14

27 December, 1803

Lucas Lodge, Hertfordshire

Merry Christmas, Will,

In the event that my last letter went amiss (and if it merely went unanswered, you are entirely forgiven for your neglect) allow me to offer my most profound condolences on the death of your father. Do recommend me to your charming mother and your dear sister, whose broken hearts I have prayed for often since hearing of the tragedy.

On the subject of broken hearts, I know our darling Lizzy grieves for your loss as well, and has bidden me tell you so. I returned home for Christmastide after a few weeks in London. The letter of introduction you wrote before leaving Hertfordshire has done far more than I ever expected, so I must thank you with all my heart. Your uncle Lord Russell is an excellent fellow, and has put in a word for me with the Office of the Admiralty. In consequence, I have been honoured with a very secretive new assignment, having earned the distinction with my talent for strategy – is that not very like me?

I cannot claim any success in my stratagem for the ridiculous rector of Rosings – though he is indeed to wed a Bennet sister. I could be terribly wicked in allowing you to fear it may be the second sister, but instead I shall mercifully inform you (with no little mystification) that it is the fourth sister – she has secured his affections merely by having the appellation so dear to him, Catherine.

No doubt he has communicated to you that they shall wed on the morrow, and then be given use of her uncle’s house in London for a week before the Gardiners return thither themselves. We are to make rather a caravan of it, for they will be accompanied back to London next week by Elizabeth, and I have invited myself along for their valiant protection – and because I am obliged to report to my new post just after Twelfth Night.

If you are indeed in communication with your relentlessly eloquent vicar, perhaps you ought to recommend some galleries, exhibitions, and other mentally stimulating cultural attractions for his week in the Capitol. I was in awe of your attempts to improve him, though I maintain a hope that you will not diminish his insensibility entirely. It would be a pity if he no longer deigned to praise us all so liberally, and instead behaved rationally amongst his betters.

Do send word of how you all managed at Christmas, and how your family fares, though I know it cannot be as well as I would wish them. I know not when you mean to take up your residence and responsibilities at Rosings, but I hope the endeavour is a satisfactory one.

Better still, come to London! I can assure you of more than one warm welcome upon your arrival, and I have no doubt you would recognize the Gardiners to be excellent people.

My mother sends her regards to your own, and you may as well consider yourselves all heartily commended by all of my relations, for they have remained half-sprung on punch since Christmas Eve.

Wishing you finer brandy than my own,

Captain Oliver Lucas

***

7 January, 1804

Pemberley, Derbyshire

My old friend,

I cannot tell you how your letter cheered me. I could well imagine you teasing me with such japes while “our darling Lizzy” – as you so aptly called her – laughed with wicked glee. I am glad that the pair of you miscreants may look forward to one another’s company in London. Journeying thither is impossible at present, but I would beg you would pass along my fondest salutations to Lizzy and her relations, as well as Lord Russell.

I took your advice regarding Mr. Collins’s edification, and sent an express full of hearty congratulations and recommendations for diverting his bride whilst improving his mind. I believe you would be proud of me, for I passed on a message to Mrs. Collins with such “delicately arranged compliments” that my parson must have been enlightened directly in matters of style.

Christmas at Pemberley was a quiet affair, as you may imagine, and since then I have been chiefly occupied in assisting Marcus. My new sister is predictably less dejected at her transition into the role of mistress of the house, compounding my mother’s grief and discomfort at every turn. The presence of Lady Catherine as well as my uncle the Earl and his family at Pemberley have done her some good – as much as one could expect, which is meager comfort indeed.

Mrs. Darcy has attached herself with alacrity to Richard’s sister, Lady Isabella, whom Lady Catherine has again taken to promoting as my future bride. You would like my cousin, fond as you are of the absurd; there could be no clearer way for me to illustrate her character to you than to say that she has become fast friends with my new sister. But I know you would say that there is no other woman walking the earth who could tempt me, now that I have met Elizabeth Bennet, and I could not deny it.

Thus it may be likely that I shall soon leave Pemberley in the capable hands of its new master, who finds my assistance here more of a necessary evil than what I might do for him at Rosings, where my daily endeavours will not vex his mercurial bouts of indolence. It is my hope that Lady Catherine will remain at Pemberley, rather than pursuing me to Kent to plague me about dynastic marriages.

Marcus grieves more than he will admit, and though he has shouldered the responsibilities of the estate for the last few years, he has now the added burden of a house full of women who bring him little cheer. A letter from you might bring him a few smiles – I mean to ask the same of Bingley and Richard; he has already gone off to join his regiment.

Having written a far longer letter than I intended, I will close it with best wishes for yourself and your family, John, and our darling Lizzy – and now I must resist the urge to cast this maudlin missive into the fire.

I remain yours there is a parlour overlooking the garden and a small stream beyond, and it has been appointed for my particular use. The house is snug and comfortable, and I understand Lady Catherine did a great deal to it when Mr. Collins first came to the county. The shelves in the closet make it difficult to hang my gowns, but overall I am pleased by most of her improvements.

There are two guest rooms upstairs, as well as a larger room that I share with my husband. He has asked me to call him William, though I have not yet accustomed myself to it, and neither has he been keen to use the shortening of my first name. How strange that I should share a name with his patroness, and he should share a name with Captain Darcy!

Speaking of your Captain, he has been most generous to us. He sent Mr. Collins a very eloquent and complimentary letter of congratulation, assuring him he could be spared from his duties long enough to have a proper honeymoon in London, and he was even so obliging as to recommend several places of interest for us to explore. Museums, galleries, exhibitions – and of course the usual attractions such as Vauxhall, Hyde Park, and the Royal Menagerie. As delightful as it all was, there was something especially pleasing in experiencing it all with my husband, who has seen as little of the city as I – to partake in the splendour of it all together has given me every confidence that we will get on very well.

I know we have all laughed at his silliness, and in essentials he is much the same, but my coming to know him better has improved my opinion of him, and my hopes for the future. He is keen to recommend me to the principal personages of the parish, and is equally full of praise for me when we are alone. I find I am far more content than I have ever been, and it is a delight to run my own household. And it is so very quiet here! I like that perhaps best of all.

How do you get on in London? Have you been to the theatre or the opera? Captain Darcy allowed us the use of his family’s box for a concert on our first night in London, and I have never felt such overwhelming elation. Mr. Collins was moved to tears by the beauty of the music, and I was equally moved by the sight of him so affected.

Do tell me how you are getting on in London, and of course give the Gardiners all my love.

All my love to you as well,

Catherine Collins – how droll that sounds!

***

24 January, 1804

257 Gracechurch Street, Cheapside, London

Dear Kitty,

It pleases me more than I can say that you have found married life so agreeable, and that your honeymoon here in London was a pleasant experience that brought you closer to your husband. I remain perfectly ready – almost eager – to admit that I judged him too hastily, and to own that he is an agreeable companion for you.

My own stay in London has been less eventful than yours, though of longer duration. I have but one event of note to report. We attended a Twelfth Night ball the evening after our arrival. It was hosted by Aunt Madeline’s uncle, the Earl of Harborough, so it was quite a grand affair. There must have been two hundred guests!

Our darling aunt thinks of everything, for she sent word to her dressmaker as soon as I asked to come to London, and since my measurements have not changed since last I was in London, I received a very fine dress of Indian silk in a deep shade of emerald, embroidered with pale green and deep violet – it is the finest thing I have ever owned, if only you could have seen me! Our aunt loaned me an amethyst pendant, and I wore delicate little purple flowers woven into my hair. I believe I looked far better than I felt.

I danced with Olly twice, and only sat out once, when the Viscount snubbed me. I was not as successful in making him repent his rudeness as I was with Captain Darcy at the assembly, and after that I thought of little else but him all evening. I even caught myself looking out for him, though I knew it to be impossible that he would be in town when events must keep him at Pemberley.

I was gallantly rescued by a gentleman from Surrey, and then danced with his brother, a barrister here in town who is acquainted with Uncle Gardiner. The former spoke of little beyond how I reminded him of an accomplished and outspoken heiress of his acquaintance, and the latter is lately married to that heiress’s elder sister. I partnered Mr. Henry Crawford, who flirted shamelessly with me… and also with Olly. He thought it was a lark, but I was rather less amused. Next there was a handsome gentleman with a horrible mother and sister, who expressed a wish to escape the yoke of his wealthy family’s expectations and become a humble country parson – I was not entirely disappointed to notice that he wore a ring set with what appeared to be a lady’s lock of hair.

Another parson made livelier company, and he had a very agreeable sister who sat with us at dinner, but their father – an imposing general and the most frightening person I have ever beheld – seemed displeased with me upon learning of my tenuous connection to the host of the event. Next there was a baronet’s rakish son who had lately decamped from a home theatrical gone awry – I suspected he was well in his cups, for he invited me to come see him race in Rotten Row, and then made an even more indelicate suggestion. Against my better judgment, I was then induced to stand up with his new brother, a daft fellow who spoke of naught but landscaping and whose bride stared daggers at me for the duration of the set.

My last partner was another naval captain, who is soon to travel with his sister and her husband, a kindly admiral, to rent an estate in Somersetshire. I danced the next with the admiral himself, and found him to be the most interesting and agreeable of my partners. How vexed Mamma would be to know I wasted so many dances on unavailable gentlemen!

In truth, I missed Captain Darcy desperately. There were too many reminders of him, and I caught myself out so many times thinking of what I might say to him, what he might observe of all the new acquaintance to be met with. Of dancing with him while in such fine looks – I am a vain creature, am I not?

Perhaps I ought to end this missive before I am grown too maudlin, but I will first beg you write soon with news of how you are finding Hunsford, and if you have had the highest honour in the land in making the acquaintance of the estimable Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

I cherish every wish of hearing that married life is just what you had hoped it would be when we spoke of your prospects at the ball, and from the bottom of my heart I send you and your husband my love and felicitations.

Your loving sister,

Lizzy

***

1 February, 1804

Hunsford Parsonage, Kent

Dearest Lizzy,

I am not surprised that you should be such a popular partner at the ball – how I wish we could have been there! But we have been very snug and content here in my new home.

I intend to devote myself to my duties to the parish. There are a few young ladies in the village who are pleasant company, as well as the former parson’s widow and her spinster daughter – we have begun a sewing circle to make clothes for any children of the parish who need them. The steward of Rosings has a new bride, Abigail. Taylor, who has an exceptional talent for knitting, as well as arranging bonnets with me when I am not being charitable. She is exceedingly charming and fashionable – I might describe her as if Lydia were to apply herself to emulating Aunt Madeline.

I did indeed have the pleasure of meeting Lady Catherine, though it was not as I expected. She only arrived a few days ago, having been at Pemberley for the last two months. Since my arrival, I have heard many reports of Lady Catherine being formidable and prone to backhanded compliments and officious advice. Mrs. Taylor was quite outspoken in her opinions, though playful about it as you might have been.

But I found her ladyship to be agreeable, in a melancholy sort of way. Her sister, Lady Anne Darcy, accompanied her to Kent to assist Lady Catherine in removing to the dower house, which I think depressed her spirits greatly. And of course, Lady Anne is in mourning. Though she was very gracious, she is much altered since I saw her last, the poor woman.

Lizzy, I met Little Lou – Mr. Darcy’s daughter. Oh, she is such a darling! I would have liked to have been her Mamma, though of course Mr. Collins is endearing himself to me very well indeed. But content as I am in my choice, to see his features so well reflected in his precocious child brought on such a rush of tender sentiment, and I fussed over her a great deal. I believe this earned me Lady Catherine’s esteem, for she made no secret of her wish to separate the girl from the new mistress of Pemberley. I will only refer to her in such a way, for I know it is all she really desired; she cares nothing for being Mrs. Darcy.

And now I must share good news, though I daresay you have suspected it. The reason for Lady Catherine’s removal to the dower house is that Captain Darcy has taken up residence there; he travelled with the ladies.

He came to call upon us in the parsonage, and spoke with us for above an hour about our time in London, confirming my suspicion that he means to befriend my husband, and perhaps lead him to the path of wisdom. I wish to follow – do not suppose I think myself so superior that I would look down upon Mr. Collins’s nonsense when I have heard often enough that I am one of the silliest girls in England. But we have been very fortunate, and I think that Captain Darcy’s friendship could be just the thing to make my marriage a fine one.

And of course, it must be a compliment to you, Lizzy. Though he did not ask after you, the omission is telling enough. He is bereaved and of course cannot think of romance, and so he would deny himself any thoughts of you, or at least the expression of them, but I see him studying my face as if searching for yours.

And you might find your way back to one another if you come to visit me. Come for Easter, and stay for your birthday. But come soon, dearest Lizzy! If you have but one ball to write about, then London must be duller for you than it was for me, and even I find Kent to be vastly superior. Mrs. Taylor will adore you, and do you not long to meet Lady Catherine for yourself? Do not write me back unless it is to acquiesce directly!

Your demanding and devoted sister,

Catherine Collins

***

21 February, 1804

Gracechurch Street, Cheapside, London

Dearest Kitty,

You may consider this my hearty consent to visit you. I apologise for not writing sooner. I wrote first to Papa about the journey, and by the time I received his reply, I had taken ill for a few days. Do not be alarmed, for I am perfectly well now. I went out walking in Green Park a week ago, determined to be self-indulgently morose, on a day so cold that it ought not to have been attempted. It began to snow heavily, and I came back chilled to the bone. Aunt insisted I spend a few days abed, but I am recovered entirely.

And so I can inform you that I shall arrive in a fortnight. Papa wishes to escape the incessant wedding preparations, and will journey to London before collecting me and taking me to Kent. I believe he will stay for a few weeks at the Parsonage, if you have the space for us both.

Tonight I am to attend another ball with Aunt Madeline, though I shall not have Olly with me to cheer me if I am not as popular as I was on the Twelfth Night. Good or bad, you must wait to hear of it until I see you, and I am thankful it shall be soon.

And now I must begin my toilette, for there is another new gown – ivory muslin with crimson beading in at the sleeves, hem, and bodice – awaiting me once I have adorned my hair with rose pins amidst elaborate curls.

Your soon-to-be-elegant sister,

Lizzy

***

5 March, 1804

Rosings Park, Kent

Dear Charles,

Forgive me for not congratulating you sooner. I wish you every happiness in marriage, though I fear I must express a modicum of doubt in your choice of a bride. Though I cannot deny Miss Bennet appears to be attached to you and eager to please you, I do not believe she is to be trusted.

Though I have no evidence to support my belief, I have my own experience in dealing with the maneuverings of the ton, as well as my own good sense and sound judgment, which you have often claimed to envy me.

During Miss Bennet’s stay at Netherfield, I began to suspect that her illness was not as serious as it was made to be; if it actually existed. Your step-sister’s behaviour toward her changed drastically, from distaste and distrust, to almost fanatical approval. Your fiancée took every opportunity to reciprocate in kind, and gave the impression of performing to my brother in speaking so warmly of her attentive hostess.

Even Miss Elizabeth shared my belief that her sister and yours had conspired together to display one another to advantage in the estimation of the very gentlemen to whom one is now wed and the other betrothed. She thought it odd that she had come to nurse her sister, but Miss Bennet shunned her company in favour of her new friend. Their collusion in such matters was a paltry art, though I fear it is not the worst of their treachery.

You may recall that there was a change made in the guest room assignments – Marcus was asked to switch rooms with Miss Bennet, and the very same woman who made this arrangement subsequently forgot it that very evening, or so she claimed when she was discovered with my brother, by none other than the lady who ought to have been abed with illness. I apologise if my perception of this event as a calculated design causes you any dismay, but I must

Darcy stilled his pen, read over his letter, and gaze a heavy sigh before casting it into the fire. He would not do this horrible thing to Bingley; he could not bear his friend to feel one iota of his own heartache. He placed another sheet of paper before himself and began again.

5 March, 1804

Rosings Park, Kent

Dear Charles,

My heartiest congratulations on your betrothal. I believe you shall find every happiness with Miss Bennet, who appears devoted to you and your step-sister. I ought to have written to you sooner, but trust you will understand the myriad matters that have delayed the leisure of letters.

It is because of my mourning as well as the seemingly endless tasks to be undertaken at Rosings that I must decline standing up with you or attending the joyous occasion. You might consider asking her cousin Collins, who is growing daily in sense and brevity alike. I believe it would be a right thing to acknowledge your new kinsman, as there is no Bennet brother for you to ask, and should you remain at Netherfield he will someday be your neighbour.

I shall write again soon; at present I am occupied with my mother and niece, who have come to Kent to placate Lady Catherine and allow my brother and his bride some time alone at Pemberley, since a honeymoon was not possible.

Again, I wish you joy – you deserve nothing less. And should the wedding preparations leave you wishing some reprieve, I might advise your asking Mr. Collins to stand up with you in person rather than writing to him. I cannot presently invite you to Rosings, but it would lift my spirits to see you nonetheless.

Yours I have advised him to ask Mr. Collins to stand up with him when he weds Miss Bennet next month. Perhaps he could be persuaded to accompany you back to Pemberley. If anyone can lighten Marcus up, it is Bingley. And then you could travel back as far as Meryton with him, and I could collect you there and bring you the rest of the way. ‘Tis but fifty miles of good road.”

Lady Anne smiled as if she knew precisely why he was so eager to journey to Hertfordshire. “Miss Elizabeth is coming to Kent in a few days.”

Darcy sucked in a sharp breath. “Has she written to you?”

“Though she is welcome to do so, I believe she may feel it would be presumptuous. No, I heard of it from her sister Mrs. Collins. She sent me a note that she had a gift for Little Lou – a doll that was once a favourite of hers – and so we called there this morning while Mr. Collins was at the dower house.”

“I see.” Darcy stared abstractedly across the room. “Last time we spoke of Elizabeth, your sentiments were not so generous.”

“Mrs. Collins and I spoke very frankly together; she told me what she knew of the night that Marcus became engaged, and she relayed a conversation she overheard between Miss Bennet and Caroline.”

“Mrs. Collins would have had her account of that night from Elizabeth, but I can attest to the veracity of whatever she told her sister. She and I spoke on the matter more than once.”

“Yes, so you said.” His mother leaned into him once more, fidgeting with the fringe on her gown. “I should not have spoken against her. I was angry at the situation, of course, for I do not think Caroline is worthy of Marcus or her new position, but I no longer hold your Miss Elizabeth accountable for it. Indeed, I am sorry for her, for Mrs. Collins expressed how pained she was by her sister’s actions, and I know Miss Elizabeth is very close with Miss Bennet. I have often felt discomfited by Catherine’s behaviour over the years. And Mrs. Collins indicated that she suspects Miss Elizabeth has been in very low spirits since Christmas. In a roundabout way, I suppose her elder sister’s actions led to her separation from you.”

Darcy gave a heavy sigh. He had felt this last bit keenly in the months since leaving Hertfordshire. Miss Bennet had acted in her own self-interest, and in securing an advantageous alliance for herself, she had cost the sister that adored her so dearly the chance at a love match.

And Elizabeth was coming to Kent. The possibilities of such a visit, and all the sentiments this prospect inspired, washed over Darcy in a dizzying wave that left him with goose flesh. Elizabeth would be at Rosings.

“When is she expected at the parsonage?”

“Her father will accompany her from London in a few days’ time,” Lady Anne said. She looked up at him with uncertainty. “I believe I shall depart for Pemberley the day after tomorrow, with or without Mr. Bingley.”

“You do not wish to see her?”

“I do not wish to be an impediment,” Lady Anne said sadly. “I know you all too well, my dear boy. You will wish to resume your courtship, and you would feel guilty when we are still in mourning, especially if you feared it would give me pain. With me absent for a fortnight, you might feel more comfortable in reacquainting yourselves. And when I return, I shall have Georgie for company, and Catherine and Little Lou. And then we shall be at half-mourning, and nobody could fault you for spending time with her.”

Darcy felt the truth of what she said, and squeezed her hand in agreement. “Georgie is going to love her.”

“I hope it shall induce Georgie to remain here, if you will allow it. She wrote more of George Wickham than I could like. I believe even your father would have disapproved if she should form an attachment, and he is a handsome lad.”

Darcy had formed the same fear after reading his own missive from his sister, and he nodded his agreement. “You are both as welcome as Elizabeth to make Rosings your permanent residence.”

“It is a shame Little Lou cannot stay with us indefinitely. Perhaps once Marcus has a son to dote upon, but at present I think she will give him comfort at Pemberley. I will take her home with me – Catherine is expecting another guest.”

A chill of presentiment went up Darcy’s spine. “Oh?”

“Catherine had intended to sponsor Lady Amelia’s season in London, but she left your cousin to her maternal grandmother’s care so that she could go to Pemberley in December, and since then she has been content with her granddaughter, for she wishes to keep Little Lou away from Caroline. But she has invited Lady Amelia to Kent, and I do not believe she has given up her fixation with making a match between you. If I cannot play hostess for you at Rosings for a fortnight, your cousin will have to stay at the dower house instead, and you will be able to keep a distance.”

It was just what Darcy had feared. His formidable aunt was never one to let matters rest, and had made her wishes known to him once again at Christmas. It was unsurprising that she would summon Lady Amelia – and unfortunate that it should happen just as he was to be reunited with the woman he preferred to marry.

He smiled wryly at his mother. “I have never thought you at all like your sister, but you certainly know your way around her scheming.”

“I have had half a century of practice,” his mother chortled. She let out a sudden gasp, and Darcy realised it was the first time he had heard her laugh since Netherfield. Since before his father died.

Darcy’s heart swelled with tenderness for the woman before him. “Will you spend the day with me tomorrow, if you must depart the following day?”

She had just smiled broadly and nodded her assent when the dinner gong was rung. She made her way downstairs, and Darcy promised to follow shortly.

Once alone in his bedchamber, he crossed the room to the armoire and pulled opened a small drawer. There was but one item within. Neatly folded inside the drawer was a red knit scarf that Elizabeth had left behind at Netherfield; she had worn it the night it had snowed, when they walked in the garden and then snuck into the kitchen.

He ran his fingers over it, where breadcrumbs still nestled in the wool from their late-night snack. Then, as he had done so many times before, he lifted it to his face and drank in the lingering scent of the woman who consumed his waking thoughts.