Page 6 of To Love And To Cherish (Pride And Prejudice Variation #3)
The first letter arrived on a crisp morning in early October.
Outside, the trees lining Gracechurch Street had begun to turn ochre, gold, and rust, gleaming in the pale sunlight. The air was sharp with the scent of early autumn, and the servants had begun to light small fires in the hearths each morning.
Mrs. Gardiner entered the breakfast room to find her husband already seated, the tea poured, and a silver tray placed neatly beside his plate. Atop it sat a single letter, addressed in a familiar, bold hand.
“A letter from Mr. Darcy,” Edward said, tapping the envelope with a knowing smile.
Elizabeth, who had just entered with her apron still on from the stillroom, stopped in her tracks.
“May we read it aloud?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Mr. Gardiner broke the seal and unfolded the crisp parchment.
September 05, 1805
My dear friends,
We have at last begun our journey in earnest. After travelling overland to Dover, we crossed the Channel without incident and landed safely in Calais.
From there, we proceeded to Paris, where we now reside under the supervision of Professor Elliot, whose knowledge and connections in the city have proven invaluable.
Our days are full. We are studying French conversation, fencing, and architecture.
We attend a ball each week and are making every effort to absorb the manners of courtly society.
Paris dazzles me more than I care to admit.
We have toured the Louvre Palace, strolled the Tuileries Garden, and admired the grand facades of the Palais-Royal and Pont Neuf.
The splendor is beyond description. Tell Miss Elizabeth that we have also visited a great many museums and libraries, so our time is not spent wholly in frivolity.
If you wish to write, I should be very glad to receive your letters. You may send them to:
Monsieur Fitzwilliam Darcy
en pension chez M. Lefèvre
12 Rue de Richelieu, Paris, France
With my warm regards to you both, and to Miss Elizabeth especially.
Yours,
F. Darcy
Mrs. Gardiner folded the letter slowly.
“He sounds well,” she said with a gentle smile.
Elizabeth nodded, her fingers resting lightly against her lips. “It is strange,” she said softly, “he has been gone but six weeks, yet it feels much longer.” She looked earnestly at her aunt. “Might I write to him, Aunt?”
Madeline studied her face for a moment. “Yes, you may, but tell him in your letter that he is not to write back to you. He may send a letter to our family, as he did today.”
Elizabeth reached up to kiss her. “Thank you, Aunt Maddie.”
The second letter arrived in early November. The days were shorter now, the morning fog heavy over the rooftops, and Elizabeth had taken to walking with her shawl drawn tight about her shoulders.
Once again, they found the letter on the silver tray next to Uncle's plate. Edward opened it immediately.
October 5, 1805
My dear friends,
We have departed Paris several months earlier than planned.
Our party felt it wiser to leave the city as tensions on the Continent continue to mount.
We now travel along the Rhine valley, making our way toward Geneva.
The journey has been long but magnificent, the hills are blanketed with vines, and ancient castles watch over the river like sentinels.
In Geneva, we hope to enjoy the refined urban culture it is so known for.
Tell Miss Elizabeth she would hardly recognize me now, I am so transformed into a polished gentleman, she might not be able to muster the courage to swat me again.
The times grow more and more uncertain. Troop movements have increased. There is word of Austrian positioning near Austerlitz. Though we are safe for now, there is a growing unease.
With sincere affection,
F. Darcy
Mrs. Gardiner glanced at Elizabeth after the letter was read. The girl’s expression was difficult to read, half amusement, half worry.
“Do not fret, Lizzy,” she said. “He is surrounded by good men, and Professor Elliot is no fool.”
“I know,” Elizabeth murmured. “But the war is closer now. Even here, there is more military presence.”
The third letter arrived in early February. Snow still lingered in the shadows of the streets, and Elizabeth’s hands were perpetually cold from her early morning hours in the stillroom. She waited eagerly for the letter to be opened, but this time Mr. Gardiner’s expression grew grave as he read.
February 16, 1806
My dear friends,
The victory at Austerlitz has turned the tide in ways we could not have foreseen. Travel on the Continent has grown too perilous, and our party must now adjust our plans. We intend to make our way south, perhaps to Greece or the eastern Mediterranean, though nothing is certain.
Should you not hear from me again for some time, I pray you will not be alarmed. The postal service is increasingly disrupted. I will write again upon my return to England, so that you will not fear for my health or safety.
Until then, remain well. And please give my fondest regards to Elizabeth.
Yours most truly,
F. Darcy
That was the last letter they received.
Weeks passed. Then a month.
And in late April, it was not Fitzwilliam’s hand but that of Mr. George Darcy whose writing appeared on a letter addressed to Mr. Gardiner.
It was brief and businesslike. Mr. Darcy senior acknowledged the investment Edward Gardiner managed on his son's behalf and requested that future quarterly reports be sent directly to Pemberley, rather than through the London solicitor. Of Fitzwilliam, he wrote only this:
He is well and intends to remain abroad for some years yet. He will write to you himself when he returns to England, likely within three or four years’ time.
There was no mention of where he was, nor how he fared.
Elizabeth said nothing when Mrs. Gardiner folded the letter and placed it on the sideboard. But the next morning, she lingered a little longer in the stillroom, gazing into the quiet space where Will had spent so many contented hours beside them.
“Aunt,” Elizabeth asked softly, “may I keep Mr. Darcy’s letters?
I promise to hide them carefully, in a place where there will be no risk of discovery.
They’re addressed to all of us, and if they’re ever found, I can say I borrowed them or they were mistakenly tucked in with my things.
I... I’m so worried about him. Somehow, keeping the letters close brings me comfort. ”
Mrs. Gardiner studied her niece a moment, then gave a quiet nod. Without a word, she went to her husband’s study, retrieved the three letters, and placed them into Elizabeth’s hand.
“Keep them well hidden, Lizzy,” she said. “Your mother could cause Mr. Darcy a great deal of trouble if she ever laid eyes on them.”
“Yes, Aunt,” Elizabeth whispered. “I will.”
Letter from Mrs. Frances Bennet to Elizabeth Bennet
March 05, 1806
Longbourn, Hertfordshire
Lizzy,
I write to inform you that you are not to return home to Longbourn. Your presence is disruptive, and I will not have your obstinate, headstrong influence undoing all my efforts with your sister.
Jane has refused a most advantageous offer from Mr. Bailey, a man of considerable means, and I am convinced it is the result of your rebellious ideas.
You are not to write to your sisters. I shall have your father’s word on that. Any further interference on your part, and I will hold you solely responsible for the ruination of this family.
Do not return until I say otherwise.
Mrs. F. Bennet
Elizabeth had read the letter in silence, then handed it to her aunt without a word.
“Do not trouble yourself over this, my dear,” Mrs. Gardiner said firmly. “Your mother has overstepped.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Jane refused him. I’m glad.”
That night, Elizabeth curled up in her bed and wept until she fell asleep. She missed her papa; he was the dearest person in the world to her. She longed for their conversations, for the comfort of asking him the burning questions that always seemed to stir in her mind. And she missed her sisters.
It was so quiet at the Gardiners’ house. Too quiet. She sniffed and blew her nose. At least she was able to visit with the children at the orphanage; their laughter never failed to lift her spirits, and they were a constant reminder of how fortunate she was to have the Gardiners on her side.