Author's note: my apologies for the long period of time in between chapters. We are in the middle of moving to another state in the US, and we also took a family road trip. I thought I'd have time to write as we drove, but I ended up being the driver for most of it and carsick for the other part! I will get as much done as I can between now and our next family road trip in a few weeks.

Chapter 12

Dinner the following day was an awkward affair. Without knowing what she had done to cause Darcy's ire the previous evening, she was hesitant to engage him in conversation again.

For his part, Darcy warred with himself over whether or not to apologize. He did not wish to leave things as they were, but he also worried that asking forgiveness would lead her to ask more questions that he had little desire to answer.

It wasn't until the last course was served that he suddenly remembered a delivery that had been made earlier in the day. Clearing his throat, he said, "I… have something for you."

Elizabeth's head shot up, and she fixed her gaze on him instead of the dessert Cook had made from hothouse strawberries. "You— you do?"

Reaching into the pocket of his dinner jacket, he retrieved a bundle of envelopes tied with a string. "Yes, a packet of letters came in the post addressed to you. The postmaster himself came personally to Pemberley to deliver them. It seems there was an initial misdirection of several due to the handwriting. They originally were being sent on to a Mrs. Derby of Devonshire, instead of Mrs. Darcy of Derbyshire."

He stood and walked down the side of the long, formal table. She waited impatiently, drumming her fingers on the tabletop in an effort to keep herself from leaping to her feet and ripping them from him. As soon as he was within reach, she snatched the bundle from his outstretched hand.

Looking at the direction on the envelopes, Elizabeth burst into laughter, causing her bright eyes to light up in a way that Darcy hadn't seen before. He was so transfixed by the sight, he almost missed her response. "I wondered why I hadn't heard from anyone! Jane wrote the direction very ill, indeed, and it seems as though the rest of the family merely copied what they thought she had written."

"Apparently, there was a very confused woman in the Duke of Devonshire's household until recently, when the news of our marriage reached the society papers. Once the error was discovered and the missives' proper recipient identified, the letters were forwarded on to the posting house at Lambton. An early snow in that part of the country— Warwickshire, I believe— delayed things by several days as well."

Scarcely hearing his words, Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears as she rifled through stack once again. There was a letter from both of her parents, as well as each sister. Jane had sent two, and Mrs. Gardiner had sent one as well.

He cleared his throat. "It is nothing," he said in a raspy voice. "I have sent a runner to the Buckinghamshire post stop where the mail goes southwest from Hertfordshire towards Devonshire. Hereafter, any misdirected letters from your family will be sent north to you until you can write to them with the proper address."

She pressed the stack to her bosom over her heart. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy," she whispered fervently, her gaze catching his.

He nodded in return, an odd lump forming in his throat at her warm expression. Forcing his eyes away from the location of her hands, he returned his attention to his plate.

Slowly, Elizabeth set the post to the side of her plate and picked up her spoon to resume eating. Before she could so, however, Darcy added, "I imagine you are eager to read your letters. You are welcome to retire now— with a tray for your dessert, if you so desire— without fear of offending me."

Her eyes lit with joy, and she stood with alacrity. "Thank you, sir!"

As she rushed past his chair to go to the door, she paused and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek— his scarred cheek! His eyes widened in surprise, but before he could respond, she had darted out of the room.

Although he had felt nothing but stabbing pain from that side of his face for months, he could swear that the spot she'd kissed was tingling.

Elizabeth dashed into her room, closing the door behind her. A small part of her realized she had not collected a tray for the remainder of her dessert, but what were strawberries to letters from beloved family members?

Not even bothering to call for her maid, she quickly removed her dinner dress— she had fortunately chosen to forgo her stays that evening, feeling a little bloated from her monthlies— and donned her nightrail.

Once comfortable on her bed, she eagerly tore open Jane's first letter and began to read.

My Dearest Lizzy,

I hope this letter finds you well and settling into your new life at Pemberley. Ever since I read your note informing me you left for Derbyshire, I have been worried for you.

Then Papa returned and told us of your sudden marriage to Mr. Darcy, I have scarcely been able to think of anything else. I must confess, my heart is filled with a mix of emotions, and foremost among them is concern for you, my dearest sister.

Your happiness has always been of the greatest importance to me, and the unexpected news of your marriage, under such sudden circumstances, has left me worried. The rapid nature of your engagement and wedding has given me pause, but you have brought so much happiness to our mother, that I cannot help but think you were correct in your decision.

I am most relived to have Papa returned to us. It is clear from his appearance that being imprisoned was bad for his health. Had you not married Mr. Darcy, our father would have most likely perished, and we would have all been in dire straits. He is looking much stronger, however, and I am certain he will soon return to his former self.

Your atonement for his attempt to fulfill your wish cannot fail but to win Mr. Darcy's regard for you. Indeed, he would not have married you otherwise. I am certain he recognizes the treasure he has in you, and that his affection and esteem will grow into a deep, enduring love that you soon will share.

Things have progressed quite as usual here in Hertfordshire. You may remember that Netherfield was let by a young man named Mr. Bingley. I confess, only to you, that I am very close to falling in love with him. He is everything I have ever dreamed of. The few evenings we have spent in one another's company have been the best of my life.

As soon as Papa returned, Mr. Bingley came to visit him and request a courtship. I am overcome with happiness! There is to be a ball at Netherfield soon, and Mr. Bingley has requested the first two dances from me in honor of our relationship.

His sisters are very kind to me as well, and the news of your marriage brought them much joy. Miss Bingley said that she cannot imagine a better fate for you; is that not kind of her?

I must go now, as my mother calls for me to join her in a visit to Meryton in search of lace and shoe roses for the ball. I look forward to hearing from you, my dear sister.

With all my love and more,

Jane

Elizabeth let out a happy sigh and leaned back in her chair. Jane was still her same, dear, sweet sister— always looking at the positive in life.

No, she just ignores the negative. She is happily continuing with her life without a care for you.

The twinge she had felt at some of Jane's words grew stronger. Yes, it was her fault that Mr. Bennet was in search of the roses, but she had thought her elder sister would more concern than she was. After all, was Elizabeth not Jane's most beloved sister?

If Mr. Darcy could choke Papa and put him near death, shouldn't Jane be worried for my safety?

For the first time in her life, Elizabeth felt the first stirrings of anger towards Jane. Her elder sister's penchant for only seeing the good had only been a mild annoyance in the past— something to laugh at and bond over. It had only made Elizabeth revere her elder sister's goodness, but now it seemed to almost be willful blindness.

Does she not care that we may never see one another again? That I am in the complete power of a man who is labeled a monster… a man who may be a murderer?

Pushing aside her negative feelings, Elizabeth next opened the letter from Mrs. Bennet, hoping that its contents might provide some amusement.

Dear Mrs. Darcy,

Oh, how well that sounds! I can scarcely believe that you have secured a man with ten thousand pounds a year; at least that is what Miss Bingley tells me he is worth. 'Tis as good as a Lord!

It only makes sense that it should be you to marry the man, as it was your fault in the first place your father's health was put in danger. Now, what jewels and pin money you shall have! You have saved us all from the hedgerows! For I have no doubt your father will die from his ordeal, and it will be all your fault. So who better than you to care for us when he is gone?

Now, my dear, as to the matter of securing your position further within the household—Mr. Darcy will no doubt be eager to have an heir. You must take every opportunity to ensure you fall with child quickly. There are several tonics that Mrs. Long has used in the past that are said to be quite efficacious. I have included a receipt for them on the next page.

Equally important is your behavior in this new role. You must curb that impertinence you so often displayed under your father's lax care. Mr. Darcy, with his status, will expect a wife of dignified mien and careful speech. Do not let your spirited nature lead you to speak out of turn or too boldly. Remember, it is often more prudent to listen and smile, rather than to speak your mind at every turn.

Oh, Lizzy, to think that when your poor father leaves us, as I fear he must sooner rather than later, there will be those who say it was all your doing! But let us not dwell on such unhappy thoughts now. Instead, let us think on how you will be able to support Mary and Kitty, and perhaps even secure good matches for them as well, with your new influence and connections. Yes, let us focus on the good you can do with your new position.

Do write soon and tell me everything—how grand Pemberley is, what jewels you wear, and all such particulars. And remember, my dear, no matter what others may say, you are still my dear Lizzy, and I am ever your loving mother,

Fanny Bennet

Tonic 1:

Medium handful of dried red raspberry leaves

Medium handful of dried nettle leaves

Small handful of dried dandelion root

Small handful of dried angelica root

Two pinches dried vitex berries

One pinch dried licorice root

Honey or sugar to taste

1 medium pot of water

Chop dandelion and angelica and put in boiling water. Allow to slightly bubble for a quarter of an hour. Then add raspberry, nettle, vitex, and licorice for a further ten minutes. Remove from heat and strain through cheesecloth. Be sure to push down on the herbs to get as much liquid out as possible. Add honey or sugar to improve the taste. Drink a small glass each morning or right before a meal.

Tonic 2:

Medium handful dried clover blossoms

Small handful raspberry leaves

Small handful dried nettle leaves

Two pinches dried chamomile flowers

Honey or sugar to taste

1 medium pot of water

Ensure that all herbs are dried and properly cleaned. The red clover blossoms should be intact for the best efficacy. Boil water, then remove from heat and add red clover, raspberry, nettle, and chamomile. Cover and allow to steep for about twenty minutes. Strain through cheesecloth as described in the other tonic, then follow those instructions as well.

Elizabeth shoved the letter away with some bitterness of spirit. She read every word with her mother's voice echoing shrilly in her head, but instead of being a diversion, it rankled.

She reached for the next missive, which was from Mary. Lydia had written a short note on the other side, and Kitty had included a second sheet of paper all in the same seal.

Dear Sister Elizabeth,

I trust this letter finds you in good health, if not in good spirits, given the grave circumstances that have led to your precipitous union with Mr. Darcy. I have spent many hours in reflection and prayer since receiving the news of your marriage and the conditions that necessitated such a sacrifice. In these hours, I have often turned to the guidance of Dr. Fordyce, whose sermons have often enlightened us on the virtues necessary for a woman in your position.

Dr. Fordyce speaks eloquently on the subject of making amends for one's misdeeds, however indirectly they may be attributed to one's actions. "To virtuous love the spirit of sacrifice is essential," he writes in one sermon, and in another, "The practice of every day may furnish her with opportunities of exercising... benevolence; by renouncing her own ease and satisfaction, when they stand in competition with the convenience and gratification of others."

In this light, Elizabeth, your decision, while distressing, aligns with the highest moral expectations bestowed upon us. It is a noble act of atonement for the unfortunate misstep that led to our father's incarceration, a burden you have bravely borne for the sake of family honor.

Now, as a wife, your duties have expanded and, indeed, become more profound. Dr. Fordyce dictates that a wife's influence is both gentle and formidable, a force that can guide and mold the moral character of her household. "The men you marry, the children you bring, and the community at large will all be deeply interested in your conduct."

You must strive therefore, dear sister, to embody the virtues of patience and forbearance; to temper those qualities which, though cherished by your father, might be perceived as impertinence or imprudence in your new station.

Reverend Fordyce also said, "Remember how tender a thing a woman's reputation is, how hard to preserve, and when lost how impossible to recover."

Let us pray that your efforts to fulfill these sacred duties may bring peace and prosperity back to our family, instead of the damage to our reputation that could have occurred with your running away and our father being imprisoned.

I have every faith in your strength and resilience, and I trust that you will rise to meet these challenges with the grace and intelligence you have always possessed.

With all my sisterly love and the deepest hopes for your happiness,

Mary Bennet

Dear Lizzy,

La, I get to write you before Kitty! I am quite angry, you know, that you are married before me. I wished to be the first! I haven't any doubt that it will happen soon.

Lord, you should have seen Wickham's face when we told him you had married the Beast of Pemberley! I thought he might die of the shock!

It doesn't matter anyhow, as he's paying court to Mary King. What a nasty, freckled thing she is. No matter, Saunderson and Denny are still half in love with me! I shan't be surprised if I am married next— and you'd best believe that my husband will be ten times handsomer than your ugly scarred one.

Poor Lizzy, all alone in Derbyshire. At least your husband is rich! I hope your new funds will allow you to send us all wonderful gifts. I would like new dresses, please. I haven't a thing to wear.

Lydia

Lizzy,

It isn't fair that Lydia wrote before me! She always takes everything I want— even the attention of all the officers. And I am two years older!

Well, I daresay not much has changed here. Mama still tells me not to cough all the time, and Mr. Bingley is falling in love with Jane. Mary sermonizes, and Papa hides in his book room.

At least we have the Netherfield ball to keep us occupied. Will you send me something beautiful I can wear as a gift with your new pin money? After all, your husband has so much wealth, Mama says. Make sure it's something that will make Lydia wild with envy.

Kitty

Sighing once again, Elizabeth made note that all three of her younger sisters' letters were exactly as she had expected them to be. It was still painful, however, to see that the decision that made such a tremendous impact in her own life held little meaning for any of her family members. Even dear Jane seemed more focused on Mr. Bingley and his sisters rather than on her own.

There were still the letter from her father and the second one from Jane, but suddenly these held little appeal to Elizabeth. She reached for one, hesitated, then shoved them both away from her. Rolling over on her bed, she curled into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest.

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as Elizabeth lay there, the weight of her family's expectations and her own isolation pressing down on her. Their words, steeped more in concern for social standing and financial security than for her personal happiness, left her feeling hollow.

The quiet of the room enveloped her, punctuated only by the soft rustle of the leaves against the window as a gentle breeze whispered through. Pemberley, with its vast halls and cold beauty, seemed a gilded cage. Despite its luxury, it offered little comfort to her weary heart.

In that moment, she felt more alone than ever. She had expected to face censure and gossip from society, but the lack of understanding from her own family cut deeper than she had anticipated. The enormity of her sacrifice—marrying a man known as the "beast of Pemberley" to save her father—weighed heavily on her, and now, the solitude of her new life seemed almost unbearable.

Elizabeth's thoughts drifted to Mr. Darcy. Despite his outward harshness, there had been moments of unexpected kindness, glimpses of a man who might understand the weight of duty and the loneliness it can bring.

It was quite thoughtful of him to send a runner to correct the mistake of the address so the letters will get to me more quickly.

Who was this man she had married? He was full of contradictions, running cold, then warm, then cold again.

With a deep, steadying breath, Elizabeth uncurled and sat up, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She stood from the bed and walked to the window, looking out over the vast Pemberley grounds bathed in the soft light of dusk.

Sleep was far from her, and she suddenly felt the urge to read a novel or an epic poem— anything to transport her from her current life and into a new situation.

She lit a candle and made her way in the direction of the small bookroom she had used before. When she reached the staircase that divided the east wing from the west, however, she heard a soft cries of agony echoing down the forbidden corridor.

Biting her lip, Elizabeth looked from the darkened hallway to down the stairs towards the bookroom. Another shout sounded faintly in the distance, pulling her attention back towards prohibited portion of the house. Without thinking, she took one step in its direction, and then another, until she was fully embraced in the swirling shadows.

The deeper into the darkness she walked, the more she saw that this part of the house was seldom used, the air tinged with the musty scent of old wood and forgotten histories. Her footsteps echoed softly on the hardwood floor, each sound amplified in the echoing expanse of the hallway. The silence was only interrupted by the moans of someone clearly in pain.

As she walked, her eyes traced the outlines of covered furniture and paintings turned toward the wall, their subjects hidden, as if preserving the privacy of the past. The light from her small candle flickered against the walls, casting quivering shadows that danced just at the edge of her vision.

The sounds intensified until she reached the end of the corridor, where a heavy door lay closed, with only a dim light to peeking through underneath. Steeling herself, Elizabeth placed her hand on the cool metal of the doorknob, turned it with a decisive twist, and pushed the door open.