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You see, my dearest of all sisters, I am on my way to Gretna Green. I am to be married to Mr. Charles Bingley.

Will you forgive me for suffering but this one regret—that being that you cannot be with me as I embark upon this, the most important journey of my life?

You know me too well to suspect that I have made this decision rashly despite how it must appear to the outside world.

Mr. Bingley and I are very much in love. I suspect I fell in love with him the moment I first laid eyes on him. His every look, his every word and dare I confess, his every touch, have taught me that his feelings for me are equally as enduring.

Upon recently learning of the true purpose of my being in Pemberley, Mr. Bingley’s ensuing disappointment was more than I could stand. That he had inadvertently betrayed his friend’s trust was unconscionable to him. He planned to go away from Pemberley immediately. How could I allow him to do so? How could I say goodbye forever to an honorable gentleman who had touched my heart, and whose heart I had similarly affected, for an equally honorable gentleman whose heart, I suspect, will never ever be touched? At least not by me.

As for our decision to elope, how could either of us chance being persuaded against our purpose by confiding in anyone? We could not.

Oh, Lizzy, is this not what you have always wanted for me? To be loved, cherished and adored by a decent, respectable man. I journeyed to Pemberley not entirely persuaded of what I was about, yet willing to fulfill my role as a dutiful daughter in whatever manner it might entail. As I commit these words to paper, I suffer not a shadow of a doubt that my true destiny is unfolding. Mrs. Charles Bingley is who I was always meant to be, and I could not be happier.

While I have left you with the task of conveying my joyful news to our dear father, as well as facing the derision of many of those who remain at Pemberley, I have no doubt that your courage will rise to whatever occasion that results as it always does during those times that matter most.

As I write this letter to you, my dear Charles is likewise writing to Mr. Darcy, whose counsel he has always sought—except in this, the most important decision of his life. I confess to being more confident than my future husband that his friend will not only understand what we have done, but he will be happy for him—for both of us.

Assured that my happiness is complete and my future promises to be even more so, my greatest wish is that yours will be, too, dearest Lizzy, even as I suspect such a joyous prospect is closer than you know.

I shall close this letter for now with the sincerest hope that, once we are reunited in Hertfordshire, our mutual admiration and esteem for each other will be as endearing and heartfelt as ever.

Your loving sister forever and all times,

JB

Elizabeth paced the floor. Having by now read her sister’s letter several times, she was in a fair way of committing Jane’s every heartfelt word to memory. Although distressed that her sister had not confided her plans before taking her leave of Pemberley, how could she possibly be disappointed, knowing that her dearest sister was loved and cherished—adored by a man as decent and kind as Mr. Charles Bingley? She could not. She was, however, deeply astounded that the two of them had eloped under cover of darkness as though they were doing something wrong.

Jane said that they did not want to risk being persuaded against their purposes. I cannot fault them for their prudence in that regard. Surely Bingley’s sisters would have put forth every conceivable argument against a union between their brother, whose ties to society were tenuous at best, save his connection with his good friend Mr. Darcy, and the daughter of a country gentleman whose position in society was less than their own. Then, too, Jane said that Mr. Bingley felt that in falling in love with her, he had inadvertently wounded his friend—had betrayed him.

What would Mr. Darcy have said had Mr. Bingley gone to him with the truth? Would he have indeed felt aggrieved, betrayed, wounded by someone whom he thought he could trust? Would he have likened Charles Bingley’s behavior in a similar vein as he regards George Wickham’s? Would he indeed have attempted to change his friend’s mind?

By now, Mr. Darcy will have received Mr. Bingley’s letter. Has he informed Mr. Bingley’s family? Truth be told, the answer to the latter question did not truly matter to her. Only the matter of how Mr. Darcy was digesting the news was of any particular concern to her.

“I must go to him.”

Folding Jane’s letter, she tucked it inside her pocket and proceeded to quit the room. She was almost at the door when she halted her steps.

What on Earth will I say to him given my sister’s behavior?

In an attempt to ward off her indecisiveness, she shook her head. Placing her hand on the door handle, she avowed aloud, “I dare not risk delaying this meeting until I know the exact words to speak just now. I ought to go about making a start. I will know what to say when I see him.”

CHAPTER 21

PARTICULAR CONCERN

At a certain point along the way, it dawned on Elizabeth that despite how urgently she wanted to speak with Fitzwilliam Darcy, it was of vital importance to speak to her father, for Jane had made it clear that she wanted Elizabeth to be the person who conveyed the news of what had happened to Mr. Bennet.

Hearing it from someone else would be the worst way possible for him to learn about the elopement.

Heaven forbid that he should receive this intelligence while he was with his friend, the older Mr. Darcy, whom Elizabeth knew to be more and more frequently in each other’s company of late.

Who is to say what measure the strain something of this nature might place on their friendship?

Elizabeth set off for the library, hoping she would find her father there, reading contentedly while surrounded by a number of tomes meant to divert him throughout the course of the day. No doubt her news would be the means of abruptly ending their stay at Pemberley. It was entirely possible that her father might insist upon the two of them packing their belongings and leaving Pemberley post haste.

There was also the possibility that her father might insist upon following his eldest daughter in the hopes of preventing a hasty alliance with a young man they barely knew.

Surely he would see the folly in such an endeavor. Why risk marring something that is otherwise, dare I say it, romantic and adventurous with the scandal of a heated pursuit? Jane is of age. Even if she had run off with a scoundrel, she is within her legal right to do so.