"Well, not boring precisely. Just... very detailed. He writes about matters that do not concern me—engineering problems and compensation for workers and such tedious business. I am sure it is all very important to him, but I have no head for that sort of thing."
“And what do you hope to do about that?”
Cassandra's expression turned pleading. "That’s where you come in, dearest Lizzy. You are so much cleverer than Iam with words. Would you be an absolute angel and compose a reply for me?"
Elizabeth’s mouth fell open. "You want me to write to Mr Darcy on your behalf?"
"It would only be this once! Or perhaps a few times, until the correspondence finds its natural rhythm. You have such a way with language—far better than mine. And Mr Darcy would never know the difference. I have not written to him yet, so he has no example of my hand to compare it to."
"I cannot possibly—"
"Please, Lizzy! I shall be forever in your debt. You know how I struggle with letter-writing. Remember when we were at school and Miss Pemberton made us write those dreadful essays? You always helped me then."
"That was correcting your grammar, not impersonating you entirely!"
"But it is not so very different, is it? Besides, what harm could it do? I shall tell you what sentiments to express, and you merely put them into prettier words. It is not as though you would be deceiving him."
Elizabeth stared at her friend, struck by the peculiarity of the entire situation. Here was a woman claiming to pursue a gentleman she found boring, asking another woman to conduct the courtship on her behalf. It was simultaneously pitiful and frustrating.
The whole scheme spoke to a mercenary view of marriage that Elizabeth had always suspected Cassandra possessed but had never seen displayed quite so boldly. To pursue a man solely for his fortune and consequence while caring nothingfor his character or concerns—it seemed a recipe for mutual misery. And yet, was Mr Darcy not equally mercenary in his own way? He had chosen Cassandra based on her breeding and connections, dancing with her twice to signal his intentions before they had exchanged more than the most superficial pleasantries.
Perhaps they deserved each other—two people entering into a transaction rather than a partnership, each valuing surface over substance. The thought did not make Elizabeth any more inclined to participate in their charade. Every sensible part of her recoiled from involvement in such a dishonest scheme.
To impersonate another person in correspondence was not merely improper—it was a betrayal of trust that no rational justification could excuse. Mr Darcy might be proud and disagreeable, but he did not deserve to be deceived in such an inconsiderate way. And Cassandra, for all her shallowness, would only be building a foundation of lies for whatever union she hoped to secure.
"Well?" Cassandra asked, leaning closer. "What do you think? Will you help me?"
Chapter Four
"No."
The word fell between them with finality. Elizabeth brought her teacup to her mouth, taking a long sip before setting it back down.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said no. I will not write your correspondence for you." Elizabeth repeated in a steady voice. “What you propose is not merely improper—it is fundamentally dishonest. If you wish to pursue Mr Darcy's regard, you must do so honestly. Write from your heart. Tell him your true thoughts."
Cassandra's expression shifted from surprise to something approaching amusement. "My true thoughts? Oh, Lizzy, how wonderfully naive you are. Women of my station do not have the luxury of honesty in such matters. We have our reputations, our families' expectations, and our position in society. That is what we must uphold, not some romantic notion of speaking from the heart."
“But if you find his concerns so tedious that you cannot even bring yourself to read his letters—why pursue the connection at all?"
"Because he is a great match. In addition to his grand estate, his connections are impeccable, and his influence in society will only grow as he matures into his position.”
“Is there anything else?”
"What else is there? Surely you do not mean to speak of love and compatibility and all those pretty notions from novels?"
“If not love, then at least a mutual affection for each other.”
“My parents have been wed for five-and-twenty years. There’s little love or affection between them, but they understand their marriage as a contract from which both parties benefit. Mama has her position and security, Papa has an heir and a well-managed household. They are content, which is far more than can be said for those foolish enough to marry for other reasons."
“Say what you wish, Cassandra, but I’m certain neither of your parents would consider correspondence from the other too boring to respond to.”
Her friend released a frustrated groan. “Oh, Lizzy, how can you be so stubborn?”
“I’m merely expressing my opinion.” Elizabeth rose, preparing to take her leave. This visit had become increasingly uncomfortable, and she had no desire to continue a conversation that seemed destined only to reveal the growing chasm between herself and her friend.
"Wait." Cassandra stood as well, moving quickly to block Elizabeth's path to the door. "Please, just—read the letter first. That is all I ask. Read it, and then make your decision."
