The Lost Journals of Fitzwilliam Darcy

February 10, 1812

The arrival of my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, in these cold winter weeks has been a most welcome reprieve from the solitude that often accompanies my evenings. His company offers the comfort of family and the ease of a friendship long established by the shared experiences of our youth.

This evening, as we sat by the fire in my study, a fine brandy warming our hands, our conversation turned, as it often does, to matters of the heart and the delicate intricacies of our social engagements. It was in this intimate setting that I found myself confiding in him the part I played in influencing Bingley away from Miss Jane Bennet, and the subsequent concealment of her presence in London.

The Colonel listened with a steady gaze, his expression one of understanding rather than judgment. "Darcy," he said, his voice steady and calm, "it is a difficult thing to weigh the happiness of a friend against what society might deem a more prudent course."

I nodded, grateful for his acknowledgment of the complexity of the situation. "Indeed," I replied, "and yet, I cannot help but feel that in my caution, I have perhaps overstepped, that I have allowed my concern for the potential imprudence of the match to cloud my judgment."

The Colonel considered this, swirling the brandy in his glass before speaking. "It is a fine line we walk, between guiding those we care for and controlling their fates. But tell me, Darcy, in your efforts to protect Bingley, have you considered the true depth of Miss Bennet's affections? Could it be that you have misjudged her reserve for indifference?"

His question struck at the very heart of my uncertainty. "It is possible," I conceded, feeling the weight of his words. "In truth, I have seen in her a composure and a kindness that speak to a character of no common order. But to admit as much is to acknowledge that I may have erred greatly."

The Colonel nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And what of the lady's sister, Miss Elizabeth Bennet? It seems to me that she occupies more of your thoughts than you might be willing to admit."

I felt a flush of warmth at the mention of her name, a reaction that did not go unnoticed by my cousin. "She is indeed remarkable," I allowed, my voice betraying a hint of the admiration I felt. "Her intelligence and vivacity are qualities that I find... compelling."

A knowing smile touched the Colonel's lips. "Compelling, indeed. It is a rare thing to find a woman who challenges you, Darcy. Perhaps in this case, the heart knows more than the mind would like to acknowledge."

We sat for a few moments in companionable silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. It was a comfort to speak openly of my doubts and to receive the counsel of someone who knew me well enough to offer wisdom without censure.

As the evening wore on, and the brandy settled warm in our bellies, I felt a sense of gratitude for the Colonel's visit. His presence has provided not only the solace of kinship but also a mirror to reflect upon the choices I have made and the path I have yet to choose.

Fitzwilliam Darcy