18 • Letters

The townsfolk found it great fun how one of the guests carried a cat in his shirt. Although with the growing connection between Darcys and Bennets, James thought it might be less adorable and more inappropriate for Lady Georgiana to make a friend whose brother could not dress properly. With Kitty’s help, a discrete sling held the sleeping creature against the warmth of his chest, at the expense of his meager collection of cravats.

“Where on earth is your cravat?” the shopkeeper exclaimed as he held the door for Kitty. Her face craned to gaze at the ribbons hanging from the ceiling like festive streamers and the hats piled in decorative stacks.

“I have it,” James crooned unashamedly, “though I defy the current fashion in favor of function.”

The milliner was not amused as she peered at the sling hanging from his nape. “Beasts are not permitted in here.”

“Should I be flattered?” he wondered with a pointed look at the sleeping kitten. “Because you surely don’t mean this one. I’ll just be outside, all right?”

Kitty rotated and quickly handed him her purse. “Control this.”

He laughed and pulled out a sum. “Be practical and make it count. If you finish early, I’ll be next door.”

They separated and the bell chimed as he entered the stationary store. “Good morning.”

“Morning!” the man returned, approaching the counter from where he had been arranging a display. “Can’t say I know your face. Looking for material to write to home?”

“A gift, actually,” he replied as he spotted a large vase full of quills, “but I’d like to save a bird and buy a pen.”

“Lovely! I have a fresh shipment from London,” he declared as he came around the counter and pulled down a panel to reveal a compartment of slim cartons. Unboxing as he went, he elaborated, “I have just about everything from replacement nibs to ivory bodies or ones with gold pins to help them stick in your pocket.”

“You’re soon to despise me,” James apologized. “I don’t want any ivory or gold or tortoise shell, nothing ornamental like that. A simple brass fountain pen for a sturdy hand is all I need.”

“I can’t dislike a man who knows what he wants. That makes my job easier,” the shopkeeper understood. Replacing the boxes, he extracted four others. “And I’ll do you one better: steel fresh from the factory.”

James frowned as he accepted the one handed to him: a steel body with leafy ornamentation like a silver spoon, and then a brass nib on the end.

“That’s fashionable but I doubt I can afford it,” James apologized.

“On the contrary,” the shopkeeper consoled, “with factories becoming commonplace and machinery getting better, there are at least a thousand like this one, which makes it not as financially extravagant as you might think. Of course, here are my brass ones.”

“I see…” James considered as he rotated each one in his grasp before he lingered on a similar steel one with the long, feathery leaves as well as fronds like lavender. Around the handle was a gripping design like vervain or Queen Anne’s lace. “I can’t imagine what it takes to make a mold like this. Dare I ask how much this one is?”

“That one? Four pounds, to be sure. It is lovely, isn’t it? But this one, here, is two quid, if you prefer.”

I certainly do, James thought with some dread for his purse. He held both in his hands, gripping them as if to write something. The flower pattern was not as sharp on his fingers as he expected, and he could just imagine posh company’s reaction to a yellow brass pen compared to a quail’s feather. His thumb moved over the vervain in the steel—

“Tell you what, I can see you like that one, and you said it was a gift,” the shopkeeper began. “I’ll bring it down to three quid.”

“No, you’re too generous. It’s beautiful and worth four pounds. Four pounds you should get,” James decided, setting them both back within their boxes.

“I’ll wrap it for you,” the man offered, and took the box behind the counter. “What colour ribbon would you like?”

James looked up from where he was placing his coins on the counter. “Green.”

After giving the pen a polish, the shopkeeper sealed the box with the dusty green ribbon, the colour of sage. He took James’ coins, but as he reached into his sling to scratch between Darcy’s ears, his puzzled gaze perked up at the sound of metal landing in his purse. He glanced between it and the shopkeeper, who gave him a kind smile as he passed the box over the counter. James could only return it as he collected himself and left the store — and intercepted Charles and William of all people in the lane.

“James!” the former beamed. “I thought I saw Kitty in the store but was surprised she was alone. I should have known you were nearby.”

He smiled and shook his hand. “I couldn’t possibly be seen in the milliner’s store. My bare throat is unsavoury and more importantly, unfashionable.”

Charles took the cat, who was awake and eager for release while he said, “I suppose it’s not a successful milliner who is not strict, but no fun, that one — hello, Kitty!”

She bobbed a quick curtsy and showed James the length of robin’s egg blue satin she had purchased. “It’s the proper length for a hat trim or an ornate bow. I’ve never made one before, but you’re good at knots. Could you teach me?”

“I think my knots are a swift way to ruin satin,” James refused with a look at Charles. “But a Bingley with his fancy ties might be a better teacher.”

Charles smiled and bowed. “It would be my honour. When are you next at Pemberley?”

Darcy answered, “Georgiana would be pleased to host you today.”

Kitty brightened while James felt the current of the day sweeping him along.

Charles agreed, “You will arrive for luncheon, then? William and I should be finished soon if you want to travel with us?”

James refused, “We need to inform our aunt and uncle where we’ll be.”

“They are invited, of course,” Darcy replied.

“Let’s go tell them!” Kitty declared, hugging her brother’s arm as they started down the road. They encountered Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner on their way out of the inn, who were sorry to miss it since they had already made arrangements to meet an old friend of their aunt.

Georgiana was coming down the stairs as their carriage approached, and James had the surprise of her colliding with him for an embrace before she curtsied with Kitty. Charles and her brother emerged on the landing as she took James’ cat in her arms, much more talkative today as she informed Kitty how a new magazine had just arrived in the post for them to look through together.

When James crested the stairs behind the ladies, Darcy fell in line with him. “What would you like to eat?”

James looked at him. “You’re asking me?”

He nodded. “Some things have already been prepared, but if you have a specific request, it can be accommodated.”

Darcy informed him how lunch so far was a collection of roasted and salted vegetables and open-faced sandwiches. James considered, “It’s strawberry season.”

He met Darcy’s warm eyes. “We have strawberries.”

James blinked softly. “Something with strawberries.”

William nodded with a gentle smile, and went to inform the kitchens.

Charles led them to the terrace overlooking the garden. Tea and lunch were already resting under glass covers while they sat. Charles apologized, “I hope you won’t mind my sisters not being with us. Their own errands in town are taking longer than I expected.”

No one minded, and lunch progressed. James sat beside Charles while his sister and Georgiana already sifted through the fashion pages across from him. Darcy returned and sat on his other side. After Kitty tasted the tea, she hummed, “Do you remember that tea you made last summer?”

James looked up. “The lemon one?”

“It was so refreshing,” she confirmed. “I’d like it again.”

Charles laughed, “Don’t mention something delicious if I can’t take part in the spoils.”

“And spoiled, you are,” Georgiana teased. James chuckled as he popped an olive into his mouth. Her and Kitty’s discussion on sewing and fashion evolved into a French lesson, through which the latter struggled.

“My accent is so harsh,” Kitty murmured.

“Speaking French is rather like speaking with too much saliva,” Georgiana consoled with a laugh.

Kitty waved a hand in James’ direction as she huffed, “You’ll have an easier student in him. Lizzy and papa speak Latin to each other!”

Charles pointed full cheeks at James while Georgiana likewise peered at him with intrigue. James quickly defended, “I was the only one who sat long enough for the lessons. Well, myself and Mary.”

Kitty sighed as her hand caught her cheek while she looked over the prints and words. James reached across the table, tapping his teaspoon against her forehead. “You can’t be discouraged after a few minutes. Let yourself fail and learn.”

“I agree,” Georgiana encouraged. “No one really talks about the effort which goes into mastering something. Not many people know about the piano I broke.”

Kitty gaped at her while James peeked at William chuckling to himself. “You broke a piano?” the former exclaimed.

“Eh, yes,” Georgiana admitted shyly. “It was out of tune for ages. I think William was finally tired of hearing it. Thanks for the new one, by the way.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied as a member of his house approached the table with a large covered platter. After the sandwich plate was removed, individual ramekins with bulging soufflés were unveiled.

Kitty inhaled while James gazed in awe. “Is that chocolate?” she breathed. “Oh, it’s been ages since we had chocolate!”

The staff member bowed. “Chocolate and strawberry soufflés, ma’am.” He looked at Darcy, who curtly nodded his departure. His gaze returned to the table, where there was a distinct difference between Charles and Georgiana’s ease at picking up their dishes while James and Kitty had not moved.

Georgiana had noticed as well. She laughed and set one of the ramekins in front of Kitty. “It’s not sacred. You’re meant to enjoy it. I hope you do.”

James took a dish to make Kitty feel better but she admitted, “I can’t remember liking chocolate much.”

“This will probably be sweeter than what we had,” he consoled, lifting his dessert fork. It broke through the crispy surface, unleashing a tiny tendril of steam curling up to his senses. It smelled divine, and it tasted even better. Kitty pulled a chunk of strawberry out of hers, humming pleasantly when she tasted it. James savoured it slowly, his jaw coming to rest on his hand while he ate.

His fork slid between his lips as the Bingley sisters emerged on the terrace. “Pudding without us?” Louisa teased. “No, don’t rise for us. Mr. Bennet looks completely enraptured, anyway.”

Mr. Darcy settled once more in his seat while a staff member ducked inside for more food. As Louisa wiped her mouth of crumbs, she inquired, “Now that we’re all together, what shall we do?”

Charles inputted, “The day is too fine to be indoors.”

“Croquette?” Caroline said.

“That’s boring,” Charles lamented. “I’d much prefer polo.”

Kitty sent a puzzled glance at her brother, who asked for them both, “Polo?”

“It’s marvelous!” Charles began. “It’s a game on horseback with mallets. We have just enough room for it here—”

“It’s croquette on horseback,” Caroline summarized indifferently.

Her brother exclaimed, “That’s not true at all!”

“Either way,” James intercepted, “I am not a horseman.”

“You don’t use horses on your farm?” Charles wondered. His sisters seemed both surprised and puzzled by their brother’s interest of such things.

“We do,” James admitted, “but we don’t have experience using horses for sport.”

“Something else, then,” William suggested.

“I’ll disappoint you now,” James smiled. “My interests are boring to most.”

“That’s not true,” Charles declared. “There’s time enough to find something, and I still owe you a favour, I believe,” he added to Kitty.

Afterward, they settled in the garden that opened up to the groomed field. White clover and rogue wildflowers sprouted here and there but the Bingleys were hardly perturbed as the game was decided: cricket.

“It won’t be a true game,” Charles admitted as the necessary equipment was brought out, “but even some pitches and hits will be enjoyable.”

He looked expectantly at James, who snorted from where he sat in his garden chair, “I don’t think I’ve communicated accurately how much I lack athletic interest.”

“You won’t partake at least once?” Charles whined.

James peered up from the notebook he had accepted from Georgiana as she and Kitty further discussed the magazines. So far a soufflé had been drawn and prospective candle flavours listed in it. “Cricket is not my forte.”

Kitty looked up as Charles beamed, “But you have played?”

“Once. I cannot claim to have ever grasped the rules,” James replied.

“It’s simple,” Charles said as he retrieved the bat and held it out to him. “The ball bounces off the ground before you hit it.”

Kitty shifted as James sighed and stood, grasping the bat. Charles ran a good distance before he doubled back. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” James replied, looking as if he were tasked with holding something unpleasant.

Charles skipped a step and ran with his arm winding—

William’s gaze moved toward Kitty’s sharp intake of breath, and then at James’ swift step into position. The bat cracked upon impact as the ball soared over Charles’ head and disappeared within the tree line. Charles rotated, stunned, as he looked back at James returning to his bored position. “I don’t have to run, do I?”

William watched Kitty exhale, her chin falling as she slowly returned to Georgiana’s notes and drawings. James inspected the bat before he leaned it against a large potted plant and sat down. Louisa and Caroline were visibly stunned to silence before the latter voiced, “Impressive strength. It is a shame your form is so poor.”

James laughed, far from insulted. “I said I never grasped the rules, let alone any real skill. I’m sorry to have lost you the ball,” he added to Darcy.

He shook his head, unbothered. “The hounds will find it one day.”

James’ jaw lowered. “You have dogs?”

The Darcys perked up. “Yes,” the eldest said. “Rather friendly ones, too. Would you like to see them?”

Georgiana chuckled as James stood. “That would be my doing. I tried my best to make them indoor pets.”

He followed William around the house, but upon glancing back he saw that he was the only one. “It’s quiet here. I never would’ve known you had dogs.”

“They sleep during the afternoon,” he explained, “and are most active in the morning and evening. I assumed you preferred cats.”

“I don’t have a preference,” James replied as the small structure that was the kennels came into view, nestled in the tree line. “Although my parents used to keep birds. As a boy, I was constantly releasing them. Finally adopting a cat stopped them from restocking the cages.”

William chuckled. “That sounds like you.”

The kennel master met them with a bow and informed them how one of the younger pups was restlessly awake if they would like to run it. William watched James’ mouth fall open as a white border collie with a splash of black on her face bounded to him.

“You said they were hounds!” he whined as he rubbed her face, fluffing her ears.

William smiled, “I have them bred with gentler breeds since Georgi loves them so.”

“Loves them so,” James repeated weakly as his face was tormented with licks.

The kennel master procured a ball and baton as he said, “She’s grasped the concepts of ‘fetch,’ for the most part.”

William accepted them and whistled. The dog pushed off of James to run after the sphere that like a cricket ball which had been sacrificed to the dogs. She quickly proved only capable of surrendering it in exchange of running after the baton, or James, who riled her up and playfully wrestled her to the ground.

“My lord,” the kennel master wondered. “Is that…appropriate?”

William glanced at him. “In the endeavour to exhaust her energy, I think it is quite appropriate.”

He bowed once more and left them. “My lord.”

James overheard and stood, brushing grass and hay off himself before he threw the ball. William returned to his side as he apologized, “Can’t take me anywhere, can you.”

“I invited you to play with a dog. This seems the obvious outcome,” he disagreed as they began walking along the grounds with the collie sniffing along after them.

“Well, before this gets damaged further,” James announced, pulling a slim box from inside his waistcoat. “This is for you.”

He outstepped William, who had been brought to a halt. James held out the grey box with its sage green ribbon. His lashes flickered up as William’s hands cradled his. “You didn’t need to do this for me. Sharing your time is enough.”

James’ head rolled with his eyes as he sighed. “Well, with the way you write letters, this was the only thing I could imagine you don’t already have. Just take it.”

James slid his hand out of his grasp to distract himself by throwing the baton. William pulled the ribbon and unveiled the steel fountain pen. His lips parted as he held it up, examining the design—

“It’s obnoxiously floral, like me,” James quipped. “So you can’t forget who it’s from.”

Perhaps he meant it as a taunt or a curse, but William laughed, his smile reaching his eyes. “Good. It’s beautiful. I won’t forget.”

He watched scarlet bloom behind James’ complexion as he looked away. Gently returning the pen to its box, he ventured, “This will require me to write more letters.”

James sighed haughtily, still not looking at him. He waved a hand, “Nothing is required, just save some birds their dignities while you’re at it.”

“I’m saying I want to.”

“Fine.”

“You’re really unfamiliar at gifting things, aren’t you?” he wondered.

“I’m even worse at replying. I don’t want to read any complaints of my handwriting,” he snapped with a sharp look at him, but his eyes quickly sank in his skull as he recovered, “I don’t mean—it would be to me you…” He sighed raggedly, “I’m going to be sick.”

“Yes, that is the uncanny feeling,” William remarked.

James glared at him. “You’re enjoying this.”

He offered him a gentle gaze as he put the lid back on the box. “It is a mild comfort.”

James huffed a hot sound and began striding away, a wagging tail in his wake. William chuckled to himself as he quickly followed. “You’re not saying I can’t?”

“You’re rubbing it in!” James all but shrieked as he marched back to the garden. Charles was thoroughly preoccupied with the dog upon their arrival until looming clouds overhead drove them inside, and the Bennets further into a carriage.

“You don’t need to leave,” Georgiana said as they moved through the spacious foyer. “You’re welcome to join us for supper.”

“Georgi,” her brother tempered.

“We would love to,” James apologized, “it’s just our aunt and uncle are expecting us. We can’t share too much of your time without sowing their jealousy.”

“And what of my own when William surely gets invited to dinner once he’s in town?” she complained.

His eyes widened slightly on her. “I’m running an errand and we are traveling together, that is all. I’ll be back shortly.”

She raised a dubious brow as she startled Kitty with an embrace, followed by James. “Right. You can just weather Charles’ complaints once you’re back. Whenever that is.”

James recognized a brother’s sigh as William guided them to the carriage and they were off. The sky grew heavier and heavier as they entered the inn, the air fragrant with rain. William stayed long enough to greet their aunt and uncle, who were found on their way up to the dining room.

“Please, join us!” Mr. Gardiner boasted. “It’s the least we can do after refusing you earlier today! Let’s have a drink in the parlour first. The inn is remarkably vacant; most of the tenants departed this afternoon.”

“Absolutely,” his wife agreed, cornering the man as she turned to her nephew. “Lizzy, there are letters for you in your room. Those replies you’ve been waiting on arrived while you were gone.”

“From Jane?” he chirped, immediately turning toward his lodgings. “Finally, I’ve been waiting for ages!”

As he found the small stack on his writing table, James felt relieved from the disappointment of not finding a letter waiting for him at breakfast since he had arrived. His repining over, he was rewarded with not one, but two correspondences. He laughed at one, whose envelope had been quite mishandled by postmen who delivered it to the wrong place before it joined the second. However, upon examining the misguided one’s address, James frowned, for he had never seen Jane’s neat hand so disheveled.

He opened it first, finding it dated five days ago. The first paragraph was jarringly different from the rest of the letter, which was written a day afterward. He bypassed it entirely to Jane’s agitated additions, which made up the bulk of the letter.

I’m so sorry to change the course of our conversation, dearest Lizzy, but since writing the above, something has occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature. I can only beg that you not be alarmed, as you and sweet Kitty are, I’m sure, enjoying a long deserved holiday.

I will relay the events while I can: what I have to say relates to poor Lydia.