AS ELIZABETH TOILED AT NETHERFIELD, endeavouring to distinguish between two very similar vowels, Jane had the dubious pleasure of welcoming the family’s guest to Longbourn. Mr. Collins, as he had written, arrived at exactly four o’clock that afternoon. Upon alighting from the hired chaise which had borne him on the final leg of his journey, he bowed low in a fashion not often seen in men under the age of fifty, and immediately addressed Mr. Bennet in the most overblown and ingratiating terms, after which he performed similar obsequies to the lady of the house. Jane looked upon all of this with her usual unruffled grace, although she heard Lizzy’s arch comments in the back of her mind and she took note of her family’s reactions to recount when Lizzy returned later in the evening. The two youngest sisters, Kitty and Lydia, merely stared in boredom, for without the glory of a red coat on his back—the mark of an officer in the militia—there was nothing to interest them in a man. Only Mary showed some signs of interest in the newcomer. He was a clergyman recently bestowed with the patronage of the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings, in Kent; Mary was of a studious, religious bent herself, and clearly hoped for some hours of conversation with this new-found cousin.
As for the gentleman himself, he was a tall, heavy-looking man of about five and twenty, and he looked over his young cousins with an eye that suggested an interest in more than merely offering an olive branch to the family. Mr. Bennet, it seemed, had been correct when he had suggested that Mr. Collins wished to choose one of the girls for a wife. This was a notion which their mother was most happy to encourage, and as such, urged her girls to converse with their guest. The ladies were ready enough to talk, and neither did Mr. Collins seem inclined to be silent. Mr. Bennet was mostly quiet, as he so often was. Jane imagined this suited him greatly, for he so often had little to say, and Mr. Collins had little with which to recommend himself. After only a few minutes it was clear that Mr. Collins’ air was grave and stately, his manners very formal and stiff. Kitty and Lydia looked desperate to be afforded relief from his company; Mary looked like she could not have enough of it.
Although Mary was, perhaps, the least lovely of the Bennet daughters, she had nonetheless inherited something of her mother’s youthful beauty. Jane had always supposed that Mary’s faults lay not so much in plainness of feature, but in her manner of dress and grooming, which emphasised those characteristics best ignored, and which ignored those features that would be best emphasised. In the right dress, with her hair done softly and without her eyes screwed up constantly as she peered into her books in poor light, she would be as pretty as any of her sisters. Before their guest’s arrival, Jane had encouraged Mary to select an attractive frock and had even convinced the girl to try something different with her hair. She smiled now as she observed some success emanating from her efforts, for Mr. Collins seemed flattered by her attention and glanced towards Mary with increasing frequency as he spoke about the values that his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, would like to see in the rector’s wife.
As the family moved to dinner, Mr. Collins’ admiration was expressed towards his cousins, whom he extolled for their unrivalled loveliness, as well as towards the dining-room and its furniture. Mrs. Bennet would have been touched if not for the mortifying supposition that her guest were taking account of what would, one day, be his own property. Still, she was not one to look good fortune in the mouth, and she worked to draw her guest’s focus towards her choice for his wife. “Smile more, Mary,” she whispered into her middle daughter’s ear more than once during the meal, when it seemed that Mr. Collins might be tempted to look to the girl as a bride.
All of this Jane observed most keenly, ready to entertain dear Lizzy with the retelling before they retired for bed.
By the time Elizabeth returned home after dinner had been concluded and coffee, tea, and cakes set out in the parlour, it had been all but decided by everyone except, perhaps, Mr. Collins himself, that he would marry Mary. Elizabeth, considered by most to be second in beauty only to Jane, was now tired and somewhat bedraggled and not at all in her best humour, and Mr. Collins’ eye flickered only briefly over her form before returning to a serious discussion of some aspect of the Thirty-Nine Articles with Mary.
“Tell me more about him!” Lizzy begged of Jane when they were both upstairs preparing for bed. “He seems… not at all a sensible man,” she teased. “Does he improve upon longer exposure?”
Jane smiled in return. “No, not sensible at all. You would have been most amused at his extraordinary deference to Lady Catherine, and at his kind intention of christening, marrying, and burying his parishioners whenever it were required. He is boring and rather silly, but he seems to have taken to Mary, and she might be a good match for him. She is smarter than he, and might be the making of him if she manages him well.”
“Jane!” Lizzy admonished, “I have never before heard such criticism of anyone from your lips. You surely have taken a measure of Mr. Collins in the short time he has been here!” Her smile belied her severe words.
Jane was as complacent as ever. “Perhaps I have seen such perfection in Charles that I now measure all men by his standard.” She too smiled, a look of such angelic bliss that Lizzy would not say anything to upset her happiness. “But tell me, Lizzy, of your day! What of the esteemed Professor Darcy? Unlike our cousin, does he improve upon further acquaintance?”
“Oh, not at all, not at all!” Elizabeth threw herself back on her bed and laughed. “If anything he grows worse. He is rude and arrogant and absolutely insufferable. He possesses such perfect manners, but chooses not to use them unless taken to task over his lapse. He is supposed to be teaching me the ways of elite society, but I was the one to remind him to greet someone politely, to converse civilly, and to eat with the manners befitting a dining table and not a trough in the barn. And yet…” she trailed off.
“Lizzy?”
“And yet, he is clearly the expert he claims to be. We did little work today on my own speech, but he taught me much about the science of phonetics, and about what marks differences in accent and dialect, not to mention grammatical patterns and word choice. I have much to learn, dear Jane, but as much as I dislike the teacher, I know I shall be well taught.”
“And your resolution to pose as his betrothed?”
“Stands firm.” She sighed. “It will not be easy to convince the world that we care for each other, but if I can work to soften the professor’s harsh character as he works to improve my address, we might pull it off. We just might succeed.”
Within the week of Mr. Collins’ stay at Longbourn, he courted, proposed to, and was accepted by Mary, to the satisfaction of the lady herself, the elation of her mother, and the great relief of her sisters. Mr. Collins was unable to remain past his appointed departure date due to the requirements of his post at the parsonage, but he promised to return as soon as he might arrange matters with the honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings to claim his bride.
Jane and Bingley’s nuptials were being planned for the middle of December, after which they would repair to London until the snow melted; only then would they take a wedding trip. Aunt and Uncle Gardiner were often known to visit Longbourn with their family for the Christmas season and now planned to arrive some few days earlier than normal to be present at the wedding. After Christmas, they would take Lizzy back to London with them, ostensibly to spend time with her cousins and to begin procuring a wardrobe in preparation for her season as guest of the Baronet and Lady Grant. No one other than those immediately involved in the plan need know that the true purpose of the visit was to allow her to continue her studies with Professor Darcy, who would, of necessity, be returning to the city himself after Bingley’s wedding.
It was hoped that Mr. Collins might be able to return to Hertfordshire during this time as well to wed Mary, but it was understood that his duties as rector to the community in Hunsford might preclude his ability to leave for some weeks immediately before Christmas.
The Bennet household was, as might be expected, in a constant state of activity. With not one, but two daughters to marry off in such a short space of time, Mrs. Bennet found herself in the enviable position amongst her friends of complaining ceaselessly about the many tasks she must undertake and oversee in preparation. Lady Lucas, as she stated to any of her daughters who would hear her, would be quite green, for the latter would do almost anything to see Charlotte wed; at the advanced age of seven and twenty, such an eventuality seemed less and less likely to occur.
All the while menus were being planned and food ordered, lace and silks purchased, and clothing made by the various members and staff of the Bennet household, Lizzy returned again and again to the study at the back of the library in Netherfield to practise her vowels.
“You are punctual again, Eliza. Very good. Now let us begin.”
Elizabeth crossed her arms in front of her and glared.
Darcy sighed and rose from his desk. “Good morning, Eliza. How are you this morning? I hope you slept well and are ready to work.” He executed an elegant bow.
“I am very well, thank you, Professor. How are you today?”
“Must we do this every time, Eliza? It is most distracting and takes time from our studies.”
“Yes, sir. We must. For although our engagement will be merely a pretense, it must nevertheless be believable by our friends and relations. If the world is to believe that I have agreed to marry you, you must treat me accordingly. You must learn to say nice things, to be solicitous of my health and wellbeing, to pretend to care for me.”
“You forget, Eliza, that is it I who am the teacher here.”
“And you forget, Professor Darcy, that you have much to learn as well.” She faced him with her hands upon her hips.
Lizzy never knew what words would send the professor into a rage, a fit of the blue devils, or uproarious laughter. His temper was mercurial and he could move from amusement to ire in the blink of an eye. He was thoughtless, rude and quite selfish, but never, Lizzy realised, intentionally cruel. That was something in his favour, which was most welcome since she did have to pretend to love the man.
Now he surprised her by bestowing upon her one of his rare genuine smiles. He was always a handsome man, but when he smiled like this, unaffectedly, sweetly, he became for those few moments the most beautiful man she had ever seen. She must remember this look for those long parties they must of necessity attend, when she would have to feign real delight in his presence. Remember this smile , she told herself, and keep it fast in your mind to safeguard against those moments when you would happily see him dead at the side of the road .
“You are, as always, correct, Eliza.” His voice was gentle. “I have been left alone too long to my own devices and have had no one correct me when my behaviour begins to lapse.”
“Begins?” Lizzy caught herself too late. Resigned to her fate, she forged ahead, “Sir, your behaviour seldom does anything other than lapse.” Now she waited for the smile to transform into a scowl. Again, he surprised her.
“Yes, so I have been told by my cousin. Bingley would never dare to suggest such a thing, but Richard feels no compunction in recounting to me my many faults. I give you permission, Eliza, to remind me constantly to mind my manners whilst I teach you yours.”
That pride! His insufferable pride!
Darcy sat back down at the desk, then, with a pointed expression, asked Miss Bennet most politely if she would care to sit as well. She did so with a gracious ‘thank you.’
“Before we start, I believe we have some business to conclude,” Darcy now said. “We had outlined the terms of our agreement, but settled on no specifics. We ought to decide when to announce our engagement.”
Elizabeth felt herself grow slightly faint. This was the point after which there would be no return. She could run, offer her apologies and flee, but there was something of steel in her backbone, and she knew she would never act thus. She had given her word and she would live by her commitments. And, she admitted to herself, she had come to enjoy some aspects of her lessons, if not the teacher. But Darcy had not finished speaking.
“Yes, we should make the announcement soon. Unless,” he now spoke with a concern and tenderness she had never before heard from him, “you have changed your mind. This is a great undertaking that I ask. I will not hold it against you should you wish to reconsider.”
Where did that gentleness come from? Until this moment, Lizzy had not considered the professor to have a single bone in his body that might be concerned about the feelings of others. Yet now, without his cousin’s guidance even, he had offered her an escape from the scheme.
“I thank you for your consideration, sir,” she replied as steadily as she could manage, “but I have no wish to withdraw from our scheme.” She allowed her eyes to meet his own and replied simply, “Thank you.”
“Then if I may, Eliza, I propose the following. Your sister and my friend wed in two weeks, after which we will all repair to London individually and severally. It is known that you are here at Netherfield often as Caroline’s friend; it would not be unreasonable for us to have had many opportunities to speak and become attached to each other. I shall visit your father today to request permission for a formal courtship. I shall do so openly, so your mother will know of my supposed purpose. The news will be about Meryton by dinner time.
“We may then continue courting in London, where you have already engaged to visit your aunt and uncle. This is all quite reasonable and unexceptional. If we announce our engagement by Easter, the progression of our relationship will be seen as quite within the bounds of the expected and will be accepted easily. Does this suit you?”
“You have inquired twice after my feelings about the matter, sir! You have quite outdone yourself. Should I fear that I shall receive no consideration whatsoever tomorrow? That you have met your quota of pleasant words and exceeded it, and there will be no more for a week at least?”
“You delight in vexing me, Eliza. No, perhaps I merely feel moved to say something nice to the lady who will be betrothed to me. Your point is well taken, and indeed, it is no chore to be pleasant to one such as you.”
He offered her another smile that lit his dark eyes, and then without another word, drew out the sheets with the diagrams they had been using to explain some aspects of consonant formation at the roof of the mouth.
That afternoon they concluded lessons early and Professor Darcy accompanied Elizabeth back to Longbourn in Bingley’s carriage. The colonel declined the invitation to visit, citing some matters of business that had arrived in the morning’s post, as well as a letter from his mother wondering if she would ever see him again; Bingley himself was delighted to join the two for the short drive, always pleased for an extra opportunity to see his dear Jane. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had excused themselves from the outing with the explanation of having to see to dinner. Nobody suffered for their absence.
As expected, the unannounced arrival elicited much excitement and speculation on the parts of those in the house. “Oh, oh, Mr. Bennet, who has come? You must see who has arrived!” could be heard from the driveway as Lizzy was handed down from the carriage by the professor.
Mrs. Bennet greeted Bingley with a curtsey and a kiss on the cheek. She did not seem surprised to see him. But Lizzy stood back and watched as she blinked her eyes in surprise when Professor Darcy walked through the door. She had heard of the professor’s uncivil behaviour towards Lizzy at the Meryton assembly some weeks before and had spent no little time in the intervening period chastising her daughter for having anything to do with the man.
“Sir,” she looked at him askance, then remembered her manners and curtseyed coldly. Lizzy knew her mother well: she would be polite to the man, but only polite, and even then, only because of his friendship with her future son. The smile Mrs. Bennet plastered onto her face deceived no one, but for once, the professor was too polite to say anything, for which Lizzy was terribly grateful.
“Do come in, gentlemen,” Mrs. Bennet cooed in Bingley’s direction. “I shall call for some tea. Hill…. Hill!” She began bustling about, organising the seating arrangements. “Here, this sofa is in a lovely spot for afternoon tea; it is well lit but not in the direct line of the sun. Here, let me remove this cushion so you may be more comfortable. Oh, look, there is room for Jane by Mr. Bingley. How do you like your tea, sir? Shall I call for more raspberry preserves with the cakes? Oh. And Mr. Darcy.” Her tone changed instantly to one of strained forbearance.
“Professor…” he corrected in a whisper, but Lizzy could hear that he was making an effort to be civil.
“I wished, rather,” he announced to Mrs. Bennet, “to have a conference with Mr. Bennet, if he is available.” He looked over at Elizabeth and smiled very slightly, and Lizzy felt her cheeks grow red. Perhaps I am a better actress than I imagined , she thought to herself.
“Oh, a conference with Mr. Bennet!” the lady of the house cooed, turning her own eyes to Lizzy. “With Mr. Bennet! Indeed! I shall send Hill to see if he is available.”
The smug grin on Darcy’s face told Elizabeth his very thoughts: this news will be universally known by the time the first star shows itself.
Darcy was conducted into Mr. Bennet’s study a few minutes later. “Well, Professor,” the older man greeted him, “do be seated. I imagine I know what this is about. Elizabeth has explained everything.”
Elizabeth. She seldom strayed far from his thoughts these days, something not unexpected, since he was teaching her, working with her, for most of the waking hours of the day. Her voice rang through his head, with her dropped consonants and rhotic vowels, chiding him to mind his manners. He had intended to come right to matters of business, stating his decision to have a formal courtship recognised, and then sitting quietly for a few minutes, long enough to let the others believe he had engaged in a real discussion. Instead, he found himself asking after Bennet’s health, and that of his family.
If Mr. Bennet were surprised he did not show it. Knowing little of Darcy’s propensity towards rudeness, he seemed happy to accept the conversation as the normal behaviour expected of a civilised gentleman. The brief civilities turned to questions about Darcy’s estate, and soon the two men were discussing some finer points of crop rotation and the differences in planting times between Hertfordshire and Derbyshire.
At length, they came back to the point of the interview. “Miss Elizabeth and I have decided to engage publicly in an official courtship,” Darcy stated, explaining the logical reasoning behind this decision. “Since you are aware of the actual nature of our arrangement, I shall assume there is no objection to having our supposed growing attachment made known. People will expect an engagement within a few months, and we will likely make that announcement around Easter. Have you any objections, sir?”
What objections could Mr. Bennet have? After all, he had given his daughter permission to enter into the agreement. Nevertheless, Darcy felt some compunction to conform to social expectations by making a formal request. He was unprepared for the long, cold stare cast upon him by the older gentleman.
“I cannot object now, and I will not.” Gone was Mr. Bennet’s sardonic smirk and careless tone. The man’s voice was now stern, his eyes hard. “But sir, no matter your rank, your wealth, or your education, if you hurt my daughter, I shall not rest until I have made restitution.”
Darcy swallowed and nodded. “Understood, Mr. Bennet. Our ruse is meant for society at large. I have no intentions to harm Miss Eliza in any way whatsoever. She has become…” the thought that had just come to him caught him somewhat off guard, and he had to think about it for a moment. “I have come to think more fondly of her than I ever have of my other students. Despite my slightly abrasive manner on the rare occasion, her wellbeing is of the utmost importance to me.”
“And so it should be.” There was no misunderstanding his meaning.
At last the two men shook hands, and Darcy returned to the parlour to suffer stoically through the cooings and ravings of Mrs. Bennet and the rest of the family. He sat next to Elizabeth, and said quietly to her, “It is done.”
He felt disconcertingly close to Lizzy on the small sofa. She had never been quite so aware of him, no matter how many hours they had spent alone in Bingley’s small study. Perhaps it was the cognizance that their supposed courtship was now acknowledged and public. She searched for something innocuous to say to mask her sudden discomposure.
“Mama has gone to request an extra course for dinner. I believe you are expected to stay to dine and gaze dotingly at me all evening. I hope this will not be too much of a chore. Shall I send a note to the colonel inviting him to join us? Would that make you easier?” Her voice was almost a whisper, as to be expected from courting couples, seeking a semblance of privacy in the midst of company.
“No, this was my plan and I shall abide all the indignities that are part and parcel of it.” Oblivious to how insulting his words were, he carried on blithely, “I believe I can gaze adoringly at you for long enough to convince your family of my intentions. That should not be beyond my skills.” He now looked at her and sputtered, “What have I said?” Then, in quieter tones and more dispassionately, “I have offended you somehow. Well, nothing to be done for it now. How long should I sit here revelling in my success before I may be permitted to go and find Bingley? Where is he? In the back garden, do you think?”
Lizzy sighed as every soupçon of her discomposure vanished. This was the Professor Darcy she had come to know; this is what she had agreed to tolerate over the next several months. If she took offence at every unintended slight and display of carelessness or selfishness, she would never be happy until the whole ridiculous affair were called off. Best to tolerate the professor’s rudeness and smile while doing it. She could take him to task at another time, when she had the privacy to tell him her true thoughts.
This was an advantage to his unpleasant nature, now that she considered matters. He was rude and churlish, quite unthinking really, and consequently she felt no qualms about returning his abuse syllable for syllable. Had he been a real suitor, she might have accepted some minor slights with Jane’s outward complacency, for fear of sending the man running from her independent mind and barbed wit. But with Darcy, she need have no fear of wounding him, for he had as much to gain from the agreement as she did. She could castigate him and correct him and speak her mind quite freely. It was a wondrous thing, really, to be able to take such liberties with a man such as he, with no concerns about repercussions.
But that would come later. Now she had to rely on her own skills to make her mother believe that she were besotted with the unpleasant man. “Five minutes beside me on this sofa ought to suffice. You would wish to tell your friend, after all, that you are to be brothers. For now, however, you may wish to smile at me.”
“Five minutes. Right.” He drew out his pocket watch and marked the time. Then he turned to Lizzy and smiled. At first, the smile was the smile of an actor upon a stage, but as he caught her eye, the glint in his emerged and his smile became genuine. He reached over and took her hands in his. His fingers were warm on her own, for neither was wearing gloves inside, and she started at the sudden intimate contact. “We are begun, Eliza!” he said proudly. “Here is to our imminent betrothal. May it be fruitful for both of us!” With that, he raised her one hand to his lips and bestowed a gentle kiss on the back, almost as elegantly as the colonel, and just in time for Mrs. Bennet to turn her head and notice it. Yes, it would be all over town by sundown.
As expected, the news of Lizzy and Darcy’s supposed courtship spread quickly. Charlotte Lucas came upon Lizzy the following morning as she was preparing for her ride to Netherfield. “Let me ride with you,” she begged of her friend, for I have much to ask!”
Soon the two were seated in the small chaise Lizzy drove when the weather was fair. “What is this news I hear?” Charlotte asked without preamble. “Is it true?”
Lizzy laughed. “I cannot imagine how the news spread, but yes, it is true. Professor Darcy has requested a courtship and I have agreed.”
“But you don’t like the man!” Charlotte was astounded. “You have always told me how rude he is, how unfeeling and selfish. How can you allow him to court you?”
Lizzy stared into the distance and shrugged her shoulders. “I am not certain. I still do not know whether I like him, but I am willing to spend the time with him to learn more about him. We are not marrying yet. If Charles Bingley has accepted him so completely as a friend, there must be some good in him! And the colonel seems to genuinely enjoy his company too; they are friends as much as cousins. I believe there is good in the man, and I am happy to be allowed to seek it.”
“Are you certain, Lizzy, of what you are doing?” Charlotte’s concern was obvious. As much as she had always protested that marriage should be a matter of convenience and security rather than romance, she was nonetheless anxious that her dear friend not find herself in an unhappy situation.
“I am very sure, dear Charlotte. ‘Tis only a courtship. I have thought about this longer than you can know and am quite confident in my decision.”
“Then I must be very happy for you, my friend. I know you are not wed yet, but if that day arrives, I shall celebrate heartily and wish you the greatest joy.”
Whilst Lizzy and Charlotte were riding over from Longbourn, Darcy and Richard were talking in the breakfast room at Netherfield. Richard had been occupied with his business all the previous afternoon, and then had been called to confer with the colonel commanding the militia unit stationed in Meryton for the winter. It had been very late when he had finally returned to the house, somewhat foggy from the freely flowing ale that Colonel Forster had ordered for their consumption, and he had not had the opportunity to ask his cousin how matters had progressed until now.
“So Bennet approved, I trust? Now is hardly the time for him to withdraw his support, but she is his daughter, and he must look to her interests.”
Darcy nodded and took another sip of his coffee.
“Then I shall warn you, cousin,” Richard continued, “that I have taken a liking to Miss Eliza and I will not stand for you treating her ill.”
“Why on earth does everyone think I intend to abuse the girl?” Darcy exploded. “Bennet said pretty much the same thing. I am hardly about to beat her senseless and then drop her into the Thames. Do you take me for a monster?”
“I shall reserve judgement on that.” The colonel rocked back in his chair and appraised his cousin. Darcy wondered absently whether the chair would tip backwards from the uneven weight upon its legs. “However, since we are on the subject of monsters and men of dubious character, I have some news you may wish to hear.” He leaned forward and rested his hands upon the table and waited for his cousin to look up from his steaming coffee before he continued. “Whilst I was conferring last night with Colonel Forster of the militia, I discovered that one of his officers is none other than George Wickham.”
Richard sat back and waited for the reaction. He did not have to wait very long.
“Wickham?” Darcy roared, slamming his cup down with sufficient force to spill hot liquid over the table and rattle the china plate holding the morning’s pastries. The delicate cup did not break, but only through sheer good luck. “What in blazes is that blackguard doing here? I had thought us well rid of him!”
“It appears he has been here for some weeks,” Richard stated calmly, “but since you have hardly been out in society, nor hardly left the estate, it is of little surprise that you have not seen him about the village. Still, he is here. You ought to know.”
Darcy reached for a napkin and began mopping up the mess he had made before a footman appeared from nowhere and took over the task, refilling the cup as part of his duties. “Yes, thank you,” he replied to his cousin. He spoke with resignation and he calmed somewhat as he inspected his clothing for traces of coffee. “I would rather he be nowhere on Earth, but I would prefer to have the information than not. So he is in the militia now, is he? I suppose I should have wondered what became of him, but I was just too relieved to have him out of my life. Does he know that I am here? Did he see you?”
“From what I know, he did not see me, but it was common knowledge that I was meeting with Forster last night. As for whether he is aware of your presence in the neighbourhood, I cannot say. But you should not assume that the knowledge will remain secret for long. Jane and Bingley marry very soon, and you will be seen at the ball Bingley is hosting next week to celebrate the wedding.”
Rubbing his forehead between his eyes, Darcy asked, “How much should I say about him? He will not leave the area without a string of debts and broken hearts—or worse—behind him. The people here deserve to be warned.”
The colonel thought for a moment, then said, “I will talk to Forster and explain our history with Wickham, whilst requesting his discretion in publicising particular details. Hopefully that will suffice.” He reached into a coat pocket and drew out a letter. “By the way, this came in my package yesterday. It is for you, from Mrs. Pearce.”
“Pearce? Why does she write to you and not to me? She is my housekeeper, after all.”
“It seems,” the colonel explained placidly, “that she has done so several times of late, but you seem not to have received or read her missives. She hoped that by sending this to my care, I might entice you to actually read the damned thing.”
“Language, Richard, language.”
“You just wished someone to blazes, Fitz. I am a soldier. Swearing and uttering profanities is part of my stock in trade. Now, will you read this letter or shall I read it aloud to you?”
“Damn and blast, I shall read it myself.” He grabbed the envelope and began skimming the contents. “Pay the accounts, yes, yes… order new linens… send permission to the steward at Pemberley…. Oh no, not this again.” He scowled.
“Trouble, Fitz?”
“No, merely an annoyance. I have mentioned to you before of my connection with this group of reformers in Northern Wales.” He looked up and waited for Richard’s nod, then continued, “They have taken their inspiration from the Quakers and some revolutionary named Robert Owen. Their wealthy patron has procured a large tract of land for them near Conwy, where they have established a cooperative community of some sort. For some unaccountable reason, they have decided that I am a kindred spirit to them, a model of enlightened leadership and a paragon of a new morality. I came across them in the course of my studies, and now they wish me to travel to their remote outpost to give them guidance and inspiration. Why on earth they think this of me, I cannot possibly imagine. Me?” he spat out a short laugh, “Advise Quakers on matters of modern morality? A farce, Richard, a farce! Another one for the rubbish bin. I will respond to Mrs. Pearce later, I promise. At least this eases my temper, for should I happen to think of the scoundrel that is Wickham, I shall cast my mind instead to the presumptuous ignorance of these reformers and laugh myself silly. Now—.”
He was interrupted by the footman bearing a note on a silver salver. “Now, it appears, I must go. Eliza has come and duty calls. Be so kind as to entertain her friend Miss Lucas until the carriage can be called to return her to Meryton. There’s a good chap.” And off he strode, coffee cup in hand, and an unfamiliar smile on his lips.