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15th September, 1817

Dear Mr. Darcy,

I must thank you again for the opportunity you provided in recommending me to Miss de Bourgh as her personal solicitor. My daughter Cassandra and I find ourselves very content in our quarters here at Rosings Hall.

As you anticipated, it was necessary to discharge a number of household servants who refused to accept Miss de Bourgh’s authority, including the butler, three footmen and the head chef. All are now serving Lady Catherine in the Dower House and have not caused any additional trouble. Somewhat to my surprise, the housekeeper accepted the change with enthusiasm, and her respectful veneration of Miss de Bourgh has been of great assistance with the female staff.

The new steward, Mr. Cluett, is both sensible and knowledgeable, and we work very well together. There is some regrettable decay across the estate from indolence and poor management, but we will set it to rights in time.

The contract for felling wood was declared null and void since Lady Catherine had no legal right to make such an arrangement. Regrettably, the lumber company in question sent a group of men who attempted to begin felling the wood regardless, no doubt in the hope that Miss de Bourgh would be bullied into accepting the document as written. I worked with several local men to stop the woodcutters and only three trees were lost. There was some initial concern by the local magistrate regarding minor injuries on the part of the woodcutters at my hands, but legally they had no right to be on Rosings land. The magistrate quickly recognized that my actions were entirely appropriate.

Respectfully,

Mr. Alexander Martyn

***

3rd October, 1817

Dear Elizabeth,

I hope this letter finds you and your family well. I know it begins to grow cold in Derbyshire in October, which is one reason I prefer the warmer climate of Kent. I am also aware that you are a vigorous woman who enjoys striding through the frigid rains and chill winds of Pemberley land, and I trust that you are finding great pleasure in this new season.

I am doing well. No, that is not strong enough a word. I am marvelously happy. Mr. Alexander Martyn is a miracle worker, and I cannot thank Mr. Collins enough for his suggestion on that score. For the first time in my life, I feel that Rosings is truly my home. No longer am I bullied and dominated by my mother and, realistically, by the servants. I daresay the latter sounds incredible, but when Mother controlled everything, I was unable to give orders to upper level servants since they would run to Lady Catherine and twist my words so that I was scolded.

I am free at last.

As for my mother, she is ensconced at the Dower House, and I have not seen her in a month. In time, perhaps I will visit her, but for now there is much to do and learn, and I know that if I attend to her, she will merely screech and howl.

Perhaps I should not tell this tale but I will, dear Elizabeth; six weeks ago, shortly after we returned from Pemberley, my mother entered the house and began haranguing me. I ordered her to leave and she refused, whereupon Mr. Martyn literally picked her up and carried her out to her carriage, shut her in, and ordered my mother’s coachman, John Seymour, to convey her back to the Dower House. I watched the interaction with some concern, since the man is loyal to my mother. Apparently, one look at my mighty champion, with his blazing blue eyes and muscular arms, was enough to convince Seymour that discretion was the better part of valor! He drove Lady Catherine away, and as I said, I have not seen her since.

I have some concerns about Mr. Ware, the rector who replaced Mr. Collins. The man was installed at Hunsford after I attained the age of five and twenty, and thus Lady Catherine did not have the right to give him the living. I hesitate to take away the livelihood of the man, but while he is outwardly charming, I instinctively distrust him. I intend to write Darcy on the subject as well but appreciate any thoughts you have on this matter.

With much love,

Anne de Bourgh

***

18 th January, 1818

Dear Mr. Cluett,

… by all means, institute the four course system for the estate at Rosings. It was sheer idiocy to disdain modern farming methods in the past, but then Lady Catherine is idiotic in her own way. I will send a letter to Mr. Coke of Norfolk, and I recommend that you visit his estate there for a few days; the climate is quite similar to Kent, and Mr. Coke is a truly brilliant agriculturist. We have enjoyed a most pleasant correspondence these last years, and he is always willing to share his knowledge with others.

Sincerely,

William Collins

***

28 th February, 1818

My dear Anne,

Thank you for your kind letter of two weeks ago. Elizabeth is somewhat uncomfortable from the new pregnancy, but she is well enough. We are delighted and will gladly welcome either a son or a daughter. I do ask for your prayers that this delivery goes better than the last one. It is a source of great comfort that we have Mr. Collins on hand, as the man certainly saved ourWilliam’s life when the little lad was born with such difficulty. I sometimes wonder if Princess Charlotte could have been saved if she had had Mr. Collins to assist her, but alas, we will never know.

Mr. Alexander Martyn and I have been corresponding regarding Mr. Ware, the current rector at Hunsford. We arranged for an investigator to probe his former life and there are indeed grave concerns about his character.

Only three days ago, I had a tête-à-tête with Mr. William Collins on the subject, and Collins is of the view that you have the moral right, and indeed responsibility, to remove the man from his post as the spiritual leader at Hunsford. You know that Mr. Collins; before he fortuitously struck his head, fell unconscious, and awoke a genius; was a foolish man, yet he was not, at least, a villain. If Mr. Ware were merely a dolt, it might be considered dishonorable to remove him from his position. However, he is, according to our investigators, a complete rogue.

I have not met Mr. Ware, of course, but based on the reports of his character, he reminds me of George Wickham, the son of my father’s steward. Wickham was an extremely attractive man with an ability to flatter almost anyone, but he was a miscreant and a vile seducer. In the same way, it seems Mr. Ware was able to charm Lady Catherine into giving him the living when he most definitely ought not to be a clergyman.

I have no wish to sully your mind and heart with details, but Mr. Wareis not a good individual. I hope you will not take this ill, dear cousin; please do not allow yourself to be alone with the man. If you wish to be rid of him, tell Mr. Martyn, and he will deal most competently with the matter. I am quite certain that Mr. Collins and I can find an excellent parson to replace him, but we await your decision on the matter. You are the mistress of Rosings.

God’s blessings,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

***

8 th March, 1818

Dear Darcy,

You will not believe who was vomited onto England’s shores recently! George Wickham!

My naval friend, Captain Swithin, sent me a letter that the Southern Star was in port and that Wickham was back after two stints of duty under Swithin’s command. I sought Wickham out near the Deptford Dockyards at The Wild Boar , a thoroughly grimy drinking establishment appreciated by sailors and their ilk.

I will be honest and say I barely recognized Wickham; gone is the swaggering, indolent,faux gentleman of old – he is missing several teeth, his skin is swarthy, his forehead and eyes wrinkled from squinting into the sun, and his slim figure now substantially bulked up. All the same he is alive, and I confess to some surprise at that; I more or less expected him to expire on or off some faraway shore.

He recognized me with ease, but then I have not changed as much, I suppose. He was rather wary, as he should be. After all, some seven years ago I press ganged him and thrust him into the less than benevolent oversight of His Majesty’s Navy.

I confess that given his rumpled appearance, I find myself much more charitable toward the man. His captain says he is an intelligent individual. There was, of course, never any doubt of that – the problem was the way the ruffian used said intelligence! Aboard the Southern Star , he quickly learned that the only way to survive and thrive was to work hard and, after a flogging or two, he submitted to the inevitable. Captain Swithin says he is actually a competent sailor now.

I warned Wickham not to approach you or any of our family begging for money, but he seemed genuinely disinclined to do so; indeed, I gathered that the sooner I left him in peace, the better!

I must congratulate you again on your firmness many years ago, when you set me loose on Wickham. Or perhaps I should congratulate your Mr. Collins, who spurred you to action.

By the way, I will be on leave soon and plan for a visit to Pemberley; I do hope your domestic responsibilities have not led you to neglect the trout stream. I am eager to catch a prize fish.

Sincerely,

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam

***

21 st March, 1818

Hunsford Parsonage

Kent

Mr. Gabriel Ware, former rector of Hunsford, sat silently in his study in the parsonage, a glass of rum in his hand and rage in his heart.

How had his life come to this? For years, he had sought the perfect position as a parson of the Church of England and finally had enticed Lady Catherine de Bourgh into giving him a valuable living here in Kent. It was the ideal situation for a man of his interests; he was well regarded in the community, and respected as a favorite of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. One major benefit of his station was that he easily seduced several attractive lower class women, all of whom were convinced to keep quiet when he informed them that he did not, in fact, have any intention of marrying. After all, as he pointed out to his various lovers, who would believe their claims that he had bedded them? He was the parson of Hunsford, a noble son of the Church and a loyal subordinate to Lady Catherine of Rosings herself!

And then, the catastrophe occurred. Lady Catherine was deposed of her position as the mistress of Rosings and her only daughter, Anne de Bourgh, took her place. With shocking abruptness, his placid and pleasant existence at Hunsford had come to an end.

Miss Anne de Bourgh was a frail woman, but she had shown surprising strength of character these last months, ever since it developed that she had legally inherited Rosings a few years previously.

Mr. Gabriel Waretook another sip of rum as he cursed the idiot lawyer who had drawn up the false codicil. According to a young servant girl, who had overheard it from the housekeeper, who was speaking to Lady Catherine’s personal maid, who had overheard Lady Catherine shrieking about it, the codicil’s false signature was badly forged, and there was some kind of foolish mistake regarding the Prince Regent.

Ware was two and thirty years of age. He was handsome, pleasing, and in appearance and manners quite the gentleman. It had been easy enough to flatter and manipulate Lady Catherine; regrettably, he spent little time endearing himself to her daughter since he believed – inaccurately as it turned out – that Lady Catherine would continue to rule Rosings until the day she died. Anne de Bourgh was so thin, so weak, so quiet, thathe paid her little attention, choosing instead to focus his brilliant smile and gentle speech on the older lady.

But no, Miss de Bourgh had returned from a trip to Pemberley with fire in her eyes and a giant of a solicitor at her side. This man, the loathsome Mr. Alexander Martyn, had shown himself an enemy to Gabriel Ware from the very beginning. There was suddenly a great deal of oversight over the parish and the tithes, whereas previously Gabriel had easily skimmed off some extra monies for his own personal use.

And then, only a week ago, the final blow fell. Mr. Warewas summoned to Rosings and informed by Anne de Bourgh herself, with the detestable Martyn at her side, that he was dismissed from his position as parson. When Ware protested that such a thing was impossible, Mr. Martyn told him that his bishop himself, informed of the illegality of his appointment, had agreed with his removal. Ware allowed himself to beg Miss de Bourgh for mercy and requested her compassion, claiming that his expulsion was unrighteous and cruel, whereupon Martyn produced a sheaf of papers and handed it over with one meaty hand.

To Ware’s horrified indignation, the papers were a report by an investigator of his own rather checkered past. There wererecords of previous thefts and seductions, of his own brush with the law some seven years ago. How dare this vapid, skinny female order an investigation of his private affairs!?

Gabriel Ware took another long sip of rum and stared outside ruminatively. His life was in ruins now; his bishop would no doubt warn others of his past, and he would never find another decent living! Furthermore, he was in debt to a number of tradesmen, and he had no source of income at his disposal now that he was being thrown from Hunsford on the morrow. And that was another thing – to only give him a week to leave Hunsford? How dare she?

Again, his eyes drifted to the mighty mansion standing on rising ground. It was yet an hour before dinner, and according to one of his lovers at Rosings, a parlor maid, Miss de Bourgh always spent the two hours before the evening meal in the library reading boring books on estate management.

Ware grimaced and rose to his feet, his mind a spinning pinwheel of righteous fury. He would show the wench that she could not destroy his life without reaping repercussions – she would regret it and soon. He knew his way around the manor and knew the quickest way to the library. Miss de Bourgh was not a married woman yet; if he compromised her, she would have no choice but to accept his hand in marriage or be ruined. If the former, Rosings would be his. If the latter, well, he did not much care if he ended up in jail, or even hanged, if Anne de Bourgh’s life was destroyed. Not that it would come to that; the gentry were notorious for not wishing any scandal to attach to their names.

He slammed his cup onto the desk, causing the remaining liquid to slosh onto the wooden surface, and strode out the door.

***

Express letter to Pemberley

22 nd March, 1818

Dear Darcy,

Something of a most dreadful nature has occurred! But I do not wish to alarm you unduly; I am unharmed.

Yesterday evening, Mr. Gabriel Ware, my former parson, attacked me in the library at Rosings. It is obvious that his desire was to take my virtue, but my dear Mr. Martyn was alerted by a maid who saw Ware sneaking in through the back entrance. Mr. Martyn ran into the library and pulled Ware off of me before any harm was done. Ware had a knife on him and stabbed Alexander in the arm, whereupon my noble defender broke the man’s neck.

I must beg you to come here as quickly as possible. The death was not intentional but Lady Catherine has accused Alexander of murder, and the local magistrates are in the habit of treating her with far more awe and respect than she deserves. Mr. Martyn is not locked up yet, but the situation is volatile. I must beg you to come as quickly as possible, Darcy. I feel the need for family support at this time.

I asked Alexander to marry me. I realize that is hardly the standard way of things, but we have grown very close through the months as we have worked together, and I entirely adore his little daughter, Cassandra. Alexander is the son of a gentleman but a poor man, and it was obvious through our subtle conversations on the matter that he did not consider himself worthy of wedding the heiress of Rosings.

My own reputation is certainly damaged by what has occurred, though again, I was not harmed in any way.

Please come, Darcy!

Your loving cousin,

Anne