We are going to my aunt Philips’s this evening for a celebratory game of lottery tickets. Charlotte Lucas will be there and Susan Sotherton, so I will have some congenial company. There is a rumour abroad that Charlotte’s father means to give up his business and move out of Meryton now that he has been given a knighthood. I hope to hear more about it from Charlotte tonight.
Susan is not so fortunate in her papa. He is still drinking a great deal more than is good for him, and his gambling is causing the family some unease. They have already had to sell two of the carriage horses and more economies look certain to follow—if Mr Sotherton can be persuaded to make them.
It is fortunate that Netherfield Park is entailed on Frederick, so that at least Mr Sotherton cannot gamble the roof from over their heads, as he does not own it but only holds it in trust for his son.
An entail is a strange thing, is it not? Here are we, bemoaning the fact that our estate is entailed, so that Papa cannot leave it to Mama (or anyone else he pleases) when he dies, but must leave it to Mr Collins, meaning that we will no longer have a home.
But with Susan’s family it is quite the reverse. They are relieved that Netherfield Park is entailed, for otherwise their papa could sell it and then they would no longer have anywhere to live. Mama hopes that one of us will marry Frederick, but as he appears to be quite as fond of drinking and gambling as his papa, we are none of us inclined to have him. We will not marry until we find men we like, admire, love and respect. Or, at least, Jane and I will not, though I cannot answer for my younger sisters, who seem to think that marriage to anyone is an object, just so long as they can do it by the age of sixteen.
Thank you again for my bonnet. It will have a second outing this evening, where I hope to astonish everyone with my finery.
Your loving niece,
Lizzy
Mrs Bennet to Mrs Gardiner
Longbourn, Hertfordshire, May 6
Ah! Sister, it is a sad day, a sad day indeed. To think I now have two daughters of eighteen years old or more and neither of them is married, nor in a way to being so. It is hard on a mother, very hard indeed. You know nothing of it yet, your children are still too young to be a worry to you, but it is a sore trial, it is a very sore trial indeed. And it plays havoc with my nerves. I have such palpitations when I think about it, such beatings of my heart, but no one here cares about it and no one pities me.
I did think, when Jane visited you a few years ago, and she met that nice young man in London who wrote her some poems, that she would soon be married, but it all came to nothing. You must ask her to visit you again. She can come to London at any time and Lizzy, too, can come at a moment’s notice. There will be more young men for them in London than there are in Meryton.
Indeed, I do not know who there is for them to marry here. There is only Frederick Sotherton, a handsome young man to be sure, and the heir to Netherfield Park, but wild, sister, very wild.
If the Lucas boys were older…But then, the Lucases never had any compassion, and their sons are too young even for Lydia. Do you not know anyone in London? We could all pay you a visit. We have not seen you or my brother for ever such a long time. You have only to say the word and we will be there in a trice, even though it is not pleasant for me to go out and about at my time of life. But no sacrifice is too great for my girls.
Your poor sister,
Janet
Mrs Gardiner to Miss Elizabeth Bennet
Gracechurch Street, London,
May 7
My dear Lizzy,
I am very glad that the bonnet was to your liking. I hope your day was enjoyable and that your mama did not bemoan your single state for too long. I am relieved that neither you nor Jane is inclined to have Frederick Sotherton. I remember him from my last visit—a young man who will get worse before he gets better, I dare say. I am sorry for Susan and her sisters. Their situation is far worse than yours; for, if your mama could only see it, there is very little danger of your papa dying for thirty years or more, by which time it is reasonable to assume that one of you will be settled in life and can help the others if need be. And if not, you can always come and live with us here.
But in this particular I agree with her: there are very few suitable young men in Meryton and so I have written to your mama, inviting you all to stay for a few weeks.
Your father, I dare say, will not feel he can join you, but we hope that your mama and sisters will stay with us until the end of June. You have not seen the children since Christmas and if you do not come soon, you will hardly recognise them when next you see them. Try to persuade your father to make one of the party. It will do him good to leave his library for a short while.
Give my love to your sisters,
Your fond Aunt Gardiner
Mrs Bennet to Mrs Gardiner
Longbourn, Hertfordshire,
May 9
Sister! You are so good to us! A few weeks in London is just what I need to set me up, and Jane will find someone, I am sure of it. All that beauty cannot be for nothing! We will have her married before the end of the summer, I am certain!
Your sister,
Janet
Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Miss Charlotte Lucas
Gracechurch Street, London,
May 20
Dearest Charlotte,
How welcome it is to be in London and with my aunt once again. To be sure, Jane and I have to suffer Mama’s constant hints about finding husbands, but we have an ally in our aunt, who is full of sympathy and calm good sense. She, at least, does not want us to catch the attention of every man between the ages of twenty and sixty, and can talk about other things than fortunes, expectations and handsome faces. She even refrains from talking about bridal bouquets if we should happen to dance twice with the same young man. And yet, if anything were to persuade me to marry, it would be my aunt’s example, because between her and my uncle there is love and understanding, with a great deal of mutual admiration and respect. The house is a happy one and I must confess, if I could find the same, I would be willing to enter into the married state.
But for now I am enjoying being unencumbered and delighting in the sights of London. We have been to the Lyceum Theatre and been well entertained with The Hypocrite, a play taken from Molière’s Tartuffe; we have been shopping and have bought some very fine muslin and a serviceable sarsenet from Grafton House; we have visited the museum and the British Gallery; we have walked in the parks and eaten ices at Gunter’s; in short, we have been devoting ourselves to pleasure!
The little children are thriving and are all benefiting from Jane’s company. She plays with them constantly and is always patient with them, and it is not difficult, for they are all of them well behaved.
The only person not very happy is my uncle. The war is bad for trade and he wishes it to end as soon as possible. We have met a number of émigrés here in London and they have seen horrors in their native France. It makes me very glad for what we have: a country where we might live out our lives in safety.
Does your brother still dream of going into the army? I hope not, or your mama will not know one easy day, worrying whether or not he is safe. Persuade him he would be better off joining the church, or following your papa into trade.
We will be here for another six weeks at least and we rely on you for news of home. Papa has promised to write but his letters are few and far between.
Your dear friend,
Lizzy
Miss Charlotte Lucas to Miss Elizabeth Bennet
Meryton, Hertfordshire,
May 22
Dearest Eliza,
What a time you are having, to be sure. I envy you your convivial entertainments and convivial company. With you and Jane gone from the neighbourhood, there is hardly anyone sensible for me to talk to. My mama is quite as eager as yours to see a daughter married, and continues to invite every promising young man to the house, but she is constantly disappointed. She invited an acquaintance of my papa’s last week and contrive
d to leave me alone with him for half an hour, but it did not answer. He talked to me about the weather for five minutes and then buried himself in a newspaper. I was not altogether surprised, as he was a very handsome young man and evidently thought well of himself. But I do not despair of ever finding a husband, though I would be happy to know that one would be forthcoming in the next two or three years. I am not yet an old maid, but that time is not far off.
I do not hope for much in marriage. I am not romantic and I know that such felicity as your aunt enjoys is not to be expected, though no doubt it is welcome if it should come about. But if a respectable man should offer for me, I dare say I would take him, regardless of my expectations of future happiness.
My brother is still eager to go into the army, but as he is yet too young to enlist there is time for him to change his mind.
And now I must go. We are having some friends to supper and there will be an impromptu dance afterwards. Mama has hopes of Mr Williams and is showering him with hospitality, but I think he comes only for the table. He is a man who very much likes to eat.
Give my best wishes to your friends and family in London.
Charlotte
JULY
Colonel Fitzwilliam to Mr Darcy
July 5
My dear Darcy,
At last I have time to write. I am not at liberty to divulge my position so reply to me at Fitzwilliam House and I will find your letter next month when I will, God willing, be home on leave. The army has been keeping me busy. You will have heard by now that the French have their sights set on Egypt and that General Bonaparte has landed in Alexandria. His aim is to disrupt our trade routes, but he is mistaken if he thinks Admiral Nelson will let him have all his own way. The French are no match for the British at sea.
I will call upon you at Pemberley on my way up to Cumbria. I hope to be there in the middle of August and I will be able to tell you much I am not at liberty to put in a letter. I know you are interested in the progress of the war and what it will mean for Pemberley, as well as our nation as a whole.
I am looking forward to seeing both you and Georgiana again. I intend to thank her in person for the pipe case she embroidered for me; it was very prettily done. I have seen much worse work from girls of sixteen, and Georgiana is only fourteen. You must be very proud of her accomplishments.
Your cousin,
Henry
Mr Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam
Darcy House, London, July 12
You are welcome at Pemberley anytime, you know that. You must stay with us for as long as you can. Georgiana will be delighted to see you and so will I. I am in London at present, but I will be taking Georgiana back to Pemberley in a few days’ time. I will be very glad to hear the truth about the war; we hear only a part of it here, and even that small part comes a long time after the event.
As for Georgiana, I am partial, but I agree with you. School has done her good and she is becoming very accomplished. I am very proud of her, as you will imagine, and I am persuaded my mother and father would have been proud of her, too.
I was worried, after my father died, that I would not be able to raise Georgiana, that I would not know how to take care of her, or how to make her happy; but the last three years have shown me that I am equal to the task. It has given me a great deal of pleasure, as well as a great deal of relief, to see her grow into such a happy…I was going to say, girl, but when I called her a little girl last week, she gave me a withering look and reminded me that she is fourteen. So you see, I am not a perfect brother, for all I flatter myself that I have done well!
You, it seems, are a perfect brother, if your sister Maud’s comments are to be believed. I saw her in town yesterday, with your mama. They were buying Maud’s wedding clothes. Maud spoke very highly of your good sense in liking her betrothed. I hear that he is a good man and likely to do well.
I had another chance encounter yesterday evening, for I came across Charles Bingley. Do you remember him? We were at school together. He was a few years younger than me, but I saved him once from a bout of bullying and his generous nature has liked me for it ever since. He has changed very little. He is still friendly and trusting. He reminds me of Georgiana in that way. Though he is some years older than her, being now at university, he has an innocence about him that is not often met with. I like it. Unfortunately, it makes him a target for every rogue in the city. I had to rescue him from the men who were fleecing him at cards and I suggested that, if he wished to play in future, he should join a reputable club. He confessed that he would like nothing better, but said he had no one to propose him, or to second him, either.
‘If that is all,’ I said, ‘I will propose you myself.’
He thanked me unaffectedly and I liked him even more.
I mean to make sure he is elected to the club. His open temper is agreeable and a good foil for my reserve. I will never rid myself of it, I fear, as it is a Darcy family trait and unavoidable. My father had it and, as you know only too well, my cousin Philip has it, too. It is fortunate that your side of the family suffers from no such difficulty. My mother was forthright, your father, too, and our aunt, Lady Catherine, cannot be accused of being reticent, or backward in giving her opinions!
We will look forward to welcoming you at Pemberley. Philip will be here. It is a long time since you have seen him and I know he is looking forward to meeting you again. I have to warn you, however, that he will probably try to find you a wife. He is always encouraging me to marry and reminding me that I am the last of my line. Fortunately, I have outgrown the morbid fancies that plagued me following my father’s death and I am content to take my time. A wife of mine must be beautiful, but in my experience, beauties are all too often conceited and I have no fancy for a conceited wife. Then, too, they rely on their beauty for their attraction and I must have an intelligent wife. All the bluestockings of my acquaintance are dull, however. Besides, they never want to leave town, and as I spend much of my time at Pemberley, that would not do.
I have looked about me in Derbyshire but I demand a great deal from a woman I could call Mrs Darcy, and as I have never met anyone who satisfies me I am content to remain a bachelor, at least for the time being.
If there is one thing I am looking forward to when I marry, it is that I will no longer be the target of every woman between the ages of sixteen and sixty. They follow me everywhere, and I grow tired of them flattering and praising me. How refreshing it would be to find someone who did not like me! But unless Pemberley should fall down, or I should lose my fortune, I believe I will search for such a woman in vain.
Darcy
Mr Charles Bingley to the Bingley family
London, July 15
Dear Mama, Papa, Caroline, Louisa, Ned, Harry, Amelia and Sue,
I should have written sooner, but upon my honour I have been very busy these last three weeks. I never knew it would be so difficult to engage a set of rooms! However, it is done now and I am very comfortable. My lodgings are in a good part of town and you will be pleased to know, Mama, that I have been invited to a number of parties. I met one of my old schoolfellows, Darcy, at the Carmichaels’. You have heard me speak of Darcy before: he saved me once at school, when some of the older boys were making sport of me. He performed a similar office for me two weeks ago and, though the bullies wanted my gold this time and not my hide, the upshot is that he has done me the great kindness of proposing me for White’s. There are many people who find him proud, but I have seen nothing of it. He is taciturn and reserved with those he does not know, but he is talkative enough with his friends, and I count myself lucky to be one of their number.
Caroline, I have bought the satin you asked for, and Louisa, I have bought you your music. They should reach you in Yorkshire in the next few days.
My love to you all,
Your affectionate son and brother,
Charles
Mr Frederick Bingley to Mr Charles Bingley
Yorkshire, July 16
&nb
sp; Well, my boy, your ma has been pestering me to write so I suppose I had better get on with it. We were all very pleased to hear about your friend Darcy helping you out. I said to your ma, ‘Ma,’ I said, ‘there’ll be no good comes of all this fancy schooling,’ but she would have you go to university, and I was afraid what would become of it. But this Darcy sounds like the right sort and I’m glad you’ve made friends with him. I don’t know I hold with you joining a club, but your mother says of course you must, it’s what all the gentlemen do. Just be careful, my boy, there’s plenty of sharks in the water, in business and in the fine world, too.
Your brother Ned has destroyed all your mother’s plans for him by saying he wants to take over the running of the shops. It won’t happen for a while, not till I’m dead, or at least so old I can’t manage, but I’m glad he’s taking an interest—as glad as I was when you didn’t. You’re a good lad, Charles, and I’m proud of you, but you never did have a head for business. You’d have been robbed and cheated by everyone you had to deal with, and we’d have ended up bankrupt.
Your mother and sisters are dancing about, saying I’m to ask you more about this Mr Darcy, but I’ve told ’em if they want to know more they’ll have to ask you themselves; I’ve work to do.
Your sister Caroline says she’ll put a note in with my letter.
Well, my boy, take care, and write again soon, your mother looks forward to your letters.
Your proud Pa
Miss Caroline Bingley to Mr Charles Bingley
Yorkshire, July 16
Greetings and felicitations, dearest brother.