If I felt less, perhaps I might write more, but, as it is, this letter will be brief, and contain none of the niceties that might be reasonably expected. My brother, the Viscount, is dead—murdered—and—if such is possible—this wretched event is made yet more tragic by the scandalous nature of its circumstances. I have no wish to intrude upon the sensibilities of the dear ladies who are with you, Darcy, and know you will spare them whatever you can. I will not take the time to write of the particulars of the discovery of my brother’s corpse, excepting the fact that he was chanced upon by an early morning watchman, in a poor and obscure part of London. More than this must wait for an investigation in Bow Street, which Mr. Gardiner has undertaken to institute even as I write this.

My father and mother are now hastening to London. I await them, having been myself the first member of the family to receive the news, upon which I immediately departed from Tunbridge. I depend upon your knowledge of my dear father to convince you of the depths of his despair when confronted by the iniquity of his eldest son. The only balm for my worst fears for his health is the knowledge that he is comforted by the best of women, and could, therefore, not be in kinder or more capable hands.

If my brother’s demise were to be the only issue of significance in this circumstance, t’were bad enough, but I think you may guess that the cause of his death must necessarily uncover further calumny and defamation of his character. The revelations of the investigation might well mean the ruination of my family.

I cannot deny, Darcy, that it would be both the greatest kindness and the greatest sacrifice, if you would return as early as your pleasure and that of your dear companions will permit. I know that my lack of scruple in begging your swift return is asking a great deal of my friends. My family are all very desirous of your assistance. I know not what I write. Be assured that I remain your most devoted, and obliged,

GEORGE FITZWILLIAM

“Heaven preserve us! How can your poor uncle endure this dreadful misfortune? It is everyway horrible,” responded Elizabeth, with tears in her eyes. “Mr. Darcy, I know not what to say. The Hallendale family is entirely undeserving of anything of this kind. That the Viscount’s sense of decency and honour should admit of doubt is shocking indeed, and surely must not reflect the truth of the matter.”