So sorry! I've been working on the personalities I want for each of the characters because the way this chapter first came out they seemed a bit too much like D&E. They may to some degree still have that feel (Violet is Elizabeth's daughter after all, and Henry has been under the care of Lady Catherine and Anne his whole life) there will be a difference. Enjoy.

Dear Henry,

As you requested in your last letter, I have asked my parents if they had any connection to your family. In order that you might make more sense of it than I; I will give you a detailed account of how the interview went. Before I begin, however, allow me to say that the end result was not very rewarding.

After my brother was put to sleep, I was in the drawing room with both my mother and father. Mother sent the servants to bed, so we were alone. I thought this very convenient and I did not hesitate to make use of the situation.

"Mama, Papa," they turned to look at me. "Why did we go to the funeral in Kent? Do you have some connection with either the Hamilton or de Bourgh families?" Mother's eyes widened and Father's brow furrowed. They passed a look between each other. It was a long time before they answered.

Finally Mother nodded to Father, telling him to answer me. Father then ran a hand through his hair, something I've only ever seen him do a few times before and only when he is nervous, troubled or agitated. At the moment I could not tell which.

Father did answer me, if you could call it that. He spoke in response to my question at least. It has been more than a day since this conversation, but still the thought of his answer irritates me.

"We'll tell you when you're older."

What kind of answer is that? Dear Henry, please write soon. Perhaps you can make more of this than I could.

Your irritated friend,

Violet

Henry had anxiously been awaiting this new letter, but upon reading it, he was left with disappointment. Violet had been given the answer which all children hate above all others. He could only tell that the Darcy's did have some kind of connection with his family, but that much he already knew.

But how could they find out what the connection was? Violet's parents wouldn't tell her and Henry knew enough of his family to know that he would not find any answers. For now he supposed they must allow it to remain a mystery. They could do nothing else.

Dear Violet,

I am afraid that I couldn't make much more of the interview with your parents than you could. It proves, I suppose, that our families have a history and that the history is not so pleasant. This much we already knew, however. I do wonder at your parent's agitation though. If they will not tell you, I have no other solution. Having no more to say on this matter and a full page to fill, I shall continue with life at Rosings.

Life has reverted back to a somewhat normal state. My riding lessons are one of my favorite parts of my day, as well as the walks that I take through the park. I do also enjoy gardening, though I don't believe my mother would approve. I have grown fond of the outdoors, even more so than I used to. Mother is always too sick to take walks out here. I confess that I also enjoy the outdoors as a way to escape her.

You have seen a portion of the grounds here at Rosings, but I know nothing of the park around your home, Pemberley did you say it was? We have many gardens here, planned and perfect, but there are also grand woods that are pleasant to walk through. I confess I cannot say which I enjoy more, the manicured gardens or the untamed beauty of the woods.

Mother informed me yesterday that I was to go to school. I do not know where, nor when. All I can say is that I fear to go to a new place alone. Will you promise to continue to send me letters? I would like very much to take a friend with me, even if it can be through no more than periodic correspondence.

I beg you, most fervently, to write again.

Henry

When Henry had first been told that he was to go to school, it terrified him. Indeed, to a lesser degree, it still did. He would never be fully comfortable, but to think that he would not be alone in this new adventure was a very welcoming thought. Even if the correspondent would be a great distance away, he had a friend, one he was unafraid to tell anything. It did much to quiet his fears. At his school there would be many companions of his own age and sex, but he did not feel that such a connection he had felt with Violet would come again.

Violet, on the other hand, strived to surround herself with playmates often. She enjoyed the times that her Bingley cousins came to visit, but it never seemed often enough. What was a seven year old girl to do when left to her own devices? Climb trees and generally make a nuisance of herself. Violet loved to reenact the tales that her aunt, Georgiana, would tell of daring rescues and adventures. Only, somehow, whenever Violet acted out the stories, it always seemed that the prince was the one captured and held hostage by a dragon or ogre or some other manner of fairytale beast. There was never a damsel in distress, just a brave warrior out to save her prince.

Not that she would tell anyone of her daring rescues. She had tried once, only to be informed—quite sternly—by her governess that such fanciful dreams were unladylike and should therefore cease. Now, Violet's escapades were hidden under the guise of solitary walks.

Despite the apparent impropriety, Violet longed for an adventure of her own; one that would test all her strength. Strength of mind, strength of body and, most importantly, strength of heart. Little did she know, though there would be no dragons or ogres, she would soon embark on an adventure that would traverse the untamed and mysterious workings of her heart.

I promise the next one will focus more on their homes/school and less on letters. Darcy, Elizabeth, Bingley, Jane and all the other characters that we love (and perhaps some we would rather did not exist at all) will appear soon.