My name is Edward Ashton.
When he was ten years old, he went to Pemberley as a guest, and was taken to the cliff for hunting by Darcy, the young master of the manor, and fell off the cliff. My left hand is crippled and my left leg is lame. When he found me, he was covered in blood. He knelt on the ground and repeated: "I found you."
For the next twelve years he kept me at Pemberley. Everyone in the county knew that Mr. Darcy had a crippled close friend who was protected by him. He blocked all eyes for me, replaced all the cups I couldn't hold, and rebuilt the road to the bottom of the cliff. Others say this is affection, but I am the only one who knows this is atonement.
He fed me with guilt. I locked him with dependence.
There is nothing innocent between us.
Until the beginning of the original plot, he fell in love with Elizabeth Bennet. I didn't make a fuss or cry. I just walked up to him, took off the ever-trembling glove on my left hand, and put it in his palm. I said, "No need to feel guilty. You are free." He froze in place. I didn't look back.
Leaving with regret is the most elegant revenge. I knew he would catch up.
He did come after me later. But by then there was another person standing next to me.
Carl Blackwood, five years younger than me, the son of a London arms dealer. When I quarreled with the boss over a glass of wine in an Italian cafe, I helped him out. He has followed me ever since. He knew that my hands were shaking and he walked on my left side every time he crossed the street. He knew that there was someone who had lived in my heart for twelve years, and he said that he was not in a hurry.
When Darcy found me, Karl was squatting in front of me, holding my left hand in his palm to warm it. Darcy's face was as white as when he found me at the bottom of the cliff.
He said, "Edward."
I said, "This is Carl."
Carl stood up and put me behind him.
"The hand problem is my problem from now on. Just stay away."
I can't make it up anymore, so I'll risk it all.
—————————————I am the dividing line————————
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Concept: What grows out of guilt is not necessarily love.