“Even better. That is Mr. Gregg, Lord Fitzwilliam’s man. Let us hope he is the bearer of good news.”

Lizzy and Jane were not the only ones who had noticed the rider coming up the drive, and Mrs. Bennet, followed closely by Aunt Gardiner, practically grabbed the letter out of Gregg’s hand, and when Mrs. Bennet clutched it to her bosom and let out a sigh of relief, all knew that Wickham’s plan had failed.

“Say nothing. We do not want Mr. Collins to know,” she cautioned her daughters. “Thank heaven, my dear Lydia is safe. That wicked man’s plans have come to nothing.”

Leaving her mother to Jane and Aunt Gardiner, Lizzy directed Lord Fitzwilliam’s manservant to the kitchen. “I imagine you are in need of nourishment, Mr. Gregg.”

“What I lack in height, I make up for in appetite, miss,” he said, laughing.

When Gregg went into the kitchen, Mrs. Hill could see that this was a very hungry man, and in no time, he was diving into a plate full of eggs and bacon.

“Mr. Gregg, I cannot thank you enough for the arduous journey you undertook on behalf of my family.”

“Glad to do it,” he said, after swallowing a mouthful. “I used to ride for the senior Lord Fitzwilliam, but I got too rickety to do it every day and had to hang up my silks. But I like a bit of excitement now and then.”

“So you must enjoy being in Lord Fitzwilliam’s service.”

“That I do, miss. That I do. But if truth be known, because of his little girls, he’s been on his best behavior of late, so this was a nice change.” Gregg then recounted the long journey from Pemberley to Brighton and the look on Colonel Forster’s face when he read Mr. Darcy’s letter. “He went from having no color at all to being as red as those uniforms you see everywhere in Brighton. He was fit to be tied.” But then Gregg stood up, and reaching into his jacket, he said, “I almost forget, miss. I’ve got a letter for you from Mr. Darcy.”

When taking the letter from Gregg, Lizzy tried not to look overly eager, but after excusing herself, she went up to her room and anxiously opened the first letter she had ever received from Mr. Darcy.

“There you are,” Jane said, coming into their bedroom and sitting next to her sister. “I wanted to tell you that despite her complaints, Mama is fine, but intends to keep to her room to avoid Mr. Collins.”

“I look forward to the day when I can stay in my room and have everyone wait on me hand and foot because of my nerves,” Lizzy said, and Jane picked up on the note of unhappiness in her sister’s tone.

“What do you have there? Is it a letter from Mr. Darcy?” “You may read it. It will not take long.”


Dear Miss Elizabeth,

I am happy to advise you that when Lord Fitzwilliam’s man arrived in Brighton, your sister was asleep in her room. However, it was subsequently learned that an “elopement” had been planned. It is your father’s intention to depart for home in the morning. I will remain in Brighton for another day before returning to London. Once I am in town, I will write again.

Yours, F. Darcy


Jane, who was the recipient of many romantic notes and letters from Mr. Bingley, could understand her sister’s disappointment, but it was no secret that Mr. Darcy kept his emotions under regulation.

“Lizzy, do not read too much into this.”

“That would be difficult to do.”

“But you must think of the circumstances under which the note was written. Mr. Darcy wrote quickly so that Gregg could be on his way to deliver the good news to us, and I am sure that there were a lot of people in the house, affording him no privacy in which to write a more personal letter.”

Lizzy nodded. She had no wish to worry her sister. She had enough on her hands with their mother in bed with a case of nerves and Mr. Collins loose in the house audibly lamenting the separation from his beloved Charlotte.

“Mr. Collins!” Lizzy said, jumping out of her chair. “We forgot about Mr. Collins. Lydia and Papa will be coming home tomorrow. You know our sister well enough to anticipate the drama that will unfold. Mr. Collins cannot stay here or everyone from here to London will know of our troubles. Jane, what are we to do?”

Lizzy was right. Lydia would make no effort to rein in her emotions, no matter who was in the house, and she could just picture her loudly pining over the loss of her dear Wickham. Mr. Collins had to go. But where? And then Jane smiled. “I know exactly where Mr. Collins can go.”

“Mrs. Crenshaw, allow me to introduce my cousin, Mr. Collins. He was to be married today, but his bride is unwell, and the wedding has been postponed.”

Mr. Collins gave a wan smile. He was uncomfortable being introduced to a woman who was clearly nearing her time of confinement, but Mrs. Crenshaw’s genuine warmth and sincerity soon put him at his ease.

“When I received Jane’s note asking if I could accommodate you for a few days, I was very happy to do so. With Charles gone, it will be good to have the company as I enjoy conversation very much.”

Since Jane had hosted the four eldest Crenshaw children at Longbourn, much had changed. Charles’s sister had tearfully confided in Jane that she was tired of being the leader of a “pack of wolves,” as her husband characterized their family, but that everyone else described as a bunch of barbarians. She knew the children could be brought to heel because she had once employed a Scotsman, Mr. Campbell, who had performed miracles, even with Gaius and Lucius. But when her husband continuously interfered, Mr. Campbell had tendered his resignation, and the wolf cubs were released to run wild once again.

Jane had provided the encouragement necessary for her future sister-in-law to exercise greater control over her family. Without bothering to consult her husband, Mrs. Crenshaw had rehired Mr. Campbell, giving him full authority over the children, and had enrolled Lucius and Gaius in the same boarding school the tutor had attended in Scotland. As Mr. Campbell had explained, “Mr. Crenshaw wishes for his sons to be Spartans, and I can assure you the environment at Glenkill meets the very definition of Spartan.” She had bid a tearful good-bye to an anxious Lucius and a defiant Gaius, but she was convinced they would survive the ordeal and would be all the better for it.

The two chatterboxes struck up an immediate friendship, and as Jane departed, she could hear Mr. Collins describing the fireplace at Rosings and Mrs. Crenshaw offering to lend the parson her copy of Rousseau’s Social Contract.