Page 132 of The Long Road Back to Yesterday

His surprise was so complete that Elizabeth was tempted to laugh at the absurdity of it. “I had no idea. I hope I have never given her reason to believe I returned her feelings.”

“You have not. She admitted as much to me before she left.”

Fitzwilliam covered the hand resting upon his arm with his own. “Then perhaps some distance from me will help her. I would not willingly cause her pain.”

Chapter 42: The Tokens

Late November 1811

For several minutes after the Bingleys’ carriage disappeared, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam remained where they were. The morning was cold, and Elizabeth tucked her free hand more deeply into her muff while Fitzwilliam covered the other where it rested upon his arm.

“Come inside, darling. You are cold.”

Pemberley seemed unusually quiet without Jane, Charles, and Caroline. Elizabeth had spent much of the previous month surrounded by family and guests, and now that they were gone, she found herself pleased to have her husband and their home more nearly to herself.

Fitzwilliam left her at the foot of the stairs with a kiss upon her temple before going to his study. Elizabeth continued to her private parlor, where Papa’s books filled one wall.

She had grown accustomed to seeing them there, but every so often she entered the room and was struck anew by the sight. She crossed to the shelves and ran one finger along the familiar bindings. Papa had loved these books. He had written in some of them, argued with others, and occasionally thrown one aside after declaring the author a fool.

Elizabeth moved away from the shelves.

December twenty-first was less than a month away.

She went to the small writing desk near the window and opened the upper drawer. Her notebook lay inside.

Elizabeth took it out and turned through the pages containing the notes she and Papa had made before tragedy struck. Later pages held the questions that had brought her to Arbor Low and the observations she had made while searching for an explanation of what had happened to those who had disappeared.

Between the blank pages at the back lay a folded sheet of paper. Aunt Maddie’s letter. It had not been lost or misplaced in the move to Pemberley.

She unfolded the single cross-written page.

Gracechurch Street, London

April 27, 1811

Aunt Maddie’s familiar handwriting covered the paper, and in one corner Jane had drawn several hawthorn blossoms.

Elizabeth touched them.

The letter had arrived at Longbourn on April thirtieth, and the following day Lydia had brought hawthorn branches into the house. Mamma had declared they meant misfortune and death while Lydia insisted they promised a wedding. That evening, Jane had taken Aunt Maddie’s letter from Elizabeth, drawn the little blossoms in the corner, and told her to save it.

Elizabeth had laughed at her, but she had saved it nevertheless.

She folded the letter and went in search of Fitzwilliam.

* * *

He was behind his desk when Elizabeth entered the study, but whatever business occupied him was forgotten when she laid the letter before him.

“I found Aunt Maddie’s letter.”

Fitzwilliam reached for it, and Elizabeth moved around the desk to stand beside him while he read the date.

“April twenty-seventh,” he said.

“Yes, but I did not receive it until April thirtieth. Jane drew the hawthorn on May first.”

He examined the little flowers. “The hawthorn Lydia brought into the house.”