Page 5 of When Elizabeth Said Yes

And that could have been Jane Bennet.

And that could have been Bingley.

Yet that was not his first thought.

He thought of the way he had seen Miss Elizabeth Bennet speaking with her father, the smile on her lips, the brightness in her eyes, the way he doted on her every word. And he did not think of the material poverty that his death would send her into.

No.

He thought of the emotional torment such a sudden death would bring.

"We should send a note with our condolences," was his only comment, and both women looked rather surprised at the sentiment.

"Well, yes, I suppose I could," Mrs Hurst began.

"I shall do it," Darcy said, striding back to Bingley's writing desk and pulling out parchment and a quill before shrugging off his coat, draping it over the back of the chair and sitting down, ignoring the stares of the women that he could feel upon his back.

Sending a note of condolence was the right and proper thing to do. He did not wish to involve Bingley in such matters, for his friend had disappeared to his room, no doubt to deal with his emotions, and it would not be logical to involve him in the situation any further. His sisters were right – the Bennets were not a burden Bingley should take on.

And yet Darcy felt compelled to write.

His quill hovered above the parchment for some time.

His instinct was to write to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, but of course that made no sense. She was not the widow, and she was not even the eldest daughter.

So he addressed the note to Mrs Bennet and the Misses Bennet, but in his mind he was writing to Elizabeth.

I wish to convey our condolences on the loss of Mr Bennet.

When I myself lost my father suddenly, it was such a shock that I believe I did not comprehend it for some time. And whilst I went through the motions of sorting his affairs, I did not truly breathe until much later. If you can do so, I would advise against this, for I believe it only prolongs the pain.

Your father—

He crossed that out.

Mr Bennet would wish, I am sure, for you to remember him well, but then to find the joy in life that you are able to.

If there is anything you should require, please know that—

He crossed that out, thinking he would have to rewrite the whole note at this rate.

We are here and willing to be of assistance if we can.

Your faithful servant,

He went to sign his name and then realised he ought to write Bingley's as well.

Then he paused.

He reread the letter, full of personal sentiment, full of talk of his own father's death, which he so rarely mentioned.

What am I doing?

He wondered if he had a fever, for such a thing was so out of character for him.

He reread it once more, then folded the parchment, placed it in his breast pocket, and pulled out another sheet from the desk.

He began afresh.