After a night at Sanserre, they stopt for a day at Bourges. The roads were quiet and the coach travelled quickly, taking them through the ancient towns of Châteauroux, Limoges, Perigueux, and St. Emilion; and before another a week of travel, they reached Bordeaux. Having been recommended to an inn by an English family they had met at Châteauroux, they took rooms at Le Marechal de Richelieu. The hôtel was clean and commodious, the servants efficient and courteous, and the dinners a superb selection of releves, entrées and entremets, for which the French were justly famous. The bill of fare, whilst not rivalling that of Véry’s, included an astonishing assortment of côte grillé, ragoût de veau, poulet rôti, and bouillabaisse, followed by beautifully arranged selections of fresh seafood from the Bordeaux sea-coast. In France, it was considered essential that a selection of excellent wine accompany the supper, and here was the Darcys’ only disappointment. Mr. Darcy was of the opinion that the wines from the Bordeaux region were previously vastly superior, and imputed their decline to the ravages of the Emperour, a surmise in which he was to be proved mistaken.

Bordeaux was, thought Elizabeth, one of the most handsome cities in France, complete with cathedral, quays, and Roman antiquities. Seated on the bank of the peaceful Garonne on a particularly mild day, Elizabeth took the opportunity to write an over-due letter to Jane, who, by now, must have welcomed her fifth child into the Bingley family.

14th May
Bordeaux, France

MY DEAREST JANE,

I write without certain knowledge of how you are, but I am hopeful that the arrival of the newest Bingley was as easy and uneventful as in the past, and that you recover quickly with the kind assistance of Kitty and my father. My impatient desire to see my new niece or nephew must remain a future pleasure, for there are yet some months of travelling before I am able to dispute with you over the largest share of similarity in feature.

How I have wished for your sound advice and comfort these past few weeks! Although I have Georgiana’s permission to pass on word of events concerning ourselves, I wish that you will keep this letter and its contents to yourself (excepting of course Mr. Bingley), for it is not my story to tell. Pray do not be alarmed; we are all of us well, and have escaped our latest scrape without any permanent disability.