The Letter

by Emma Crawley

  Lydia stared at him. No one could have failed to recognise the misery in 'John's eyes. She jumped to her feet and ran from the room. I followed her to the passage where Darcy and two other men I did not recognise were holding Wickham.

  "Is it true?" she demanded. Wickham looked between her and John and Darcy. He looked back at Lydia again and then at the two men holding him. He shrugged and looked away. Lydia took a step toward him, and before I could prevent her, she gave him a sharp slap across the face. With that, she marched downstairs.

  I hurried after her, ignoring the stares as we ran through the grimy taproom, and caught up with her on the street outside.

  "How could he?" she sobbed. "I thought he loved me. All those things he said to me. They were so pretty. He promised me a new gown."

  I pulled Lydia into my arms to hold her as she cried though I wanted to shake her. Shake her for the worry she had caused us and shake her for worrying about new gowns when 'she'd just learned of the harm Wickham had caused to others. I wondered if such selfishness would ever change and mature.

  I was still holding her when Darcy, John, Wickham and the two men emerged. Darcy spoke to them briefly, and they took Wickham away.

  "They were here with me," he said. "I thought I was seeing things when I saw you walk through the taproom."

  "How did you know me? I thought I had disguised myself quite well."

  "I would know you anywhere." His eyes burned into mine. I blushed and looked away. "Come. My carriage is here. I will take you home."

  I nodded gratefully and pulled Lydia toward the carriage. Darcy handed me in. John stood on the pavement, looking uncertain.

  "Please come with us," I said. "My family will wish to thank you and give you your reward."

  "Please," said Darcy. "My carriage will return you home after."

  John agreed though he looked a little uncomfortable in the plush surroundings.

  I had so many questions for Darcy, but I could not ask them while Lydia still sobbed and shook in my arms. I soothed her while Darcy and John spoke quietly together. From what I could hear of their conversation over 'Lydia's howls, Darcy was asking many questions about Martha and their living situation. I tried to listen to what he said, but Lydia flung herself against me and forced me to give her all my attention.

  35

  My family had all returned by the time we were home.

  “Lizzy,” my aunt cried as I entered the room. “You should not have left without a note. We were…” She stopped and stared at Lydia as though she were imagining the sight before her eyes. With a cry, she ran toward her and took her into her arms. Darcy and John entered the room behind me, looking awkward and out of place as my father and uncle berated Lydia. Lydia was soon out of the limelight when they realised what I had done, and I had to endure a scolding. They finally relented enough to allow me to introduce John and explain his part in everything. My father and uncle shook his hand and thanked him again and again as he shook his head in embarrassment and tried to demure. They invited him to Uncle’s study to discuss his reward. After they left, Darcy excused himself and followed. I stared after him longingly. What did it mean that he’d been there? Was I still dear to him?

  Lydia was still weeping copious tears over Wickham’s betrayal. We could only hope that with time, she would see her lucky escape. And she was lucky. We had recovered her with few people discovering what had happened.

  “I… I so wanted to be married before Lizzy,” she cried. “It would have been such sport to be the youngest and the first married. Now it will never happen. Oh, my poor Wickham. What will happen to him?”

  My aunt and I exchanged resigned looks over Lydia’s head as she alternated between weeping with pity for dear Wickham’s fate, to condemning him as the most black-hearted villain ever to walk the earth. One moment, she spoke of buying widow’s weeds to mourn the man who was almost her husband. Next, she declared she would buy a fine gown and bright bonnet to celebrate the hanging at Newgate she decided would almost certainly happen.

  Finally, the men emerged from the study. I gently pushed Lydia into my aunt’s arms with an apologetic smile before rising from the sofa with relief. As John said his goodbyes, I followed him to the door.

  “Thank you so much,” I said. “You were so good to me. I could not have done it without you. I hope my father and uncle have paid you to your satisfaction?” I handed him his coat, and he took it with a smile.

  “Your father and uncle have been very generous to me. Far more than I expected. I need have no immediate fears for providing for Martha.” He beamed. “And your Mr Darcy was even more generous.”

  “Oh? How so?”

  “He is arranging a trust for Martha’s care. It is enough for me to rent a small cottage with a pretty garden, a wonderful place for a child to grow up. It is on his estate in Derbyshire. I have long wanted to leave London. He is also providing me with work on his estate. I cannot express my gratitude enough. Martha shall want for nothing.”

  I shook his hand, thrilled that our new connection would continue.

  “Then this means we shall see one another again. And I shall meet Martha.”

  As I waved John goodbye, Darcy appeared at my side. My breath caught as I felt his familiar closeness.

  “Shall we walk?” he asked.

  I reluctantly nodded and turned away to retrieve my coat.

  We walked down the street toward a pretty park.

  “I cannot say I am happy about what you did,” he began. He stopped me when he saw I was about to interrupt. “But I understand it,” he said.

  The knot in my chest eased but only a little.

  “Did you come to London to find Lydia?”

  “Yes. I decided it almost the moment you told me about it.” He sat on a bench and drew me down beside him. The park was filled with young couples taking the air as they walked arm in arm. I wondered if any of them had experienced such a challenging courtship. “I should have told everyone about Wickham,” Darcy continued. “It was my fault he could do what he did. I wished to remedy the mistake.” He turned to me. My breath caught as he raised his hand to brush my cheek. “That, and I could not stand seeing you miserable.”

  I released the breath I had been holding with a shudder.

  “So, you still want to marry me?”

  “How can you doubt it? I love you. I feared you did not want to marry me.”

  I sighed and laughed though the sound was dangerously close to a sob. “All that worry for nothing.”

  “Did you really fear I would desert you?”

  “I did not know. I only knew you left me without a proper explanation just when I needed you most. And then you did not write.”

  Darcy’s expression was pained.

  “I am so sorry for it. I thought I might find Wickham if I could find Mrs Younge. But as she moves so frequently, I did not wish to raise your hopes in case it was for nothing. I did not wish to speak to you until I had news. I hoped you would think I had gone to Georgiana as I had mentioned. The last thing I expected was to find you here.” He put his arms around me.

  I nestled against him, feeling a warm glow of contentment flood through me for the first time in over a week. It was as if I could finally breathe again. I knew I had feared to lose him, but I did not realise how afraid I had been until now when it had finally subsided.

  “You must never do that again,” I said. “For any reason.”

  “I promise. If you promise me not to visit houses of ill-repute again. Even to rescue a sister. At least not without discussing it with me first.” He pressed his lips to my forehead as I laughed.

  “I love you,” I said. Darcy went very still. My eyes had been closed as I lay against him. I opened them at once when I realised what I had said.

  “What?”

  I shifted so I could look up at him. My face burned, and I bit my lip, feeling shy. His eyes were so earnest I could not deny him a moment longer.

  “I love you.”

 
An incredulous look came over his face, almost as if he was afraid to believe me. I gave a little laugh. “You must know how I feel about you.”

  “Must I? Because this is the first time you have said it.”

  “It is?” I blinked in surprise. “I never realised. Well, allow me to make up for lost time.”

  “I will ensure you do.”

  36

  Seven Years Later

  Thomas, our eldest child, scampered across the lawn towards Darcy and me where we had been walking hand in hand. My belly was large with our much wanted third baby. Darcy was in high hopes for a daughter. Little Martha, who often visited us when her uncle was working, was as determined on a girl as he was. Though she loved Thomas and our younger son, Edward as though they were her brothers, she muttered on more than one occasion on the distinct lack of other little girls around Pemberley.

  We turned and smiled as Thomas did not slow down as he careened toward us.

  “I must make him wear one of the helmets from the gallery,” said Darcy in amusement as our son tumbled over then sprang to his feet and bounded on, hardly slowing down as he did.

  “I am surprised he does not wear them already,” I said as Darcy wrapped his arm around me. “What does he have there?”

  We watched as Thomas held up some papers in triumph.

  “Have you been reading?” I asked. Thomas took after his grandfather and namesake with his deep love of books, though fortunately, he was more like his father in other ways.

  “I found this, Mama. It was in one of your books. I cannot make out all the words, but I know it is one Father wrote to you.”

  He stopped just short of us and opened the pages. He cleared his throat.

  “Be… be not alar med… mad dam…” he began.

  Darcy darted forward with a laugh and gently took the letter from Thomas’s little hand.

  “Thank you, Tommy. You are very good to find it for us. Why don’t you find Edward? Take your swords to the garden. You will need to practice them if you are to teach Charles and Marianne how to use them.”

  Thomas looked outraged as his father took his precious find, but he was instantly distracted at the idea of playing with his toy sword and his cousins’ impending visit.

  “When will Uncle Charles and Aunt Jane arrive?” he demanded.

  “We already told you. The day after tomorrow. Now, run along.”

  With a whoop of delight, Thomas bounded across the lawn, screaming his little brother’s name as he went. I turned back to Darcy with a smile.

  “Thank goodness Bingley is coming soon. He can wear them out.”

  The day before our wedding, Bingley had surprised us all by coming to stay at Netherfield to stand up with Darcy. As soon as he saw Jane again, he had eyes for no one else. He was shy with her at first, as though uncertain of his reception but they soon fell into being as absorbed with one another as ever. I watched with anxious eyes, greatly fearing my sister would be hurt a second time.

  “What about Miss Kemp?” I asked Darcy.

  Darcy had frowned. “Who?”

  “Miss Kemp. She was at your dinner. I understood she and Mr Bingley were to wed.”

  Darcy’s face cleared as he recalled who I meant. He smiled.

  “Oh, Miss Kemp. Am I right in suspecting Miss Bingley had something to do with your belief they would marry?”

  I hesitated, and Darcy laughed.

  “No, Bingley had no interest in Miss Kemp. She was Miss Bingley’s friend. Bingley was rather afraid of her. He confessed more than once he feared to be alone with her in case he should find himself engaged before he knew what he was about.”

  I gasped, my heart lifting at once.

  “They are not engaged?”

  “Not in the slightest.”

  I looked across the room to where Bingley and my sister stood together, talking in low voices and smiling at one another as if there was no one else in the world but each other.

  “Do you have something to do with his being here?”

  Darcy looked rather pleased with himself.

  “Well, I told him I might have been mistaken in Jane’s regard for him. He was rather angry with me, but when I assured him I had every reason to believe she still cared for him, he was too happy to hold on to it. I also told him I required someone to stand up with me, and, well, here he is.”

  The marriage of Jane and Mr Bingley followed within three months of our own. My mother was sure she would combust with joy. I was not sure she had come back down to earth ever since.

  Darcy still looked at the letter. I smiled as I watched him read it, several emotions flickering across his face. Finally, he raised his eyes to meet mine.

  “You kept it all these years?” he said.

  “I did.”

  “I rather hoped you would throw it away. There are passages there I wish you did not have the power to read again.”

  I wrapped my arms around him and tilted my face up for his kiss.

  “Never. I owe that letter all my present happiness. It brought us from perfect misery to perfect joy.”

  Darcy smiled down at me.

  “I cannot disagree with you there,” he said. He folded the letter carefully and handed it to me. I would have to be careful with it. I had read it so many times over the years, it should soon fall apart if I did not preserve it. My husband kissed me soundly, then, hand in hand, we walked across the lawn to where our young sons played.