Page 36

It gives me great pain to tell you that Gil and I have traced these stories back to a single source, namely Caroline.

She appears to have written to a number of acquaintances (you and I both know that she has nothing in the way of real friends).

Gil and I are doing everything we can to contradict these ridiculous rumors and shall continue to gather information and forward it to you at Pemberley.

Please feel free to share this letter with Jane, and the Darcys as well

Dear Charles, you are a good, kind man and have been the best of brothers to Caroline and myself.

You forgave us for our interference and ill treatment of the Bennets and kept the family harmony.

It is for you to decide Caroline’s punishment—Gil and I will stand by you, whatever your decision—but for myself, I must say that she has really gone too far this time.

If I were in your shoes, I would turn her out of my house, stop her allowance, and cut her in public.

As much as it pains me, I have come to realize that money and Society are the only things Caroline truly cares about.

Gil has read all that I have written and asks that I say he agrees, and that you can count on his support, for what it is worth.

Your loving sister,

Louisa

Charles Bingley slumped back in his chair and shut his eyes, stunned.

When he finally opened them again, it seemed surreal that he was still sitting in the Pemberley library.

He was still trying to work his way through his sister’s letter again when a quiet knock on the door signaled the butler’s arrival.

“Please excuse the interruption, sir, but an express just arrived for you,” said the servant, proffering a silver tray with a small packet on it.

With a jolt, Bingley took the letter, immediately recognizing his eldest sister’s handwriting. “Thank you, Allen. Thank you very much.” Bingley stared at the letter in his hand, barely noticing the servant’s sedate bow and retreat until he was at the door.

“Oh! Allen—would you be so good as to find Mrs. Bingley and ask her to join me?”

“Certainly, sir.”

Although Bingley had controlled his tone, Jared Allen was an intelligent man and an experienced servant.

He recognized the gentleman’s barely suppressed anxiety and moved to complete his new task as rapidly and discretely as possible.

A footman directed him toward the conservatory where he found Mrs. Bingley working on her embroidery while Miss Darcy painted.

“Mrs. Bingley; Mr. Bingley requests you join him in the library, ma’am.”

Jane was still a new enough bride to blush at the appellation. Smiling softly, she excused herself from her companion and left to search out the library.

Quietly entering the room, she looked to her husband and immediately recognized his disturbance. “Charles? What is it? What has happened?”

Bingley put the letters down and moved to embrace his wife. “No one is ill, my dear. Just some worrisome news from the Hursts that I wished to share with you.” He paused, thinking quickly. “Jane, do you know where Caroline is?”

Jane stepped back so that she could see her husband’s eyes. “Still in her rooms—she rarely comes down before luncheon. But Charles, what did the Hursts say?”

Bingley checked his pocket watch to note that it was not quite eleven o’clock in the morning and then picked up Mrs. Hurst’s letter.

“I believe it would be best if you read Louisa’s words for yourself, and then there is more in the express I just received.

Please sit, my dear. It is a long letter and…

well, not an easy one.” He led her to a sofa by the fire and then turned to a writing desk in the corner, pulling out a scrap of paper to pen a note.

Darcy: I have just received some troublesome news from the Hursts that I need to share with you and Lizzy, privately . Jane and I are in the library. At your convenience, Bingley

He had just directed a footman to deliver the folded note and closed the library door when his wife exclaimed, “Oh, Charles, how can this be true?” Retrieving the express, he moved to sit beside her, wishing rather than believing that its contents were not going to further undermine Jane’s belief in the innate goodness of all humanity.

Meanwhile, in another part of the house, Fitzwilliam Darcy was having an exceedingly good morning.

Over the last few hours, he had met with the manager of his mines, finished checking the account ledgers for the previous year’s wool sales, and had just signed the last of the letters prepared by his secretary.

Replacing the papers in their leather binder and moving it to a neat pile on the side of his desk, the Master of Pemberley allowed himself a minute to lean back in his chair and take a deep breath.

Since his marriage, it seemed that the weight upon his shoulders had lightened to feathers.

Certainly, he spent significantly less time doing paperwork and dealing with business matters.

Logically, he knew that this was, in part, the direct result of having a partner with whom to share his duties.

Elizabeth had stepped into her role as Pemberley’s mistress with great determination, running the household, handling most of their social correspondence, and most recently had begun reviewing the Darcy family’s charitable contributions.

Her good sense, intelligence, and easy manners seemed to have raised the spirits of the entire estate.

To himself, Darcy admitted that he was far more efficient in completing his work now that he had the reward of spending time with his dearest, loveliest wife when it was done.

Considering his options, he decided to convince Elizabeth to go riding with him and was just about to do so when a footman knocked on the study door and handed him a note.

Scanning it quickly (Bingley’s handwriting was remarkably clear, for once), Fitzwilliam unhappily dismissed thoughts of absconding with his wife. Tucking the note in a pocket, he moved behind the desk to a door camouflaged by bookcases while asking, “Is Mrs. Darcy still in her study, John?”

At the servant’s nod, Will dismissed him and ducked through the portal.

It was not quite a secret passage, although he had liked to imagine just that as a boy, dreaming that he was exploring some Arthurian castle.

Most of the servants knew about it as well as many of his extended family.

However, it was still the shortest route between the master and mistress’ studies, as well as a superb way to avoid meeting any guests when all he really wanted was to see his wife.

Pausing to look through the peephole to see if Elizabeth was alone, he tapped on the door and entered just as she turned around in her chair. Her smile was enough to send his pulse racing.

“Ah, my brave knight! Are you here to rescue me from the clutches of this evil monster they call Society? I fear it is threatening to consume me!” With dancing eyes and happy laughter, Lizzy waved at the mountain of correspondence that had begun accumulating on her desk as the start of London’s High Season drew ever closer.

Grimacing, Darcy moved to stand behind her chair and kissed the top of her head. “I’m glad you were not aware of how much chaff there is to separate from the grain before we married—you might have left me at the altar if you had known the truth.”

She shot him an amused look and assumed a long-suffering tone; “Ah well, it is just one more of the grave burdens that I must bear in this tedious role as your wife…”

Fitzwilliam could not resist kissing her teasing mouth and for a moment considered dismissing Bingley’s request and spiriting his wife upstairs to their rooms. He was just about to begin unpinning her dark curls when his wife’s quick mind returned to his appearance in her study.

“But Will, you seemed very serious when you arrived—is anything wrong?”

Darcy sighed heavily at the interruption but dutifully removed Bingley’s note from his pocket. Standing behind her as she read, he could not keep himself from that spot just beneath her ear, inhaling the wonderful scent of lavender, and of Elizabeth .

After reading the note, Lizzy closed her eyes for a moment to enjoy her husband’s attentions, before turning and rewarding him with a kiss. When their lips parted, she laughed lightly while pressing her hand above his heart.

“Oh, my love, as much as I would prefer to continue this, I fear we should go find Charles and see what has him so upset.”

Darcy was even less inclined to be dutiful than before. “It’s Bingley . He probably just found out that the Hursts’ puppy stubbed its toe,” he grumbled, caressing his wife in such a way as to encourage her to forget about any other men, but most particularly her brother-in-law.

Elizabeth rewarded him with another, slightly longer kiss, but turned away much too quickly in order to move a few papers to a drawer that she locked before standing and turning to her husband with a smile.

Holding out a hand to him, her eyes twinkled warmly.

“Come, Mr. Darcy. Let us go find out what troubles Mr. Bingley, and then, if we have time, I was thinking we could go for a ride this afternoon. I would, of course, need your assistance in choosing the appropriate riding habit for this weather.” She had discovered that her husband derived an inordinate amount of pleasure from watching her (and often assisting her) undress.

Darcy attempted to maintain a serious demeanor but the passion in his eyes warmed Lizzy to her core. “Your wish is my command, madam,” he retorted with a quick kiss on her hand, moving to the door.

The Darcys’ happy mood lasted only a few steps into the library before the gentleman’s slumped shoulders and the lady’s pallor made it clear that something was very wrong.