May 1900
“Aletter!Aletterfrom New York!”
Mrs Bennet flounced into the upstairs apartment, waving the paper in triumph and depositing kisses on the cheeks of her daughters as she passed. “Oh, Lizzy, I knew it would come right. You are saved! What does it say? Has your husband arranged for you to have his half-pay? Shall we all go to New York when he returns?”
“He will not come to New York when his tour is over,” Elizabeth protested. “May I have the letter?”
Mrs Bennet gave it reluctantly but did not grant her daughter privacy. In fact, as Elizabeth broke open the envelope, all her family gathered round her with expectant stares. “Come, now,” she scoffed, her cheeks hot, “surely a wife may read her husband’s letters in private.”
“But you are not his proper wife,” Lydia protested. “What can he possibly have to say that is so intimate? I want to know what he saw in New York!”
Jane was the first to blush on her sister’s behalf. “You are right, Lizzy. Come, Lydia, Kitty. Mama, were you going to show me that new pattern our aunt just got in at the store?”
Elizabeth nestled into her chair, Richard’s letter held close as a guilty pleasure in her lap until the room emptied, and she could indulge her curiosity. The door closed, but not before Jane offered one last affectionate wink.
New York
20 May 1900
My dear Elizabeth,
Such a novel way to begin a letter! I do not believe I have ever before called anyone such. I trust you will forgive me, for it must sound as fresh to your ears as it does to mine.
I arrived in New York three days ago, and I would have written sooner, but for my duties in securing passage for all the horses. It seems the ship we were to depart on left a day earlier than my information led me to believe. Allow me to assure you, seeking berth on a ship for a hundred horses round the Cape at this time of year is a task fit only for… you will laugh… a soldier. I am rather astonished, however, to report that we depart in a matter of hours. The voyage could take as long as a month, but the creatures are all hardy, and I have no doubts they will weather the journey well.
I hope all is well with you. I trust that nothing more has come of the prior troubles. You deserve a bit of peace after everything. When I arrive in South Africa, I will speak personally to my commanding officer to make arrangements for sending a portion of my pay, and that should help you settle somewhere new. I wish it could come sooner, for I expect it would be welcome. But enough of that.
Elizabeth, I cannot say what will come. I may be in South Africa for years, or I may return to England this very winter. If I should return home… I cannot say what then. Well, let us hope for the best for both of us, eh? I will forward the address of my post as soon as I have it, but I would not leave you without some other means of contact. I include the direction for my father, the Earl of Matlock, though if you have need, I expect you would do better to address my mother, the countess. Father has been ill, according to the last word I had, and can be a querulous sort even when he is hale. My mother’s sympathies, or perhaps the viscountess’, will be the more readily engaged.
Better than all these, however, I would advise you to write to Darcy, if you should find yourself in any straits. I will send him word of you. He has the resources and, moreover, the goodness to look after you, even from afar. I hope that nothing of the kind shall be necessary, but it would ease my mind if you knew you were not entirely alone while I am out of the country.
Do give your family my best, particularly your father. I am sorry matters have come out as they have, but I suppose the less said, the better.
Until I see you again,
Richard Fitzwilliam
Elizabeth frowned and creased the letter back into its original folds. Hardly a love letter, but, then, how could she expect something of that nature after such a brief acquaintance? She did not even know his middle name or how old he was. However, what hehadsent her was everything an agreeable man of honour and duty might have expressed in such a circumstance.
And how good it was of him to think of sending her a portion of his pay! It was proof enough of his sincerity towards herself, was it not? He could just as easily have gone off to war, or back to England, and forsworn any acquaintance with her. Again, she counted herself lucky to have wed such a man. Yes, she could be content, even lavishly so, as Mrs Fitzwilliam… if she ever saw him again.
Elizabeth sighed and tapped the folded letter against her leg as she gazed out the window. The letter was precious to her for more reasons than Richard’s gentlemanly assurances. Such an artifact would stand her in good stead if matters around town grew worse.
London
April 1901
Itwasnotonlythe matter of the Army’s reluctance that cost Darcy sleep and a good share of his appetite on more vexing days. Elizabeth’s mention of George Wickham—whether she had truly seen him or not—had Darcy watching over his shoulder again. Surely, if the blackguard meant to extort something more, he would have made some move by now… would he not?
But still, Darcy could not quite be easy. Wickham knew there was something twisted and sinister in Elizabeth’s past, and there would be whispers about Town by now that she was to be the next Mrs Darcy. The mere fact that he hadnotheard anything from George Wickham gave him more cause for concern than if he had a demand letter in his hand.
“You are very quiet today, William,” Elizabeth observed as they were out walking in Hyde Park one afternoon.
“The argument could be made that I am more often quiet than otherwise,” he replied.
“That is only when you are in company. I have found you much more…expressivewhen we are alone.”
“Shall I kiss you in public, then? Dance you around the water fountain? Indeed, many things would then be said, but probably not all of them would be to your liking.”
