Longbourn to London

by Beutler Linda

  How did I know when I was six and twenty, when Georgiana and I sorted these, that all of them would be perfect for my Elizabeth?

  ***

  The next morning, Darcy descended to the small dining parlour with a jaunty gait. His frock coat appeared lumpy, its pockets filled with small pouches.

  After breakfast, his first of many calls would be to the jeweller, where older items could be inspected for soundness and others enhanced. In the night, a scheme had come to Darcy for an entertainment at Darcy house while they were in London on their honeymoon. It would require some complicated planning—a conspiracy, in truth— but the project would give him a focus for his thoughts while waiting for the marriage settlement to be finalised.

  As Darcy served himself a cup of coffee, a footman entered with a salver of the morning’s post. He knew this would be the earliest possible arrival time for a letter from Hertfordshire, and was delighted to find one from Elizabeth on top of a blessedly small stack of business correspondence. He realised she must have written it shortly after his departure. He opened the letter, and upon reading the first sentence, sat down. By the end of the first paragraph, he was on his feet and aimed for his study, away from prying eyes.

  Devouring the letter from beginning to end, his eyes then sought the more tender passages again and again: “…your merest touch has awakened in me such ardour— I am shocked to admit it…” “…The secret thrill I feel when you breathe on my neck.” “My preference, my dearest, is for you to touch me again as you did tonight…”

  Darcy became light-headed and breathless, running his fingers over her signature, “Your adoring pupil…” What are you willing to be taught, delightful pupil? He was not surprised to find himself aroused, and growing more so. He considered opening his trouser fall and relieving himself of his current tension but feared soiling her letter, which he was not willing to set aside. Darcy drew in several deep breaths and tried to consider all she said in a reasonable way, but his own desire trumped any attempt at logic. He could only savour her revealing candour and dear innocence. Elizabeth was willing to write—and articulately, too—words she was unwilling to speak. He studied her handwriting. It was clear and full of charming curves. Just like the lady who produced it.

  Suddenly he was possessed by concern. I must respond immediately! How she must feel, what anxiety, knowing she has written such a letter. She worries too much what I might think… I must let her know I cherish this evidence of her love and desire. The book! Darcy leapt to his feet and ran calling for Mrs. Chawton, his hand still clutching Elizabeth’s letter.

  His housekeeper came bustling from her workroom inside the passage to the kitchen stairs. “What is it, Mr. Darcy?” She was alive to the slightly frantic edge in his voice.

  “Has the book been sent to Miss Bennet?”

  “No, sir. I have just finished wrapping it and was about to send for a footman.”

  “Thank goodness. Bring it to me first, please. Then we will send it express.”

  Mrs. Chawton retrieved the book and gave it to Darcy. “I shall be back directly,” he said as he disappeared into his study.

  17 November 1812

  Darcy House, London

  My dearest Elizabeth,

  The first letter you have ever written me is in my hands. I have not set it down since opening it, as it is now my dearest possession. Your words have given me such happiness that I must respond immediately. I would not have you in any suspense over their delightful effect upon me.

  Indeed, my only sorrow in receiving your letter is that I must write my response and cannot take you in my arms to comfort any misapprehension you may feel for having written it. I cannot breathe upon your neck as I so wish to do, knowing now it pleases you. I dare not continue in this vein, or this letter will never be finished, and would certainly make you blush, though you must know I find you quite fetching when you do. But I know this of you— you do not like to be always blushing.

  The solicitors are hard at work preparing the “excessively generous marriage settlement.” How I smiled when I read this, my love— I could hear you say the words as plainly as if you were in the room. The solicitors are hopeful they can return me to you a day or even two earlier than we have been led to expect. Whilst they toil, I am consumed with the errands of others and also with preparing this house for our week here, blessedly alone together. How I shall adore having you all to myself. The only thing better will be our fortnight at Pemberley before holiday guests arrive.

  Holding your letter in my hand, full of such sentiments as truly gladden my heart, I am more ashamed than ever of the one letter I had previously written to you. I recall asking you to burn it, and I hope you have done so. Keep this one instead to remind you of how I long for you when we are parted for even a few days.

  Please accept the book accompanying this letter with my deepest affection. It was newly arrived, and I thought it would please you as you prepare to live at Pemberley. There is a note with it written earlier, and I am grateful your letter arrived before the book was put in the post, as it may serve to distract certain parties from this longer letter, which is full of my love for you with every line I write.

  We must avoid being parted in the future, once we are married. It certainly does me no good.

  With deepest love,

  F. Darcy

  He read the letter through once, and after adding a brief postscript, was satisfied it said enough. He consulted his pocket watch, finding it well past time for the jewellers to open. He slid the letter into the book, and Mrs. Chawton wrapped it again promptly. Darcy chose to take it to the express office himself. He also had an express to send to Bingley, who could be counted upon to assist in setting certain plans in motion.

  Chapter 11

  An Eventful Week…part two

  “Done to death by a slanderous tongue.”

  William Shakespeare

  Much Ado about Nothing

  Jane and Elizabeth were in Longbourn’s front hall while the family footman loaded their small valises into the carriage for their overnight stay at Netherfield when an express rider arrived with a package for Elizabeth. Mrs. Bennet swooped down from the stairs when she heard the commotion.

  “A wedding gift from Mr. Darcy, no doubt! The first of many jewels to come, I am sure, Lizzy.” She hovered as her second eldest daughter opened the package. “Oh fiddlesticks…only a book?” Mrs. Bennet turned away. “I do not see the romance of that. Only Mr. Darcy would think a book a fitting wedding gift.”

  “Yes, Mama,” replied Elizabeth, “and only I would appreciate his thoughtfulness. It is a guide to the birds and flowers of Derbyshire.” Lizzy pulled the single sheet from inside the front cover, feeling a thicker letter tucked further back in the pages. She read the simple loving words, which her mother snatched from her hand and read aloud.

  “Pretty enough sentiments. Well, if you are pleased, my dear, I am, too. Bingley sent Jane a lovely bracelet last week, gold it was, but if you are happy with a book, far be it from me to complain.” She handed the note back to Elizabeth and left the hall, calling behind her, “Have fun with Bingley’s sisters, girls! Do not overdo and make yourselves ill…”

  Elizabeth and Jane exchanged a look and climbed into the waiting coach, Elizabeth still clutching her gift.

  “There is a longer letter here, too, Jane! I did not tell you. but I have written Fitzwilliam a letter— such a letter. When he left, I had myself in a state. All my thoughts spilled onto the pages, and I do not know whether he will approve or censure. I doubt he would have received it before this book was sent.”

  “Read the letter if you like, Lizzy; I will not mind, nor shall I snatch it from your hands to read for myself.” Both sisters laughed.

  “Thank you, but no, I can wait until I have a few minutes alone at Netherfield.”

  After the servants took their outerwear, Caroline Bingley and the Hursts ushered them into the drawing room. Caroline noticed the small thick volume Elizabeth was hol
ding to her bosom.

  “You are such a great reader, Miss Eliza. Pray, what is that book?”

  Elizabeth looked at the book in her hand and was surprised to be still carrying it. “Mr. Darcy sent me a treatise on the flowers and birds of Derbyshire. It arrived just as we were departing Longbourn.” With great reluctance, Elizabeth sat it on a side table as Hurst passed thimble-sized glasses of wine to the ladies before filling a goblet for himself.

  “What a singular sort of gift,” smiled Louisa Hurst. “So like Darcy. He knows your love of nature already.” Elizabeth thought she detected a note of honest sincerity in Louisa’s tone. Perhaps Louisa recognised her husband would never be so observant of her interests. Could it be that she was secretly pleased for Darcy in his choice of wife?

  “Are there game birds listed?” Hurst asked, pursuing his current line of interest. The weather had turned warmer but stayed rainy, and he feared the fine shooting at Netherfield was over for the season.

  “Indeed, Mr. Hurst, I do not know. I have yet to peruse it,” Elizabeth responded.

  At that moment, Georgiana Darcy entered the room. “You have come!” she cried, taking the liberty of giving Elizabeth a quick impulsive hug, met by Elizabeth’s relieved and crushing embrace. “And Jane,” Georgiana said, once Elizabeth had released her and she could again draw breath. “How lovely to spend time with you.”

  Caroline eyed Georgiana’s reception of the Bennet sisters with deepening envy. No Darcy had ever welcomed her and Louisa so warmly.

  Georgiana remained standing when the others settled again. “Elizabeth, since we have a few moments before dinner, would you join me in the music room?” When Elizabeth approached her, Georgiana whispered, “I have a duet I would like to try. It would please my brother to hear me play while you sing. We shall surprise him.”

  “Nothing would make me happier,” Elizabeth whispered in response. Georgiana smiled. Elizabeth scooped up her book as they left the room but neglected to notice Darcy’s letter slipping to the floor. Only Caroline detected the loss.

  “Dear Jane.” Caroline stood and casually sidled to the place where Elizabeth had been sitting. “Charles and Colonel Fitzwilliam are visiting with Sir William this afternoon. They should be here well before dinner. Would you care to rest until then?”

  Why does she want to get rid of me? Jane wondered. Knowing Caroline had schemed to separate her from Bingley brought wariness to Jane’s normally unsuspecting nature. “I am perfectly well, Caroline, but unlike my sister, I have neglected to bring a book. I will step into the library for a moment, if I may.”

  “Of course,” Caroline replied coolly. “We are less than a fortnight from its contents being yours. Pray join us when you have made your selection.”

  Jane felt like a duck oiled for roasting, but she was not such a silly goose as Caroline surmised. Bingley had acquainted her with the entrances and exits of all the rooms during her previous tour of the house. She knew there was a connecting door to the library from the sitting room, and observed it was ajar. Jane left the drawing room by the hall door and entered the library by the next door down. She then hustled to the drawing room connecting door to listen. What has become of my manners? she thought, but her intuition begged she be on guard.

  As soon as the hall door closed after Jane, Caroline bent to pick up the letter on the floor. My Dearest Elizabeth was written on the outside in Darcy’s precise and even hand. Caroline pondered the several ways she might cause Eliza Bennet some trouble: she could unseal the letter, remove the salutatory page, and try to pass it off as a love letter from Darcy to herself; or the letter might contain revelations of improper behaviour with which to sully Eliza’s virtue; or a page of it might be used to imply Eliza received a letter from some other source—Wickham perhaps?—but no, Darcy’s penmanship was too distinctive.

  Louisa noticed her sister had grown quiet. “What have you there, Caroline? What letter is that?”

  Behind the library door, Jane’s heart jumped into her throat. She has Lizzy’s letter from Mr. Darcy!

  “We might have some sport with this Louisa, if you are willing to assist me in making up a plot. It is a letter from Darcy to his ‘Dearest Elizabeth’. It slipped out of her bird book.” Caroline’s voice dripped venom. Her ill humour overtook her wits as she tore the letter open. She did not see Hurst rise from his chair and stare at her in disbelief.

  Louisa was shocked. She was not the quick and clever woman her sister was, but she saw instantly and with horror the ramifications of Caroline’s angry actions. Caroline’s nerves had become brittle to the breaking point as plans for the double wedding progressed—the wedding breakfast was to be held at Netherfield—and Louisa feared just such a situation as this might arise. In one motion, Caroline risked alienating their brother, his betrothed, and their brother’s best friend, thus losing the condescension of Darcy in extending his considerable hospitality and connections to her and her husband.

  “Shall I read it out?” Caroline did not wait for an answer. Her voice was loud and crackling. “’My dearest Elizabeth’…is it not too sweet? ‘The first letter you have ever written me is in my hands. I have not set it down since opening it, as it is now my dearest possession.’” Caroline abruptly stopped. Her hands were shaking with jealousy edging close to lunacy.

  “Caroline!” Louisa stepped forward and snatched the letter from her sister, unfortunately leaving the outer envelope page in Caroline’s hands.

  Caroline could see the hasty postscript Darcy had included. Loveliest Elizabeth, while I am in London, please do not forget I love you. F. D. Caroline burst into wailing tears. “How I hate her!” she shrieked.

  Jane burst into the room just as Hurst reached his sister-in-law and shook her by the shoulders. “Stop this at once, you silly cow! Do you want to ruin us?”

  Jane took the crumpled envelope from Caroline’s hands and turned to stare sternly at Louisa, who meekly handed the pages of the letter to Jane.

  Mr. Hurst released Caroline as she sank, still crying, to the floor. Hurst, Louisa, and Jane watched with disdain, alarm, and sorrow, respectively. Jane looked questioningly to Louisa, wondering why she would not help Caroline through this crisis. She knelt next to her, taking her shuddering shoulders into her arms, and looked up at Louisa. “Will you not help me console her?”

  “I would sooner see her rot,” Hurst fumed, holding Louisa’s wrist.

  Louisa looked up at her husband with tears just starting to spill. “Marcus, please, she is my sister. I know she has committed an unpardonable sin, but I fear for her senses. Please let me help Jane get her to her room and sedated.”

  Hurst released his wife’s arm, and Louisa crouched next to Jane. Together they raised the whimpering Caroline to her feet. When the three women turned to the drawing room door, they were met with the shocked faces of Elizabeth and Georgiana, who had heard Caroline’s anguished scream and proceeded from the music room with all possible haste.

  “Oh, Lizzy, please help us.” It never occurred to Jane that her sister, the obvious recipient of Caroline’s unhinged wrath, would withhold compassion. “Find the housekeeper and brew the calming tea you make that so comforts Mama.”

  Elizabeth felt as if her own wits were wanting. She stared at Jane a moment until the words finally penetrated her comprehension. “Yes, of course.” Elizabeth turned from the room in search of the Netherfield housekeeper.

  “Lizzy, wait,” Jane called. When Jane, Louisa, and the nodding, weeping Caroline reached the hall, Jane held the disassembled parts of Darcy’s letter to her sister. “It fell out of your book. Caroline picked it up.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide as she took the pages, but she merely nodded and continued on her way to make tea. She knew Jane would explain further once Caroline was safely settled. Georgiana followed Elizabeth.

  When the tea was taken to Caroline’s room, Elizabeth stopped outside the door and whispered to Georgiana. “Please take this in. I cannot. I know my presence will dist
urb her.”

  Georgiana held no fondness for Caroline Bingley. During her time at Netherfield, Georgiana was shocked by Caroline’s continued pursuit of her brother despite his betrothal and the constant talk of his affection for Elizabeth. The depth of Darcy’s adoration had become a continuing joke between him and Bingley, with much teasing and innuendo that both men thought the ladies of the household would not comprehend, but of course they did. Georgiana was astonished at her brother’s forbearance in the face of Caroline’s constant insults aimed at Elizabeth and her equally constant references to the Bennet family’s want of connections.

  Georgiana looked at Elizabeth, who wore an expression both compassionate and sad. Elizabeth was near tears, but Georgiana could not yet find it in herself to pity Caroline. If she thought Caroline truly broken-hearted, she might have summoned empathy, but Georgiana believed Caroline was merely thwarted in her social scheming, thus angered to the point of rage. She simply nodded at Elizabeth, took the tea tray and entered the room.

  Caroline cried and tossed upon her bed. Jane stood aside, quickly discerning that she brought Caroline no consolation. Louisa sat on the bed, whispering in a soothing manner, and managed to get Caroline to take most of a cup of tea since it had been provided by Georgiana.

  Caroline eventually grew still and sleepy. She glanced at Jane. “I am sorry, dear, sweet Jane,” she said in a sluggish voice. “I have underestimated you. Please understand, it was never my intent to make you an adversary.”

  Jane nodded. “You brother loves you, Caroline, but you have tried him to his limits, and he will not be pleased to learn of this. I shall try to intercede for you, but you may need to leave for a time. Prepare yourself.”

  “Thank you, Jane.” Caroline turned to Georgiana. “You cannot imagine my shame, Miss Darcy, that you have witnessed my undoing. What you and your brother will think, I know not.”

  Georgiana could find no forgiveness, but she thought of her brother and what he would want her to do. Loving Elizabeth had made him kinder. “Miss Bingley, you need to rest, and you do not need to worry about anyone’s thoughts. But please, settle your own; my brother will forgive you, as will Elizabeth.” She did not mention herself; she did not wish to lie. “But you must control your feelings and forgive yourself. We, all of us, court shame and are challenged at some time.”