24

Elizabeth was having tea with her aunt in the house her uncle had taken in Brighton, not far from Caroline and Lydia’s lodgings. The women were joined by a new friend, Madame Piedmont, and her daughter Chloe, who was but two years younger than Lydia. They had come to bid farewell to Elizabeth and her relations, who planned to depart on the following day.

Madame Piedmont was a brash and outspoken woman full of witty conversation, and Elizabeth was apologetic when their visit was interrupted by the arrival of a letter from home. It was addressed in her mother’s hand, and Elizabeth regarded it warily; she had not heard from her mother in five months, since her banishment from Longbourn.

“Of course you must read it at once,” Madame Piedmont cried in her thick French accent. “You have told me so much of her, I hope it is full of gossip and nonsense!”

Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes twinkled with understanding. She had long put up with her sister-in-law’s foibles, but she was firmly on Elizabeth’s side since hearing how Mrs. Bennet had behaved toward her least favourite daughter. “She may have written something of import – we do not object if you wish to read it directly.”

Elizabeth considered that perhaps it would be best to get it over with at once, while she was amidst such company as would help her laugh it off if the letter contained any further vitriol from her mother. She moved to the window seat and opened the letter gingerly, as if fearing it would bite her.

September, 1804

Longbourn, Hertfordshire

Well, Lizzy!

I hear you are having a fine time in Brighton, though you have not deigned to inform me of what fine prospects you have met with there. But I have my dear Lydia to keep me apprised of the goings-on! I am surprised that you have no interest in any of the officers – but perhaps you think yourself quite above them! I suppose you do your sister a great favour, in making her seem all the more amiable by comparison – she is a great favourite with many of them!

But I shall congratulate you, however little you deserve it, on making fine friends wherever you go. Though I cannot find out anything came of your being in Kent with Captain Darcy, now I hear you are pursued by Sir Samuel Birch. Lydia tells me he is a wealthy man, and very fond of you – and you have become intimate friends with his cousin, even if she is a French exile. Well, you must not let this one get away!

Of course, you must know that Olly purchased Netherfield after Jane and Mr. Bingley quit the place, and there is still a chance of your catching him, which you ought to have done last autumn.

Elizabeth groaned and began to crumple one side of the letter in her hands. She stilled herself and smirked at Madame Piedmont as she said, “My mother has heard of your cousin’s fascination with me, and urges me to catch him if I can.”

“Ugh!” Madame Piedmont cried with contempt. “Odious man! It was very kind of him to take us in when I fled la guillotine, with little Chloe still in my belly, but he is so horrible to look upon! He was favoured with the fortune, but not with the face,” she laughed, gesturing to her own lovely countenance.

“Mamma would not mind that he has warts and a leer,” Elizabeth replied, eliciting a gasp from young Chloe.

“You would never make me marry such a man, Mamma!”

“I would chase him away at once, absolutement! What mamma would wed her daughter to an ogre? She would have hideous grandchildren. Bleh!” Madame Piedmont made a retching sound and stuck out her tongue with distaste. “Bring me a pen, I will write to her at once and tell her, non! It is a terrible idea, and you still love this other man, oui? The handsome sailor? You English have no regard for the beauty of heartbreak. But if a man treated my Chloe in such an infamous manner, I would wring his neck!”

Chloe and Elizabeth laughed, and Mrs. Gardiner shook her head with a bemused smile as she said, “I confess I have a very low opinion of heartbreak, though I cannot act in Lizzy’s defence as you have described.”

Madame Piedmont tsked and shook her head. Elizabeth knew not what to say. She had confided her disappointment to Madame Piedmont in the hopes that her friend would discourage her cousin. He was not a pleasant man, and his appearance was the least of her objections to his suit.

Before Elizabeth could return to the letter, which contained several more paragraphs, Lydia arrived. She was to stay the night at the house the Gardiners had let, so that they might all depart bright and early in the morning, the Gardiners returning the girls to Kent before going on to London.

“Lydia, you wicked little wretch,” Elizabeth cried, half in jest as she moved across the room and swatted at her sister. “What possessed you to tell Mamma that Sir Samuel has been pursuing me?”

Lydia laughed. “La! What a fine joke! But she asked me for some news of you, and I knew not what else to say. Besides, it is the truth. I am sure he would propose if we remained another week or two.”

“Then it is a relief we are to go away tomorrow,” Elizabeth huffed, inciting more laughter from her companions.

Lydia gave a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders and took the seat Elizabeth had occupied. “It hardly signifies, for there is nothing she can do to force you – and so you shall end an old maid, and teach my ten children to play their instruments very ill!”

“It would serve you right, child,” Madame Piedmont observed, fanning herself but revealing a wicked smile. “But perhaps I shall make eh… mischief, no? I will introduce him to that horrible woman, Madame Darcy, they would quite deserve each other!”

Elizabeth laughed and moved to the corner where she had been reading before their guests arrived, her mother’s letter still in her hand.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Lydia said, flouncing over to Elizabeth. She perched on the arm of Elizabeth’s chair, and produced a folded piece of parchment from her pocket. “Caroline asked me to post a letter for her – can you do it, Lizzy? I am far too fatigued after sea-bathing with Mrs. Forster.”

Lizzy took the letter, noticing that it was addressed to Jane in Yorkshire, and recalled the letters from Jane, which she had read but never answered. She was not yet ready to reconcile with her sister, though for a moment her pity was aroused. As was her curiosity.

“Lydia, has Caroline written to Jane before?”

“Many times,” Lydia replied. She leaned down to whisper, “I think that big, scary footman Charles sent with us is stealing her letters – at least, that is what Caroline says. But Jane must simply be too busy to write, now that she is a married woman. Anyhow, I have spent all my money, so you will have to post it, or ask our uncle.” Without waiting for a reply, Lydia sashayed away to join in the lively conversation across the room.

Elizabeth turned the sealed letter over in her hands, considering. It seemed to her that Jane and Caroline were somehow being prevented from corresponding. The footman was indeed an imposing fellow, and Caroline was abominable to him. And then there had been something in Jane’s letters about the post being a source of some sort of confrontation at Netherfield. Was Charles in some way involved in cutting the two women off from one another? Perhaps he had discovered their schemes, and wished to prevent any further collusion.

And it was very likely that the letter now in her possession did indeed contain some malevolent machination. Jane had said that Captain Darcy had broken with Charles; Elizabeth certainly could not expect the man she still loved to be on good terms with Caroline, either. The whole thing reeked of ambiguous intrigue, and she resolved to consider the matter carefully before disposing of the letter.

She reached for the book at her side; her page was marked by the thin pouch she had sewn in Kent months ago, which contained the two letters Captain Darcy had written to her. She tucked Caroline’s missive into it, and placed the pouch back into her book.

Frowning, Elizabeth returned to the letter from her mother and sighed, scanning over the remainder of Mrs. Bennet’s matrimonial speculation. Near the bottom of the page, the handwriting changed dramatically – her mother’s elegant hand became sloppy, as if scrawled in haste.

She read over these last few sentences, and leapt from her seat at once. “Good God, Papa is ill! Mamma says it is pleurisy. She begs us to return home at once, for the doctor is not optimistic about Papa’s recovery!”

Elizabeth staggered backward, only to find that her aunt was at her side, bracing her. Elizabeth at once felt as though she could scarcely hold herself up, and yet she was determined to be on her feet, as if there were something she could do. She began to pace.

“Mon dieu, you must go to him,” Madame Piedmont cried. “This is terrible news – we must leave you now.” She and her daughter embraced Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner, bidding them both to write when they could, before taking their leave.

Even Lydia had the good sense to look pale and sombre at the news. Mrs. Gardiner went to fetch Mr. Gardiner from the library, and they were in their carriage bound for Longbourn by that afternoon.