hopeless—that our every circumstance was fated for pleasure and promise, rather than disappointment and despair—but I fear nothing can ever be so simple where you and I are concerned, and so it is with a heavy heart that I must take matters into my own hands, lest we both do something truly unforgivable.
At my father’s behest, I am to leave Hertfordshire for London to stay with my aunt and uncle in Gracechurch Street. My departure is bittersweet, as the Gardiners—and my aunt especially—have long been particular favourites of mine and Jane’s.
Please do not attempt to follow me there, but recall instead the many hours we have spent together as I will—fondly, and with the very deepest affection. Though we have known one another but a few precious months, your friendship has been the most important of my life. I hope with all my heart I will always have it, as you shall have mine, and much, much more.
May God bless you and kee p you, and grant you every happiness. Be assured, dear sir, I will remain…
Yours, most faithfully,
E.B.
†
With a long exhalation Darcy laid Elizabeth’s letter upon his desk and cradled his head in his hands. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d read it, or the tenth, or the five-and-tenth. For months he’d scrutinized the elegant slant of her handwriting and endeavoured to discern some deeper meaning within her words, some clue as to what his course of action ought to be; but each time he came up empty, and his questions remained unanswered.
She’d asked him not to follow her, so why had she mentioned the name of her relations, as well as her destination? Was it merely so he wouldn’t worry about her? Or had she intended something more by their inclusion? For the life of him, Darcy had no idea. He knew only that he missed her beyond reason, almost beyond his sanity.
With a groan, he gripped his hair tightly with his fists. How many times in the past few months had he considered calling for his carriage and setting off for London, but saddled his fastest horse instead and rode him hard — perhaps even recklessly — until man and beast were both panting and sweating, ready to drop? How many evenings had he drunk himself into a stupor, pining for her touch in the middle of the night, her musical laughter during the day, and her incomparable presence in general? Far too many to count, he realized.
The ache in his chest was almost unbearable tonight. He exhaled again, raggedly, and clenched his jaw until his temples throbbed.
“Come now, Cousin,” a familiar voice chided from the doorway. “Nothing can be as bad as your appearance implies.”
Darcy raised his head with a start. Colonel Fitzwilliam was leaning against the door jamb, his arms crossed over his chest.
“I thought you and Georgiana were…out,” Darcy rasped, averting his eyes as he attempted to assume some small semblance of composure, however impossible a feat it seemed at the moment.
“We went hunting earlier,” the colonel replied pleasantly, “ without your beloved dogs, as per your request, but Georgiana was impatient to return to her pianoforte, and so here I am.”
“Good.” Darcy raked his fingers through his hair and waved his hand absently toward the sideboard with a frown. “I’d offer you some brandy, Richard, but I suppose that would be pointless.”
The colonel chuckled. “Entirely, though I can’t say I don’t miss the camaraderie attached to the gesture. It’s true my tastes have…shifted, but that’s neither here nor there.” He patted his waistcoat pocket, where Darcy knew he carried a silver-plated flask. “I’m always well stocked these days. No need to concern yourself with me.”
Darcy tried to repress his grimace and failed. “Is that so?” he inquired tightly.
“Why, of course.” Fitzwilliam’s demeanour turned serious as he closed the door to Darcy’s study with a soft click and joined his cousin at his desk. “I would never do anything to
At my father’s behest, I am to leave Hertfordshire for London to stay with my aunt and uncle in Gracechurch Street. My departure is bittersweet, as the Gardiners—and my aunt especially—have long been particular favourites of mine and Jane’s.
Please do not attempt to follow me there, but recall instead the many hours we have spent together as I will—fondly, and with the very deepest affection. Though we have known one another but a few precious months, your friendship has been the most important of my life. I hope with all my heart I will always have it, as you shall have mine, and much, much more.
May God bless you and kee p you, and grant you every happiness. Be assured, dear sir, I will remain…
Yours, most faithfully,
E.B.
†
With a long exhalation Darcy laid Elizabeth’s letter upon his desk and cradled his head in his hands. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d read it, or the tenth, or the five-and-tenth. For months he’d scrutinized the elegant slant of her handwriting and endeavoured to discern some deeper meaning within her words, some clue as to what his course of action ought to be; but each time he came up empty, and his questions remained unanswered.
She’d asked him not to follow her, so why had she mentioned the name of her relations, as well as her destination? Was it merely so he wouldn’t worry about her? Or had she intended something more by their inclusion? For the life of him, Darcy had no idea. He knew only that he missed her beyond reason, almost beyond his sanity.
With a groan, he gripped his hair tightly with his fists. How many times in the past few months had he considered calling for his carriage and setting off for London, but saddled his fastest horse instead and rode him hard — perhaps even recklessly — until man and beast were both panting and sweating, ready to drop? How many evenings had he drunk himself into a stupor, pining for her touch in the middle of the night, her musical laughter during the day, and her incomparable presence in general? Far too many to count, he realized.
The ache in his chest was almost unbearable tonight. He exhaled again, raggedly, and clenched his jaw until his temples throbbed.
“Come now, Cousin,” a familiar voice chided from the doorway. “Nothing can be as bad as your appearance implies.”
Darcy raised his head with a start. Colonel Fitzwilliam was leaning against the door jamb, his arms crossed over his chest.
“I thought you and Georgiana were…out,” Darcy rasped, averting his eyes as he attempted to assume some small semblance of composure, however impossible a feat it seemed at the moment.
“We went hunting earlier,” the colonel replied pleasantly, “ without your beloved dogs, as per your request, but Georgiana was impatient to return to her pianoforte, and so here I am.”
“Good.” Darcy raked his fingers through his hair and waved his hand absently toward the sideboard with a frown. “I’d offer you some brandy, Richard, but I suppose that would be pointless.”
The colonel chuckled. “Entirely, though I can’t say I don’t miss the camaraderie attached to the gesture. It’s true my tastes have…shifted, but that’s neither here nor there.” He patted his waistcoat pocket, where Darcy knew he carried a silver-plated flask. “I’m always well stocked these days. No need to concern yourself with me.”
Darcy tried to repress his grimace and failed. “Is that so?” he inquired tightly.
“Why, of course.” Fitzwilliam’s demeanour turned serious as he closed the door to Darcy’s study with a soft click and joined his cousin at his desk. “I would never do anything to
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