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The first paper sounded a touch mad. Darcy was the best friend I ever had, but we had grown apart over the past year. With that first letter, I well and truly understood that between the two of us, our combined intelligence would still make us the stupidest man in London. In the letter, he refused to give all the particulars, but he was apparently in Kent, with the Bennet sisters: all the Bennet sisters. The story he gave, which I surmised was only a tiny portion of the real tale, made me want to mount my horse and go there immediately to throw myself at Jane Bennet’s feet and beg for redemption. Unfortunately, the rest of the story convinced me I would be taking my life in my own hands with that approach. Apparently, Jane Bennet was not quite so serene any more.

The rest of the first letter is where he descended into madness. Darcy had a plan: a devious and difficult plan, which he admitted was as likely to get me killed as to succeed, but it just might be the path to redemption. He outlined the barest suggestion of a way forward but then spent a full page telling me why I should not go along with the plan, and it would be much more sensible to forget the whole thing.

I was barely pondering and absorbing that the next morning, when another letter arrived. It was shorter, better written, and much clearer. Apparently, a few hours’ sleep did wonders for the man. It told me in no uncertain terms to burn the first letter and forget I had ever seen it. He admitted that if the letter contained a touch of madness, it was really only a fraction of what he was experiencing, but would not elaborate.

The third letter, on the fourth day, implored me to both burn the first letter and notify him by express that I had done so. He said he could not bear it if I got myself killed over some hare-brained scheme, which seemed the most likely outcome.

The fifth letter was mostly a repetition of the fourth. To prevent a sixth, since the man seemed to be sounding more and more desperate, I wrote back express with my sincerest thanks for the information, my fondest assurances that I held nothing against him in the debacle of last winter, since it had been done in the service of a friend, and my absolute iron-clad assurances that I had burnt all the appropriate letters.

That had been some hours ago, though come to think of it, I did not really need my watch as I could see dawn creeping through the window. I had not lied to Darcy, as I had never done so in the past and never intended to do so in the future. I did fully intend to burn the offending letters. I just had to think about it a bit more.

At long last, I rang for a servant, since they were clearly up and about by then, asked for some assistance with the fire and some breakfast, then did exactly as my friend, mentor, and most trusted adviser told me to. I burnt the letters. I burnt every last one—except for the first, of course, and then sat down with my own pen and did my best to create something legible.

~~~~~

“Caroline, I have crucial business that will keep me occupied for at least a month and probably two. You will need to stay with your sister.”

“Charles, what can you possibly be thinking? Lord Winchester’s ball is in a fortnight, and there are three more the week after. You cannot go! I forbid it! We shall stay here and enjoy the rest of the season. I insist. I am certain now that things have settled down in Hertfordshire, Mr Darcy will be back, and we must call on him. We have hardly seen him at all this year, and I have not seen dear Georgiana at all!”

I looked at her, wondering what had made me fail to see her machinations in every aspect of my life since we were children. In the end, Darcy’s revelations were not a surprise, but more likely a confirmation. She really was the most self-centred woman I had ever met and cared for nothing that did not advance her own agenda.

“Darcy is not coming to town, and you should set your sights on another. There is even less chance of you achieving your ambitions now than ever, and there was no chance in the first place. Start looking elsewhere, Caroline. You will never, ever, be Mrs Darcy.”

She just huffed, as she always did when she thought I was being ridiculous. Perhaps there was a touch of something new in her expression, as I had never been so blunt before, but she rallied quickly.

“Oh Charles, you are so tiresome. I have not pursued him these five years and bent myself to be the perfect mistress for nothing. He shall see my virtues this time, but he cannot do it if we do not call on him.”

“Take my word for it! I have it on the very best authority that he will not be in town at all this season, and even if he were, we would not be calling on him.”

“How can you say such a thing? If you truly need to go about some dreadful business, well go to it, but I shall stay here. Louisa and Gilbert can stay with me.”

I wondered if her stubbornness were a gift or a curse for her. I now thoroughly understood which it was for me.

“That will not be possible. You cannot stay here, so either go to your sister’s or to Scarborough, or perhaps since you are quite on the shelf, I should just set up your own establishment.”

It was probably mean-spirited to say such a thing, whether true or not, but after Darcy told me the whole story of how spectacularly I failed Jane Bennet because I listened to the two of them, I was in no mood to quibble. At least Darcy’s intentions had been good.

“How can you say such a horrid thing!”

She actually started to cry, big tears, and a less astute man might well have been fooled by them, while a weaker man might have relented and let her have her way one more time, just as he had done all his life. A kinder man might have held his tongue, but I was tired of being all of those things.

All my life was driven by the fact that most of the good things in life, except for an acceptable sister, had been handed to me. I did not have to earn my fortune, and in fact, the chief goal of my father’s life was to ensure that his children and grandchildren did not have to earn anything. It suddenly struck me as a terrible idea, yet I had gone along without thinking very much. Everything from going to Cambridge to leasing an estate had been done in the service of my father’s ambition, without ever giving much consideration to whether they were my ambitions or not; and to tell the truth, I did not think I had ever before had any ambitions. I certainly lacked resolution the one time in my life when it might have been the making of a man. I doubted Jane Bennet would have put up with me for a month as I was, let alone the rest of my life.

My sister on the other hand, truly believed the world owed her everything that a member of the Royal Family might have been born with. She was determined to pretend we were better than we were, as if wishing would make it so.

I finally returned my thoughts to the matter at hand.

“Caroline, listen to me! Listen very carefully! You will never marry Fitzwilliam Darcy. No matter how much you flatter yourself, he will never offer for you under any conditions. Even if you managed to compromise yourself, he would throw you out on your head and ruin the rest of the family along with you. He is an excessively polite man and has put up with you these years in service to our friendship, but he is finished with all that. You wasted the last five years reaching for the impossible, and leaving the possible routes to happiness by the wayside, destroyed by your greed. You will stop! You will stop now!”

I was happy with myself for finally putting my foot down as the head of the family, finally having grown into my manhood, finally ready to tackle the implacable bear that my sister had become.

“Charles, you are so tiresome! I shall not listen to this another minute. Be a good boy and call for my maid. I shall rest, then invite Louisa over for tea and luncheon.”

She started to leave, and I watched her stick her nose in the air as if she were better than everyone in the room, myself included, or more likely myself especially.

“Caroline!”

I could tell she was not really listening, so I stood and walked in front of her.