Chapter 22 Correspondence #2
The incongruity of the observation in the middle of the present maudlin mood snapped everyone to attention, and they all turned towards the road to Meryton.
True to form, less than half a minute later, a young express rider rode into sight.
He saw the group and brought his horse to a stop beside Omega and Hercules. “I seek Mr Bennet of Longbourn.”
Jane faced him. “This is Longbourn, and Mr Bennet is our father. He is away until this evening. You can wait if you must, or if you leave me the letter, I will see he gets it. I have some coins in my reticule.”
Darcy said, “Allow me,” and Longman reached into his pocket.
The express rider looked concerned. “I am uncertain I can do that. I am supposed to deliver it to the addressee personally.”
Darcy said, “I can assure you that Miss Bennet is reliable,” under the assumption (usually unfortunately true) that the man would be more likely to take the word of a gentleman.
The rider asked, “Where is Mr Bennet? Perhaps I could find him. I cannot wait long, as I still have a long road to travel with a second letter, but perhaps—”
“He is in Hatfield,” Jane replied helpfully, “but I cannot narrow it down any better than that. He is not voluble about his plans.”
The rider looked doubtful. “I have to go that way anyway, so I suppose I could search for him.”
Darcy asked curiously, “If it is not prying too much, where are you going that Hatfield is on the way? Perhaps I could help you find Mr Bennet. I have business with him myself, and Hatfield is not far.”
“I am going to Derbyshire. It is a long two days at best from here, and it is already a late start.”
With a sinking feeling, Darcy asked, “I am from Derbyshire myself. Who exactly are you looking for?”
The rider pulled out another letter. It was two pages instead of the one Mr Bennet received. “Here it is. Mr Darcy of Pemberley, between Lambton and Kympton.”
“I can save you the trip. I am Mr Darcy of Pemberley.”
The man looked dubious, and Darcy said, “I am married to Mr Bennet’s daughter. Did both letters come from the same sender?”
“Yes sir.”
Darcy held out his hand, and the rider shrugged his shoulders, satisfied enough that this was the right man, and handed him both letters.
Darcy asked Jane, “Miss Bennet, can we send him to your kitchens for a meal. I will wish to question him later.”
“Of course,” Jane replied, and gave the man directions, and instructions for Mrs Hill.
Longman handed Darcy a penknife, and with shaking hands, he opened the letter.
27 July 1812
HMS Neptune
Mr Darcy,
It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that your wife, Mrs Elizabeth Darcy, is dead.
She was swept overboard on the night of 18 July in moderately but not excessively rough seas, approximately 200 miles northwest of Porto.
I witnessed her death myself, along with her footman, one Noah Hervey, and two sailors.
Mrs Darcy suffered terribly from seasickness and being at the railing helped considerably.
She was always accompanied by me, or her footman, and we were close at hand.
Unfortunately, a bowline snapped on the sails, and a pulley swung down, striking Mrs Darcy in the back of the head, sending her overboard.
The captain did his best to recover her, but there was very little he could do, and no real chance of her survival.
My deepest condolences,
Daniel G. Baker
Darcy felt like he might collapse on the ground straightaway.
Lydia said, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What is in the letter?” more gently than Darcy would have expected.
He could not speak, so he handed the sheet to Jane, who gathered her sisters around to read it silently. Everyone had too much of a sense of foreboding to read it aloud, and Darcy did not have the strength. What had he done?
Only a moment later, all four sisters were sobbing along with him, and he felt the most lost he ever had in his life. He had absolutely no idea what to do next. He thought he should comfort the sisters, or maybe he should regret showing them, but everything was dark and muddled.
He glanced at the second page, wondering what it could possibly add to the discussion, but desperate for any hint, or explanation, or really anything to occupy his mind for a moment, he read it.
For your eyes only,
Mr Darcy,
I am deeply sorry for your loss, sir. It may help if I explain my presence, but only to you. I will not reveal any of this to anyone else, including your late wife’s family, as I consider it your business alone, to disperse or not as you choose.
Mrs Darcy engaged me several months ago to find you.
It was an unusual request, but not the strangest I ever had.
She had some intelligence, I believe from one of your aunts, though she was never explicit, that you were on the Continent.
Based on your aunt’s testimony, Mrs Darcy was under the strong impression that you were there doing something of which she certainly would not approve (no offence).
I will not be more explicit, but you understand.
It took about a month to determine that you were in France at the behest of your uncle, Lord Matlock, but I was unable to ascertain your exact location or purpose without compromising your mission, unless I travelled to the Continent myself.
You understand that a journey to France is not undertaken lightly, as any English citizens are automatically considered enemy combatants and handled accordingly (gaoled or shot depending on the whim of the court).
However, I do have several good contacts in Portugal, and it is far easier to communicate with France from there than from England.
I judged I would be able to find you easily enough, given time.
I conveyed this to Mrs Darcy, and suggested she stay in London while I rousted you out, but she was adamant that she would go along with me.
It is not quite as bad as it sounds, as Porto is as safe as London if you know where to go and where to avoid.
I reluctantly agreed, so we set sail with Mrs Darcy, her maid, and her footman.
Mrs Darcy went overboard on the outbound leg of the journey.
On arrival, I immediately booked passage on another ship, so I could return and notify you and her father.
Mrs Darcy left a note in her luggage with funds for her maid and footman in case of any difficulties, so I gave that to them.
They preferred to find their own passage back, so I left them in Porto.
Mrs Darcy may have had other funds on her person or in London, but I have no way of knowing.
She paid me in advance, including ￡500 for expenses, so I did not think any more of it.
I returned the remainder of her expenses to your man of business in London.
I do not know how much she gave the servants, but I suspect it was considerable.
I am certain it will not help you feel any better, but your wife took great pains to ensure her family reputation was not damaged by her unusual choice of travelling methods.
I tell you this so you will not be surprised when you go to London.
The lady, quite cleverly in my view, put it about that you were in the service of the war effort, and that she was called to your assistance.
I am to understand that she spread this about London with the assistance of a lady friend she knew from Hertfordshire, but she did not tell me her name, nor did I ask, as it was irrelevant to my task.
I apologise deeply for failing to deliver your wife safely.
Daniel G. Baker
Darcy started to ball the letter up but knew he would just be annoyed with himself later. Instead, he handed it to Longman, then walked over to a nearby bench and sat down with his head in his hands, wondering just what in the world he could do next.