Chapter Seven

July 25, 1810

The Lake House

Ramsgate

Darcy

Darcy held Miss Bennet’s letter in hand, feeling both relief and irritation at the delay. As he broke the seal, he noticed discolouration along the edges—a sign that someone had opened and resealed it. He broke the seal, unfolded the paper, and a scrap fell to the floor. Leaning down, he picked it up and began to read.

July 24, 1812

Dear Sir,

I must apologise for the delay. Several nights ago, I penned a reply to your letter, intending to place it on the salver with the outgoing post the next morning. In my haste to attend my sister, the letter fell behind the table. By the time I found it, the salver was already overflowing, so I set it aside, only to discover the servants had left it untouched. I write this brief note by way of explanation and enclose it with my original missive. Pray, sir, forgive the delay.

E. Bennet

Darcy set aside the note and opened Miss Bennet’s latest letter, eager to read what she had to say.

July 20, 1812

Dear Mr Darcy,

It pleases me to report that the coin you secreted under the seal remained intact when I opened your letter. Your playful nature is surely not something you reveal to just anyone, and I am flattered that you have shared this side of yourself with me. Following your example, I have likewise secured a coin under the seal; note the date and marvel at the remarkable situation in which we find ourselves entangled.

As for the snuffbox hidden in the hollow tree, it has remained undetected this long and I am confident that it will continue to do so until your sister retrieves it.

My practise at your sister’s music continues apace. I grow better with each playing. Soon, my brother will cease to cover his ears at my poor attempts, and I shall be able to delight the room with my efforts without giving my relations cause to blush.

Your sister sounds like a veritable paragon! How much she must be required to learn as a young lady of the first circles! I am grateful to my father for always providing his daughters with any masters they requested, as well as books and education whenever we pursued knowledge. Yet I have never received the instruction your sister likely has. There were no ladies’ seminaries for me and mine. Jane and I never felt the lack, nor, I suppose, did Mary, who is by far the most dedicated to her studies amongst the Bennet sisters. Kitty and Lydia, however, have not applied themselves, and with my mother’s approval, they spend much of their time in idleness. Lydia can decorate a bonnet, and Kitty can draw passably, but I do believe neither is prepared to manage a household of her own.

Here I am rambling on about my family’s foibles, despite having assured you I would not bore you with such details! No matter. It is too late now to begin this missive anew. I can only hope that you laugh upon reading my descriptions, rather than furrow your brow in utter disdain.

Your gentlemanlike reply to my self-deprecating remarks is most impressive. I find it difficult to argue with such sensible words. It pleases me greatly that you wish to continue exchanging letters with this impertinent miss. I only hope you do not become weary of me!

The Lake House is indeed a lovely place. I can well imagine spending summers here, away from the heat of town. The sound of the waves would surely have lulled me to sleep whilst also tempting me to escape my nurses and run to the shore. My poor mama despaired of me, you know, for I was always returning to the house with soiled hems and mud upon my gowns. I must admit, as I have grown older, little has changed.

The garden here is nearly perfect, lacking only lavender to make it so. Upon my arrival, I admit I was sorely disappointed to find my favourite bloom absent amidst the many other beautiful blossoms. Longbourn boasts an extensive array of flora and fauna, yet the lavender field has always delighted me. As lavender serves so many uses, we keep an ample supply in the stillroom, and the estate provides the local apothecary and villagers with whatever they require.

What must you have been like as a little boy? You have yet to describe yourself, so I must conjure an image. Surely, you were tall, with knobby knees and gangly limbs. I cannot imagine your nurse allowing you to be anything less than impeccably attired, so you were likely a miniature gentleman. I dare not speculate further upon your features, lest I unintentionally offend you.

Life in Hertfordshire gives me no reason to repine. Our small community granted me greater freedom than one might enjoy living in London. My papa endures the six females in his household much as you imagined your own father would have—hiding in his study, joining us only for meals and occasionally socialising. His genuine passion lies with his books, and he surrounds himself with the written word whenever possible.

Though I love him dearly, I cannot overlook his lack of engagement with his children. Papa is, at best, disinterested and, at worst, neglectful, though he has always ensured that we are well provided for with the necessities of life. We have food on the table and clothing to wear, yet, as I have mentioned, my younger sisters are verging on wild, for he refuses to take the trouble of checking their behaviour. I love my sisters dearly, but they can indeed be a sore trial.

I now take considerable pleasure in informing you that we share yet another connexion. You revealed it in your last letter, and I wish I could witness your expression upon reading my next words.

Let me begin by answering one of your questions. There is an entail on my father’s estate, and a distant cousin is the heir. His name is William Collins, and I have never met a more nonsensical man! Last year, he took orders, and almost immediately had the remarkable honour of securing a valuable family living. His patroness is none other than Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park, Kent. Are you not diverted?

You know your aunt well enough to accurately predict my cousin’s disposition. He is a sycophant, combining an odd mixture of pomposity, condescension, and false humility. The man appeared on Longbourn’s doorstep last autumn, determined to make a match with one of his ‘fair cousins.’ Imagine his dismay when he discovered that the eldest and most beautiful was already well on her way to forming an attachment with the new occupant of Netherfield Park.

At my mother’s urging, he turned his attentions to me, and after less than a se’ennight in his company, he declared himself to me. Since you address me as Miss Bennet and not Mrs Collins, you can easily surmise my reply. I remain eternally grateful to my dear father for not forcing me to accept him.

In the end, he married my particular friend, Miss Charlotte Lucas. After visiting them this past Easter, I observed that she seems content with her new role as mistress of her own household. Charlotte was nearly on the shelf, you see, and I believe she viewed this as an opportunity to secure her independence from her family.

I had the dubious honour of dining ‘nine’ times at Rosings Park whilst in Kent. Mrs Collins’s sister meticulously kept count of our invitations, and she wasted no time informing all of Meryton upon our return.

As I imagine you may be eager to know my opinion of your esteemed aunt, I shall not hesitate to oblige. Lady Catherine is as subtle as a stampeding horse. She interrogated me with all manner of intrusive questions, and I daresay I vexed her greatly with my replies; I was not particularly forthcoming.

Your cousin Anne scarcely spoke, thus offering me little to remark upon. Lady Catherine, however, bemoaned her daughter’s unmarried state, repeating a particular refrain at least four times: ‘Anne’s fate is sealed. If not for… well, it does not bear speaking of. But now she will never marry.’ This remark intrigues me anew, especially in light of current circumstances. Perhaps by 1812, you have disabused her of the notion that you will ever marry her daughter.

There is yet another connexion I must disclose. You mention your estate lies near the village of Lambton. Coincidentally, my Aunt Gardiner spent much of her youth there. I intend to write to her directly to learn of more details. It is within the realm of possibility that you and she may have crossed paths in the past.

Your description of Pemberley was much appreciated. I can almost envision it. My Aunt Gardiner has often expressed a desire to revisit the village of her youth, and perhaps I may convince her to take me along. Should that occur, I might be so bold as to request a tour of your estate from your housekeeper, especially now that you have revealed the grandeur of your library. I confess, I am exceedingly fond of reading and always reserve a portion of my trunk for my favourite volumes. However, I am pleased with what the Lake House offers, and my own books lie forgotten in the depths of my luggage as I peruse the shelves here.

I ought to scold you for your continued insistence that this strange distortion of time has not occurred on your behalf, for who better to receive such an extraordinary experience than the scion of an earl? My family is far below yours in status; though you are a gentleman, and I am gentleman’s daughter, my mother’s roots are far humbler, a fact that would likely make your relations gasp in horror. Your cousin the colonel sounds like a lovely person, however. Would I find in him a kindred spirit, do you think?

My exhausted ramblings have filled two pages! How fortunate we are not bound by the cost of postage. Though my bed calls to me, I must answer your questions before I retire. I already addressed the entailment, so I can move to the next concern.

Jane is not well at all. She remains dreadfully ill and can barely keep more than a little broth down before casting up her accounts. My dear brother frets endlessly for her, and I must conceal my own anxiety to avoid exacerbating his. I have assured him countless times that Jane will recover, though I wonder if I am seeking to convince him or myself.

Jane believes she is near to feeling the quickening, and my aunt assures me that much of the sickness should ease thereafter. I pray it will, for my poor sister is much too thin.

As for my favourite pastimes, I am fond of reading, and I also enjoy a healthy walk. I have thoroughly explored Longbourn’s lands and its surrounding environs. Whilst here in Ramsgate, my brother insists that I always take a footman with me. He is correct in his caution, but I find the lack of solitude irksome.

I am not terribly fond of riding. I can manage well enough, but I am far more at ease on my own two feet than in a saddle. As for hunting and fishing, I do not partake in either, finding them less appealing than other pursuits.

My mother despairs of me, for I do not favour the more ladylike pursuits she holds in high regard. I play the pianoforte passably well, as I have mentioned, but my embroidery is less than refined, and I do not draw or paint tables. Netting purses holds no interest, nor do I take pleasure in arranging flowers or redecorating bonnets. I prefer to be active and useful, and thus, I spend my time in the still room or visiting tenants.

It is nearing midnight now, and I must close. Please forgive the excessive length of this letter.

Sincerely,

E. Bennet

Darcy folded the letter carefully, removing the coin from beneath the wax as he did so. He ran his thumb over its surface, noting the year 1812 stamped upon it. After finishing the fold, he held the missive in his hand, his eyes tracing the feminine script on the front. It was indeed a rather long letter, but he was glad for it. Each word revealed more about Miss Elizabeth Bennet, offering him further insight into her character. Like her, he began to conjure images of the lady in his mind. Was her hair brown or blond? Perhaps it was red or black. Were her eyes bright blue, dark grey, or hazel?

Darcy shook his head, realising that imagining Miss Bennet’s features would do him no good. Instead, he chuckled at the strange coincidence that her cousin was his aunt’s rector. As he glanced at the letter in his hand, another idea sprouted in his mind. Rising from his chair, he rang for the footman to relay his instructions. Once that task was complete, he went in search of Georgiana. He discovered her in her sitting room, bent over a history book, her tongue poking out slightly as she concentrated.

“Hello, dearest,” he greeted, startling her.

“Brother!” Her face lit up, and she straightened, closing the book. “What brings you here?”

“I wondered if you might like to practise your drawing today,” he said carefully. “What say you to attempting my portrait?”

She grinned widely. “Yes, I would! The drawing master at my seminary was quite skilled. I believe you will not be disappointed if you sit for me.”

“Then let us go to it!” Darcy grinned back, gesturing for her to accompany him. “The light will be better in the parlour.” Georgiana eagerly followed him, and Darcy, feeling rather pleased with himself, thought that Miss Bennet would receive not one, but two surprises in his next letter.