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Lady Matlock extracted a stack of letters secured with a red ribbon. “Oh yes.” She nodded. “These are the letters I wrote to him that first summer. Such fun! How much of my pin money went to bribing my maid to see the letters delivered secretly to his valet!”

Tucked amongst the letters was a bit of paper, this one the heavier embossed cream of a more formal stationery. Lady Matlock plucked it out and snorted in a rather unladylike manner. She handed it to Elizabeth, saying, “I would recognise his hand anywhere, that rascal.”

Elizabeth laughed quietly when she saw written on the paper, Sophie Fitzwilliam. Viscountess Sophie Abington . Next to the words were numerous curlicues as well as flowers on a vine entwining the outline of a heart with the inscription S & P forever inside it.

Lady Matlock reclaimed the paper and seemed to reconsider her earlier response. “I must say, I had no idea. I shall ask the scamp about it later.” She folded the paper and surreptitiously tucked it inside her bodice.

Georgiana opened a small green book and gave a little squeak. “This is Uncle’s diary from…um, the year sixty-seven, I believe?”

Elizabeth leant over to take a peep. “Yes, quite so.” Her eyes travelled quickly down the page, then she suddenly reached across and snapped the book closed before Georgiana could read any further. The girl made a small sound of protest.

Elizabeth laughed lightly. “Let us wait a few more years before you fully immerse yourself in tales of the improper antics of Eton boys.”

“I shall take on that responsibility, then, much as it pains me,” said Anne, grasping the volume and engulfing it in her shawl.

Lady Matlock extracted a handful of other similar green books and sorted through them. “Ah, this is the one.” She thumbed through the book, snickering softly here and there.

“Here it is! ‘Cad is to accompany me to Matlock when we come down from Cambridge at the close of Trinity term. The fishing and hunting will be grand.’”

Drily, Lady Matlock read on. “‘Cad and I arrived at Matlock yesterday. Roads were grand. Tuesday, Waverly Pond with Cad. Fishing was grand. Wednesday, pheasants with Cad. Shooting was grand. Saturday rode to Bixby with Cad. Horses were grand.’ Hmm, it seems they had a grand time that summer, would you not say? His vocabulary has grown considerably more sophisticated since our marriage, you know.” She laughed.

But the young viscount’s diary yielded no further insight into Lord Cadbury’s connexion to Lady Catherine, merely noting that the two men had had a grand time and hoped for more of the same when they returned to Cambridge that autumn.

“I must say, I had rather hoped for more,” Lady Matlock said, looking crestfallen .

“Fear not!” cried Elizabeth, “for I have found the next volume, and it describes their exploits that Michaelmas term. I shall take a closer look.” But the book was blank inside.

Anne withdrew a handful of tickets from the box. “My uncle enjoyed horses, dogs, and all manner of wagers, I see.”

“Oh yes, he once did,” said Lady Matlock absently, her arm up to the elbow in books and papers, “but when we first became acquainted, he had recently forsworn gambling. If I recall correctly, a friend at university had gambled away nearly all his money and narrowly escaped losing his estate, as well, and the earl—then still the viscount, of course—wished to avoid the same fate. He has not placed a wager since, to my knowledge, while so many of those ridiculous gentlemen at his club will bet on simply anything—which flea will jump farthest, which raindrop will reach the bottom of the windowpane first, and so on. Indeed, he described getting up to just that sort of mischief with Lord Cadbury, who of course was then Viscount Cadwallander, at?—”

“From Cadwallander to Cadbury?” Elizabeth bit back a laugh. “I believe I now understand the provenance of his nickname.”

“Which is highly unsuitable for young ladies’ ears,” said Anne .

“Oh!” Georgiana cried, fingertips at her lips, tears welling in her eyes as she plucked a packet of letters from the trunk. “I beg your pardon, Aunt. These are my mother’s.”

“Indeed they are!” Lady Matlock came to her side and craned her neck to see. Elizabeth, too, leant closer, and Anne came to stand behind them all as Georgiana untied the ribbon, opened the first letter with shaking hands, and began to read aloud.

My dear brother,

Pray tell, what sorcery did your chum Viscount Cadwallander work upon Catherine this summer whilst I was staying with Aunt Genevieve?

She wrote of nothing else then, nor does she now, although she has returned to school.

She is smitten. She says he has a neck like a young stallion.

What could she possibly mean? I cannot imagine he has a mane of thick, dark hair flowing down his back.

Indeed, please tell me at once that he does not.

Your loving sister,

Anne

The writer’s niece and namesake looked slightly ill. “I do not care much for horses. Mama, though, has always been partial to them, even though she does not ride. ”

Dear Peter,

Mother says you must stop gambling or she will bar you from your room and make you sleep with the pigs when next you come home. I hear they find wriggling toes quite entrancing, and you know you wriggle your toes when you sleep, do you not?

In her letters, Catherine still writes of nothing but your bosom pal, ‘Cad’. She admires his seat and his manly form, voice, scent, fashion, and neck. Please explain to me once more what is so remarkable about his neck.

Your loving sister,

Anne

Elizabeth blushed as she thought about her beloved’s neck and the marks she had recently left upon it.

His valet had devised an especially clever knot in Darcy’s cravat that morning to cover them, but it was so tall that her husband could hardly turn his head.

Perhaps young Lady Catherine’s fascination with necks was understandable after all.

“I am not at all sure that these letters are entirely fit for a young lady’s ears,” Elizabeth said.

“Perhaps I should read them aloud and omit any passages that might be improper. Not that your dear mother would have written anything improper!” she hastened to add to Georgiana.

“It is simply that people were rather more… ”

Lady Matlock snickered. “Oh yes, we were far more frank in our discussions of love and so on then. Elizabeth, perhaps it is best if you continue from here.”

With wide eyes, Georgiana handed the stack of letters to Elizabeth. “Yes, do, please.”