Letters
Jaina Kenobi
Elizabeth sat, pen in hand, wondering exactly how best to tease her husband for his last letter. He had, predictably, requested that she not torment him with repeated entreaties for him to return home, and now she was trying to decide how best to honor his request in everything but actuallity. Finally, she made her decision and began to write.
My love:
As you have expressed a wish that I refrain from referring to my news in my letters, I shall endeavour to do nothing more than tell you of the goings-on at Pemberley, which I hope will give you some pleasure.
My sister Jane Bingley and her husband have, as you know, moved in to their new home and are now quite settled. I see Jane almost once every week, and Mr. Bingley nearly as often, an arrangement which is agreeable to everyone. Jane, Georgiana and I often sit in the music room together, and Georgiana plays while Jane and I sew. Lately we have found that our interest runs to small items when sewing, and in this manner we feel as if we are accomplishing a great deal as we might get two or three projects done in one visit. Georgiana, while she is not playing, sits and sews with us too, and we are quite a merry party. Mr. Bingley joins our conversations when it pleases him and it always gives me a great deal of pleasure to see how he and Jane so obviously enjoy each other's company. When he is not with us, he is often to be found in the library, taking advantage of your fine collection. I confess there have been times when my fingers have been sore of the needle and I have joined him in the pursuit of a good book. I recall, too, a gentleman of my acquaintance remarking that an accomplished lady should add to the improvement of her mind by extensive reading, and as I am loathe to displeasure him in any manner, my reading is often more extensive than I should otherwise choose.
One of our favorite topics of discussion during our little sewing bees is the modifications which we would like to make to one of the rooms in the house. It is a dear room just as it is, but a little bit old fashioned, and we have such grand ideas about how to fix it up. Jane and I especially like to envision different arrangements of furniture, &c, but I must confess it is a good thing that we are not actually doing anything to the room yet, as our fancy changes every day and the room would never be finished. It will, however, need some changes, as Georgiana informs me that it has not changed since she was born, and it is quite out of date. We will wait for your return to obtain your consent before we begin doing anything, Dear, so do not make yourself uneasy in that respect. I should like your input on the matter, too, though I cannot begin to imagine whether or not it will signify anything to you. For that as well, we shall have to wait until you return.
I do not often go out on walks any longer, as I am beginning to find that the exercise does little save exhaust me unnecessarily. However, Georgiana finds great pleasure in walking the grounds with Mr. Bingley when he comes, and I sit with Jane and watch them when they come in view of the windows. The grounds are very beautiful at this time of year, as well you know, and I do enjoy seeing them even if I cannot often be out and walking in them. Never fear, my love, I am certain that this will not always be the case and I shall eventually be able to walk out with you once again. However, for the next few months, I cannot imagine that it will be a very pleasurable pastime for me.
My father came to visit me yesterday, and he plans to stay for some time, though he refuses to set a date. As the Bingleys were here already, they have decided to remain as long as he, and we are quite a merry party. It is good to spend time in his company again, and I can see that he thrives here with me much more than he does when he is at Longbourn with my mother. It pains me to say it, but every time he comes I cannot help observing that he looks a little more weary, and I fear that my family is wearing on him more than he will let on. Thankfully, I believe that his time at Pemberley does him a great deal of good and he always seems more himself when he goes away again.
Oh, but it is so good to have him with me! He and Mr. Bingley spend a great deal of time together in the library, of course, both of them being excellent readers, but just as often he will come and sit with me, and we will talk for hours together. I always forget how much I enjoy talking with him until he comes back and I have the opportunity to remember afresh. He is very happy for me, and very excited in my news, though perhaps a bit nervous (but I promised to say nothing of that, so here I will cease and apologize). We talk often about the goings-on in Meryton and amongst my former acquaintance, and from him I hear all I shall ever wish to know of them. My mother is still an insufferable gossip, of course, so he knows a good deal more than he might otherwise, and it gives him some pleasure to report to me that which I wish to know. We often are able to enjoy a good laugh over the folly of his neighbours, and I believe that it is as pleasurable to him as it is to me when we do.
That, Sir, is all I can think to tell you at this time. Hopefully the length of this letter does not offend you, as I merely intended to give you a portrait of my doings and not bore you with the minutiae of my daily life. I hope that all is going well with your business and that you will be home when you planned, at least, and not be delayed. I do miss you, Fitzwilliam.
Your wife,
Elizabeth Darcy
Fairly smirking and very satisfied with herself, Elizabeth sealed the letter decisively. She could hardly wait to see the sort of response this letter would bring.
vVvVvVv
Late that night, Elizabeth woke with a start. She was vaguely conscious of a lingering pain, but it was not until she felt another sharp pain in her abdomen that she realized what had caused it. Her thoughts flew instantly to her preganacy. "Oh, God, no," she whispered.
Perhaps, she thought irrationally, perhaps if she stayed where she was and tried very hard to ignore the pain, nothing would come of it. But another pang forcerd her to abandon that thought in favor of getting to the chamber pot as quickly as she could. Once there, she waited in dread for what would surely come next: the loss of her child. She began to cry softly, suddenly and irrationally wishing that she had never sent anything to Fitzwilliam that even hinted at her pregnancy, for it would only give her pain to tell him that she had lost the baby.
Eventually, she realized that she had been motionless atop the chamber pot for quite some time, and nothing had happened. She sat for a few minutes longer, praying that nothing would happen. When it did not, she slowly stood and returned to her bed, resolving to be even more cautious with herself than she had been heretofore to avoid future such events. Her mind torn between fear and hope, she finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.
Just in case you were wondering, there will come a point (pretty soon, I think) where there will be more narrative and less letter. You know, in case you were getting sick of just letters and were hoping that some sort of story might start to come through. Though, I never claimed to have much of a plot... :smiles:
Jaya
