Page 16

Darcy accepted the pages with some trepidation.

His dealings with Lydia Bennet had been limited and largely unpleasant.

The girl’s recklessness had nearly ruined her family and had required significant expense and effort on his part to salvage the situation, though he supposed he should be grateful…

without the disaster Lydia had caused, he doubted he would now be married to Elizabeth.

The letter in his hands bore little resemblance to the flighty missive he had half-expected:

Dearest Lizzy,

I trust this letter finds you well settled at Pemberley.

Leicester is quite pleasant, though not so grand as your new home!

It looks so impressive from Miss Darcy’s sketches, for which I beg you to thank her on my behalf; they have already proved useful, as Kitty has written several times begging for details I would not be able to provide without them.

I confess I should be far too frightened to even think of being mistress of such an imposing estate, but I have no doubt that you are managing it admirably, as you do everything.

Mrs. Wilkins is everything Mr. and Miss Darcy described her to be, the very soul of kindness, and has a surprising number of friends and neighbours who have been very welcoming to me.

I find myself grateful for her instruction in matters of propriety.

I confess, dear sister, that I am coming to understand now many of the cautions you and Jane attempted to impress upon me, which I so carelessly dismissed.

I have been a sore trial to you, I think, but I am resolved to do better, now that I know better.

Please convey my regards to Mr. Darcy and to your new sister. Mrs. Wilkins also sends her best wishes.

Your affectionate sister,

Lydia

Darcy looked up from the letter, genuinely astonished. “This is indeed surprising. There is a maturity here I would not have expected.”

“Precisely,” Elizabeth agreed, taking back the letter and folding it carefully.

“I had feared… well, that she might become even more reckless and silly following everything that happened. Instead, it seems adversity has awakened a sense of responsibility I never witnessed in her before. Even this letter is everything discreet!”

“And what of your sister Jane?” he inquired, noting the second letter still unopened in Elizabeth’s lap. “She has written as well?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth replied, breaking the seal on the second letter. “I confess I am eager for news of Longbourn. It seems an age since we left, though it has been scarcely a fortnight.”

As Elizabeth began to read, Darcy observed the play of emotions across her expressive countenance: smiles giving way to concern, then a wistful sadness that made him long to comfort her. When she looked up, her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

“Jane is well,” she said, clearly making an effort to sound cheerful, “but I fear she is lonely, though she would never directly admit to such a feeling.”

“May I?” Darcy asked, gesturing toward the letter.

Elizabeth hesitated only briefly before handing it to him. “There is nothing private, and I value your insights.”

Darcy accepted the letter, touched by her trust. Jane’s elegant hand filled several pages:

My dearest Lizzy,

Your letter brought me such joy, I have read it thrice over. Pemberley sounds every bit as magnificent as you deserve, and I am so pleased to hear that you are settling well into your new role. Miss Darcy was everything charming, and I am glad you have found such a warm reception in your new home.

All continues as usual at Longbourn, though your absence is keenly felt. Mama speaks daily of your good fortune, but has become notably more composed since your wedding. Having a daughter ‘so advantageously married,’ as she puts it, seems to have alleviated many of her former anxieties.

You would be quite surprised by the changes in Mary and Kitty.

Without Lydia’s influence, Kitty has become almost sedate.

She spends her mornings practising the pianoforte and her embroidery, and her afternoons drawing or reading improving literature that Mary recommends.

They have formed quite the alliance. Mary seems less inclined toward moralising now that she has a willing audience in Kitty, and Kitty appears genuinely interested in improving her accomplishments.

Papa has emerged from his library more frequently of late.

I believe he misses your conversation dreadfully, though he would never say as much.

He has taken to asking Mary about her reading, which pleases her enormously.

Kitty even asked him to help her improve her French and they have been sitting together and practicing.

I do not think you would recognise afternoons at Longbourn now.

The Lucases call often, and Charlotte writes that she expects to visit her family in July. I look forward to seeing her… there was a hint in her last letter which gives me a suspicion she may have news to share which will not please Mama, but I know you will take joy in it.

As for myself, I keep busy with household matters and visits to friends and tenants.

The winter has been very pleasant and sunny for the most part, for which we are all grateful.

The garden blooms quite beautifully and I find myself spending a good deal of time there; we shall have a lovely crop of lavender soon for soaps and scents.

The lily-of-the-valley does well this year too and I have made some very pretty arrangements with it and the lilacs and peonies to brighten the house.

I hope you will write again when time permits. I treasure every detail of your new life and take comfort in knowing you are so happily situated.

Your most affectionate sister,

Jane

Darcy folded the letter carefully, understanding Elizabeth’s concern.

Though Jane’s words were uniformly cheerful, there was an undercurrent of solitude that was impossible to miss.

The detailed observation of flower arranging and multiple readings of Elizabeth’s letter spoke of empty hours and a certain isolation.

“She makes no mention of Mr. Bingley,” he noted quietly.

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, she would not. Jane would never complain, even to me.”

The weight of his former interference in Jane and Bingley’s relationship settled uncomfortably on Darcy’s shoulders.

Though he had confessed his actions to Elizabeth before their marriage and she had forgiven him, he remained acutely aware of his responsibility for the separation of two people who might otherwise have found happiness together.

“I believe she misses you greatly,” he said, returning the letter.

“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed. “I do not regret my choice,” she added hastily, reaching for his hand, “but I cannot help feeling that I have abandoned her somewhat.”

“Your loyalty to your family does you credit,” Darcy said, squeezing her fingers gently. “I would never wish to separate you from those you love.”

Elizabeth’s smile was tender. “You have not. I am precisely where I wish to be.” She glanced down at the letters in her lap. “It is merely the natural adjustment of marriage, I suppose. One cannot maintain all former connections exactly as they were.”

Darcy studied her face, struck anew by her remarkable blend of sensibility and practicality.

Despite the foibles of her family, which had once so repelled him, Elizabeth’s steadfast affection for them revealed a depth of character he had come to treasure.

Her ability to acknowledge their flaws without diminishing her love was a quality he aspired to emulate.

“Your younger sisters appear to be flourishing in your absence,” he observed. “Mary and Kitty forming an alliance is unexpected, but perhaps beneficial to both.”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth laughed softly. “I can scarcely imagine Kitty voluntarily reading ‘improving literature,’ as Jane puts it. And Mary relaxing her sermonising? Wonders never cease.”

“And your mother seems more at ease.”

“Yes, having secured one daughter in a marriage she considers advantageous, I imagine Mama can now focus her energies on the rest.” Elizabeth’s tone was wry but affectionate. “Poor Jane will bear the brunt of it, I fear.”

Darcy nodded, thinking of his own sister and how different her circumstances were from the Bennet girls.

Georgiana would have her coming out season with all the advantages of wealth and connection, while the Bennet sisters relied largely on their personal charms and whatever their father could provide.

“Your father must feel your absence particularly,” he said. “I know he valued your conversation above all others.”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth confirmed, a shadow crossing her features.

“I worry for him sometimes. He retreats to his library rather than engage with the realities of managing his estate or guiding his remaining daughters. Jane will do her best, but she lacks my willingness to challenge him when necessary. I am glad he is trying to build a better connection with Mary and Kitty, at least; that is a comfort.”

Darcy considered this. Mr. Bennet’s neglect of his responsibilities had long been a source of private disapproval, yet he now better understood the complex affection Elizabeth maintained for her imperfect father.

It was a valuable lesson in the nuances of family loyalty, one he would do well to remember.

“Perhaps we might invite them all to visit Pemberley next summer when we return from London,” he suggested, surprising himself with the offer. “This year is impossible of course, until Lydia’s situation is resolved, but next year...”

Elizabeth’s face lit with genuine pleasure. “Truly? You would not mind?”

“They are your family,” he said simply. “And therefore, now mine as well.”