Chapter Text
Dear Mr Hayward,
I do not know when this letter will find you, if indeed it finds you at all, but I find I cannot leave matters as they stand.
Your sudden departure has left me with a number of questions. And though I have considered it from every angle available to me, I find I cannot regard it as reasonable.
There is something I must ask you, though I hardly know how to phrase it.
On the mountain, you spoke as though you meant to say something of consequence. I believed, perhaps wrongly, that you intended to be plain with me.
After your speaking with Mr Ryder, your manner altered entirely.
You would not meet my eye, nor explain yourself. You said I was out of character, but I must confess, it was you who changed. From that moment, I felt as though I had imagined everything that had come before.
But the manner in which you spoke the morning you left has since made your meaning… clearer.
You said I was on the cusp of a happy life, and that you would not wish to stand in its way.
You spoke as though the matter were already decided.
Having spoken to our friend, Mr Ryder, I believe I understand now what you intended.
And yet, what I cannot understand, is how you arrived at such certainty. You assumed a great deal, Mr Hayward. Of me, and of what I ought to feel.
My mother has always described me as an impossible case, never to make a match of any kind. Perhaps, foolishly, I thought I might prove her wrong. I believed you saw beyond those faults she so often laments. But maybe she was right.
I cannot think why you believed such a decision could be made without my knowledge, or my consent.
Had you wished to know my mind, you need only have asked. I have no talent for guessing at what others choose not to say.
I do not know what name to give to what passed between us in the Lakes, only that, for a time, I believed it to be something of meaning. Did it mean anything to you?
If there are considerations of which I am unaware, I would ask that you make them known to me.
For I cannot agree to an outcome I did not choose.
Yours sincerely,
Mary Bennet
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The letter was returned several days later, the address had been struck through in red ink and the seal untouched.