Chapter 3

Chapter Three

L izzy," her uncle called up from his library as Elizabeth and her aunt and sister were about to go into the drawing room. As they came down the stairs, he held out an envelope. "The gentleman you selected yesterday has signified that he would be glad to correspond with lady number seven in the second tier."

It took her a moment to comprehend him. "He wants to write to me?" she cried, taking the letter. "Is this from him?"

"Was there any doubt that you would match?" Jane asked, grinning. "Any man of sense would want to know you better."

Jane loved her so much that she believed any interest in her must be natural, but Elizabeth had doubted her lack of fortune would garner her any attention. "We must not be too excited. This gentleman likely wrote to every woman on the list who seemed to have all of her teeth."

Jane refuted this, and then Elizabeth noticed her aunt looking at the envelope. "Do you want to read it first?" Elizabeth asked, holding it out.

"No, my dear," Mrs Gardiner said, shaking her head. "I have been convinced the plan is reputable, and I trust you to have sense in what you say to this young man. Until you decide you want to meet him, you may write to one another in private."

"Unless he writes something very romantic," Jane said slyly. "Then we will all want to read it."

"Not me," said her uncle, and they all laughed. "Until I must return to that office and arrange a meeting with this gentleman, I want to know nothing at all about what the young lovers say."

Elizabeth felt her cheeks get hot. "I am writing to demonstrate that amiable, respectable, marriage-minded young men exist. I have no expectations beyond that." She did privately hope that Jane might join the exercise, but she could not convince her to recover from her disappointment over Bingley. The only way was to show Jane by example.

She opened the envelope from the office in Bishopsgate to find another folded letter within, with nothing written on the outside other than "Ladies No. 7."

"How amorous," her aunt said, peering over her shoulder.

She was being teased. "The manager who arranges the correspondence wrote that. The gentleman and I do not know one another's names or directions."

Elizabeth admitted to herself that she was a little excited by the prospect of the plan truly beginning. Even though this matchmaking was only to help Jane, her heart gave a brief flutter at her choice selecting her, too. What if she really did find a man she could admire and esteem?

"Go on, then," said Mrs Gardiner, smiling. "Go read it and sigh over it, and then write him back."

Elizabeth composed herself to give her aunt a serious look. "There will be no sighing, nor tears, nor kisses pressed into my reply."

Her uncle stepped aside and gestured that she should enter the library to read. When she was alone, she ran a finger over the plain seal. There was nothing to distinguish it, no coat of arms nor words pressed into the wax. She exhaled a deep breath and opened the envelope.

Friday, January 31

Dear madam,

I have never engaged in a scheme such as this, and have never allowed my friends to match me to any of their neighbours, sisters, or cousins. It is strange to choose a lady from a list, but it is done through a respectable business with attention to privacy. It is not as indelicate as I first presumed, and I see nothing wrong in the venture. At worst, it feeds imaginations with notions of romantic escape or social advancement.

And with that in mind, I must begin with the honest confession that I am not entering this business with the assumption or even the hope that I will find a wife. I have no immediate views to matrimony. I cannot engage in deceit or disguise, and I would not have you accuse me of making promises I am not currently willing to make. I am engaging in this business with a degree of doubt and under some duress from a well-meaning friend.

I am, however, open to writing to know you better. I suppose I will consider meeting you, although that is not at the forefront of my mind. I am writing to no other woman but you. I do not scruple to say that although this matchmaking enterprise is not an immoral one, it feels deceitful for any man to court multiple women at a time; and although this correspondence is not a courtship, it would go against my conscience to engage in an intimate correspondence with anyone other than you.

Your description struck me, particularly your claims of having a lively disposition, and I admit to some attraction to the idea of you having a playfulness of mind. None would say my manner is lively, and the best I can claim is being told my humour is droll. However, I will write genuinely and do my utmost to be as engaging a correspondent as I hope you will be.

If my unwillingness to immediately or perhaps ever offer any sentiments or promises does not disappoint you, I await your letter.

Your servant,

F

Elizabeth read it twice, making certain she understood what F was saying. His friend wanted to prove the matchmaking scheme could work, and F was willing to go along with it, even though he had reservations. He was hardly a man eager to be led to the altar, but she was not any different. She was only doing this for a diversion and to prove to Jane that there were marriageable men aside from Bingley.

And perhaps some part of her heart was doing it to prove she could gain the interest of a man who was in a position to marry and who was not disrespectful, unlike Wickham and Mr Collins had been.

She had no expectancy of finding an amiable, respectable man who admired her. A girlish hope, perhaps, but no genuine expectation. But was this F a man who was worth her time?

There was something flattering about knowing she had roused his interest, even if it was only by a few lines on a subscription list. And he was not writing to anyone else. How charming of him to be so forthright, and how becoming it made him seem that he would write to one woman at a time. There was no way to know this for certain, but he seemed a direct man, unwilling to lie.

He said exceedingly little about himself, but maybe he was not shy or tiresome. It was only the first letter, and it would not be kind to judge him on this first impression. It might even be pleasant to draw him out a little.

Elizabeth went to her uncle's desk and mended a pen, thinking about how to begin. It felt odd to address it to ‘sir', although that would be the politest way. He had signed it F, but it felt just as odd to address a letter to an initial. She thought a moment before she began.

Saturday, February 1

Dear Friend,

I hope you forgive my presumption in claiming you as a friend after a single letter, but ‘sir' and ‘F' felt impersonal, and beginning with "dear my newest acquaintance" is ridiculous, so unless you beg of me otherwise, I will address my letters to my friend.

You write of people with romantic notions or aspiring to raise their status through marriage, but you must not find it disgraceful for the sexes to correspond in hopes of mutual improvement and perhaps matrimony, since you are a participant. We subscribers are not all desperate maidens, bashful bachelors, or lonely widows. I think young people now want an affectionate marriage, not a transaction, and this is simply a modern means to do that.

However, I will match your honesty with my own. I am doing this to prove the method a good one for others rather than for my benefit. My sister has recently suffered a disappointment—nothing improper or scandalous, just a little crossed in love as happens to all young ladies—and I want to show her that this method might be worth her time. I am not opposed to marrying a man met by this means, of course, but it is not my goal, so you and I may write without the pressure of any expectations.

You seem a responsible young man, and clever enough to say so without announcing your income for all to know, and such cleverness appealed to me. I am afraid, however, aside from the promise of a droll humour, you said little of yourself. Are you a shy man lacking courage with the fair sex?

In case you are not inclined to talk about yourself, you may tell me about your family and what you enjoy doing in London. You are in town for the season, I presume? I am in town until early March. As today is February 1, that gives us five weeks to become acquainted while we are both in the same city and can exchange letters quickly. While I am here, I hope to see some concerts and walk at least once in one of the parks, but I am at the liberty of my friends and the weather. If you want to know my taste in music, ask me.

I ought to add that I would not want to be teased or held in disdain, even with the anonymity of the enterprise, so I expect you not to show my letters to all your friends. Ladies, as you know, often pass letters round, but since those with whom I am staying in town approve of the venture and of my judgment, there is no expectation that I share your letters with them.

Your friend,

L

"Lizzy?" Jane called from the door. "My aunt wishes to know if you still want to go to the panorama with us?"

"Yes, of course. I am nearly done." She folded the letter and wrote "Gentlemen No. 16" and then enclosed it and addressed it to the matchmaking office. As she ran upstairs for her coat and hat, Jane followed her.

"What have you to say about the tall, slender man with dark hair and eyes?" she asked, leaning against the doorjamb as Elizabeth dressed.

"His description was more expressive than his letter," she said. "I know nothing about him." She reconsidered while she did her buttons. "No, that is not true. In his own way, he showed that honesty is important to him, perhaps to a fault, and he does not want me to be disappointed if we do not suit."

"That is considerate of him. I suppose this format of beginning a new acquaintance allows one to be candid about one's intentions. But remember, you can stop writing at any time."

If she wanted Jane to take this opportunity for herself, she could not stop writing soon. She would have to be more confident about the scheme.

"In his own way, he complimented me. He thought I sounded lively and that I would be an interesting correspondent, and that while he has no expectations further than writing, he also is not writing to any other lady. He thought it would be disingenuous."

"That is an admirable sentiment." Jane's eyes widened in approval before they went down the stairs where her aunt and uncle were waiting.

"I thought so too," she said, her cheeks warming at the thought.

"Well, my dear, he must be charming for you to look like that," her uncle said as they went to the carriage. "Do I need to arrange a meeting at the office? When will the banns be read?" he asked with a smile.

"He seemed a little serious, but hopefully he won't be a dull letter writer," she said primly, refusing to rise to the good-hearted taunt.

Darcy waited until Miss Bingley had turned away to look at the panorama scene before shrugging his shoulders. He tolerated Miss Bingley's presence, but her constant prattling ruined how immersive the experience was meant to be. The panorama was a large, circular room that placed the viewer at the centre of an enormous painting that stretched entirely around them. It was a total view of a scene as it appeared to an observer turning in a complete circle.

Views of Paris, or the interior of Dublin, the Bay of Naples and the eruption of Vesuvius, or a military siege, it did not matter to him. All were magnificent.

He enjoyed visiting the new pictures displayed each season. When Bingley agreed to join him in viewing this year's exhibition, there was no way to refuse his sisters after Bingley said how much they were also wanting to see it.

"Mr Darcy," Miss Bingley said, coming to his side yet again. The platform was thousands of square feet, but she insisted on pressing as close to him as socially permissible. "What did you say that tower was?" she asked, pointing into the distance.

He held out the sheet that labelled every sight in the scene. "You are welcome to take this for yourself."

"Oh, I could never. I know how much you look forward to viewing the panorama."

Darcy held back the question that if she knew that, then why would she talk to him so much that he could not look one moment at the scene without her interrupting him?

"Did the others see enough? Would you be good enough to ask Bingley if he is ready to leave?"

Miss Bingley agreed to do his bidding, and he enjoyed one minute of quietly appreciating the scene before Bingley, Hurst, and the ladies joined him. As they went down the stairs, he decided to come back another time on his own.

As they waited for their carriage to return, a hackney stopped between Leicester Place and Cranbourn Street at Mr Barker's panorama. A fashionable-looking man descended and handed down a woman about his age. Darcy started when he saw the next lady, and not believing what he saw, he turned away.

Was he now going to imagine seeing Elizabeth Bennet all over town? It was bad enough he thought of her nearly every waking moment. He hoped there was a letter from the woman from the matchmaking office waiting for him when he returned home. If he was envisioning every brunette of average height to be Elizabeth, he needed a distraction more desperately than he realised.

"Miss Bennet!" Bingley cried, and a second later he added, "And Miss Elizabeth."

Darcy's stomach now resided somewhere near his throat. He tried not to look at her in case his gaze involuntarily betrayed every feeling in his heart. He wanted to look at her, wanted to talk with her, wanted to know how deep were her affections for him. But she was just as unsuitable in February as she had been in November. Had he not gone to the trouble of corresponding with a stranger, hoping to forget her? And now here she was in front of him.

He felt overwhelmed by all sorts of distressful feelings.

Before he could so much as pass an eye over Elizabeth, he caught Miss Bingley's pale face and saw her lips were pressed into a thin line. Secrets had a way of not staying buried, and a falsehood was about to be unearthed right now. While he could not say he regretted separating Bingley and Miss Bennet, he now deeply regretted every lie and omission attending to it.

Introductions were dispatched, and Darcy could admit to a little surprise that these well-mannered people were the aunt and uncle in trade. He greeted everyone and was certain not to show Elizabeth any more notice than the others of her party. Elizabeth seemed reserved, only saying "How do you do" without looking at him.

During the bows and curtseys, Bingley had inched nearer to Miss Bennet. "You must have just arrived in town," he said cheerfully. "Otherwise, my sisters would have mentioned seeing you."

Darcy felt so ill at ease it was painful. Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst avoided looking at anyone but each other. It was plain to him that Miss Bennet was not comfortable. She stood silent, with a pained expression and pink cheeks. No matter what her feelings for Bingley were, she had just learnt her friend had lied. And Elizabeth was giving him a bitter look as though she somehow, impossibly, suspected his involvement.

The silence stretched, with Bingley looking at Miss Bennet for an answer she was not about to give. She may have no love for Bingley, but Darcy respected that Miss Bennet refused to abandon Miss Bingley and tell her brother what his sister had done.

After staring at Miss Bennet for a long moment, Elizabeth said to Bingley brightly, "Did you not know we were in town? We have been here since just after Christmas." Bingley's jaw fell open. She then looked at Darcy with the same glint in her eyes. "Did you also not know that we were in London, Mr Darcy?"

Elizabeth put him in an awful position. No, he had put himself in this position by keeping the truth from Bingley. He still did not think Jane Bennet loved his friend, but he could not continue the deception. "I remember Miss Bingley saying she had the pleasure of seeing Miss Bennet in Grosvenor Street in January."

Elizabeth held his gaze, and it seemed like she was determined to make him feel his guilt. "So you must have known at least Jane was here," she finally said to Bingley, "since she called on Miss Bingley a month ago."

"Is this true?" Bingley asked his sister. "Why did you never mention it?"

Miss Bingley, who had been looking at her sleeve's cuff, looked up and said, "Oh, did I not? I must have. If you are too busy with your other friends, like Mr Darcy and his sister, to remember the comings and goings of my acquaintances, I do not blame you."

Miss Bennet looked anywhere but at Miss Bingley. Darcy could see that she knew her former friend had deceived her, and this entire conversation was an injury to her. Mrs Gardiner put an arm through hers, and Mr Gardiner looked disapprovingly over all of them.

"No one ever mentioned to me you were in town, Miss Bennet." Bingley looked delighted. "How long do you intend to stay?"

Bingley and Miss Bennet spoke, he with great animation and she with a less engaging countenance than she typically wore. Miss Bingley was silent and red—from mortification or anger, Darcy could not tell—and the Gardiners were trying in vain to say some pleasant nothings to Mrs Hurst.

He and Elizabeth looked at one another, and he felt in danger of their sinking into total silence. He was torn between wanting to ask if he could call on her and not wanting to open his mouth until it was time to take his leave.

"How suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last November, Mr Darcy."

He heard the suspicion in her voice. He bowed and said, "It was a rather hasty departure."

She looked at him, but he added nothing else. She then purposefully looked at Bingley and Miss Bennet. "Were you expecting Mr Bingley now to be less sensible of Jane's merits than when he first took leave of her in November?"

Darcy wondered when would the carriages arrive. Elizabeth was too clever by half. "I could not speak of my friend's thoughts and feelings any more than you could speak of your sister's."

"Ah, but in this case, I think I can," she murmured, still with an unyielding look in her eye.

This was not a conversation he could continue. However, Elizabeth was content to say no more about it, and it was now up to him to fill the awkward silence.

"Are you eager to see the panorama? Have you ever been before?"

She took the hint that the subject of Bingley and her sister was closed. "I have never visited," she said. "Are you here to see and be seen by good society, or to see far-off places?"

He smiled. "The far-off places, certainly. While I am there, I forget everything and everyone around me. It is a curious and incredible experience to feel immersed in a distant place while still being in London. I hope you enjoy the sensation."

She looked a little surprised, like she did not know what to say. To his great relief, the carriages arrived and everyone parted. Rather than join him back to the house, Bingley rode with his sisters. Darcy was glad he was not in that carriage; he could avoid a little longer the same reckoning Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst were experiencing.

He still thought Miss Bennet disinterested and motivated by fortune—or at least, her mother was motivated by fortune, and her daughter was complacent enough to go along with it. Darcy could admire her for not wanting to humiliate Miss Bingley in front of her brother, but he could not think less of Elizabeth for speaking the truth.

Their manoeuvrings mortified Miss Bennet, but that did not mean she loved Bingley.

If I cannot keep Bingley from Miss Bennet, it is likely I would often meet with Elizabeth.

Parting from Elizabeth should have afforded him some comfort, but the hope of seeing her again reached his heart and made it beat faster. Darcy sighed to himself as he looked out the carriage window. He ought not to put himself in a situation where his admiration for her could grow stronger than it already was.

When he arrived in Charles Street, he asked if there were any letters, and to his relief, there was one from the office in Bishopsgate. Darcy went into his library with a request not to be disturbed and eagerly opened it. Thank goodness his candidness did not alarm the lady.

Now the endeavour felt more real. The lady's name began with an L, and the sporting tone of her letter charmed him. She wanted to know about him, and to his pleasant surprise, she too was conducting this business out of curiosity and to prove a point to a friend rather than from a desperation to be wed.

Now that Elizabeth had arrived in town and her sister reacquainted with the Bingleys, it was even more important to throw himself earnestly into his correspondence with his new friend.