Page 79 of Midnight at Pemberley

23 December

Mr. Darcy,

As the holiday looms upon us, I reflect on the many times your family and mine joined for the celebration. Those days serve as a measure of how Christmas should occur, with good friends and family warmly enjoying one another’s company. I break with propriety by writing to you directly to state how grieved I will be not to have your company this year. My heart knows great sadness.

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow in disapproval when her husband glanced up at her. Even so, she motioned him to continue.

This year, our days will seem less lively, as you and dear Georgiana are at Pemberley, and we reside at Mr. Hurst’s estate in Hampshire. Charles shared your precipitous news upon his return to Langley Hall, and both Louisa and I were taken aback not to be included in your solemn, although obviously rushed, exchange of vows with Miss Eliza Bennet. Although we noted your preference for the lady, neither of us suspected your motivations when you returned to Netherfield. However, Charles swears he saw firsthand your affection for the new Mrs. Darcy; therefore, we offer our congratulations and wish you happiness.

Elizabeth snorted in disgust. “Let us leave this,” Darcy declared. He began to rise from behind the desk, but Elizabeth waved him back to his seat. Stalling, he pretended to look for his place again before he read aloud once more.

We were equally chagrined by the fact that Charles spent time with Miss Bennet and her family in Cheapside. My brother does not understand, as you now must, how such connections very materially lessen the Bennet sisters’ opportunities of marrying men of any consideration. Mrs. Darcy must thank the Fates under the circumstances. We suppose Charles purposely chose not to share news of your nuptials for fear we would disapprove. He originally sent word only of discovering you in health.

“Disapprove?” Elizabeth protested. “More than likely, Mr. Bingley simply required a few moments of peace without the harpies …” She broke from her retort when she noted the warning in Darcy’s eyes.

“I told you this would be a source of irritation. I suggest we go for our walk instead.”

Elizabeth attempted to appear shamefaced, but she did not feel as such. “How can Miss Bingley carry on in the name of civility and manners? I understand her disappointment in losing your attention, but I do not understand the venom she spreads in the name of courtesy. Jane was nothing but kind to the woman.”

Darcy placed the letter in a drawer. “Let us forget Miss Bingley’s pettiness.” He came from behind the desk to claim her hand.

Elizabeth reached for him, but then stopped. “Why do you wish for me not to read the end of the letter?” she said accusingly.

Her husband assumed a blank expression. “I have no reason but your peace of mind.”

“William, we do not lie to each other.”

Darcy knelt beside her chair. “I do not wish you to read the letter because Miss Bingley disparages your looks and your manners and attributes such censure to me as the source. I would not have you doubt my true feelings. I sincerely wish only for your happiness.You must believe me. Permit me to place the letter in the fire, and let nothing come between us.”

Elizabeth caressed his cheek. “I should not permit the woman any dominance over me.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “A walk will do us both a service.”

“Burn the letter, William.” Elizabeth made the decision before standing.

They nearly made it to the door before he pulled up. Looking back at the desk, he flushed in embarrassment. “I forgot.You have two letters from Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth considered returning to read the family news. She missed her family, more than she would admit to Darcy. She would relish an afternoon with her father and his quick perceptive ways of viewing every situation. And she would happily claim a good dose of Mr. Bennet’s advice regarding her role at Pemberley. With a look of longing, she said, “They will wait. I require time with my husband first.”

Darcy smiled at her, slowly tracing the outline of her face with the tip of his finger. “Your husband is blessed by your amiability, Mrs. Darcy. His affection for you deepens by the day.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

A little more than an hour later Elizabeth curled up in her favorite chair in Darcy’s study. She had retrieved the letters from her family and meant to savor Jane’s letters. Slipping off her shoes and folding her feet up under her, she snuggled into the warmth of the chair.

At length, she took both letters in hand to determine which was written first. Noticing one letter was marked as being missent elsewhere, she decided to attend to it first. The beginning contained an account of all her family’s little parties and engagements, with such news as the country afforded, but the latter half, written in evident agitation, provided more important intelligence.

Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something has occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature, but I fear alarming you. Be assured we are all well. What I must say relates to poor Lydia. An express arrived from our Uncle Gardiner at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to bed.

Against his original inclination, Papa agreed to permit Lydia to accompany the Forsters to London for a military ball and other festivities. Lydia traveled with our aunt and uncle to Cheapside. Uncle Gardiner reports the colonel retrieved Lydia from the Gardiner residence the day after Christmas, and all appeared well.

However, the following day, he and Aunt Madelyn meant to escort Lydia and Mrs. Forster shopping, but when he called upon the hotel, the Forsters had just arrived, and there was no Lydia. In fact, the colonel denies having approached our father regarding the possibility of Lydia accompanying him and his wife, and as they had just arrived in London—although Uncle swears the man’s appearance to be uncannily like the colonel’s—the colonel could not have been the one who rode away with Lydia in his coach.

Uncle Gardiner ascertained the direction the coach took, but found no trace of Lydia at the posting inns. Because the carriage departed along the North Road out of London, we assume this is some sort of elaborate hoax or an elopement. Yet with whom, we do not know. Colonel Forster gives us reason to expect him here soon. I must conclude, for I cannot be long from my poor mother. I am afraid you will not be able to make it out, for I hardly know what I have written.

Without allowing herself time for consideration, and scarcely knowing what she felt, Elizabeth, on finishing this letter, instantly seized the other and opened it with the utmost impatience, to read as follows. It was written a day later than the conclusion of the first.

By this time, my dearest sister, you received my hurried letter. I pray this may be more intelligible, but though not confined for time, my head is so bewildered I cannot answer for being coherent. The mystery of Lydia’s flight increases. I know not what to think. After making every possible inquiry on that side of London, Colonel F. returned to Hertfordshire. With the kindest concern, he came on to Longbourn and broke his apprehensions to us in a manner most creditable to his heart. I am sincerely grieved for him and Mrs. F. but no one can throw any blame on them.