Page 35

Several days after the Bennets and Gardiners left Derbyshire, Charles Bingley settled himself at a writing desk in the Pemberley library and began sorting through his correspondence.

Despite the ribbing of his friends, he was a reasonably intelligent man and conscientious of his responsibilities to the family business, particularly now that he was married.

However, he was still in a holiday mood and so, finding a letter from his elder sister tucked amongst the business papers, he relaxed back in his chair and read, chuckling at her use of his childhood nickname.

Dear Chipper,

I hope that you and Jane have had a wonderful Christmas.

Although I miss you at such a time, it is good that Gilbert and I came to Somerset.

My father-in-law’s health has improved a little and he was able to join us for Christmas dinner, but Gil is still managing the estate business and I have taken over most household matters so that his mother may sit with Father Hurst.

Although it is an unhappy situation that brings us here, I believe it has been good for both of us.

Mr. Hurst never shared much of the family’s business affairs with my husband and Gil is finding that he enjoys taking on the work very much.

And I, well, you have always teased me about how much happier I am when kept busy organizing everyone else’s lives.

Now I have the perfect excuse and, I admit, it gives me great pleasure.

Charles, I must apologize to you for my behavior over these last years.

Being at Merehead has forced me to confront the demons that have haunted me since Gil and I were last here.

I still remember the day when we received the express telling of the carriage accident that killed Papa, Mama, and Arthur.

I was so very frightened and, of course, Gil and I rushed to London.

Leaving our little boy with his grandparents seemed so logical; he was such a delicate baby, always fighting off a sniffle or cough.

We believed the country air would be better for his health while we tried to cope with the funerals and Papa’s business affairs.

I don’t know how much you know about Matthew’s illness—I remember thinking that I shouldn’t burden you with our misery because you had so much on your plate already, what with taking over father’s business when he hadn’t prepared you for it as he did our elder brother.

You will remember that we left suddenly the week after the funeral—the letter from Mother Hurst said only that our little boy was very ill and in need of his parents—but both Gil and I had a premonition of something terrible and so we left almost immediately.

And indeed, although we reached Merehead within two days of the letter being sent, Matthew was much, much worse.

Charles, if I could give you and Jane anything in the world as a wedding gift, it would be that you never have to witness the death of your child.

Our poor boy had not yet reached his third birthday and couldn’t understand why his Mama and Papa couldn’t take away the pain.

I would have done anything to do so. After watching him, wracked with fever and coughing, wasting away for those weeks, some might call it a blessing to see him released from the misery.

But when we committed his body to the Earth and soul to God, Gil and I buried something of ourselves.

We came back to London with you and Caroline, saying that we were there to help you, but really it was to escape Somerset and all the memories it held of our son.

I believe that we hoped to keep busy and thus forget…

but now looking back, it all seems like a haze.

Gil began drinking and I… well, I did everything I could to avoid thinking.

That this meant spending so much time with Caroline and her petty gossip and desperate social climbing leaves me deeply ashamed in hindsight.

Our little sister was such a beautiful child, spoilt by family and servants alike.

Papa hadn’t much idea how to treat little girls except as pretty dolls, and Mama was so involved in decorating her new town house and her entertaining that Caro learned to use every charm to get attention.

I remember thinking that she would grow out of it at school—the girls at our seminary wouldn’t put up with such an attitude, particularly from a tradesman’s daughter, however rich.

And then, when she came home and had her debut, I was already betrothed to Gil and didn’t pay her much attention.

You were at university and Arthur was working with Papa at all hours.

You must wonder at your elder sister’s ramblings, and I suppose I am avoiding the true reasons for this letter.

First, please let me apologize for any part I had in separating you from Jane last winter.

My only excuse is that I was still mourning Matthew and had little attention to spare for you, Caro, or anyone else around me.

My dear brother, Jane is a sweet, lovely lady and I cannot imagine a better match for you—I have every confidence that you will be the happiest couple in England.

Please apologize to her for me (I shall do it myself the next time I see her), and to her sister as well.

I let Caroline’s jealousy, spite, and social ambition pull me along to temper my own pain.

I remember when Caro’s obsession with Mr. Darcy first began.

She had finished her first two seasons without success—first she pinned her hopes on the Earl of Everslay but he announced his engagement to Lady Euphemia Archer.

Then it was Sir John Gibbons, but he left with his sick mother for Italy.

And of course there were others—I believe that she worked her way through Debrett’s but with no success.

And then you arrived home from university, escorted her to the Timbleys’ Ball, and introduced her to your good friend, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Caro decided that a bird in the hand (one with wealth and connections) was worth all the titled birds in the bush…

and that was before she really comprehended what it meant to be Master of Pemberley.

Mr. Darcy spent so much time helping you settle our Da’s affairs that Caro decided it was only a matter of time before she managed a merger between the two families—she would marry the brother and you were to marry Miss Darcy.

Well, really, Caro wanted to marry the Darcy wealth, the connections, the estate…

the position in Society. She simply could not accept that he was never going to offer for her.

And then we went to Hertfordshire. I have never seen anyone twist our sister up into knots so effortlessly as Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

Caro simply could not comprehend that the most attractive thing to a man like Mr. Darcy is a lady who shows no particular reverence for him merely because of his wealth or position.

I do not claim to know either Miss Elizabeth or Mr. Darcy well, despite all the time I have spent in his company, but at the wedding I saw their genuine affection.

The love and respect they have for each other was as clear as the sun in the sky and I know I’ve never seen Mr. Darcy so happy.

By now, Charles, you are probably wondering if your silly sister has taken to sampling Gil’s brandy while seeing to her correspondence—I assure you it is not so.

If I had, I might have gotten to the point more rapidly.

In short, it is this: I have made the unpleasant discovery that, not only has our sister not reconciled herself to Mr. Darcy’s marriage, but she appears to have written a number of letters slandering the former Bennet sisters even as she now lives as a guest at Pemberley.

Please believe that I had no knowledge that she was doing this and that Gil and I are prepared to do everything we can to help you, Jane, and the Darcys dismiss whatever rumors Caroline has spread and punish her as she deserves.

Last week, Gil was required to travel to Bath to meet with the Hurst family’s solicitor.

Father Hurst was feeling a little better, and so he and Mother Hurst encouraged me to accompany Gil and take the week to celebrate our wedding anniversary.

Gil and I agreed and ordered the Hursts’ house on Sydney Place to be opened.

We were hoping to use it as a fresh start to our marriage, and I suppose that it has done so, though not quite in the manner we expected.

The day after we arrived, we went to the Pump Room as one does, to see and be seen, and to find out what concerts and balls were scheduled.

There was quite a crush—Lady Jersey and Lady Worcester are both settled here for the winter, you see, so everyone with any desire to gain favor with Almack’s “Fair Patronesses” is here as well.

We had expected a certain amount of curiosity in regard to your and Mr. Darcy’s marriages, but some of the questions seemed very odd.

If I could shield you from the situation, dear brother, I would, but Gil and I agree that it is important for you to know the truth, and as soon as possible so that it can be dealt with.

So, I shall endeavor to be as direct as possible.

In short, you are being portrayed as so utterly besotted that you have no idea what is happening around you.

Jane is said to be a pretty featherhead, controlled like a puppet by her greedy, social-climbing sister, who is working to put both the Bingley and Darcy fortunes under the control of her uncle, a French-sympathizing smuggler.

Mr. Darcy is said to be miserable, having finally realized his mistake in marrying her.

I actually had someone ask if it was true that he has been driven to spend as much time away from the house as possible to avoid his new wife’s mad redecorating of Pemberley.