Shall my reappearance be proof of a particular attachment? Have I any right to such a claim? My coming here shall be either a confirmation or a relinquishment of any bond.

Providence, impervious to Lady Catherine’s schemes, impelled me to return to Hertfordshire and thereby to the scene of my initial asinine impropriety. I say initial asinine impropriety, for last autumn’s infelicity was merely the first of several since my introduction here. ‘Tis poetic justice, I suppose, for such a pivotal outcome to hang in the balance at the very venue of social chasm in which our awkward association began. Dear God, please do not allow me to mishandle this crucial encounter as I did so very thoroughly our first.

In my defense, I must offer some excuse for incivility … if I was uncivil. Simply put, I just had to utter that fatuous comment about Elizabeth Bennet. How else could I deny an immediate and intense attraction to a woman beneath my station and unworthy of attention? Good principles, engrained under my father’s tutelage, prevented interference with lower-class females; though I have been sorely tempted on more than one occasion.

In retrospect, I was in a fit of pique that night; yet such an admission does not pardon petulance, arrogance, and conceit. I am ashamed to confess excessive vanity and hauteur have been my old friends these twenty odd years at least. Attempts are, even now, being made to amend my defective demeanor; but such long-entrenched companions as vainglory and hubris can neither be easily disregarded nor ousted. A full half year has passed since April 9th, the day I was taken to task for presumptuous meddling and disdainful pride. I trust there has been some state of improvement to my civility since Elizabeth’s acrimonious and humbling censure at Hunsford.