My dearest Susan,
I must unburden myself again, and again I must swear you to secrecy, for I have had such a letter…When I think of it, I…But let me collect myself. Charlotte is busy about her household affairs and Maria is helping her, Mr Collins is out in the garden and I am alone in the house. Only now am I able to drag myself out of my thoughts, and needing someone to turn to, someone to tell…
By now you will have had my previous letter, about Mr Darcy’s proposal. I was angry with him, disgusted with his behaviour, but now…
I do not know what to think. He has written me a letter, and such a letter…I expected nothing from him, I thought he would avoid me, since I knew that he intended to return to London very soon, but instead, this morning as I walked, I found him waiting for me. I tried to avoid him but he detained me by stepping forward and calling my name. He held out a letter, which I instinctively took, and said haughtily that he had been walking in the grove for some time in the hope of meeting me, and then asked me to have the goodness to read the letter.
With no expectation of pleasure, but with the strongest curiosity, I opened it, and to my increasing sense of wonder I saw an envelope containing two sheets of paper, written quite through in a very close hand. The envelope itself was likewise full. I did not know what he could have to say to me, let alone what he could have to say which would take so much saying, but I could not contain my curiosity.
I cannot begin to tell you my feelings as I read everything contained therein; indeed, it is only now, several hours later, that I can begin to sort them out. Everything was presented to me with such a different slant that I find myself, against my will, beginning to see things differently; or, at least, to acknowledge that there might be a different interpretation to be put upon things.
The letter started arrogantly enough, all pride and insolence, saying that I had accused him of two offences in my rejection of him. He claimed that, although he knew his friend was becoming increasingly attached to Jane, he convinced himself by watching her that her feelings were not similarly touched. I was at first outraged by this, until I remembered Charlotte saying that Jane ought to show what she felt if she wanted to attach Mr Bingley. Susan, reluctant though I am to do it, I find I have to admit that Jane’s feelings, though fervent, were little displayed, and that there was a constant complacency in her manner not often associated with great sensibility.
His comments on my family, though mortifying, I could not help admitting had some justice. You left Meryton before the militia arrived and so you do not know how my sisters have been throwing themselves at the officers’ heads, whilst Mama and Papa did nothing to stop them.
But it is in his details of his dealings with Mr Wickham that he chiefly sought to exonerate himself. At first I did not believe it, for his account of events differed so strongly from Mr Wickham’s account, but he referred me to his cousin if I doubted him, and this helped convince me that he was not misleading me. Then, too, when I was forced to think about Mr Wickham’s behaviour, I had, in the end, to think it was not as spotless as it first appeared.
I cannot tell you all, but I can say this: that Mr Darcy claims his father left the living to Mr Wickham provisionally only, and that, as Mr Wickham did not want it, Mr Darcy gave him the sum of three thousand pounds instead.
At first I doubted, but as I thought back over my acquaintance with Mr Wickham it struck me as odd that he had confided so much at our first meeting, which was surely wrong of him, and that he had not noised his grievances in public until Mr Darcy had left the neighbourhood and was therefore no longer in a position to defend himself.
And now I am left feeling perplexed and wounded, scarcely knowing what to think, who to believe. To begin with, I believed resolutely in Mr Wickham, but Mr Darcy’s story had the ring of truth and, together with the fact that he referred me to his cousin—who is an honest and upright man—I find myself believing Mr Darcy.
He was sent to plague me, I am sure of it, first of all with his haughtiness, then with his unwanted attentions, and now with his unsettling news about my favourite. He has brought me nothing but torment. And yet I cannot help thinking that he is a better man than I had supposed and, although undoubtedly proud, much maligned.
How much easier would it have been if Mr Darcy had continued to be a villain, and Mr Wickham a saint. But as Mr Wickham transferred his affections from me as soon as Miss King inherited a sizeable dowry, I am faced with the fact that he was never quite the saint I believed him.
My one consolation is that Mr Darcy is leaving the neighbourhood tomorrow, and that I will not be here much longer, either. How I long to see Jane and the familiar walls of home; how I long to talk with Papa and have everything back to normal.
Your dear friend,
Lizzy
Miss Susan Sotherton to Miss Elizabeth Bennet
Bath, April 24
Lizzy, you are trying me hard! First I must mention nothing of your proposal, and now I can mention nothing about Mr Wickham’s relations with Mr Darcy. I wish I were coming to Meryton again, but there is no chance of it, and after all I am glad, for I do not think I could keep so many secrets if I were to find myself at home again.
You say I know nothing of your sisters’ goings-on, but do not forget that Ellie writes to Lydia and Kitty—indeed a letter from Kitty arrived this morning—and I have seen enough of their correspondence to know how silly they are, but this does not excuse Mr Darcy for saying so. It is up to him, as your lover, to make light of your family’s failings, not to make much of them. Your father and mother are not the most sensible parents, it is true, but at least your father has not gambled away your inheritance and forced you to leave your home. I am not surprised you miss him. My own papa, alas, is no better: every time we think he is improving he relapses, and goes from bad to worse.
I eagerly await your next letter. I fully expect to find that the Archbishop of Canterbury has proposed to you when next you write!
Your loving friend,
Susan
Miss Lydia Bennet to Miss Eleanor Sotherton
Longbourn, Hertfordshire,
April 24
La! Ellie, what do you think? The officers are leaving Meryton, they are to be gone in a month, and what shall we do without them? They are going to be encamped near Brighton. How I wish I could go with them, for it will be deadly dull here without them. I have said so time and time again, and Mama agrees with me and says we should all go to Brighton. It would be a delicious scheme, and I dare say would hardly cost anything at all. Mama would like to go too of all things, but Papa says he will not stir from Longbourn, and we may not go without him. He says Kitty and I are the silliest girls in the country, but I do not think we are as silly as Mary, who has made so many books of extracts her bedroom is full and now she wants a shelf in the library for them. Papa says she may not have one and Mama tells her to wear her hair differently and Mary preaches in return, so that I am sick of the sound of her. If only we could go to Brighton! Papa says he cannot wait for Jane and Lizzy to return, so that he can have some sensible conversation, but what can they have to talk of? Jane has been in London and Lizzy has been in Kent and there are not any officers in either place.
Your greatest friend in all the world,
Lydia
Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Miss Susan Sotherton
Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,
April 25
Dear Susan,
I know I try you hard, but I shall endeavour not to do so in future. The Archbishop has not proposed and so that is one less secret for you to keep! The gentlemen—Mr Darcy and his cousin—have now left Rosings, and I have only Lady Catherine to contend with.
We dined with her yesterday evening and I could not help thinking that, if I had answered Mr Darcy differently, I might by this time have been presented to her as her future niece. What would she have said? How would she have behaved? I amused myself with these questions as an antidote to an otherwise dull evening.
> Lady Catherine mourned the absence of the gentlemen, and Mr Collins alleviated her suffering with some clumsy compliments.
Then she turned her attention to me and thinking, quite wrongly, that I was quiet because I did not like to leave, she said that I must write to my mother to beg that I may stay a little longer. Nothing could be further from my wishes, for I long to be at home. She would not accept it, however, but went on saying that my mother could certainly spare me for a fortnight or so. She dismissed the idea that my father was missing me and added, in her goodness, that she could take either Maria or myself as far as London in early June, though what the other one was supposed to do, I do not know—run behind, I suspect! Though she did say, condescendingly, that as we were neither of us large, if the weather should happen to be cool, she did not mind taking us both.
Surprisingly enough, I said we must abide by the original plan.
How tired I am of Rosings: Lady Catherine with her officious interference; Mr Collins with his obsequiousness and stupidity; even Charlotte, who has chosen this lot in life. How I long to be away.
Your dear friend,
Lizzy
MAY
Miss Lydia Bennet to Miss Eleanor Sotherton
Longbourn, Hertfordshire, May 7
Lord, Ellie, I never knew I could be so fagged. We have been to balls and parties every night this week, we are setting up a store of them to remember when the regiment has left Meryton, though I have still not despaired of going to Brighton. Say nothing to Kitty, but Harriet has said she will ask her husband, Colonel Forster, if I might go with her as her especial friend. Just think! I might be spending the summer in Brighton, surrounded by officers!
Tomorrow Kitty and I are going to meet Jane and Lizzy on their way back from Aunt Gardiner’s. We are going with the carriage to meet them at the inn and we plan to get there early so that we might look in the milliner’s, then we intend to treat them to a meal at the inn before we return.
I dare say Lizzy will be wild to know about Wickham. He is not to marry Mary King after all—she is gone down to stay with her uncle at Liverpool. She is a great fool to have gone away, he will not follow her, you know. He will probably pay court to Lizzy again, though Harriet says she is sure he has an eye for me. Would that not be fun! I am sure I should not mind if he wanted to pay court to me.
As for Lizzy and Jane, I hope they come back with husbands, for they will very soon be on the shelf. Jane is almost three and twenty. I am sure I should be ashamed to be single at that age, she will be quite an old maid soon.
My aunt Philips wants them both to get husbands. She says Lizzy had better have taken Mr Collins but I do not think there would have been any fun in that. Lord! How I should like to be married before any of them, and then I would chaperone them around to all the balls! Dear me! We had such a piece of fun last night, what do you think we did? We dressed Chamberlayne in women’s clothes, on purpose to pass for a lady—only think what fun! Not a soul knew of it but Colonel Forster and Harriet and my aunt, for we were forced to borrow one of her gowns, and you cannot imagine how well he looked! When Denny and Wickham and Pratt and a few of the others came in, they did not know him in the least. Lord! How I laughed! And so did Harriet Forster! I thought I should have died. And that made the men suspect something, and then they soon found out what was the matter!
Mama is hoping that Mr Bingley will come back to Netherfield, or that your papa will let it again to someone else, some nice family with five sons for our five daughters!
Write and tell me all about your beaux in Bath. Are you having as much fun as we are?
Lydia
Miss Mary Bennet to Miss Lucy Sotherton
Longbourn, Hertfordshire, May 9
Most noble Friend,
My sisters have returned from their sojourn and are once more enwrapped in the bosom of their family. Lydia and Kitty went to meet them and returned in high spirits. I remonstrated with them gently, saying far be it from me to depreciate such pleasures, which would doubtless be congenial with the generality of female minds, but that they would have no charms for me. I said that I should infinitely prefer a book, and Lydia asked whether I would prefer The Necromancer or Horrid Mysteries. Like the generality of people, she is under the mistaken impression that these are salacious works, and does not realise that they are erudite works of art which give us an understanding of our ancestors, the topography of their landscapes and their historical importance. However, I am heartened by her desire to visit Brighton. Travel broadens the mind, and a few weeks on the south coast will no doubt make her aware of the rich flora and fauna to be found within these isles; that is, if our father relents and lets her go.
Your sister in wisdom,
Mary
Miss Jane Bennet to Mrs Gardiner
Longbourn, Hertfordshire,
May 10
Mr dear aunt,
I am writing to thank you for your kind hospitality over these last few months; it has given me new heart and the courage to face home again. I am glad to be with Lizzy, and Papa says he has missed me. My sisters, too, have welcomed me warmly.
The garden at Longbourn is very pretty with its new foliage and its blossoms. The weather is mild, and we are to walk to my aunt Philips’s house this evening.
Give my love to my cousins.
Your loving niece,
Jane
Mrs Bennet to Mrs Gardiner
Longbourn, Hertfordshire,
May 10
Well, sister, Lizzy says the Collinses live very comfortable. I suppose they often talk of having Longbourn when Mr Bennet is dead. They look upon it quite as their own, I dare say, whenever that happens. Well, if they can be easy with an estate that is not lawfully their own, so much the better. I should be ashamed of having one that was only entailed on me.
Lydia is wild to go to Brighton, for the regiment are to leave us, and I am sure I cried for two days together when Colonel Millar’s regiment went away when I was a girl, twenty-five years ago, though it does not seem a day. I thought I should have broke my heart. If only Mr Bennet would consent to the idea, we could all of us go to Brighton. A few weeks on the coast would set me up wonderfully, but Mr Bennet will not hear of it. Ah! Sister, you do not know what I have to bear.
You must ask Lydia and Kitty to stay with you soon. I am sure I do not see why they should not have their share of the pleasure and enjoy themselves in London if they cannot go to Brighton.
I do not know what you think of this sad business of Jane’s, for I made sure before she went away that she would be married by the time she returned. Four whole months she has been in London, and not even an engagement.
For my part, I am determined never to speak of Mr Bingley again to anybody. He is a very undeserving young man, and I do not suppose there is the least chance of her getting him now. There is no talk of him coming to Netherfield again in the summer; and I have enquired of everybody, too, who is likely to know. Oh, well, it is just as he chooses; nobody wants him to come. Though I shall always say that he used my daughter extremely ill; and if I were her, I would not have put up with it. My comfort is that Jane will die of a broken heart, and then he will be sorry for what he has done.
Your affectionate sister,
Janet
Miss Caroline Bingley to Mr Charles Bingley
Yorkshire, May 12
Dear Charles,
I had forgotten how boring it is in the country, for there is nothing to do all day. You were right to leave Netherfield; it had outlived its charm. I do not say that an estate is a bad thing, but one closer to London would be better suited to our needs. I cannot think why you keep Netherfield when you have no intention of returning. You should give up the lease and look for something closer to town. Louisa and I will help you, for there is nothing to keep us here. We have taken the waters at Harrogate and exhausted the York shops. Ned is busy all the time and never takes us anywhere. Besides, his friends are of a low sort, manufacturers and the like. He is talking
of buying a mill. Mama says if that is what he wants then that is what he must have, but you must write and talk him out of it; it would be too humiliating to have a brother with a mill.
Your dearest sister,
Caroline
Mr Charles Bingley to Miss Caroline Bingley
London, May 16
Dear Caroline,
I agree with Ma—if Ned wants a mill, he must have one. He does not tell me how to be happy and upon my honour I will not tell him.
You talk of me quitting Netherfield but the lease has still some months to run and I might go there again before it has expired. It is in a very pretty part of the country and I still think fondly of it, though it is a very long time since we were last there. I left on the twenty-seventh of November, the day after the Netherfield ball. I believe I have never enjoyed myself more than I did that night; all our friends were there and I remember it often.
You will be pleased to know that Darcy has invited us to a picnic he is giving with Georgiana next month. He wants her to gain more experience of entertaining, nothing much at first, just small parties for friends, so that she learns how to go on. She is sixteen now and going more into the world. Upon my soul she is a very pretty girl, a credit to Darcy and much loved by everyone in London.
Give my love to Ma and my brothers and sisters.
Charles
Mr Philip Darcy to Mr Darcy
Wiltshire, May 18
My dear Darcy,
It is almost a month now since you left Rosings and I hope your infatuation has run its course. Do you ever think of the woman you spoke of, or has she faded into memory? Whatever the case, it would be better not to try yourself too far. You should continue to avoid her until the end of the year at least, and distract yourself with thoughts of other women. There are plenty here for you to choose from. Join me in Wiltshire, and bring Georgiana, too—I have not seen her for months and she will have changed a lot in that time. It will give her an opportunity to meet some new people, always good for a girl of her age. Besides, I would like your opinion on a young woman I am intending to marry. She offers everything a man of my standing has a right to look for in a wife. She is beautiful, well-bred and accomplished. I mean to offer for her next month.