She may be correct. But it is only that I would rather you not throw this into the fire before you had got halfway through.
Lyme remains much as you left it. The sea continues to come in and out. The wind blows. The sea shines occasionally and our dear landlady continues to heap unexpected pearls of wisdom on its unsuspecting citizens.
Yesterday she informed a gentleman upon the promenade that his hat reflected poorly upon his judgement. He looked so chastened that I very nearly ran after him to inform him that I thought it was a reasonably handsome specimen of its sort. Alas, he was gone before I had the opportunity.
Bingley misses the company of your family almost as much as I. One member in particular (if I may be so bold). To illustrate this, I must start by saying the idea of Bingley reading for pleasure in any circumstances is very unusual indeed. But yesterday he spent ten minutes searching for a book of sonnets which he had—much to my amusement—been holding in his own hand throughout the search. Georgiana cried with laughter, although friendship obliged me to point out his missing tome eventually.
I confess I was tempted to wait longer.
Georgiana wishes to be remembered to you and I find myself thinking of our conversations often. Pray tell me news of your home and how you occupy your time.
Yours hopefully,
F. Darcy
Elizabeth read the letter twice before breakfast was over and her answer was written that afternoon.
Mr Darcy,
I am delighted to learn that Mrs Makepeace continues her campaign of public improvement. Meryton has long required similar leadership and I shall recommend her services immediately.
We continue at Longbourn as we ever have, and I am much occupied with walking some of my poor, neglected trails at the moment.
In other news, Kitty has recently acquired a bonnet which she considers to be transformative to her entire person. According to her, it brings out her eyes, adds lustre to her skin and, in a somewhat unlikely turn of events, makes her appear significantly taller. She has worn it every day for a week and demanded admiration from the entire household.
As for Mr Bingley, I am sorry to hear of his decline. Jane bears the separation with considerably greater composure, though whether this reflects well upon her or poorly upon him I cannot say.
My mother continues to direct the household although appears more settled and content than I can remember and my father spends a little less time than is his usual habit in his library.
The rest of us continue to observe these proceedings with great interest. Give my regards to your sister and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.
Yours in friendship,
Elizabeth Bennet
Darcy read the letter eagerly as if it were his first sip of water after months in the desert. He read it again almost immediately afterwards, more slowly this time, lingering over particular passages and smiling at Kitty's bonnet and the dry affection with which Elizabeth seemed capable of describing even the most ordinary events.
By the third reading, however, his attention had become fixed upon the conclusion.
"Yours in friendship,"
He remained for some time at his desk with the letter open before him. Friendship was a comfortable word, a perfectly adequate word, but oh how he wished he could be more than adequate in her eyes. Did she see this correspondence as simply a means to placate a man who had behaved most idiotically but was too high in society to snub altogether? He fiercely hoped not, and trying to put the phrase away he picked up a blank page. Their correspondence continued apace.
Miss Bennet,
You will be pleased to learn that I admire Kitty's bonnet in absentia. It sounds almost mythic in its qualities and I hope one day to see this great wonder myself.
Georgiana maintains that she cannot possibly look as alarming as your description suggested. Bingley, having never seen the bonnet, has declared himself in favour of it.
We are now in London. It is noisy and dirty and has failed to meet my (always low) expectations for city life.
I attended a dinner two evenings ago surrounded by people of excellent connections and irreproachable manners. Not one of them said anything worth remembering.
I found myself wondering throughout the evening what you would have made of them. I could predict your opinions of half the company and wished repeatedly that I might compare my conclusions with yours. To see your eyes sparkle at their nonsense would have… well, it would have made the evening much brighter.
There are disadvantages to becoming accustomed to another person's perspective. One begins to miss it when it is absent.
Yours,
