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My mother is now convinced that it was her idea for her two eldest daughters to marry on the same day and you can imagine how effusive she is in her pride on the subject.

Oh dear, I neglected to tell you—I took your response to Jane and Charles and we all decided that a double wedding was just the thing and so it is done!

As I predicted, Papa grumbled a bit about losing two daughters on the same day but was soon brought around to the idea.

(I may have reminded him of the abbreviation in wedding planning and the diminution of funds necessary for a single event rather than two…).

Regardless, it is done. On the fifteenth of September, you shall gain not only a wife and four new sisters but also a new brother.

(Oh heavens—does this mean Caroline Bingley will be my sister?)

Before I forget, I should tell you that I took the liberty of passing along your summary of Miss Bingley’s visit to her brother.

Jane was very quiet; she is still coming to terms with the idea that Caroline played her false and cannot be trusted.

Charles, however, was refreshingly frank in his manner.

Caroline is staying with the Hursts for now because her brother does not wish to have her in his house; he says he shall require her to make a full apology and treat Jane and the rest of the Bennets with respect if she is ever to live under his roof again.

Now that Charles has told us a bit more about his life and the death of his parents and elder brother, I feel I understand him better.

For all the pain that Jane and Charles suffered during their separation this past winter, I believe that both benefited from it in some ways.

Jane has learned that not everyone can be trusted, regardless of her wishes or how pleasantly they smile at her.

She will always be inclined to believe the best of people but I’m relieved to think that she shall be a bit more careful.

Charles appears to have developed more of a spine.

That sounds very harsh and I don’t mean that I have not always liked him.

It’s only that he’s not quite so desperate for approval now; he seems more content in himself and in his relationship with Jane.

But now I’m rambling! I hope that your visit to Gracechurch Street went well.

I agree that an acquaintance with the Gardiners would be very beneficial for Miss de Bourgh.

I pity her; she seems to have lived such an insular existence and it can’t have been easy to grow up with such a strong- willed mother as Lady Catherine.

I’ve been reading several of my father’s medical texts and came across something that you might discuss with the physician who examines your cousin.

When she arrived at Longbourn, Mrs. Jenkinson was particularly concerned because your cousin had not taken her medicines for nearly two days.

When I inquired, she listed off a rather extensive inventory.

I checked Dr. Macpherson’s recent monograph and he notes that several of those “medicines” are little more than very strong (alcoholically speaking) liqueurs infused with common herbs.

More disturbingly, several of the syrups that Mrs. Jenkinson carried are tinctures made from the opium poppy.

As I understand it, Dr. Macpherson is a young man recently graduated from the university in Edinburgh and is generally regarded as too modern in his thinking by many in the English establishment.

However, I must say that I like much of what he has to say regarding the importance of cleanliness and the harmfulness of bleeding.

(I had the opportunity to discuss this with an army doctor once and he agreed wholeheartedly, saying that he had seen far too many men bleed to death from battle wounds to inflict it upon anyone in the name of treatment.)

Macpherson cites writings from medical men of the Orient (and surely they, being the source of the opium, would know best of its effects), saying that long-term use of laudanum can lead to reliance in mind and body as well as an extreme sense of dysphoria.

In short, he cautions that, although a tincture will certainly provide immediate relief from physical pain, its repeated consumption over months or years (as I understand is the case with Miss de Bourgh) can weaken the person physically and result in a truly miserable state of slavish dependence.

From what I’ve read, the medicine becomes a cause of sickness itself—the patient cannot sleep or eat without it and suffers severely in its absence.

He describes situations in which otherwise upstanding characters will resort to thievery and violence to obtain more of the medicine.

Truly, his descriptions are quite disturbing.

Don’t worry, my love; I’m not becoming some hedge witch intent upon doctoring the populace.

I’ve merely found a subject to research in order to distract my mind from your absence.

Jane calls to me; they’ve returned from their visits and apparently I’m needed.

I miss you dreadfully though I know your presence in London is necessary.

I believe I shall practice my riding for no other reason than so I may accompany you on your business trips and tours of the estate.

Shall I dress in a man’s clothes and be your Portia?

All my love,

Elizabeth

…………………………………… .

Derwent House, London

Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,

I adore your freckles. The three on your nose have been among my favorite acquaintances for many months.

I shall, however, admit to a certain partiality for the one on your left collarbone.

It has drawn my eye like the North Star for longer than I would care to admit, all the time begging to be kissed.

You are my Portia, love, ever ready to do battle with words and logic when your companions (or one fool in particular) is being a great lummox.

You don’t need to dress yourself in a man’s garments, although, now that the vision is in my mind I find it rather difficult to discard…

rather… intriguing. But none of that until we are wed (then, my love, I shall encourage your imagination in whatever direction you desire.)

It’s been eight long days since I last looked upon your face, dearest, but it’s nearly over.

Tomorrow I meet with my solicitors for the last time and, with luck, you shall see me not long after you receive this letter.

My secretary has been giving me odd looks lately; apparently my behavior is quite strange relative to what he is accustomed.

I fear he is reassuring himself that I shall return to my old ways after the wedding—this is just some sort of engagement-induced euphoria.

Little does he know that my condition is permanent!

You have not yet met John Harvin but I have high hopes you will like him.

He’s the son of one of my tenant farmers and was brought to my attention by a teacher at the Lambton school (the one founded by Mrs. Gardiner’s parents) as the most diligent and intelligent of any he had seen.

I interviewed the boy and discovered that he had a genuine thirst for knowledge and a great love of books.

I decided to put aside my fear of producing another George Wickham and sent the boy to Cambridge when he was ready with the agreement that, once he had taken his degree, he would return to Pemberley and work as my secretary for three years after which he might go his own way.

Harvin received excellent marks at university and then suffered his term with me without complaint.

His three years ended last September and I was extremely pleased when he came to me and asked if his position might be made permanent.

I’m relieved, truly; he has a great talent for organization and, in addition to handling my correspondence when I travel, I have put him in charge of the library at Pemberley.

Harvin is responsible for the catalogue with which you were so impressed.

I cannot imagine what sort of chaos my desk and the library might become without him.

Now that I think on it, we must introduce your father to my secretary.

I realize that might sound od, but Mr. Bennet’s knowledge and scholarship shall interest Harvin while he has enough idiosyncrasies to entertain your father.

Of course, they’ll disappear into the library for days on end but who am I to judge?

I thank you for your notes on the medications that Anne has been taking.

I had no idea and when I brought the subject up with her and Mrs. Jenkinson, I was stunned by the variety and volume of tonics and powders and elixirs she has been taking.

They cannot be good for her health. I spoke of Dr. Macpherson to your uncle and he helped me procure a copy.

(Anne’s visit to the Gardiners went well—she was quiet and a little overwhelmed but I believe she enjoyed it just as she enjoyed the more energetic atmosphere at Longbourn).

I have only begun to skim Macpherson’s text today but I agree with you that much of his recommendations seem logical and well substantiated by data and observations, as per the scientific method.

I can see how the medical establishment would not easily accept him but regardless, I’ll bring up the issue when we meet with the specialist.

Tomorrow afternoon, Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson shall remove to my Cousin Ellen’s house (Ellen is Richard’s eldest sister, second only to Edward in age).

She and her husband, Morley (Lord Harry Parker, Baron Morley) returned from Derbyshire yesterday and came to visit almost immediately.

They are both good-natured and amiable as well as quite accustomed to looking after younger relations.

Honestly, I believe their household shall do more for Anne than we can.

Though Georgiana and I both care for her we have had a difficult time finding anything in common to talk about.

Anne has no interest in music or literature or current events.

Georgiana drew her out a bit with some lady’s magazine on the newest fashions but to be honest, my sister has not much more interest in such things than I do.

Ellen and Morley have two young daughters who are mad over bonnets and hair ribbons right now and will give Anne the attention she seems to need in an undemanding and non-judgmental sort of way.

Honestly, Elizabeth, I don’t know what Anne will do.

She’s been mentioning Rosings more and more often over the last few days.

She may not have been particularly happy there but the surroundings were familiar, I suppose.

I wouldn’t be surprised if she decides to return to Kent and her mother in a week or two.

We will make sure that she is seen by a physician and understands the details of her inheritance (my uncle wrote that he has an appointment with the solicitors the very day after he arrives in London), but if we force her into living our vision of what is best for her, are we any better than Lady Catherine?

I apologize—this is no proper love note.

I received a large packet from my steward at Pemberley today.

It seems as if every time I solve one problem, three more grow up to take its place.

Shall we go to the seaside, dearest? Just for two weeks or so, right after the wedding?

From your letters I sense you feel as I do, that the world is spinning very fast right now and I would like to hide away for a little time alone… with you!

All my love,

Fitzwilliam

P.S. Elizabeth— I’ve received a note from Richard just now and its contents are important enough that I shall append it here.

He left Matlock for Brighton where several regiments of militia and regulars were to overwinter.

Unfortunately, the generally wet weather combined with a storm of truly historic proportions has flooded all the fields where the men were camped.

As a result, they are leaving immediately to move to more favorable locations.

I’m afraid that this means that the Derbyshire militia shall be returning to Meryton within the week, my love.

In all the confusion, Richard was not able to speak with Colonel Forster directly but he was able to gather some information about Wickham.

He shall be remaining in Brighton with a small group of soldiers to do some sort of packing up.

Regardless of why he remains, he should not arrive in Hertfordshire for several weeks.

Feel free to share this information with your father and anyone else you deem necessary.

I do not know that he would cause trouble for you or your family because of me but I would prefer to err on the side of caution given our history.

I will be there as soon as I can, my love. -fd