Today, we bid adieu to Netherfield, the place that has been the stage for so many varied scenes in these past months. The carriages were loaded under a stark grey sky that seemed to reflect the somber mood of our party, or perhaps it was merely my own spirits that painted such a hue upon the day.
As we set out for London, the countryside of Hertfordshire receded behind us, with its rolling hills and familiar roads giving way to the more imposing and less forgiving landscape of the city. Charles sat opposite me, his usual vivacity dimmed by the recent events, and it was not long before Caroline, with her penchant for teasing, sought to lift his spirits with a barb wrapped in jest.
"Oh, Charles," she began, her voice dripping with false sympathy, "to be parted from Miss Bennet! How shall you find the strength to endure such a trial?"
Her words, though light in tone, struck a chord, and Charles, with a rueful smile, replied, "Indeed, Caroline, you must allow me my feelings. They are not so easily set aside."
The banter continued, and soon Caroline's attentions turned to me, her eyes alight with mischief. "And you, Mr. Darcy," she cooed, "how will you survive without the pleasure of gazing into Miss Elizabeth Bennet's fine eyes?"
Her question, intended to provoke, instead sent a jolt through me, for the thought of Elizabeth and the prospect of not seeing her again was one I had been resolutely avoiding. Maintaining my composure, I answered with a coolness I did not entirely feel. "I assure you, Miss Bingley, that I am quite capable of managing my own affairs without the need for such distractions."
Yet, as we journeyed on, the image of Elizabeth, her eyes so expressive and lively, remained etched in my mind, a reminder of what I was leaving behind. The conversation in the carriage turned to other matters, but a part of me remained in Hertfordshire, in the company of a woman whose image I could not, and perhaps did not wish to, escape.
The hours passed, and London greeted us with its cacophony and bustle, a stark contrast to the relative peace of the country. We settled into our respective abodes, the Bingleys to their townhouse and I to my own. The evening brought solitude and the opportunity for reflection.
As I sit now, penning these words, I am forced to confront the disquiet in my heart. The decision to persuade Charles away from Jane Bennet was made with the best of intentions, yet I cannot shake the feeling that in doing so, I have somehow betrayed my own desires.
The distance between Elizabeth and myself may be measured in miles, but the true expanse that separates us is one of social expectations and familial duty. It is a chasm that seems insurmountable, and yet the thought of never seeing her again fills me with a sense of loss that is difficult to articulate.
The days ahead will no doubt be filled with the demands of city life and the expectations of my station, but the memory of Elizabeth, her intelligence, her wit, and yes, her fine eyes, will accompany me. They serve as a constant reminder of what I have left behind and of the questions that yet linger in my heart.
Fitzwilliam Darcy
YOU ARE READING
The Lost Journals of Fitzwilliam Darcy
Historical Fiction"The Lost Journals of Fitzwilliam Darcy" is a retelling of Jane Austen's classic novel "Pride and Prejudice" from the perspective of the enigmatic Mr. Darcy. Presented as a series of detailed journal entries, the story chronicles Darcy's innermost t...
