Elizabeth stopped reading and rolled the letter up over her hand with a puzzled expression.
“What is it, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Odd. Mary’s writing leaves off rather abruptly, and then Uncle’s writing resumes on the back of the same page. I wonder if another page was lost before they mailed it.”
“More likely they just got folded out of order. Perhaps Mary’s letter continues elsewhere,” Jane wondered. “Go on, what does Uncle say?”
Dear Jane and Lizzy,
Since Mary wrote the above, something has happened of a most grievous nature. It pains me greatly to be the bearer of such news, but…
Elizabeth’s legs gave out—simply failed. Her breast quaked, the letter fell, and she started to sob, then to shriek, “No! No, no, no——NOOO!!!” until her voice crumbled. She clutched a hand over her mouth, and a long whimpering gasp was the only sound she could make as her heart heaved and stormed.
“Lizzy!” Jane was at her side at once, dragging at her elbow and trying to pull her erect. “Lizzy, what is it?”
Tears blinded Elizabeth’s eyes, and her throat was too tight for words. She merely shook her head and whispered, “Papa!”
Jane’s colour drained. “Papa… Billy, what is it? Tell me the worst!”
Billy bent to reclaim the letter from the floor, and hesitantly, he read—only one line, before he, too, tumbled into a chair to knead his eyes.
…but your father has perished in a fire.
London
DarcywasatAnne’sflat precisely at eight the next evening with the carriage. He smiled and bowed as the door opened, expecting her, but it was only the manservant who greeted him. He was shown inside and asked to wait for her bejewelled and fur-decked figure to emerge. After much delay and amid the attendance of three maids, she finally strode out to greet him. She stopped dead when she beheld him.
“Upon my word, Darcy, what have you done to yourself?”
His brow furrowed, then in some recollection, he twitched his lip. “Yes, just a bit of diversion.”
She cast up her eyes in an aggrieved look and then breezed past him to the door. “I certainly hope it is not permanent.”
Darcy replaced his hat and followed her out. “I have not yet decided. How have you passed these last days in Town? I thought you would have called on us for tea.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “You have not called on me, either.”
“Because there is no chaperone here,” he answered reasonably.
Anne gave a dismissive snort. “Darcy, we are betrothed, and what of it? Really, sometimes I wonder if you were born a century too late.”
He stifled a sigh as they reached the carriage and helped her to step up. A moment later, they were underway, and he watched her through the fog of their shared breath inside. Shewasa fair creature—high cheekbones, fashionably straight nose, even teeth, and a dainty chin. She carried herself with a rare and natural elegance, and even her voice and manner were cultured.
Far from an embarrassment, she was a desirable woman, even without her estate in Kent and fortune to rival his own. He really ought to be kissing her, testing the limits of her maidenly tolerance and the bounds of propriety… or at least, he shouldwantto.
She tilted her head as she surveyed him. “It does not suit you.”
“What, this?” He touched his lip. “However not?”
“It makes you look like a youth, all fresh and innocent.”
He laughed. “This is a complaint?”
“But it makes you lack all sophistication.” She shook her head. “Really, you ought to speak with me before you undertake such drastic measures. Why, even Georgiana would have spoken against it, but I know your stubbornness well enough. You never consulted anyone, did you?”
“Do I need to consult anyone about my own face?”
“Of course, for whatever you do is now a reflection on me. I hope you do not undertake such decisions alone in the future, for I shall have something to say on the matter.”
