Chapter Five

July 17, 1810

The Lake House

Ramsgate

Darcy

It ought not to bother him that Miss Bennet had yet to reply to his letter. If they existed in the same time, it might take days or even weeks for letters to pass between them. All the same, from the time he had placed the missive to her on the salver, Darcy impatiently awaited the post. He was uncertain how this strange correspondence worked. Neither was he certain how long it took for the letters to appear—either in Miss Bennet’s plane of the residence or his own. Still, with bated breath, he awaited Smythe bringing him the post each morning. He disregarded all other missives until he had searched the pile for a reply to his last letter, ignoring the probing looks his butler cast his way at his eagerness.

It was three days after he ‘posted’ his last offering when Miss Bennet’s return correspondence arrived. Darcy eagerly removed himself to his study and broke the seal, his eyes devouring the words within.

July 15, 1812

Dear Mr Darcy,

At your request, I performed the tasks you set before me in your last letter. I must say you carved rather well for a young lad. I am certain your grandmother had a good laugh in the privacy of her chambers after scolding you soundly for abusing her furniture so abominably. The location of your carving was doubtlessly designed to prevent discovery since I had to crawl inside the wardrobe to see it properly in the bottom left corner.

Likewise, I discovered an elegant snuffbox hidden within the hollow of the garden tree. Rubies and diamonds adorn the engraved D on the top of it. I replaced it at once upon examining it; your sister may yet return for it one day. As for the music, it too was located, and I have endeavoured to play the piece with little success. Miss Darcy must possess genuine talent at the pianoforte to have mastered such a score at so tender an age. I confess, I have avoided most of Mozart’s more difficult compositions.

I shall continue by remarking that your apology was both pretty and expertly delivered, leaving me no choice but to forgive you—provided you do not treat me so in the future. I do not possess a resentful temperament; when someone sincerely apologises for wrong-doing, I can do naught but accept and forgive.

The future! What a strange thing to contemplate, for am I not there already, at least from your perspective? How do you imagine this curious series of events has occurred? Surely only the most valiant and exalted of humanity receive such blessings, not someone as insignificant as I. Mayhap it is you who has secured such favour from on high. Tell me, have you slain any dragons or captured a pirate ship? Or maybe you saved a village from flood or famine? Which is it, sir, so that I might praise you properly?

All jests aside, what are we to do about this situation? I confess, I do not wish to cease our correspondence now that we have reached a tenuous accord. I wish to know about Lake House… or rather, the Lake House, and all its history! I would even condescend to learn something of its owner, if the master of the house does not see my request as too forward. I confess, my curiosity has risen with each exchange of letters, and now it is at its peak.

As a show of good faith, and a demonstration of hope, I will tell you more about myself. My name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, Hertfordshire. I am the second eldest of five sisters. It is with my elder sister, Jane, and her husband that I am in residence at the Lake House. Jane is in a delicate condition and requested that I assist her during this time as she prepares for the birth of her child. She and her husband also lease an estate near my home called Netherfield Park.

I have three younger sisters. Mary is next in age to me, followed by Catherine, whom we call Kitty, and finally Lydia. I could regale you with tales of their antics, but I shall reserve those stories for a time when you may request them. I would not wish to presume upon our new acquaintance, nor believe you interested in my ramblings.

My mother and father are both living. Mama is, I hesitate to say, a silly woman, prone to nerves and fits of vapours. She has settled some since Jane married, for it means that if Papa dies, we will not be destitute. A distant cousin is the heir to my father’s entailed estate, and as I implied above, my father has no sons on whom he can bestow it.

I do not know what else you would wish to know at this time, and so I shall close by posing questions of my own.

First, where is Pemberley? I could discover the answer myself, but it is far easier to request that you tell me.

Second, do you enjoy reading? You mentioned a scientific mind. I, too, love science and reading. My father has indulged me in my interests, much to Mama’s dismay. Some might call me a bluestocking, but if wishing to improve one’s mind by extensive reading grants me that appellation, I shall wear it proudly.

Third, will you tell me of your family? You have previously mentioned a sister and a cousin. Have you any other relations? I do, but I shall save that for another time.

I do hope this letter finds you in good spirits. A walk to the shops is in my plans for this afternoon.

Sincerely,

Elizabeth Bennet

Darcy grinned and folded the paper, sliding the letter into his desk with the other missives from Miss Bennet. She was a saucy lass, with a delightful sense of humour. The minor revelations she had shared about her family were equally fascinating. Five sisters! Who could imagine such a thing? With nearly twelve years separating him from Georgiana, Darcy had practically grown up an only child. Richard, too, had only his elder brother, the viscount. Even Anne de Bourgh had no brothers or sisters. It was astonishing for him to imagine so many children in one family.

Darcy considered Miss Bennet’s situation. She had not been explicit, but one could infer much from her words. With Longbourn entailed away from the female line, the daughters must not have a large dowry—not surprising, considering there were five of them—and so Mrs Bennet worried endlessly about providing for her children should her husband die. Miss Bennet’s elder sister must have married well, for the matron’s worries seemed to have lessened.

Miss Bennet had mentioned her sister’s condition. Children were a blessing, and surely Miss Bennet felt excited. Yet, Darcy wondered at the nonchalant tone his new friend used when writing of her sister’s expected child. Might there to be cause for concern?

He then turned his thoughts to the three questions Miss Bennet had posed in closing. They were simple enough to answer, and it would be no hardship to satisfy her curiosity.

The door to his study opened, and Darcy looked up, his reverie broken. His sister, Georgiana, peeked in timidly, offering a shy smile.

“Georgiana! Do come in.” He beckoned her, and she pushed the door open a little farther, stepping into the room.

“An express has arrived for you,” she said softly. “I told Smythe I would deliver it.”

“That was kind of you.” Darcy’s brow wrinkled in concern. “Do you recognise the sender?”

Georgiana shook her head. “The direction is unfamiliar to me.” She crossed the room and handed the missive to her brother.

“Thank you,” he said, accepting it. “I shall read this and then join you for tea. Afterwards, we might visit the shops.”

Georgiana’s countenance brightened, and she nodded eagerly.

“Very well. I shall be along shortly.” He waved her off, and she bounded out of the room, a stark reminder that despite her maturing figure, Georgiana remained very young.

Darcy broke the seal and scanned the brief letter. It was from London; one of his contacts had written to verify Miss Bennet’s offer of proof. The letter ended with a query to know how he had come by the information before even the Home Office had received word. Darcy simply shook his head.

“They would not believe me if I told them,” he said in amusement. Stowing the letter in his desk drawer beside Miss Bennet’s growing pile of correspondence, he rose and made his way to the parlour for tea.

Later that evening, Darcy sipped a glass of port before retiring. Georgiana had long since gone to bed, leaving the house quiet and peaceful. Not that it was anything but quiet and peaceful when she was awake. With only two residents in the fashionable house, it was never noisy or chaotic. What must it be like to dwell in a home filled with joy, laughter, and bustling people? Miss Bennet must have enjoyed an enviable childhood. Pemberley was big enough that even twelve brothers and sisters could not have filled its rooms, though they would have certainly added more life to the grand estate.

Unable to calm his mind, Darcy went to the writing desk in his chamber and took up a fresh piece of paper. He would write to Miss Bennet, answering her questions and posing some of his own.

He wrote hastily, without regard for ink blots or proper form, driven by the need to put his thoughts to paper. Once finished, he leaned back and surveyed the mess, a chuckle escaping his lips.

“My old tutor would have taken his switch to my knuckles if he had seen this,” he muttered with a soft snicker. Setting the blotted sheet aside, he drew forth a sheet of high-quality vellum. This time, he copied the letter with more care, giving the work the attention it deserved. When he finished, he sanded the missive, preparing to fold and seal it. He paused, suddenly struck by thoughts of scientific experiments swirling in his mind.

Could it be possible, he wondered, to transport objects within the letters? If so, what should he send to test it? After a moment of consideration, Darcy then pulled a two-penny piece from the small drawer in the writing desk. He folded the letter, positioning the coin at the seal, and poured the hot wax over it before pressing his seal firmly into the blob. Jotting a few more lines on his letter, he explained the nature of his experiment to Miss Bennet. Satisfied, he addressed the letter, and set it by his bedside, ready to post the next morning. At last, feeling the weight of the day, he slipped beneath the coverlet and drifted into sleep.

He awoke at his customary early hour the next morning, rang for his valet, and dressed with his usual efficiency. Letter in hand, he descended to the entryway where he placed the missive on the salver with the other outgoing post. How long, he wondered, would it take for Miss Bennet to receive his letter? And more curiously, would the coin remain or magically vanish?

Still preoccupied, Darcy entered the dining room, where the servants had breakfast laid out and waiting. Georgiana had yet to come down; she seldom rose before nine o’clock. Alone with his thoughts, Darcy idly pushed his food around the plate. After several minutes, he stood and left the room. Perhaps a walk would clear his mind.

Smythe fetched his hat and gloves upon request, and Darcy set out from the house, walking the short distance to a nearby park. Numerous paths wound through the grounds, and Darcy chose the most secluded, his thoughts consuming him.

I ought not to be so preoccupied with Miss Bennet and this enigma, he chastised himself. There were, after all, many matters demanding his attention. His steward had written once more, and several letters of business awaited his reply. Never before had one of the fairer sex so captivated him, and he had yet to even meet the woman.

What was he thinking? Meet Miss Bennet? How absurd! He knew next to nothing about her. What if she was hideous? What if she bore a mole on her brow or was disfigured? Worse still, what if she was of Caroline Bingley’s character? Could a woman be so well-spoken and yet a simpering sycophant? It was entirely possible!

And what of this sister? Miss Bennet had implied that her elder sister had married well. Was it a love match, or had she employed arts and allurements to secure the gentleman’s affections?

Furthermore, could Darcy dare to trust the words of a stranger when he could not confirm the truth himself? He paused. Maybe he could verify certain details. He knew the name of her estate and its location. Why, he could even surmise the name of her sister’s estate. Had not Miss Bennet mentioned Netherfield Park in her first letter and confirmed that it was of that neighbouring estate that her sister was now mistress?

Nodding to himself, Darcy directed his steps back towards the Lake House. It was regrettable, yet necessary, that he had grown so suspicious. Poor Georgiana was now learning the same hard lessons he had once faced in school: trust must be earned, not freely granted. Pledges of good faith were a thing of the past for them both.

When Darcy returned to the house, he found his breakfast more palatable. Georgiana soon joined him, sparing him the solitude of eating alone. She rambled on about her history lesson, and though distracted, Darcy replied at all the appropriate moments. When they finished their meal, Georgiana excused herself, citing the need to finish her French before they walked on the beach.

Darcy spent the rest of the morning penning several letters to his contacts in London. Within a week, the Bow Street Runners would have his instructions and begin their enquiries into one Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn. By the end of the month, he would possess all the particulars and would easily determine whether Miss Bennet had ever offered him anything less than the truth.

Pleased with his efforts and now thoroughly fatigued, Darcy leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Perhaps he could rest, if only for a short while, before Georgiana begged to return to the beach.