Louisa and I are entertaining Georgiana, but it is not the same without Mr Darcy here. He graces everything with his presence, and notices every time I give his sister a kind word. He should, however, return to Pemberley later today.
I hope his business prospered, for he was not in the best of tempers when he left. I do not believe he was looking forward to it, whatever it was. No doubt it is something to do with the war; it unsettles everything, but Mr Darcy’s fortune is large enough to withstand even these turbulent times.
I had hoped to see Colonel Fitzwilliam here, but he has returned to his regiment. There are plenty of other gentlemen, however, even if none of them are as handsome as Mr Darcy, but I have not despaired of fixing him, though Miss Bennet’s eyes are so fine.
She was here several weeks ago and had the impertinence to visit Pemberley. The housekeeper had no choice but to show her round, and poor Mr Darcy was quite taken in by her, believing her story of being in the neighbourhood with her aunt and uncle, who wanted to see the house. A likely tale! But luckily Mr Darcy had to leave on business shortly after her arrival, whereupon she and her relatives hastily decamped, their supposed tour of Derbyshire entirely forgotten. What simpletons she must think us!
But I hear the carriage! Mr Darcy has returned. I must go!
Your dutiful daughter,
Caroline
Miss Mary Bennet to Miss Lucy Sotherton
Longbourn, Hertfordshire,
September 5
Most noble Friend,
My sister has had the benefit of clergy and is now Mrs Wickham. She arrived here at Longbourn in high spirits, not at all abashed as she should have been by her disgrace. I am very disappointed in Papa. When Lydia arrived, he had an opportunity to tell her how grievously she had sinned, and to extol her to be a better woman in the future, instead of which he laughed at her iniquities and those of her husband.
It emerged that Mr Darcy had been at her wedding, indeed, he seems to have arranged it. That was very wrong of him. He should have roundly condemned Lydia, as Mr Collins did. I think that Mr Collins would have made me a better husband, after all. Mr Shackleton agrees with me. He said that wealthy gentlemen never make good husbands and that the best husbands are often clerks. I was surprised at this, but he assured me that he had read it somewhere and he has promised to find the passage so that I might make an extract of it.
Your devoted sister in morality,
Mary
Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Mrs Gardiner
Longbourn, Hertfordshire,
September 5
My dear aunt,
I cannot contain myself, I must beg your indulgence and hope you will put me out of my misery. Lydia let slip that Mr Darcy had been at her wedding and that she had been sworn to silence on the subject.
You may readily comprehend what my curiosity must be to know how a person so unconnected with any of us, and (comparatively speaking) a stranger to our family, should have been amongst you at such a time. Pray write instantly, and let me understand it—unless it is, for very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy which Lydia seems to think necessary; and then I must endeavour to be satisfied with ignorance.
Your loving niece,
Lizzy
Mrs Gardiner to Miss Elizabeth Bennet
Gracechurch Street, London,
September 6
My dear Niece,
I have just received your letter, and shall devote this whole morning to answering it, as I foresee that a little writing will not comprise what I have to tell you. I must confess myself surprised by your application; I did not expect it from you. Don’t think me angry, however, for I only mean to let you know that I had not imagined such enquiries to be necessary on your side. If you do not choose to understand me, forgive my impertinence. Your uncle is as much surprised as I am—and nothing but the belief of your being a party concerned would have allowed him to act as he has done. But if you are really innocent and ignorant, I must be more explicit.
On the very day of my coming home from Longbourn, your uncle had a most unexpected visitor. Mr Darcy called, and was shut up with him several hours. It was all over before I arrived; so my curiosity was not so dreadfully racked as yours seems to have been. He came to tell Mr Gardiner that he had found out where your sister and Mr Wickham were, and that he had seen and talked with them both—Wickham repeatedly, Lydia once. From what I can collect, he left Derbyshire only one day after ourselves, and came to town with the resolution of hunting for them. The motive professed was his conviction of its being owing to himself that Wickham’s worthlessness had not been so well known as to make it impossible for any young woman of character to love or confide in him. He generously imputed the whole to his mistaken pride, and confessed that he had before thought it beneath him to lay his private actions open to the world. His character was to speak for itself. He called it, therefore, his duty to step forward and endeavour to remedy an evil which had been brought on by himself. If he had another motive, I am sure it would never disgrace him.
He had been some days in town before he was able to discover them; but he had something to direct his search, which was more than we had; and the consciousness of this was another reason for his resolving to follow us. There is a lady, it seems, a Mrs Younge, who was some time ago governess to Miss Darcy, and was dismissed from her charge on some cause of disapprobation, though he did not say what. She then took a large house in Edward Street, and has since maintained herself by letting lodgings. This Mrs Younge was, he knew, intimately acquainted with Wickham; and he went to her for intelligence of him, as soon as he got to town. But it was two or three days before he could get from her what he wanted. She would not betray her trust, I suppose, without bribery and corruption, for she really did know where her friend was to be found. Wickham, indeed, had gone to her on their first arrival in London, and had she been able to receive them into her house, they would have taken up their abode with her. At length, however, our kind friend procured the wished-for direction.
He saw Wickham, and afterwards insisted on seeing Lydia. His first object with her, he acknowledged, had been to persuade her to quit her present disgraceful situation, and return to her friends as soon as they could be prevailed on to receive her, offering his assistance as far as it would go. But he found Lydia absolutely resolved on remaining where she was. She cared for none of her friends; she wanted no help of his; she would not hear of leaving Wickham. She was sure they should be married sometime or other, and it did not much signify when. Since such were her feelings, it only remained, he thought, to secure and expedite a marriage, which, in his very first conversation with Wickham, he easily learnt had never been his design. He confessed himself obliged to leave the regiment on account of some debts of honour, which were very pressing; and scrupled not to lay all the ill-consequences of Lydia’s flight on her own folly alone. He meant to resign his commission immediately; and as to his future situation, he could conjecture very little about it. He must go somewhere, but he did not know where, and he knew he should have nothing to live on.
Mr Darcy asked him why he had not married your sister at once. Though Mr Bennet was not imagined to be very rich, he would have been able to do something for him, and his situation must have been benefited by marriage. But he found, in reply to this question, that Wickham still cherished the hope of more effectually making his fortune by marriage in some other country. Under such circumstances, however, he was not likely to be proof against the temptation of immediate relief.
They met several times, for there was much to be discussed. Wickham, of course, wanted more than he could get, but at length was reduced to be reasonable.
Everything being settled between them, Mr Darcy’s next step was to make your uncle acquainted with it, and he first called in Gracechurch Street the evening before I came home. But Mr Gardiner could not be seen, and Mr Darcy found, on further enquiry, that your father was still with him, but would quit town the next morning. He did not judge your father
to be a person whom he could so properly consult as your uncle, and therefore readily postponed seeing him till after the departure of the former. He did not leave his name, and till the next day it was only known that a gentleman had called on business.
On Saturday he came again. Your father was gone, your uncle at home, and, as I said before, they had a great deal of talk together.
They met again on Sunday, and then I saw him too. It was not all settled before Monday: as soon as it was, the express was sent off to Longbourn. But our visitor was very obstinate. I fancy, Lizzy, that obstinacy is the real defect of his character after all. He has been accused of many faults at different times, but this is the true one. Nothing was to be done that he did not do himself; though I am sure (and I do not speak it to be thanked, therefore say nothing about it) your uncle would most readily have settled the whole.
They battled it together for a long time, which was more than either the gentleman or lady concerned in it deserved. But at last your uncle was forced to yield, and instead of being allowed to be of use to his niece, was forced to put up with only having the probable credit of it, which went sorely against the grain; and I really believe your letter this morning gave him great pleasure, because it required an explanation that would rob him of his borrowed feathers, and give the praise where it was due. But, Lizzy, this must go no further than yourself, or Jane at most.
You know pretty well, I suppose, what has been done for the young people. His debts are to be paid, amounting, I believe, to considerably more than a thousand pounds, another thousand in addition to her own settled upon her, and his commission purchased. The reason why all this was to be done by him alone was such as I have given above. It was owing to him, to his reserve and want of proper consideration, that Wickham’s character had been so misunderstood, and, consequently, that he had been received and noticed as he was. Perhaps there was some truth in this; though I doubt whether his reserve, or anybody’s reserve, can be answerable for the event. But in spite of all this fine talking, my dear Lizzy, you may rest perfectly assured that your uncle would never have yielded, if we had not given him credit for another interest in the affair.
When all this was resolved on, he returned again to his friends, who were still staying at Pemberley; but it was agreed that he should be in London once more when the wedding took place, and all money matters were then to receive the last finish.
I believe I have now told you everything. It is a relation which you tell me is to give you great surprise; I hope at least it will not afford you any displeasure. Lydia came to us; and Wickham had constant admission to the house. He was exactly what he had been when I knew him in Hertfordshire; but I would not tell you how little I was satisfied with her behaviour while she stayed with us, if I had not perceived, by Jane’s letter last Wednesday, that her conduct on coming home was exactly of a piece with it, and therefore what I now tell you can give you no fresh pain. I talked to her repeatedly in the most serious manner, representing to her all the wickedness of what she had done and all the unhappiness she had brought on her family. If she heard me, it was by good luck, for I am sure she did not listen. I was sometimes quite provoked, but then I recollected my dear Elizabeth and Jane, and for their sakes had patience with her.
Mr Darcy was punctual in his return and, as Lydia informed you, attended the wedding. He dined with us the next day, and was to leave town again on Wednesday or Thursday. Will you be very angry with me, my dear Lizzy, if I take this opportunity of saying (what I was never bold enough to say before) how much I like him? His behaviour to us has, in every respect, been as pleasing as when we were in Derbyshire. His understanding and opinions all please me; he wants nothing but a little more liveliness, and that, if he marry prudently, his wife may teach him. I thought him very sly—he hardly ever mentioned your name. But slyness seems the fashion.
Pray forgive me if I have been very presuming; or at least do not punish me so far as to exclude me from P. I shall never be quite happy till I have been all round the park. A low phaeton, with a nice little pair of ponies, would be the very thing.
But I must write no more. The children have been wanting me this half hour.
Yours, very sincerely,
M. Gardiner
Miss Lucy Sotherton to Miss Mary Bennet
Bath, September 14
Hail!
I am not surprised at your father’s behaviour, nor your mother’s, for I see such things all about me in Bath. There are but a handful of Learned Women in the whole of England, dear Mary, and you and I are two of them. Nor does it surprise me that there are vile seducers everywhere. Men are slaves to their evil lusts and we must be ever on our guard, for they will assail our virtue if we give them any encouragement.
One such gentleman is returning to Netherfield Park, no doubt with the intention of seducing your sister Jane. Yes, Mr Bingley is to once again take up residence. I know this because Papa, hearing of Mr Bingley’s absence, hoped we might be able to let the property to another tenant, whilst at the same time keeping Mr Bingley’s payment. Such are the low standards I live amongst! But Mr Bingley replied that he will be taking up residence once again on the seventeenth of this month. Your sister must take care. Let her walk nowhere unchaperoned. Having had an opportunity to propose to her in the usual manner last autumn, he did not do it, no doubt because he has designs on her virtue. We are not so very far from Italy after all.
My sister Susan has succumbed to worldly lures and is now married to Mr Wainwright. She has not written to us yet, and I must hope it is because the post is slow and not because she and her husband have been slain in the mountains and eaten by wolves or banditti (eaten by the wolves and slain by the banditti, I mean; even the worst of the banditti do not, to my knowledge, eat their victims, although nothing would surprise me about the inhabitants of the Pyrenees).
Your dear friend,
Lucy
Miss Mary Bennet to Miss Lucy Sotherton
Longbourn, Hertfordshire,
September 21
Most noble Friend,
Mr Bingley has indeed returned to the neighbourhood. He called on us yesterday with his friend Mr Darcy, though, as Mama says, she does not know why Mr Darcy called, for no one wants him here. He said very little, only asked after my aunt and uncle Gardiner, though he made no enquiries after our cousin Mr Collins and his wife, Charlotte Collins. I did think at one time that Charlotte might have become a Learned Woman, since she showed no sign of frivolity and occasionally opened a book, but she was lost to us when she succumbed to the lure of Mr Collins’s masculine charms and walked along the bridal path with him as her chosen mate.
Mama believes that Mr Bingley means to make Jane an offer, and in an endeavour to hasten the courtship she remarked that when Mr Bingley has killed all his own birds he must come and kill Papa’s. But I believe it will take more than an invitation to deal out death to our wingèd friends to ensnare Mr Bingley, who is a slippery customer: as I said to Mr Shackleton, we have been down this path before. I only hope that Jane is not too disappointed when Mr Bingley disappears again.
Mary King has also returned to the neighbourhood. She was taken away by her relatives when Mr Wickham began to court her, having been alerted to his infamy by their cousin, Mark Haydock, who, as the rector of Kympton, knew something of Mr Wickham’s past. But now that Mr Wickham is married to my poor sister Lydia, Mary King is safe and so she has taken up residence here again.
Perhaps she might be persuaded to join our select circle.
Your vestal sister in humility,
Mary
Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Mrs Susan Wainwright
Longbourn, Hertfordshire,
September 22
Dear Susan,
By now you will have returned from your bridal tour. I hope it was everything you wished for, but I am glad, selfishly so, that you are back at home—that is to say, your new home—because I need someone to turn to, and only you will do.
Everything is in
turmoil here. Mr Bingley has returned to the neighbourhood and I believe he is as much in love with Jane as ever. He called on us the day before yesterday, bringing Mr Darcy with him, and I think he is waiting only for his friend’s approval before proposing.
Jane, of course, says that he is just being friendly and that she expects nothing from him. She declares that, now the first meeting is over, she will never be embarrassed by his coming here again, and says that she is glad he is to dine here tomorrow, so that everyone can see that they meet only as common and indifferent acquaintances.
So common and indifferent that I believe he will propose to her before very long, even if he does not have Mr Darcy’s approval!
I hope he does, for I cannot bear to see Jane unhappy and I wish Mr Bingley would put her out of her misery sooner rather than later, for there is no denying that his company is very uncomfortable for her whilst the situation is unresolved between them. It would not be apparent to anyone who does not know her well, but I can see that she is anxious and uneasy, whatever she might say. And small wonder, when everything she longs for in life is so near and yet so far away.
Mama increased her misery by fawning over Mr Bingley in the most embarrassing manner, and increased mine by treating Mr Darcy with the scantest civility. If she only knew what she owed him, for it was he who forced Wickham to marry Lydia, and without his influence I dread to think what would have happened to Lydia. But all Mama does is to revile him, saying she hates the very sight of him; whereas I find myself longing to speak to him, so that I can thank him for his kindness.
Susan, I do not know what to think. When Mr Darcy came to Longbourn, I found myself hoping against hope that his affection was unshaken and that, despite everything, he still loved me. But he did not speak to me, not even about commonplace things; in fact he scarcely opened his mouth. I was so embarrassed I buried myself in my needlework, but I could not resist glancing at him from time to time; however, his eyes were fixed on Jane more often than on me. On seeing this, I was overwhelmed with disappointment, and then was angry with myself for feeling that way, for how could I expect him to love a woman who had rejected him, and in so vehement a fashion?