“Forget it, Billy. The only hope of success on that point would be to find a gent she has previously favoured—one with whom she has been seen to enjoy herself in public. The only man around to truly show as much interest in her as Bryson—one whose attentions she wasnotattempting to escape—is….” Gardiner broke off suddenly, clearing his throat and swiping at some imaginary dust on the counter.
Mrs Gardiner forced a smile. “Well, Colonel, it has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Your train is tomorrow? I do hope you keep well in Africa. I suppose it will be too much to hope for word of your safety?”
“Safety?” He blinked. “Oh… er… no, I suppose it would. I expect this is farewell, Mrs Gardiner.”
“Ah,” Collins raised his hand, as if he were a lad in the schoolroom attempting to win the master’s favour. “If, ah, if you are ever again in London, do you think I impose on you to send me a bit of a souvenir?”
“A… a souvenir. All the way from London?”
Collins was grinning sheepishly and tapping the fingers of both hands together in a pleading gesture. “Oh! A mere trifle would suffice. A handbill, perhaps, or a card from Hatchard’s? You see, I am unlikely to ever journey there myself, so….”
Richard nodded shortly. “I will see what I can do. Look out for Miss Elizabeth, will you?”
And with that simple transaction, those parting promises exchanged, Richard took his leave of that dusty little town.
Matlock
December 1900
“CousinElizabeth!CousinJane!My fair cousins, we have news!”
Elizabeth put her head out of the door Billy had been rapping on, her hand still holding her dressing gown closed. “You do not need to sound so formal, Billy. What is it, word from London?”
He held aloft a thick envelope, crossed over with numerous markings and looking as if it had endured more than one wetting. “From Wyoming.”
Jane gasped in joy, but Elizabeth extended trembling hands. Reverently, she caressed the edges of the envelope. She would have snatched it from Billy’s grasp to tear it open, but Jane spoke first, and more rationally.
“We need to dress,” she said. “Billy, you shouldn’t even be here. Go on downstairs—we will meet you in the library, and we can all read it together.”
Elizabeth watched the precious envelope slip from her fingers. The door shut it out of her sight, but then she flew into motion. The dressing gown sailed across the room, and she commenced a hopping, shuffling sort of dance to pull on her stockings, garters, and stays.
“It must have got lost,” she postulated between garments. “Did you see a date? Only one letter, too! I wonder if there are more to come.”
“I am merely happy to see this one,” Jane declared. “I hope it is a good long one, with notes from everybody!”
They hurried down and found Billy setting a tea cart with one of the maids. He gestured proudly to his work. “Lady Matlock and Miss de Bourgh inform me that the only proper way to receive mail is in leisure, so that the words of those far away may be meditated upon with all due pleasure and solemnity.”
Elizabeth chuckled and patted his cheek playfully, but she declined a cup for herself. “I could not touch a drop until I have satisfied my curiosity.”
Billy handed her the envelope, and Jane gestured for Elizabeth to be the one to open it. Her hands quaking in excitement, she spread out the pages. “It is in Mary’s writing,” she announced, and then read aloud.
October 16, 1900
Dear Jane, Lizzy, and Billy,
I have been practising my penmanship so I may be a credit to you when I write. Alas, it is I who must write, as Mama insists on pacing behind my chair and dictating what she desires me to put down, and Kitty and Lydia have not the patience to write legibly. With the cost of posting a letter all the way to England, it is better that you should be able to read it when it arrives, although you ought to have no trouble with our aunt’s letter.
I have a bit of news. John Lucas has spoken with Papa, and we mean to marry in the spring. I believe I shall be quite happy as his wife, for he is a steady, sensible young man and well able to provide for a family. His one regret in marrying me was that I had no opportunity to learn any music, and he dearly cherishes a bit of song after a long day. Our uncle remedied that, in procuring for me a fiddle to learn upon, but I fear my efforts have yet to produce anything I could remotely term success. I am sure I will be proficient by the time I marry. For now, even our aunt prefers that I engage in my practice out of doors, and that her little dog must be secured in her room before I begin. Last week, it took us all afternoon to find him when he ran away, and Lydia was sure a coyote had got him.
Elizabeth stopped reading to snicker and to watch Jane trying to conceal her amusement. “Poor Mary!” Jane said.
“Our poor aunt, you mean!” Elizabeth rejoined. “It must make a dreadful screech when she practices, and if I know Mary, a half an hour will not suffice for her studies.”
“Oh, read on, Lizzy,” Billy urged.
Elizabeth cleared her throat and continued.
You will be pleased to hear that Kitty and Lydia have been tolerably well-mannered of late. With you all gone, and me engaged, Aunt has laid upon them a great deal of work at the general store. They complained miserably, as I am sure you might expect, and not a day passed for some while that Lydia did not insist her back was broken. However, they are much improved. Kitty can now keep an accurate inventory, and it has been at least two weeks now that Lydia has successfully made the till balance at the end of each day. Uncle says he means to pay them properly (rather than merely granting them a spending allowance) once they can manage on their own, to give some relief to our aunt. Lydia was particularly pleased with this, for they had got some new ribbon in that she liked especially, and these days she is nearly the best-dressed girl in town.
