“Your laugh. I have missed it the whole of the afternoon.”
I then paused to glance at my watch. I had only minutes remaining, and by some wild impulse emboldened by the unnatural honesty of our conversation, I said, “I wonder if I could ask of you a very great favour, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Of me? Of course you must,” she said, “though I cannot imagine whatever you would ask is so very great.”
“Only you can decide how much of an imposition it would be. But would you allow me to bring your trunk in person and introduce myself to your family?”
“Truly? Of course! You must come if you are willing.” She hesitated. “You are aware my uncle is in trade?”
“I am. And I wonder if I might bring my sister if she is in London by then?”
“I would like to meet her, sir. I have heard so much about her as to feel I almost know her.”
“Very little of what you heard from Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst is true of Georgiana. She is painfully shy. Which brings meto the real favour I wish to ask of you. Upon meeting her, would you consider taking up a correspondence with her?”
“Would she welcome such presumption?”
“She is quite lonely, I am afraid.”
“No. How can she be?”
“Not everyone is at ease in company. You do not suffer from such an affliction, but in general, I believe she is often miserable.”
“But what should I write to her about?”
“Anything, really. A note now and then. You can write of the weather, of the crops and animals, of the fields and trees in Hertfordshire. You can gently lampoon your neighbours, as is your gift, and describe to her any homely pursuit you are engaged in. Simple things seem to please her most, and though she may struggle to reply in kind, I am certain Georgiana would welcome such a friend as you.”
“And if you are wrong? Would she be writing to me out of obligation? Other than Charlotte, I only write to family, and they have no choice but to maintain the connexion. I do not know the way of extricating your sister from the acquaintance should she be reluctant to engage with me.”
“It is simple, really. When letters between people dwindle from one a week to once a month, and then there is a spell of no letters, some smattering of apologies and excuses, you might find that soon enough, you will hear from one another only at Christmas and eventually even that will fall away. But in my sister’s case, I do not believe she would find your letters as onerous as you believe. You would sooner wish to stop writing than she. It is a very great favour, I know.”
“It is the least you could ask of me, sir. I am still in your debt and will strive to make payments in the liveliness of my notes to Miss Darcy.”
I stood then, for the ostler had come to tell us Miss Elizabeth’s coach was ready. “Tell me your uncle’s address,” I said, and when she did, I took her to the coach, gave directions to the coachman, helped her up to the seat, placed the carpet bag beside her, and though I wished to say something, I stood before her—mute, stricken, and struggling to smile.
She seemed unequal to verbalising a farewell herself, offering in return only a brave little smile. With the greatest reluctance, I then shut the door and watched her coach disappear into the strange, smoky gloom that surrounds London on any given night.
CHAPTER 15
Idid not let her go quite as easily as she thought I had. For myself, I had hired a horse, which I mounted directly upon her leaving. I followed her through the streets of London, and from a shadow across the street, I watched as she stepped down at her uncle’s house, disappearing into the light of a doorway opened upon hearing a coach. I then turned my horse towards a much more fashionable part of town. My arrival rather flustered the members of my household.
“Mr Darcy!” my housekeeper cried, having been closer to the hall than the under-butler, who came rushing up from the lower floor.
“Sir!” he exclaimed in mimicry of Mrs Spencer’s surprise.
“A bath and a meal as soon as you may,” I said wearily. “Send Harold up to me. Carsten is behind me on the road.”
“And your coach, sir?” Stevens asked, taking my ruined coat and hat with raised brows as he struggled to make sense of my appearance out of thin air.
“There is a valise strapped to the saddle of the hack outside if you would retrieve it, and see that the poor beast is fed and rested, will you? Have one of the grooms see it back to theSutcliffe Arms just past Greenwich in the morning. Better yet, buy it.”
“Sir?”
“She is welcome to eat her head off, or you might make use of her for yourself and your footmen as you wish.”
This, I supposed, was a clear picture of how much brotherhood I felt for an animal who truly knows what a life on the road entails.
“Keller and the coach are also making their way, along with my trunks,” I added, and because I was in the mood to be generous and my people did not need to spend time in speculation as to what catastrophe had befallen me, I said, “The weather was not our friend.”
