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In the parlour, Mr and Mrs Gardiner were sitting together on the sofa, waiting. The gentleman was still coughing from time to time, attempting to fight the illness with a glass of brandy.

“As I have already told you, I met Mr Darcy and his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam in Kent. During my stay, I had the chance to speak to Mr Darcy privately a few times. I learnt that Mr Wickham’s stories were all falsehoods and that he actually received a significant sum of money, at his request, in exchange for the living, which he stated he had no interest in.

I also learnt that Mr Wickham made a habit of polluting Mr Darcy’s name.

I was offered proof of all this, but I do not have the authority to share it. ”

“We do not need proof, Lizzy. And I confess I am not surprised — I never gave Mr Wickham too much credit,” Mr Gardiner said.

“However, now I am even more curious why you would want to protect his property and why you would put my name and my honour at stake for his debts,” Mr Gardiner said, his tone severe.

“I did not do it for Mr Wickham, Uncle. I have reason to suspect that those objects, even though they were in Mr Wickham’s possession, actually belong to the Darcys.

I would like to warn Mr Darcy about their existence and offer him the chance to buy them back before they fall into greedy and indiscreet hands. ”

“Oh…” Mrs Gardiner said. “This is quite shocking…and worrisome.”

“Indeed, Aunt.”

“But are you sure, Lizzy? Could it be a coincidence? It would be silly to disturb Mr Darcy — a gentleman with whom I am not even acquainted — on an assumption.”

“I am sure, Uncle. And I am also sure that, even if I am wrong, Mr Darcy would appreciate being informed and having the chance to see for himself and protect his family from great danger. After all, there is no doubt that the man is Mr Wickham!”

“That, I can testify to,” Mrs Gardiner added. “The identity of the man in the portraits is beyond doubt.”

“Very well. So how do you want to proceed?” Mr Gardiner asked.

“I shall write to Mr Darcy, enclosing a letter from you. But I do not know his address. We shall need a loyal servant to look for his house and deliver it to him — nobody else but him in person! Do you think we can do that?”

“During my visit to Miss Bingley, I heard Mr Darcy lives somewhere on Park Lane. His house should be easy enough to find,” Mrs Gardiner said.

“I shall send Gilroy. He is loyal, clever, and trustworthy. Though, on second thoughts, I might go myself. I am not so ill as to not be able to sit in a carriage. If the matter is as delicate as Lizzy says, and if it involves a man like Mr Darcy, I would not risk any indiscretion.”

“But are you sure you feel well enough?” Mrs Gardiner asked.

“My dear, there are men who are fighting in the war with colds,” Mr Gardiner answered, attempting a smile. “Lizzy, make haste to write your letter. If it is so delicate and urgent, I shall deliver it today.”

With that, Mr and Mrs Gardiner went to their chambers, and Elizabeth began to write, her fingers trembling, her heart pounding, struggling to find the right words.

The notion that she was writing to Mr Darcy — the man whom she had abominably offended with false accusations, the man who had proposed marriage to her and she had harshly refused — was disconcerting.

He might be appalled and enraged by her audacity.

But the reason behind the letter was a serious one and justified any breach of decorum.

He may or may not know that his sister had given Mr Wickham a watch.

He may or may not know that his sister had painted the man’s portrait, but it was unlikely that he knew his sisters’ secrets were currently exposed to public scrutiny.

Mr Darcy might be angry with Elizabeth for refusing to marry him, but he would want to protect his sister’s reputation.

Mr Darcy,

I am writing this letter with the approval of my uncle and aunt, which you will have seen from the enclosed note and might already have learnt from my uncle himself, if he is the one who delivered it to you.

I shall be as concise as I can be. Today, by extraordinary coincidence, I passed a pawnbroker’s near Gracechurch Street and saw in the window a portrait of Mr Wickham. I asked for details and discovered that the portrait had been drawn last July and signed GD.

There was also a pocket watch of great value, left at the shop by Mr Wickham himself in exchange for cash. Inside the watch, there is a lady’s portrait and a personal and romantic inscription.

I was immediately worried for reasons you may guess, and I asked the shop owner to keep the objects safe and hidden for a few more days.

If you consider it worth the effort, you may see the objects yourself and decide how to proceed.

I enclose the exact direction — ask for Mr Backer, and tell him you were sent by Elizabeth Bennet.

Please rest assured that, although I trust my uncle and aunt implicitly, I have not disclosed to anyone details that must be kept secret.

I hope this strange situation will have a positive resolution.

Sincerely,

E. Bennet

She re-read the letter, then sealed it. A few minutes later, Mr Gardiner returned, and she handed it to him, grateful to her relatives for not requesting to read it.

As soon as Mr Gardiner left the house, instead of feeling calmer, Elizabeth’s distress only increased. What would Mr Darcy say? What would he think? What would he do?

Mrs Gardiner, Jane, and the children were all around her, but Elizabeth could not keep her attention on the conversation, nor engage in her young cousins’ play.

She counted the minutes, trying to imagine how long it would take for her uncle to travel from Gracechurch Street to Park Lane and back, how Mr Gardiner would be received — what if Mr Darcy refused to even see him?

— and how long the conversation might last.

The time passed painfully slowly, and it seemed hours before they heard the sound of the carriage returning. Nervous, she hurried to the door and opened it. The first thing she noticed was her uncle’s pale countenance.

“Let us go to the library, Lizzy. We have quite a few things to discuss.”

He briefly greeted his family and said to Jane, “My dear, I hope you do not mind if I steal your aunt and Lizzy for a few minutes. Can you please watch the children? We shall explain to you later. Do not worry.”

Jane nodded, a worried frown creasing her brow, while the three of them entered Mr Gardiner’s study and closed the door behind them.

“Well?” Mrs Gardiner asked impatiently. “My dear, you look unwell. I shall prepare you some medicine immediately.”

“Madeleine, wait a moment. I promise no medicine is needed. Briefly — Lizzy was right. Mr Darcy seemed exceedingly interested in my story and thanked me countless times for informing him.”

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. “So you spoke to him.”

“Yes. He was astounded when I revealed my identity and dumbfounded when I handed him your letter. He was reluctant to take it, but after reading it, his distress was apparent.”

“So, he said he will visit Mr Backer?”

“Actually, he asked me to travel there immediately with him and introduce him. I left him at the shop.”

“Oh…” Elizabeth said, quite distressed herself.

“I have to tell you, Lizzy, your supposition was apparently accurate. Mr Darcy acted as if you had saved his life, or at the very least his fortune,” Mr Gardiner joked. Elizabeth forced a smile, though she knew her uncle might not have been far from the truth.

“By the bye, Mr Darcy asked my permission to write you a letter to thank you, Lizzy. I granted it. I hope you do not mind.”

“No…of course not,” she answered, bewildered. It was simply a gesture of politeness, but she felt disconcerted at the thought of another letter from him.

“Now, let us prepare for dinner,” Mrs Gardiner suggested. “And you, sir, whether you think you need it or not, you will take your medicine.”

“I cannot argue with you, madam. But I must have a brandy too, just to increase my appetite.”

Elizabeth returned to her sister and cousins, still absent-minded. The situation was certainly of great importance since Mr Darcy had attended to it so urgently. Now that she had the confirmation, she wondered about the circumstances that had brought the watch and the portraits to the pawnbroker’s.

Miss Darcy, at the age of fifteen, must have been truly in love with that despicable man. Or at least she had fancied herself to be, maybe confusing childhood affection with romantic feelings.

Elizabeth knew a little of what had happened from Mr Darcy, but there were still many unknown details.

Was the watch purchased for Mr Wickham or a family heirloom?

The inscription on the back must have been made by a skilful hand — was there such a man in Ramsgate?

Had Miss Darcy been so bold as to request such an intimate inscription herself?

Had her dissolute companion, Mrs Younge, been involved?

There were so many questions without an answer, and it was such a distressing situation!

A twist of fate had placed her in front of that window and drawn her attention to that portrait, and those coincidences might have made a difference to a young girl’s reputation.

The more she thought of Mr Wickham, the angrier she became with herself for falling so easily into that scoundrel’s trap.

At dinner, Mrs Gardiner offered Jane a brief explanation for their private meeting involving their uncle’s business, and Jane did not request any further details.

That night, Elizabeth slept little and poorly.

In truth, she had hardly had one restful night since the day of Mr Darcy’s proposal, and that night was even worse.

When she finally fell asleep, strange and disturbing dreams ruined her rest; she woke up several times and fell asleep again with great difficulty.

In the end, she admitted that what troubled her the most was the question of whether she would see Mr Darcy again.

Would he call to thank her and her uncle?

It was unlikely but not impossible, and she could not decide whether she wished to see him.

What was she to say to him? The first thought that crossed her mind was to ask him about Mr Bingley.

Had Mr Darcy accepted that he was wrong in considering Jane indifferent to his friend? Could he have taken the blame? Was Mr Bingley even interested in Jane any longer? Had he ever been, or was it only a shallow admiration that had disappeared after a few weeks?

With such musings, time passed, and Elizabeth welcomed the morning. She helped her aunt prepare the children for the day, her mind still engaged with only one subject.

At breakfast, Mr Gardiner declared he felt well enough to return to his office, then asked the ladies about their plans for the day.

They had barely finished eating when a servant informed them a letter had arrived for Elizabeth. She startled, glanced at her uncle and aunt, and, after Mr Gardiner nodded, the servant handed it to her.

“Would you mind if I read it in my chamber?” Elizabeth asked, and her uncle nodded again.

With great anxiety — completely unjustified for what she knew to be a simple polite note of thanks, she opened it. Immediately recognising the handwriting — she had read his first letter so many times that she knew it by heart — her eyes ran over the neat lines.

Miss Bennet,

There are no words to thank you for your considerate gesture, nor to explain how significant it was for me and my sister.

Your assumption was correct, and it certainly saved my sister’s reputation. I am as grateful to you as I am ashamed of myself for all my prior wrong assumptions that hurt your own sister.

As for the matter itself, it has now been resolved, and I trust Mr Backer was as pleased with the final resolution as I am.

I would like to call on your uncle and aunt, to thank them in person, but I shall only do so if this is agreeable to you. My servant will wait for a simple yes or no from you. I shall understand if my visit would make you uncomfortable. If this is the case, I shall visit Mr Gardiner at his office.

I shall take this opportunity to mention that Bingley will finally return to London at the end of this week.

He has spent an entire month at a friend’s estate, and I have had no chance to speak to him since I returned from Kent.

There are many things I intend to tell him, and I shall certainly do so at the first opportunity.

Please accept my deepest gratitude for your help in my sister’s situation, as well as my sincere apologies for my interference in your own sister’s affairs and all my past wrongs.

F Darcy.

With unsteady hands, Elizabeth folded the letter and put it into her pocket. The other letter she still kept in her reticule, safe from curious eyes.

She returned to her family and said, “Mr Darcy has requested permission to call on you, Uncle. He says he wishes to thank you and my aunt.”

“Mr Darcy? Call here?” Mrs Gardiner repeated with apparent nervousness.

“Only if you agree, of course,” Elizabeth replied.

“Of course we agree. But Mr Darcy, the master of Pemberley, to call at my house is certainly not something I expected.”

“We would be honoured to receive him, of course. Should I write back to him?” Mr Gardiner enquired.

“No,” Elizabeth said, blushing. “He said a simple yes or no answer, conveyed through his servant, would be enough.”

“Then I shall speak to the servant immediately,” Mr Gardiner said, rising.

Elizabeth was in such a tumult of feelings that she could not define. The short letter contained so much significant information — more than she could have hoped for.

Mr Darcy had accepted his past errors and was ready to make amends for them.

And he had clearly stated that he had intended to speak to Mr Bingley since he returned from Kent, undoubtedly about Jane.

Could she hope for such a positive turn of events?

Should she tell Jane? Or perhaps she should wait and see whether Mr Bingley would act on Mr Darcy’s confession.

She was eager to read the letter again, but it was not the time for it yet as her cousins requested her attention, and even Jane looked curious and thoughtful. And first of all, she had to calm herself, as her heart was pounding so hard that she imagined everybody must be able to hear it.