete agreement. His words still echoed in her mind: how he had struggled to overcome his feelings for her, the inferiority of her connections, rejoicing in his success in separating Bingley from Jane, her pride, his shame. But before he could close the door on this chapter of his life, he demanded her attention one last time in order to justify his actions and refute her assertions.

For several minutes, Lizzy watched as a hundred black-faced sheep moved into the glade with three border collies nipping at their heels. The shepherd walked behind the flock, leaving the dogs to do their work. Was there such a view at Pemberley? Of course there was. The landed gentry and aristocracy all had the same things: great houses with portrait galleries and magnificent art, ballrooms and music rooms, gazebos and terraces, lower gardens, upper gardens, servants in livery behind every door. Yes, she could easily picture such a scene at Pemberley. And to think she might have been mistress of such an estate. Lizzy, who loved to laugh at the ridiculous, might have seen the humor in all of this if her emotions were not so raw.

Calmly, or so she believed, she began to reread Mr. Darcys letter from his point of view. It was easy to understand why he had started his letter by saying that there would be no repetition of his proposal. He was a proud man who believed he had honored Lizzy by making her an offer of marriage. She had wounded him, and he had lashed out at its source.

Then there was Mr. Darcys confession that he had willingly, knowingly, almost gleefully, separated Bingley from Jane. As a defense, he wrote that Bingley was often in love. That had given her pause. Often in love? Yes, she could see how that was possible. As a handsome and charming young man in possession of a large fortune, Bingley must have been sought out by many of the young ladies in London, and he could very well have imagined himself to be in love with some of them. In that regard, it was not unreasonable for Mr. Darcy to have believed that Jane was just another pretty face who had caught Bingleys eye. And did Janes natural humility and modesty create the impression that there was little affection on her part as evidenced by Mr. Darcys statement that the most acute observer would draw the conclusion that her heart was not likely to be easily touched?

The next part of the letter was particularly painful. Lizzy could hardly bring herself to reread Mr. Darcys description of the behavior of her mother and sisters. But what did he write that was not true? Her mother, in her understandable concern to see her daughters well married, acted inappropriately in her search for the familys savior: the man who would rescue the Bennet sisters from the consequences of the entail. After Darcy had learned that there was a general belief that Bingley and Jane were to become engaged, he did everything he could to separate the couple. But was that not something a true friend would do?

And then there was the matter of Mr. Wickham. If Mr. Darcy was unable to judge the depth of Janes regard for Mr. Bingley, then she had failed in discovering Wickhams true nature. In light of the events revealed in his letter, she knew in her heart that all he had written was true. She remembered, with embarrassment, how eager Wickham had been to expose the defects of Mr. Darcys character, and didnt Jane warn her to be skeptical of Wickhams assertions, wondering how it was possible that Darcys intimate friend could be so deceived as to his true nature? And was there any greater proof of Wickhams true character than his actions regarding sixteen-year-old Georgiana Darcy? It was impossible to believe that a brother would invent such a sordid tale and then share it with another.

Elizabeth removed her bonnet, hoping the breeze would clear her mind of all the horrible things she had said to Mr. Darcy regarding Wickham, including the accusation that he was responsible for Wickhams current state of poverty. As for Jane, it was true he had greatly injured her, but now she realized it was never his intention to cause Jane any pain. His actions were dictated by his concerns for his friend.

With the sun on her face, it was all becoming clearerwhy Mr. Darcy had followed her movements at Lucas Lodge, his asking her to dance at Netherfield, his visits to the parsonage, his meeting her on her daily walks, and his words at Rosings while she played the pianoforte: No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you can think anything wanting. And most of all, his declaration of love: You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.

Lizzy refolded the letter. At the ball at Netherfield, Mr. Darcy had asked that she not sketch his character as there was reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either of them. Oh, how true that statement was! She had refused to see any good in him because of the unkind remarks he had made at the assembly. As for his part, he had honored her with a proposal of marriage, but found it necessary to remind her of her inferior position in society and the failings of her family.

Her emotions were in turmoil. From the time she came into Kent, she had learned so much about him, and if she had not been so blinded by prejudice, she would have seen a very different Mr. Darcy from the gentleman she knew in Hertfordshire. His cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, held him in the highest regard and spoke of an amiable and conversant Mr. Darcy when amongst his friends. Despite his aunts overbearing nature, he visited Rosings because Lady Catherine was his mothers sister, and as such, was deserving of his attention, and Lizzy suspected, by looks exchanged between them, that he had a good relationship with Anne de Bourgh when her mother was not about. But was there anything that showed him in a better light than his affection and concern for his sister and the fear that must have gripped him when he believed he had lost her to a man with no scruples?