Thank you for relating your excursion abroad the Derbyshire countryside. What a marvelous idea! I must share this tidbit of humor: Charles was reading Mr. Darcy's letter as I was reading yours when suddenly he snorted in disgust. I inquired as to his concern and he recalled Mr. Darcy boring him nearly to death while in France with the endless tours of old castles and ruins. I chuckled so, dear Lizzy, as your letter expressed such joy over the adventures! Of course, I can empathize with my husband as such diversions are not appealing to me; however, I am cognizant of how you adore them, so was thrilled you two embarked on the endeavor.

If you have received a letter from Papa, then you know he accepted the news of Charles and me relocating with serenity. I know he is saddened, and perhaps he has communicated his distress to you; nonetheless, he understands and has given us his blessing. Mama, shockingly, was in hysterics. Oh Lizzy, it was awful! She wailed and moaned, lamenting how all her daughters have deserted her and she would never be able to kiss her grandchildren. Poor Charles was frantic. Papa took her in hand, but it was terrible. I must confess, as horrendous as your crisis, it did succeed in deflecting Mama's anxiety from me! Hopefully for both our sakes, Mary will proffer a blessed announcement forthwith to further avert Mama's absorption and cheer her spirits.

As for Charles and me, we are proceeding as planned. I do believe Charles would have packed up and departed within the week, but I have given him pause. It is a difficult move for me, Lizzy dear. You know that change is not embraced as easily by me as you. While we were yet in Derbyshire, my enthusiasm was as profound as Charles's. Now that I am home, Hertfordshire continually draws me in with all her lures and homey comforts. Yet oddly I find that with each passing day the sense of belonging, especially at Netherfield, ebbs. Charles speaks of Hasberry daily, and I am beginning to long for the charms of the house. Mostly, of course, my heart yearns to please my husband. I am so proud of his spirit and zeal as well as the serious maturity he displays in regard to this new undertaking.

Caroline has returned to London, abiding with the Hursts for the present, although I do believe she plans to holiday in Essex with a friend next month. As you and I were discussing, Caroline continues to puzzle me. Over time the worst of her disdain for me has vanished and she actually appears pleased for Charles and me in our obvious felicity. However, try as I might, we cannot establish a sisterly relationship or a particularly friendly one. I know you shrug her attitude away, Lizzy, believing me silly for fretting so, yet I persist in wishing it otherwise. The oddest part is how her personality vacillates. She spoke of her trip to Essex with a queer expression. She almost appeared dreamy and her eyes softened. Then it was as if she caught herself and rapidly followed with a snippy comment about the dreariness of Meryton. I do wish I could laugh at her as you do. Oh well, she is gone now and peace reigns.

Lizzy, I am pleased that your pregnancy progresses without complications. The nursery as you describe it sounds beautiful. Who would have thought to have clouds painted on a blue ceiling and a pastel landscape over one wall? I confess I have difficulty envisioning the scene. How ingenious of the decorator to suggest such a masterpiece! You did not, however, mention horses grazing upon the painted grasses. Charles and I immediately noted the omission and mutually decided it was an oversight on your part as assuredly Mr. Darcy would insist on horses! I am pleased to hear of the cuckoo clock finding a home where your child will grow amid the sweet music as we all did. I believe I shall have to hint of the same when the time comes for Charles and me. The lace curtains are a perfect touch. You amaze me, dearest sister, in your sudden embracing of domesticity. Knitting and sewing! Astounding! The needlepoint pillows and pictures I can comprehend, as you have ever adored embroidery, but making your own curtains? I truly must see it with mine own eyes to fully believe. I told Mama, but she thought me jesting. Perhaps the concept of babies brings out one's creativity as Caroline did complete the quilt. I must say, it is a skillfully wrought item and beautiful. You will love it.

Charles has finished his missive to Mr. Darcy, so I shall close for now. You absolutely cannot tell Mama or Papa, but I am so very thrilled that we shall be close, Lizzy. I miss you so very much and want our children to grow dear to each other. Before I finish I must thank you for your timely advice at our last private chat. You were right in all aspects and the results are as you presupposed. We truly are the most fortunate of women in our marriages, are we not, dear sister? If only all could be so blessed. Imagine how wonderful the world would then be? I love you, Lizzy, and yearn for your companionship. Take care on your journey to the seacoast.

Always,

Your Jane


Lizzy was smiling broadly and chuckling as she refolded Jane's correspondence. “What does your sister have to say which so amused you, beloved?” Darcy asked, his voice rumbling over Lizzy's back.

“Have you read the letter from Charles yet?” she asked, turning her head to peer up into Darcy's face as he shook his head negative. “Apparently he related with disgust the reminiscences of your journey to France. You were not exaggerating as to his feelings on museums and ruins.”

Darcy chuckled. “I could almost generate some pity if it were not for his avengement.”

“You never did tell me the story of your waltz experiences.”

“I suppose I can now see humor in the situation. Knowing the dance has benefited me most delightfully in the present, thus easing the painful memory.” He paused to stroke her cheek and lean forward for a tasty kiss.

“You were saying?” Lizzy interrupted in a throaty whisper.

“I was saying?” he repeated, brushing her lips with insistence, but she withdrew with a giggle.

“About the waltz, William. You were going to tell me the story.”

He sighed theatrically. “Very well then, but do not forget where we were, my lover.” She solemnly nodded, eyes twinkling. “As I told you, I first danced the waltz in Vienna. When I was twenty-five, I traveled to Austria to visit my Aunt Mary. The waltz is quite popular there, and before I hardly knew what was happening, my cousins were grasping my hands and propelling me onto the floor of their music room. You need not imagine anything untoward, love. They are all quite older than me and married.” Lizzy harrumphed and Darcy grinned.

He resumed, “They considered it a hideous lapse in my education to only know the stilted dances of the English. The Austrians are looser and prefer lively, intimate dances such as the tarantella, lavolta, courante, and galliard. I shall confess that I actually enjoyed myself and, risking the label of arrogant, I learned quickly and was quite excellent! As you now are aware, I do find dancing pleasant, provided I am familiar and comfortable with my partner.” He kissed her nose, stroking along her neck. “In Vienna I reluctantly was induced to dance a few times at the balls we attended, although I refused other than my aunt or cousins. They thought that was hysterical and teased me mercilessly.”

Lizzy laughed. “Ah, the poor broken hearts extend all across Europe. Those woeful Austrian ladies with their sad faces moping despondently about the ballroom.”

Darcy reddened but snorted. “Unlikely, Elizabeth.” Lizzy smiled, again amused at how innocent and obtuse he was in regards to his attributes and allure. “Anyway, two years later Bingley and I were in Paris at a soiree hosted by the Comte and Comtesse Petain. I did not wish to attend, not surprisingly, but Bingley adores such entertainments and despite his allusions to the contrary, I was perceptive to his annoyance and remorseful for dragging him along on my adventures. During dinner the conversation turned to the ball and the anticipation for the waltz. Bingley, sweet, seemingly scrupulous Bingley, manipulated the topic masterfully. Within minutes the entire table accounted me a veritable waltz virtuoso, and I was slated to dance with five ladies, three of whom were the Comte's excessively homely daughters!”

Lizzy was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. Darcy shuddered in memory but then laughed as well. “He completely blindsided me. I do confess it was rather inspired maneuvering, and his goal of humiliating me worked brilliantly.”

“Did you trip or forget the steps?”

“Very amusing, Mrs. Darcy. No, I did not. I was graceful and flawless.” He grinned. “So elegant and debonair that I believe it is fortunate we departed the next day as I may have caused the entire assemblage to fall madly in love with me.”

He meant to elicit further laughter, but she smiled into his eyes instead and caressed his cheek. “Yes, I am sure they did. A host of broken hearts once again.” She pulled him down for a deep kiss, Darcy happily complying. The spell was broken when he reached to embrace her waist and Georgiana's letter, still clutched in his left hand, crumpled against the swell of her belly.

“Oh dear!” he exclaimed, “I should finish this before mutilating it.”

“What does she have to say?”

“You must read it, dearest. Of course, it is addressed to you as well. She is having a marvelous trip. When she dispatched this, they were at Aunt Madeline's brother's home in Rhayader. I believe they have probably moved on from there to Aberystwyth by now, but she says the mansion is enormous with all sorts of secret passageways, unused wings, a bell tower, and supposedly a ghost from the twelfth century. Listen: 'Suzette,'—one of the cousins—'declares with firm belief that the ghost is a woman who died from a suspicious fall from the bell tower. She swears, brother, that she has seen her gliding about the north wing with flowing robes of white and a sad face. I asked why all ghosts are required to wear white. Is it a metaphysical law of some sort? Suzette did not find my cheekiness amusing. Needless to say, I have not seen this ghost, although despite my skepticism, I do not intend to wander the empty corridors in the dead of night—this being, naturally, according to those laws previously mentioned, the only time the ghost will appear!'”

Chuckling, Darcy paused. Lizzy read ahead to the following paragraph, asking, “Who is this Lord Gruffudd that she mentions horseback riding with?”

Darcy frowned. “A Welshman who lives in the vicinity and is obviously close friends with Mr. Dawes, Madeline's brother. That is the fourth time she has noted his presence involved in some activity partaken. Why would she remark about an old neighbor?”

“Perhaps he is not old. You came into your inheritance young, as do others sadly. Maybe she is smitten. Did you read this? 'Lord Gruffudd is nearly as excellent a rider as you, dear brother. You always told me that a person born in the saddle is instantly recognized. Lord Gruffudd has such a demeanor. It was an entertaining ride about the moor with all in high spirits despite the drizzling mist as Lord Gruffudd's wit and humor is enlivening.' Sounds like a wee crush to me!”

Lizzy giggled, glancing to Darcy. Her laughter froze at the thunderous expression on his face. His eyes skimmed over the remaining two pages, counting Lord Gruffudd's name five more times ere her best wishes and signature. Lizzy opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but the words failed when Darcy abruptly launched from the chaise as if sprung. Her jaw clamped shut from the sudden jolt as she fell into the space vacated by his absent body, sprawled into a bizarre angle.

Darcy commenced pacing as if caged, muttering and clenching his fists. As typical when deeply disturbed or perplexed, he ended by a far window, staring sightlessly. Lizzy struggled up from the chaise, approaching him cautiously. “William, whatever is the matter?”

He did not glance to her, shaking his head brusquely before responding in a flat, icy tone. “I never should have let her go. It is my duty to protect her from such things, and I allowed my selfishness to overrule my reason.”

“I do not understand, dearest. What 'things' are you concerned about? She is having a delightful time, and so what if she has an infatuation? She will be eighteen in two weeks. It is rather normal for a girl her age to notice a handsome man, assuming that is even the case here.”

Darcy pivoted her direction, the anger and self-loathing on his face propelling her backward a pace. “Need I remind you how the last infatuation she experienced concluded? Think, Elizabeth! I am aware it was before your time; however, surely you know enough of the details to comprehend why I do not wish for her to suffer such heartache again?”