Page 29 of Fitzwilliam Darcy, Exile

Darcy looked down and read the open page.

Dear Fitzwilliam Darcy,

Papa says you are going to marry me when I am grown up. I do not think this is a very good idea because I do not know you at all and Mama says you live very far away.

I asked Papa if I could meet you first like Jane got to meet the butcher's son before she decided she did not like him, but Papa said that is not how these things work. I think that is very silly. How can you marry someone if you have never even talked to him?

I am eight years old and I am very good at sums and I can read already. I like to help Papa with his papers, and I know all the names of our tenants. I also like to climb trees, but Mama says ladies do not climb trees so I suppose I will have to stop when I am a lady.

Do you like to read? I hope you do because I like it very much and it would be nice if we both liked the same things. Also, do you have any dogs? We have three and they are very nice.

I asked Mama what happens if we do not like each other when we meet but she said that does not matter. That seems very strange to me. If you do not like someone, why would you want to live with them?

Maybe when I am bigger you could come visit and we could see if we are friends first. I think that would be much better. I would rather refuse to marry at all than agree to marry a stranger.

From Elizabeth Rose Bennet

P.S. I hope you are not mean. Some boys are very mean, but Papa says you are a good boy. I hope that is true.

He stared at the page, and his understanding of her grew. She had thought she had a choice. Her father had never sent the letter. How old had she been when she realized that her freedom had been signed away? “He gave you a husband you did not want?”

She scoffed. “I stand by my reasons.”

Darcy smiled, handing the letter back to her. “They are remarkably sound for a girl of eight.” He said it teasingly, but he meant the compliment. Even at a young age, she knew her mind, and she expressed herself clearly. If only her father and his father had listened!

“How did you learn that your future was decided?” he asked.

“Papa continued to attempt to persuade me to accept the offer. I rebelled, doing everything I could to prove my value to him, to my family, to Longbourn—” She looked away, biting her lip. Darcy waited, wishing he could reassure her. “I was twelve years old when I began learning estate management in earnest. It was not until I was sixteen that I realized that nothing I could do here could compare to the benefits I could offer them as Mr. Darcy’s wife.”

This angered him. “You are resigned to your fate?”

Her gaze sharpened. “I did not say that.” She sighed, her tone softer. “I want to do what is best for my family. I do.” She closed her eyes and clenched her fists. “But must I sacrifice my own happiness to ensure their comfort?”

“Perhaps your betrothed will be understanding. You might even find him agreeable.”

“Had he made the smallest gesture of interest, I would believe it possible.” She crossed her arms over herself, the letter still in her hand. “At first, I applauded his flight. I wished I could have done the same.”

Darcy’s guilt redoubled. How self-indulgent his declaration of independence seemed from the perspective of a trapped young lady.

She blinked several times, tucked the letter back into her pocket, and rubbed her hands together. “I really thought he might write to me, to explain his absence or to somehow free me from our marriage contract.” She shook her head and shrugged. “Alas, he did not.

“And that is quite enough about that unpleasant affair.” She shifted her gaze to the room. “Let us turn to a more productive task before anyone else calls and I must join Mama in the drawing room again.”

Responding obediently, Darcy climbed on top of the library step to remove the final row of books and papers. She trusted him. He had been careful not to mention Pemberley or the marriage arrangement, and she had confided in him anyway. Now more than ever, he knew himself to be undeserving of her trust. He hated to disappoint her, and yet he did not know how to avoid it. As Robinson, he was her friend. As Darcy, he was her duty. As the man who withheld his identity while he allowed her to reveal her innermost self, he was a hypocrite.

“Here is another letter!” She held the paper up. “This makes ten in total. I do not see anything blatantly fraudulent.” She handed him the letter, equally hopeful and anxious.

It looked precisely as the other nine letters they had found. He added it to the pile of evidence they had scoured through the library to find, heart heavy. If he was doomed to disappoint her, at least he could clear her father’s name of reproach and free him from a life indebted to the crown. Miss Elizabeth was resourceful. She would see Longbourn thrive long after she raked him over the coals for deceiving her and refusing his hand just as she said she would do at the young age of eight. “It proves that they continued to do business with your father after the contract ended. Are there any other places in the house where your father might have stowed important documents?”

She frowned. “He keeps everything he considers of import in here.”

Before she could absorb the disaster of what they had not found, he suggested their next step. “Before the bailiff arrives with a distress warrant, I think it advisable to take an inventory of Longbourn’s effects. If we provide the bailiff and the customs officer with an extensive list of salable goods, they might be lenient and give us more time. In the least, it will spare your mother and sisters from having strangers poke through their personal belongings.”

“That is an excellent idea. A good deal of the furniture belongs to the property and is protected by the entail, but that will not save my mother’s pearls or my sisters’ trinkets.” Tilting her chin, she narrowed her eyes. “Would it be advisable to hide our jewelry until we have exhausted our search and presented our case?”

“Do you have someone you trust?”

“Charlotte. We are going to Lucas Lodge to dine on the morrow.”