“It is cosier inside,” Lydia said, and she was entirely correct.
Darcy and Elizabeth took paper and pencils and made tic marks for the various kinds of trees while they followed the winding path away from the manor house.
“Are you truly interested in a census of my father’s trees?” Elizabeth asked.
“I have to admit I am more interested in your plan, if it is ready to launch, or hatch, or whatever the correct metaphor might be. But, yes, I am always interested in estates’ woodlands and how they are used. Here at Longbourn, the most common trees seem to be English oak, and the wood from these trees is very valuable for shipbuilding and structures. I imagine you never burn it. The other trees I spotted include common ash,silver birch, and European beech. The latter affords the best firewood, and I imagine Longbourn sells some ash for making tools. The birch I would expect to largely be used for fencing and baskets, and perhaps for wattle. At any rate, it is of interest to me—as long as we also have time to discuss your plan.”
“When I called it a plan, I did not realise how convoluted it would be. It turns out to be more like a path with several branches. Let me explain….”
Darcy listened, astounded to hear that the first part of Elizabeth’s planned path centred on Georgiana. “This part of the plan is most timely. We can get engaged now or later or never, wed now or later or never—but if I might be able to help Georgiana in any small way, it should be soon. She has already had a difficult four months, I believe you said, so it seems to me that the priority, time wise, is seeing to her melancholy.”
She then explained the first branch in the path that she could see—where should she meet Georgiana and attempt to help her? Would such a task be better accomplished in Hertfordshire or London? If the latter, Darcy could relocate to Darcy House, in Mayfair, and Elizabeth could go to her uncle and aunt’s house, near Cheapside. Whether they met in the country or in Town, they could arrange outings and calls, and possibly Georgiana and Elizabeth could become friends and learn from one another.
“The choice of locale depends on your schedule more than my own,” Elizabeth said, “as I have few responsibilities that I do not share with my sisters. My uncle and aunt have given me an open invitation to come and stay at any time, so you can see that I am very flexible.”
Most of all, Elizabeth said, was that the choice should depend on Georgiana, her current mood, her needs, her desires.
Darcy interrupted long enough to say, “Georgiana is not fond of Bingley’s sisters.”
“That is important information,” Elizabeth responded.
The next step of her plan related to the fact that Elizabeth wished for more time before Darcy proposed. He was certain of his own constancy, but she did not feel so sure—of his or hers. She explained, “This feeling you have is new to you, you said. My feelings are certainly new to me, as well.” Therefore, she wanted to wait several months rather than several days or weeks.
The branching path of this step was that she wished to have contact while they continued to court, but she was certain he would need to go back to Pemberley at some point. If he had to go to Pemberley before she was ready for a proposal, she suggested, she would wish to be able to write. “We could write through my father, or another possibility is that we could become engaged, so that my father does not feel the right to read our letters, but we insist that he keep the news of our engagement out of general knowledge—which would mean that my mother could not know.”
Darcy grinned. “I like the sound of that last fork in the path. But of course—” he adopted his usual serious expression—“If we take it, I understand that you might wish to end the engagement. I want you to have free choice in the matter, which is to say that I would never wish you to marry me unless you truly wished to.”
“Believe me, I will not.”
“I suppose the first step of our branching path is for me to write to Georgiana.”
“It is. I look forward to hearing the result, sir. And…do try to get some sleep, as well….”
Darcy’s letter to Georgiana began with his usual restraint as he asked about her health, her time with Mrs Annesley, her aunt’s tutelage about proper behaviour, her happiness.
As he asked questions of his much-younger sister, hoping against hope that she would honestly express herself, Darcy realised something that Elizabeth had accidentally taught him—that he ought to be honest and open to someone, if he hoped that someone would be honest and open to him.
And so Darcy’s letter, although looking as proper as ever, took a turn as he shared his true thoughts and feelings:
For the first time in my life, Georgiana, I am in love. I met a lady who is unlike anyone I have ever known. She is spirited and cheery, honest and clever, lovely and kind. That may sound like the description of hundreds of ladies, and therefore you might ask how she is unlike those ladies—and all I can say is that she is unique. I long for you to meet her so you will know exactly what I mean.
I wonder if you would like to come here, where you could meet the lady whom I wish to marry. This is a place where we could explore together and ride to our heart’s content, and if you come, you could meet all of my lady’s sisters, including one a little older than you and one several months younger than you. As you know, Bingley’s sisters are here as well, but I believe that I have convinced Miss Bingley that she and I do not suit; therefore, I believe that she will not gush over you as she has. At any rate, I expect that I can manage to keep you away from her most of the time and protect you from her the rest of the time.
If you still do not want to come here, I will come to Town. I can live in Darcy House, and you and Mrs Annesley can stay with the Matlocks or join me—or, if you prefer, move back and forth between the houses. If this is your choice, my lady-love will travel to London as well, and she will live with her aunt and uncle, who live on Gracechurch Street, nearCheapside. Of course, London being huge, that will mean that it takes much longer to get from our house to hers, but there will be city things to enjoy together.
My preference is that you come here, and we relocate to Town if and when we wish to. But both the lady I love and I are very willing to go to London if you prefer it.
Darcy completed his letter with swift closing wishes and a request that she respond with her choice quickly. After he signed his name, Darcy had an alarming thought of his cousin reading his letter, and he added a postscript:
I hope you will tell our cousin, and especially our uncle and aunt, a pared-back version of the truth. You may share that I met a lady I am courting and would dearly love to marry—but please do not share all the feelings I have expressed to you, my beloved sister. I dread how Richard would tease me if he read the whole.
He sent the letter by private messenger, asking him to return the next morning with a reply. When the messenger arrived the following day, shortly after Darcy had returned from his walk with Elizabeth, he expressed surprise at how early the man had returned. “You could have started back at eight rather than at dawn,” Darcy said, giving him a guinea for going above and beyond to bring him word of Georgiana’s choice.
“No sir. Miss Darcy said it was imperative I leave at first light.”
“Oh!” Darcy swiftly opened the letter—well, really, merely a note. All it said was, “Richard, Aunt, Uncle, Mrs Annesley, and I are coming, arriving the same day as this message. Please let Mr Bingley know so he can prepare rooms.”
Oh, dear.
