“I hope so, Jane. Her letters always feel like good sense and comfort.”
Mr. Bennet snorted quietly, though there was no real sting in it.
Before Elizabeth could reply, the knock came at the door and they heard the maid’s voice faintly in the hall, speaking to the post messenger.
Sophocles lifted his head, ears flicking with interest, as though he too understood that the drama was about to begin.
Elizabeth’s heart gave another small, guilty flutter of anticipation.
Jane’s cheeks bloomed pink with hope for what the envelope might hold.
Mr. Bennet sighed with deep resignation.
“Well,” he said, “prepare yourselves, ladies. The post is always an excellent excuse for strong feelings in this house.”
They heard the soft rap at the parlour door. The maid entered, bobbing a quick curtsey with a single folded letter on a small tray.
“Post just come, ma’am.”
Jane looked at it hopefully but the maid turned at once to Elizabeth.
“For you, Miss.”
Elizabeth blinked, startled. The maid moved a few steps towards her and she took the letter carefully. The seal was plain but the direction unmistakable in its neat, deliberate hand.
Mr. Bennet watched over his spectacles. “Well, Lizzy? You needn’t look so astonished. Who is your correspondent?”
Elizabeth coloured faintly. “I am not certain, sir. But—I have a guess.”
Sophocles twitched his tail and huffed on her lap. Jane gave her hand a quiet squeeze.
Mr. Bennet settled back with dry amusement. “We shall attempt to preserve our tempers while you examine it.”
Elizabeth turned the letter over once in her hand before she broke the seal. There was no name on the outside—only her direction in a neat, unfamiliar hand.
She unfolded the single sheet carefully, her gaze sharpening as the words revealed themselves.
Pemberley, Derbyshire
October 24th, 1811
Miss Elizabeth,
I trust you will forgive my writing so soon after our parting. It is my hope that you may think well enough of our brief acquaintance to receive this letter. I will not speak too freely of admiration before you should welcome it, yet I will not feign indifference. I value your candour and your mind, and I am grateful for your conversation.
It is only right that I thank you for the welcome you and your family extended at Longbourn. Your father’s civility and good sense deserve particular acknowledgment. I am indebted for the courtesy he showed both to Bingley and to myself, despite our being only newly known to you all.
Our conversation during the garden walk remains particularly in my thoughts. I hope you will not think me impertinent for saying it left a strong impression onmy mind of your frankness and discernment. I make no demand, only a hope. I wish that we might understand one another better, without the constraint of hurried conversation or public observation.
Should you find yourself willing to continue our exchange, it would be my honour to hear from you. I will not presume on your answer if you would rather not offer one.
With my respectful compliments to your family, I thank you for your patience in reading this.
I remain your obedient servant,
F. Darcy
Elizabeth let the paper sink a fraction, blinking at the careful, controlled script. She drew in a slow, unsteady breath.
