Mr Darcy offers advice to a confused young prince undergoing a traumatic family bereavement
Dear Mr Darcy
I know not where to turn. A horror of the greatest proportions has befallen me, and I am beset with indecision as to how I should respond.
Recently I suffered a grave loss: my father, the King of Denmark, died while sleeping in his orchard. I returned to the court from my studies in Wittenberg, and not long after my arrival I was summoned to the battlements by my good friend Horatio. There I saw a most hideous vision: the ghost of my father! Upon speaking with the spirit, I discovered that he was foully and most unnaturally murdered – by none other than my uncle Claudius, who now wears his crown.
O horrible! O villain! Not only this, the beast has married my mother! I must set this right – but I am plagued with anxiety. Perchance this ghost is a goblin sent from hell, to entrap my soul and damn me to all eternity. But how can I know? I am watched on all sides: the fair Ophelia is a mere pawn of her father’s; my friends from university were sent for by my uncle. I am alone.
My suspicions have recently been confirmed through the cunning use of a troupe of players, yet I cannot act. Every day that passes brings with it more torment: I know not whether it is nobler in the mind to be or not to be.
Good my lord, I beg of you, what is such a rogue and peasant slave as I to do?
Yours,
Prince Hamlet 
My Dear Hamlet
I sense that anguish has overcome you, and I feel in no small measure the weight of the responsibility you place on me. You wish me to save you from yourself – and, my good sir, I assuredly hope I may do so. To question one’s own place in the world is, without doubt, one of the most desolate situations in which a man can find himself, and I can see that you have significant grounds for your despair.
To urge you to adopt a more hopeful demeanour would, I believe, in your case be counterproductive. The suffering you have endured cannot be made right with a simple change of heart; however, it may help you to know that nor can your grievance be satisfied by the act of revenge. It may well be that your indecision, as you call it, has saved you from pursuing a course of action that you may, in time, have come to regret more than you can presently imagine.
You say that you are watched: surely this is an indication that there are people about the court who care for you, and who wish to see you return to your former self? I quite understand your reluctance to unburden yourself to those whom you feel have betrayed you; but it would be a miserable situation indeed if there were truly no-one in whom you could confide. A trusted friend, perhaps? Or – and I am aware of the complexity of your feelings in this matter – have you considered approaching your mother? It may well be that she sees things more clearly than you realise.
However, I recognise that this may not be a path you wish to follow, and I will not attempt to force you. If you are absolutely set against seeking confidantes in your immediate circle, I have one further suggestion to make. That is to take a voyage, perhaps to another country, where the change of air may do you good. I have often found that by putting distance between myself and my troubles – in my case, by returning to my beloved Pemberley – I am able to gain a fresh perspective on what afflicts me. It is entirely possible that you will benefit from doing the same.
Therefore, rally what strength remains to you and set sail! If I may be so bold, may I recommend my own green and pleasant land? Far enough for you to find the peace you crave, yet not so far as to prevent a swift return should circumstances demand it: here you may lay your demons to rest once and for all.
From my heart, I wish you all the best, sir!
Yours,
Fitzwilliam Darcy, Esq. 
© Gwyneth Marshman 2018