I have not been entirely candid with my cousin and Elizabeth as to the reason for the postponement of our rendezvous, but I did not wish to make my circumstances known until I am secure in my object. I can have no secrets from you. You, who know my heart better than anyone, will surely have surmised that I have been detained for love. Your sagacity, I am sure, will have led you to believe that I am become re-acquainted with Miss Crawford. She was come to Tunbridge with her brother to escape London (you see how greatly we share our opinions!); we met here by the action of Providence. Georgiana, you know that excessive praise is not my custom, but she is an angel! I do not believe that any woman alive can equal—let alone surpass—the manifold attractions she naturally possesses—and in such a singular admixture of incompatible blessings! She is at once elegant in her figure, lovely in her countenance, with a fine, soft complexion that sets off her exquisitely dark and lively eyes. She has a most innocent air, which complements rather than competes with a very natural vivacity. She is artless and clever, composed and impetuous, and possesses a very delightful wit, rendered uncommonly agreeable by a happy and original mode of expression. She has read much; her mind is informed, and, whilst subtle, exhibits a profundity and breadth of ideas to supply hours of interesting and diverting conversation. Added to all of this, she has a charming voice, sings with a delightful natural taste, and plays upon the harp with exquisite grace. I never met with such a woman before; I believe that she has no equal amongst mortals. I am very much in love. And, dearest cousin, the wonder of it all is that she now appears to wish for the same happy event that I despaired of all those months ago! She has left that set which so clouded her own preferences and caused me such disappointment; I mean to secure her against returning to them by asking for her hand. I ask your prayers for my success, Georgiana, and am hopeful that I may bring her to Pemberley to meet you upon our return to England.

Your fond cousin,

GEORGE FITZWILLIAM

Under the increasing misery of every sentence, Georgiana sank lower into her seat, grateful that she was spared the trial of being observed during such distress. Hands trembling, Georgiana laid the wretched paper to one side, and took up the other, which was addressed in the careful hand of Mrs. Annesley. The letter was brief and, if possible, contained even more dreadful news than had the letter previous:

30th April
Pemberley, Derbyshire

DEAR Miss DARCY,