Miss Bennet,
I hope this note finds you well. Dash it, that was a silly thing to write, was it not? Rather, I hope this note finds you as well as (blot)ible in the circumstances.
I have been thinking of our last conversation, in the parlour at Haye-Park. We were speaking of travel, of the places we have been and those we should like to see, when (blot) party broke up. I hope to continue that conversation with you very soon. I am all anticipation to know whence your fascination with India proceeds.
C Bingley
She smiled and closed the note. “Very well, sir, as the guardian of my sister’s honour I shall allow this communication.”
He beamed at her. “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. I must away on my ‘rounds’, as Mr Jones terms them, but the entire household is at your disposal.”
Jane received the note with trepidation and delight, holding it unopened for several moments as Elizabeth reassured her that there can be nothing very scandalous in a brief note from a host to an ailing guest, which has been read by her sister beforehand. Delight won out, and she read the short missive rapidly, then again slowly, savouring every word which spoke to his kind heart and gentlemanly concern. When she grew sleepy, she handed it back to Elizabeth and asked that it be kept safe for her.
Though glad to see Jane taking so much rest, the time dragged for Elizabeth, confined to the room with only a few books and little opportunity for exercise save pacing. A soft knock at the door brought a respite in the form of Mr Darcy, come to report that he had called at Longbourn that morning and all within had been well.
“I did my best to assuage your family’s concerns for Miss Bennet. Your father would appreciate as many letters, notes, and witty assurances as you can manage,” he added, with what Elizabeth thought a wry smile.
“Of course he would,” she replied, laughing. “And he would direct my sister Mary to reply.”
“I am happy to deliver your letters, or any messages. How is Miss Bennet today?”
She thanked him, and answered his enquiry after Jane, and was about to return to the room when Mr Darcy said, “Forgive me if I presume, Miss Elizabeth, but I think you are an active sort of person, and may find this confinement harder to bear than many ladies would?”
“I will admit that it is so,” she replied. “You have read me aright. But I cannot complain, for a little dullness is nothing to what my sister suffers.”
He inclined his head. “Of course, I can see you take satisfaction from being of use to her, as Bingley and I do from being of use in our way, even if we would all have chosen very different activities in happier circumstances.” He bowed and wished her a good day before departing, leaving her wondering what he had meant by it all. She shrugged and slipped back into the room to watch over her sister.
When Jane awoke, Elizabeth plied her with as much cold broth and chilled barley water as she would take. She had picked up the novel to resume reading it aloud when Jane surprised her by saying, “Lizzy, I should like to respond to Mr Bingley’s note.”
“Jane…” She recognised the unusually determined set of her sister’s jaw. “A note from a host to a guest is one thing, but a correspondence? It is not quite proper.”
“Which means that it is not quite improper, either.”
Elizabeth laughed. “You sound like me! Very well, I can see you are decided.” She helped her sister from the bed and over to the escritoire. Jane bent over the note for a full half an hour, often pausing to consider her words before committing them to paper. When it was done, she waved it dry for a moment and then handed it to her sister.
Mr Bingley,
I thank you for your kind note of this morning. It is heartening to know that my friends, among whose number I am delighted to count you, are concerned for my welfare at this uncertain time.
I, too, look very much forward to continuing the conversation to which you referred. You mentioned having been to Italy, and I should dearly like to know more about that place and your experiences there. I will relieve your anticipation by telling you that I became interested in India through my uncle Gardiner, who conducts a great deal of business with that country. One of his associates, Mr Greene, has lived there for over thirty years, and I have since my childhood chanced to meet him several times when he visited England.
He would tell stories of the temples and the cities, of markets redolent with the scent of exotic spice, of the strange and haunting music of the natives. In my uncle’s warehouse I have seen the brilliant, richly patterned fabrics in which the people garb themselves, and taken all together it inspired within me a great desire to one day experience it all for myself. It is unlikely that I shall ever have the chance to do so, but it is pleasant to dream upon, nonetheless.
I hope that you are keeping well and finding some pleasure in being master of an estate despite recent events.
Yours,
J Bennet
“Well,” Elizabeth remarked, “there is nothing objectionable in the content, not that I expected any such thing fromyou. But though I trust Mr Bingley to be discreet, there is still some slight risk of damage to your reputation. Are you certain you wish that I should deliver this?”
“I am,” Jane said. “Please understand, Lizzy. His friendship is precious to me in a way that I cannot describe. I know…” She paused, and hung her head. “I know it cannot now become more than that. If I survive this, I shall be scarred. One innocent exchange of notes—is that truly too much to ask?”
Elizabeth felt her eyes prickle and willed away the tears. She mustered a smile and replied, “Of course not, dearest.” Placing the folded note upon the table, she helped Jane back into bed and resumed reading from the novel which they had both been enjoying earlier.
* * *
A little after the dinner hour, a knock sounded on the door. Elizabeth opened it to find Mr Darcy, who carried a slim wooden box held closed with a strap and buckle. He bowed and said, “I hope you will forgive the unexpected visit, Miss Elizabeth. I had thought that you might, perhaps, like to borrow this.” He held out the box, which she accepted with an enquiring look.
