A/N: It might be a good idea to re-read the end of last chapter...

Last chapter: Georgiana decides against eavesdropping on the Fitzwilliams' conversation, and instead walks with Colonel Fitzwilliam, talking of assorted rattling skeletons and her new sister. A most seriously displeased Lord Ancaster takes his son back home, but not before Milton apologises to Elizabeth via Darcy. Miss Martin leaves shortly thereafter, and the Darcys go back to something like 'normal.' Then, after Georgiana catches a glimpse of Darcy telling Elizabeth something and Elizabeth flinging herself at him and kissing him, her brother and sister tell her that they are expecting a child. The news passes around, the Fitzwilliams mellow, and shortly thereafter, the Pemberley family receives news that the Gardiners have a daughter and Jane is expecting. Elizabeth is so eager to see her sister and her new goddaughter that they decide to go to London a month earlier than planned.

Part II -- Interlude

'As far as I have had opportunity of judging, it appears to me that the usual style of letter-writing among women is faultless, except in three particulars . . . A general deficiency of subject, a total inattention to stops, and a very frequent ignorance of grammar.'

— Henry Tilney, Northanger Abbey

Chapter One

Letter 1: Cecilia Fitzwilliam to Georgiana Darcy

Rosings, Kent

Dear Georgiana,

I am delighted to hear that you are coming to town. Perhaps, if I am very persuasive, I shall be able to see you — but I doubt it. I have been foisted off on Lady Catherine, and she still flies into a fury at the slightest mention of the name 'Darcy.' I suppose she thinks it all a great affront to her daughter, who does not care sixpence about it, or about anything except her health.

Poor Mrs Jenkinson, and poor me. I know I should be grateful for Lady Catherine's determination to do her duty by me, but must she be so tiresome about it? Almost every day is exactly like the one before, a long round of calls, practising the pianoforte, and being graciously condescended to. Sundays, if you can believe it, are still worse, for we must go and listen to her ladyship's pet clergyman, Mr Collins. I suppose he must be my own age, but he is the sort of man who was old by seventeen. He is quite the most ridiculous person I have ever met — conceited beyond measure, and yet so obsequious, so deferential to us all! Were it not for his poor wife, I should hardly be able to keep from laughing in his face. I know it would be unkind, and vulgar too (nothing, according to Lady Catherine, is quite so vulgar as laughter), but so it is. You will understand, when you meet him.

I understand that your new sister is his cousin? For your sake, I hope there is not the slightest family resemblance. I daresay not. James tells me that she is pretty, well-bred, and very clever — exactly the opposite of Mr Collins, and exactly the sort of girl your brother would marry. For all the family's complaints, I expect they are very happy together, especially now.

Georgiana, I know you must be dreading the prospect of even an abbreviated season, and even with the comfort of your brother and sister. You simply must refuse to take it very seriously, everything is much more enjoyable then. I only wish I were with you; we could visit all the shops, and I would make you laugh at the young men.

I know I do not deserve it, I am such a dilatory correspondent myself, but I beg of you, please write me one of your long newsy letters, I care not how crossed and blotted it is. My sole dependence is on correspondence, I am not even permitted to read novels. There, do I not make a pitiable figure in your imagination? Please say you will write faithfully.

C F

Letter 2: Georgiana Darcy to Cecilia Fitzwilliam

Netherfield, Hertfordshire

My dear Cecily,

I am so dreadfully sorry to hear that you are unhappy. Lady Catherine must be very strict indeed, and I do pity you, from the bottom of my heart. I promise that I will write as often as I may. Would you like some music? I could send you some, if you would like, and I am sure my uncle would frank it.

At present, Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth and I are at Mr Bingley's estate, which is very fine and very ugly, everyone except Mrs Bingley says so. Mrs Bingley, I am sure, has never said or thought an unkind thing in her life. When Mr B first talked of her as a perfect angel, I hardly knew where to look, but it is so. She and E are immensely fond of each other, and of course Mr B is one of my brother's dearest friends.

I have finally met E's family. Her father, Mr Bennet, reminds me a bit of Fitzwilliam, but smiles less and frightens me more. Mrs Bennet means well, I am sure, while the two girls at home, Miss Mary and Miss Catherine, are quite unlike Elizabeth, and each other. The former reads and quotes from a great many improving books, and plays the pianoforte loudly; Miss Catherine is much friendlier and easier to talk to, and I do like her, of course, but I never know what to say when people ask how much the lace on my gown cost. E also has another aunt and uncle, Mr and Mrs Phillips, her mother's sister and brother-in-law. I think they must be frightened of F, like Mrs Bennet, for they never talk when he is in the room.

When I am not with F&E, I spend most of my time with Mrs Bingley, who often asks me to sit with her. I think that she is a little lonely; though she knows everyone here, she does not seem to be close to anyone except Mr Bingley and E. Her mother comes nearly every day but that is not the same.

You will remember Miss Bingley, Mr Bingley's sister — the one who was always so fond of Fitzwilliam and me? She is here, too, though I am not certain she is happy about it, and as effusive as ever. I do wonder why she insists on taking the second or third volumes of what one of us is reading, though; I cannot help but feel it provoking, and besides, they must make very little sense without the first. She is soon to be leaving, as well, for she is going with the Hursts, her brother and sister, to Bath. Elizabeth would like to see it, but I do not think we are leaving town until June.

I am sure this is all very dull, but that is all there is to talk of. If there is anything else I can do to help, you need only ask.

I remain your affectionate cousin,

Georgiana Darcy

Letter 3: Cecilia Fitzwilliam to Georgiana Darcy

Rosings, Kent

Georgiana, you are truly a pearl among cousins. Thank you so very much for your letter. I was not bored at all; indeed, receiving it was by far the most interesting thing that has happened to me since I arrived.

Mrs Darcy's people sound rather dreadful, I am afraid, except your Mrs Bingley. No wonder they two are so fond of each other! Then again, I daresay that sort of thing is easier to bear from your own.

As for Miss Bingley — my dear Georgiana, everyone from Scarborough to Dover knows that the ambition of her life is to marry high, and for years that has meant your brother. I never saw a woman more assiduously court a gentleman's attention, and with so little success! I try not to listen to what Lady Catherine says, but in this respect I must agree with her. That sort of behaviour in a lady is more than undignified, it is preposterous, and your brother could not have been less encouraging had he slapped her across the face. I suppose she is sensible enough to realise that her interests are far better served by remaining on civil terms with your sister than by quarrelling with her, though do keep her away from Mrs D's dinner. She might decide to garnish it with arsenic.

You must be in town by now, so I expect to hear all about it in your next letter!

Adieu, avec toute mon affection,

Cecily

Letter 4: Georgiana Darcy to Cecilia Fitzwilliam

Darcy House, London

Dear Cecily,

I am back in the house in town, in my own rooms with my own little establishment. It is all very familiar and comfortable, far more than I expected. My old pianoforte sounds as beautiful as ever, no matter how badly I play. Elizabeth sometimes practises as well, and she is a far greater pleasure to listen to, though nobody would ever say so.

We had our first callers today, but everybody was so eager to see Elizabeth that they hardly glanced at me. It was such a great relief. In her place, I would have been terrified out of my wits, but not she; nothing frightens her. Still, people did talk to me, and several gentlemen stared me quite of countenance; I am glad to sit here in the peace and quiet, with no sounds but the scratching of our pens.

I have grown another two inches, so Fitzwilliam convinced Elizabeth to take me around to some shops, and to buy whatever she liked for herself, as well. She was more prudent than that, of course, and she sent him off to amuse himself, but we both ordered some lovely gowns. We found him surrounded by piles of books, with dust on his face and in his hair. I wish you could have seen the look on Elizabeth's face, Cecily, as if Fitzwilliam reading were the most fascinating thing in the world. It was far more romantic than any declaration. If I may someday find someone who loves me half as much as Elizabeth loves my brother, I shall consider myself very lucky indeed.

Then she laughed at him and brushed the dirt off his face. They are that darling together, though I am sure they would very indignantly deny it. Neither of them are very sentimental, and mostly they just talk, and nobody else can understand above a word in three.

Dear Cecily, I so wish you could come and see us. I am certain that you and Elizabeth would love each other dearly, in some ways she reminds me a great deal of you. If only Lady Catherine were not so recalcitrant! Well, then she would not be herself at all, I daresay. Do tell me if anything diverting happens; I shall hope so for your sake.

G D

Letter Five: Cecilia Fitzwilliam to Georgiana Darcy

Rosings, Kent

Dearest Georgiana, you must send me your hopes more often! No sooner had I received your letter than we heard of Mr Collins' indisposition. It is nothing too severe — even I would take no pleasure in that — a mere cold, but it has affected his throat to such a degree that, to the sorrow of us all, he can scarcely speak. Fortunately Lady Catherine's hearing is quite acute, or she would miss his whispered compliments.

The consequence of this is that he is no condition to give sermons, and must rely on his curate, Mr Hammond, to do so for him. Mr H is infinitely preferable; he talks sensibly and briefly and gives no compliments. Lady Catherine, of course, is most seriously displeased — though truly, when is she not? She has determined that the curate's deficiencies come from his solitary existence, with no wife, no sister, no patroness to offer much-needed counsel. Yet she is unwilling to suffer the degradation of noticing him herself. About three days ago, she discovered the solution to this most pressing dilemma. As a poor cousin, I am not too high to serve as Lady Catherine's emissary to a mere curate, and yet, with precious Fitzwilliam blood flowing in my veins, still worthy of the office. So I am regularly sent with a servant or two, bearing Lady Catherine's wishes to the curate and therefore the parish, making everyone very happy.

Though the curate is quite handsome, my greatest pleasure is in being outside, away from that stultifying house, from Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh's constant litany of commands, with the sun shining and the wind blowing. I must look a fright, but I do not care. It is so amusing, too; the first time I explained my errand, poor Mr Hammond plainly wanted to laugh but did not dare before Lady Catherine's own cousin. Now we smile every time I come with a new piece of her ladyship's advice — he has a charming smile, and it is such a pleasure to see and talk with someone young and lively and sensible.

Oh dear, I have talked of myself the whole time. You must forgive me, I am only so much happier than I have been. Let me say that you are the best musician of any of us, and Mrs Darcy must be a prodigy indeed if she can surpass you on your own instrument. Your brother and sister sound very darling indeed, and all the more so for not being indelicate about it. I imagine they are frightfully clever and talk about books and philosophy and that sort of thing all day long. I should feel very silly, but you are sensible and I hope as content as is possible for a girl so beautiful that young men cannot help staring. It is a tragedy, but I am certain that you are enduring it with admirable fortitude.

Forgive me my impertinence, Georgiana, I cannot help myself and even my grand cousin cannot cure me of it. If you wish I shall write of nothing more than the weather and extracts from sermons.

C F