As I unsealed your letter with trembling fingers, Florry brought water to Georgiana who dipped her handkerchief in the basin and used it delicately to clear the begrimed man’s face. Before I had a chance to read more than your now-familiar, much-beloved salutation (I hope that I shall remain not only your dearest Mrs. Darcy for some time yet, but your only Mrs. Darcy for at least a few months), the prostrate messenger coughed and stirred. With a start, he gazed up into the eyes of his ministering angel and spake in a voice of wonder (with a pronounced London accent): “Physician Nature, le’ my spirit blood! Oh, ease my ‘eart of verse and le’ me rest!”
Georgiana met this extraordinary declaration with a blush and the dumbfounded look it deserved. Kitty, for her part, giggled, which set Flor
