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Thomas Hayward and William Ryder used to be friends. That was the complicated part. Once upon a time, back in Law School, they would talk and get along fine.
It was true, even then Tom thought that Will needed to learn how to calm himself. Listen and think before he spoke. Take the time to remember that other people aside from himself had substance to add to the conversation. But it hadn’t been anything too extreme. Will was simply a vibrant personality. He sought the best out of everyone and everything. Even then, Tom was jealous at how Ryder was able to simply follow his heart wherever it would guide him.
They used to be friends.
That made things all the worse.
Then Mary Bennet came to London. And she was perfect. Tom would do anything just to see her smile. He could listen to her talk about the things she studied and found interesting all day long. Miss Bennet was someone that Tom wished he had met sooner. Her wit and endless thirst for knowledge were intoxicating.
Unfortunately for him, William Ryder seemed to think so, as well. Tom wasn’t proud of how he treated Ryder throughout their mutual bid for Miss Bennet’s affections. He wasn’t a friend to the man at all for the months they both vied for her heart.
In the end, it didn’t matter that Ryder was handsome, eligible, and rich. Miss Bennet, Mary, never loved him. She loved Tom. She loved him even though he was foolish and stupid. She wanted him. A poor lawyer who didn’t have the status or money that Ryder could offer. All he had was his heart.
Luckily for him, that’s all she ever wanted.
After the situation with Mary finally resolved itself, when Tom finally knew that there was no competition, not really. When he finally got to marry the most awe-inspiring, perfect woman that he had ever met, and things cooled down to an icy indifference in regard to Ryder, rather than the burning rage that he had come to expect.
That was when Tom realized that the friendship he once had with the man, left a strange hole in his life.
After the wedding, after they moved into their own home in the city, after the world calmed down to just them together, it dawned on him.
Tom missed being Ryder’s friend. He couldn’t help but wonder how the man was doing. If his time in Italy with Miss Bingley was treating him well.
So, Tom picked up a pen and paper, and wrote a quick letter to his old once-friend.
William Ryder spent most of his days chasing after life’s pleasures. He knew that life was finite. That being pleased with one’s own actions was something that would never properly come to pass. In the end, nothing mattered. He had seen that in his father’s life, and death.
Because he knew those things, he chose to love freely. To live loudly and love everyone around him. Be a friend to anyone in proximity. If nothing truly mattered anyway, why not make the most of everything the world could offer? Life could be a wondrous thing, if one allowed it. And Will Ryder was more than willing to allow it. He wanted to see the best in and of everything.
Such ideals had been exacerbated in his short time at Law School. His friendship with the young Thomas Hayward had shown Will that romance was more than he had initially thought it to be. It seemed that the most William Ryder had learned at law school, was that he was a deeply romantic soul. In his own words, far too sensitive for the rigors that he had attempted to confine himself to. So he let himself be swept along by whimsy and feeling. Not bothered by the pesky confines of polite society.
That was how he set to enjoy his life. Even if he could never be satisfied with it.
Yet. For a fleeting moment, he had wondered if he might find that impossible satisfaction with Miss Bennet. That maybe she would challenge him, and pull him toward an avenue of life that was wholly unknown and new. For her he had been willing to change. To abandon the pillars that he had built himself upon.
For Miss Mary Bennet, he had been willing to marry.
Which was no small deed. Indeed, his conviction on that had been set a long time past. Like many of his opinions on society at large, he made his thoughts on the matter quite plain. Marriage was an archaic institution designed to trap young men and women alike, in loveless homes. To put girls in uncomfortable situations that were beyond their own control. He despised the thought. To own or be owned in such a manner, was utterly abhorrent in his eyes. In short, he despised marriage just as much as he did most of the ideals held by “Polite Society”.
But Miss Bennet found it to be a safety net. She spoke of love, care, and deep affection, in regards to the same ideals. She proposed that love alone was simply not enough. That marriage was less a trap and more a saving grace. As if being bound to another person for all time was something to want, rather than resent. She pushed against his strongest convictions. Challenged his long-held beliefs. It was no wonder that he would adore her. Love her.
Yes, he had been willing to change for her. To marry. He would do anything if she asked. Money certainly wouldn’t be a problem, his aunt, Lady Catherine de Burgh had seen to that when she named him as her heir. Life could be one complete adventure. They could go to Italy. Further if their fancies took them. Maybe, just maybe, he could find what his life had been missing.
All of that was taken back from him in five small words.
“I do not love you.”
He did not blame her. Could not. Instead he could only kick himself for daring to hope. Of course she did not love him. Life seemed to delight in pulling him around. Yanking him from fancy to fancy, and letting him fall flat on his face when he thought the ground was sturdy beneath him. It was not her fault. Nor was it Hayward’s for garnering her affections.
It was William’s own fault for allowing himself to dream of a life where someone would want him back.
He had already left for Italy when he heard that Tom Hayward and Miss Bennet were to be wed. Something in him ached to receive an invitation. Longed to see his two dearest friends joined in a happiness that they had both wanted.
Something he never really understood the fuss about. To be joined to another for all time.
Although, she would be radiant. Hayward would be joyful. Perhaps he might even look at Will like he didn’t hate him once again. Now that whatever contest they had locked themselves into was over.
He missed his friends.
That ached more than the sting of rejection ever could have.
Miss Caroline Bingley joined him in Italy for a while. Her insistence to know him, to be a part of his life, and share in his indulgences fascinated him. Will had almost forgotten the ache in his chest while she was there. Life allowed him a small reprieve from his pain and angst.
Then came the letter.
Addressed as being from Mr. Thomas Hayward, it caused the old pain to flit back across Will’s memory. The letter itself was short. Simply acknowledging the time since their last meeting. Stating that once the Haywards had finished moving into their new home, they’d enjoy hosting Will and Caroline as their guests.
He didn’t know how to feel. Miss Bingley firmly wished to marry him. He knew that from the start, for she was blunt and upfront, unwilling to toy with his emotions. Though after the mess with Miss Benn—with Mrs. Hayward, Will wasn’t sure he was ever going to try that again.
He longed to speak to the Haywards again. He missed his friends so dearly. Yet something kept him from going as called, though he wasn’t sure what it was.
Caroline left Italy before he did, and he was shocked to find that he didn’t want her to leave. He had been on the verge of begging for her to stay with him. Some weak part of his heart screamed that he might abandon his convictions once more for her, but before he could act she tore him apart once again.
“My dearest Ryder. You don’t love me, and I grow weary of pretending that you do.”
Guilt ate at his heart when she spoke. He couldn’t bring himself to deny her. Her own heart had been torn apart so many times by careless men, and William grew nauseous to think that he was yet another to injure her so. She smiled at him so gently, and his chest ached further with the guilt that compounded.
“Once you understand your own heart, then maybe someone else may own it, William. But we were both fools to think that it might have been me.”
With those words, she was gone.
Italy felt too large for him. Yet the prospect of returning to London felt too small. William Ryder was trapped with no good answer to where he should go next.
Until eventually, fueled by his own loneliness, he finally responded to Tom’s letter.