Page 10 of Shadows beneath Rosings (A Darcy and Elizabeth Quick Read Interlude #5)
A week had passed, and Elizabeth sat in the cottage garden at the parsonage; the traditional blooms all around her, as was the soothing sound of bees busily exploring the flowers.
Dearest Aunt Gardiner,
What a lot I have to say, and I cannot wait until I see you to tell you in more detail all that has happened here. It is quite exciting, but you can see that I am well and writing this letter, so you will not need to be too worried about me while I tell you.
This morning, Mr. Darcy’s physician has pronounced my hands are recovered enough to be without bandages and I am much happier that I can now write to you myself.
I have repaired to the garden here at Hunsford, and the maid has carried down my portable writing desk for me.
I am sure your imagination is running wild with what could have happened, so I will tell you at once.
Elizabeth wrote fast, attempting to downplay as much as she could what had actually occurred; she knew Aunt would share the letter with Jane, and her sister’s tender heart would be bruised, thinking of the evil that had revealed itself in Anne de Bourgh.
At least Lady Catherine had been shocked at what she had done.
Being at Hunsford is very much better than the cold hard floor of the cellar beneath Rosings. It makes me shiver to remember it. But now, the sunshine and being out of doors is reviving my spirits, and knowing that I am due to be with you in another week completes my happiness.
You will laugh when I tell you that during the first few days, the greatest luxury and pleasure for me was being able to drink a glass of water whenever I wished.
Being thirsty and not knowing when or if I would ever have that pleasure again was unimaginably painful.
Mr. Darcy laughed and told me to wait until I could taste the water from the spring at Pemberley, because the water here is insipid by comparison. But I digress.
He has proved himself an implacable defender of justice, but he did propose that Miss de Bourgh should be sent away to an enclosed strict convent in Ireland to prevent the scandal that a trial would cause.
Her mother objected, and Mr. Darcy told her that otherwise her daughter would certainly hang for attempted murder, and that as she was the heiress to Rosings, the estate would be forfeit to the crown.
I think Lady Catherine, for the first time in her life, saw sense, for she changed her Will to give Rosings to Mr. Darcy’s cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Then she ordered Miss de Bourgh to enter the convent at Loughrea in County Galway, which she will never be able to leave.
Mr. Darcy apologised to me as he was concerned that I may not feel a sense that Miss de Bourgh has been brought to proper justice for what she wanted to do to me, but I told him that a life of prayer and coming to terms with what she did might well be seen as a more fitting justice.
He smiled then, and I must confess his smile has been part of what has changed my mind about him. But that is too soon, for there is much else to tell you about before I mention Mr. Darcy.
Mrs. Jenkinson was dealt with by way of a closed trial arranged, conveniently enough, by the Earl of Matlock, and is in a convict ship on her way to Australia as I write, because it was considered that to hang when the principal criminal has not also been hanged, was not justice.
Lady Catherine did not know or approve of what her daughter attempted to do, and I am glad about that, although her disdain for my low-born position in society remains, and I cannot like her for it.
But she has asked the colonel to manage Rosings Park now for a peppercorn lease until he inherits and she has decided to retire to a house in Malvern to take the waters and establish herself into a different society where she will be far distant from the rumours that are swirling here in Kent.
Malvern has less of the first circles visiting than Bath and Lady Catherine was concerned that the rumours might emerge there before too long.
The two footmen that Mrs. Jenkinson was blackmailing are being retained at Rosings.
The colonel will be able to keep a better eye on them and all the servants in future, and although what they did was of a criminal nature, they were being blackmailed.
Now all is in the open, they cannot be imposed on in that way again, and, as I said, the colonel will be observant.
I think Mr. Darcy and his cousin are relieved that their aunt will be too far away to interfere as the colonel establishes himself as the new master of Rosings, and Mr. Darcy has confided in me that he is happy the colonel is resigning his commission and will be safe from the war.
They are as close as brothers, and if it makes Mr. Darcy happy, then I am happy too.
But again, I am talking about him too soon and I must tell you about Charlotte.
She is quite insufferably smug when she finds me annoying, for she bears the distinction of having been completely right about almost everything.
Mr. Collins is exceedingly put out, for when he realised his patron was now Colonel Fitzwilliam, he began to fawn over him and was told very firmly to busy himself with his parishioners, and to seek the advice of Mrs. Collins over the content of his sermons.
Elizabeth laughed to herself as she took a third sheet of paper. She was enjoying herself far too much to stop writing now, and she knew her last bit of news would be well worth the extra cost to her Aunt — and Jane, as well.
Now, I will relieve your impatience and talk about Mr. Darcy. Or, should I?
Yes, perhaps I will. As for him — I no longer find him intolerable. Indeed, I find him rather essential to my happiness. He is such a gentleman, and his determination to find me and bring me to safety has quite convinced me of his goodness and devotion.
He has visited me often during my convalescence, even reading a novel aloud while I was unable to hold the book and turn the pages myself.
That feat of gentlemanly behaviour was even greater because he made no objection to the story, though he must have wished to, for I am afraid that in a state of whimsy, I chose a rather silly book.
Afterwards, I apologised to him for my choice, and he took my hand and kissed it, saying that it was his pleasure and joy to accommodate all my wishes, silly or otherwise.
My heart rather took off with that, and I am afraid I cried, whereupon he took his handkerchief and dabbed away my tears.
You have divined what I am going to say next, I am sure, and so I can tell you that, yes, we are engaged, and as I write this, Mr. Darcy is riding to Longbourn to gain the consent and blessing of Papa.
My dear aunt, please reassure Jane, and tell her that he carries a note from me to Papa, telling him not to toy with Mr. Darcy, or he will suffer my wrath when I get home.
Society is outraged, I am afraid. Word of our engagement has spread like scandal at Almacks, and accuracy does not appear to be part of it. One report had him wading through a rough tide to rescue me from a cave in the cliffs — there are no such caves in Kent, I believe.
Over the next weeks, I fully expect to have been rescued from a pirate ship or other such nonsense! Mr. Darcy laughed at me when I began to make notes and told him I would keep the stories to tell our children.
I expect you will meet him soon. I think you will approve. He does not fish, but he has already promised to get the rods and tackle at Pemberley refreshed and checked, and to learn so that he may fish with Uncle when you visit us.
I must finish now, or I will have to take a fourth sheet of paper, which is quite unreasonable when I will see you again so soon.
Much love to you all in Gracechurch Street, and until I can embrace you in person,
A very happy and joyous Lizzy.
Elizabeth sat back on the bench, sighing contentedly as she thought with what delight her letter would be received and read.
How odd it was, given her happiness, that little more than a week had passed since she had believed she might die in that cellar, might die and never be found.
The pain her relations would have suffered could hardly be imagined, and yet, what had occurred might have been essential for this felicity to have come to her.
Mr. Darcy might still have thought he ought to forget her. And, worse, she might have persisted in her dislike of him and never believed they could make their lives together.
This happiness might never have been hers. She looked up at the sky; Mr. Darcy would be at Longbourn by now, and she almost wished she could be with him, to protect him from Mama’s effusions. But he had smoothed back a loose tendril of her hair this morning.
“Do not worry, my love. I can endure anything, anything at all, knowing you are safe and soon will be beside me forever.”
Her legs went weak at the memory and she was glad there was no-one to see how odiously missish she had become.
She shook her head and rose to her feet. If she was going to behave like this, she ought to go indoors and talk to Charlotte.