Dear Mr. Darcy: A Retelling of Pride and Prejudice

JANUARY

Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Miss Susan Sotherton

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

January 1

My dear Susan,

My aunt and uncle have gone, taking Jane with them. I am glad she is to have a change of scene and, although I did not say so to her, I think there is some chance she might renew her acquaintance with Mr Bingley. My aunt told me it must not be thought of, as they live in such a different part of town that a meeting is unlikely, but if Mr Bingley learns that Jane is in London, I think it not unlikely that his former affection will be restored.

As for his sister Caroline, I wish that Jane could see her in her true colours, for she is a cold, supercilious young woman who will drop Jane just as soon as it suits her.

I hope your affair with Mr Wainwright is prospering, since our affairs all seem doomed at the moment. I am still very fond of Mr Wickham, who grows more agreeable every day, but my aunt has cautioned me against him—not because of his character but because of his lack of fortune. I have promised her to do my best not to fall in love with him. But it makes me think, Susan, where fortune is concerned, where does good sense end and avarice begin? If it is wrong to marry a man for his fortune, why is it then equally wrong to marry a man without a fortune? I will only hope that Mr Wickham will discover one of the wealthy great-uncles who have been so singularly lacking in our own lives, and that the said uncle will leave him a moderate fortune: not substantial enough to make me a fortune hunter, but large enough for us to live on with a degree of comfort.

Charlotte’s—I cannot say love, I had better say affairs—are, however, prospering. Mr Collins has returned to Meryton, but thankfully this time he is staying at Lucas Lodge and not at Longbourn. Tomorrow is to be the wedding day.

Charlotte has asked me to write to her often and I have promised to do so. I have also promised to visit her in Kent in March, when her father and her sister go there. I promised only reluctantly at first, as there can never be the closeness between us that there once was, but I find that I am looking forward to it. It will make a welcome change from home, I must confess, for Mama has still not stopped complaining that she has been cruelly used by Mr Collins, by Mr Bingley and by everyone else of her acquaintance. Besides, I am curious to see the parsonage and to meet Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Your dear friend,

Lizzy

Miss Jane Bennet to Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Gracechurch Street, London,

January 2

My dear Lizzy,

A short note to let you know that we have arrived safely and it is already doing me good to be here. I have nothing further to say, but when I write to you again, I hope to be able to give you news of the Bingleys. Now that Caroline knows I am in town, I am sure she will call here soon.

Your loving sister,

Jane

Mrs Charlotte Collins to Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,

January 5

Dear Eliza,

You will be wanting to hear all about my new life and I am only too ready to tell you. Everything here is much as I expected, and it is all to my satisfaction. The parsonage is a good house, better even than I had hoped. It is well proportioned and although it is rather small it is well built and convenient. It is set back from the road amidst a large and well laid out garden which slopes down to the road at the front, so that we can see everyone who passes and, beyond the road, we can see Rosings Park. To the back, we have fine views over fields, and I know you will enjoy walking in them.

We have dined already at Rosings. I believe that Lady Catherine wanted to take a look at me, her curiosity being natural, and I was not sorry to become acquainted with her. She is a respectable, sensible woman and a most attentive neighbour.

There is not much in the way of society, as the parsonage is some way from the nearest town, but I knew to begin with that it would take time for me to settle into my new neighbourhood and so I do not complain. I have my home and my housekeeping, my parish and my poultry to keep me busy, and I am getting to know my way about the place. I am pleased with everything and have no fault to find.

Write to me soon,

Charlotte

Miss Jane Bennet to Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Gracechurch Street, London,

January 6

My dearest Lizzy will forgive me for not writing sooner, but I have had very little to report. I have been a week in town without either seeing or hearing from Caroline. I am surprised, and I can only account for it by thinking that my last letter to her must have gone astray. My aunt is going tomorrow into that part of the town, and I shall take the opportunity of calling in Grosvenor Street. I will write more then, when I hope I will have more to say.

January 7

I have paid my call. I did not think Caroline in spirits, but she was very glad to see me, and reproached me for giving her no notice of my coming to London. I was right, therefore; my last letter had never reached her. I enquired after their brother, of course. He was well, but so much engaged with Mr Darcy that they scarcely ever saw him. I found that Miss Darcy was expected to dinner. I wish I could see her. My visit was not long, as Caroline and Mrs Hurst were going out. I dare say I shall see them soon here.

Your loving sister,

Jane

Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Mrs Charlotte Collins

Longbourn, Hertfordshire, January 8

I am glad you find everything to your liking in Kent. The parsonage and garden sound everything you want, and if anyone could bring out the best in them, dear Charlotte, it is you.

Life in Hertfordshire is much as it was before you left. My sister, Jane, as you know, has gone to London, and finds the amusements lively, but she has not had a chance to see Mr Bingley. It is obvious that his sisters do not mean to let her have him. Poor Jane! Always so good. She cannot see through Caroline’s lies, for Caroline did not visit her in London and then, when Jane called, pretended that news of Jane’s stay in London had not arrived. I do not know whether to wish that Jane would see through her false friend, or whether to wish that she should preserve her goodness despite the fact that Caroline does not deserve her confidence.

We have our share of amusements here. The weather is fine and I walk a great deal, sometimes accompanied by the officers. I must confess that I like Mr Wickham more and more each day, despite my efforts to resist his charms. If only he had a fortune! Or at least the rectory he was promised, and the living he should have had, if Mr Darcy had not deprived him of it. That odious man! To ruin forever the prospects of such an admirable young man as Mr Wickham. I am glad that Mr Darcy is not to return to the neighbourhood, for I would almost certainly tell him what I thought of him and his cruel behaviour.

I have heard from Susan. Her affair with Mr Wainwright proceeds apace. I think it is serious on both their sides and would not be surprised to hear news of an engagement soon.

Kitty and Lydia send their love.

Lizzy

Mr Wickham to Mr Parker

Meryton, Hertfordshire,

January 10

A stroke of luck. One of the Meryton ladies, Miss King, has been left a fortune of ten thousand pounds. I heard of it by chance and managed to pay her some compliments before it was generally known, so that she did not suspect me of being a fortune hunter. She was flattered and giggled encouragingly: she is a plain girl, and I believe it was the first time anyone had ever taken any notice of her. Ten thousand is not a great fortune, it is true, but in my present circumstances it is better than nothing.

I have had to gradually withdraw my attentions from Miss Elizabeth, which is a pity, as I like her very well; in fact, if things were different I might be tempted by her. But as they are, I cannot marry a woman with so little and I must look elsewhere. She has noticed my defection, of course, but there was a look of understanding and resignation in her eye and I think she does not despise me for it. She knows how the world works as well as I do. A man must have something to live on, and that is the way of things. And so I pursue Miss King and if I am lucky, I will soon be the master of her ten thousand pounds. Then you must come and stay with us. It will relieve you of the expense of living and give me some company, for Lord knows I need someone lively here. The other officers are well enough in their way, but their interests are not mine and I feel I am always playing a part in front of them. With you I can be myself, for you are as bad as I am.

Wickham

Miss Mary Bennet to Miss Lucy Sotherton

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

January 12

Most noble Friend,

I am sending you my thoughts on our latest history, misleadingly entitled A Sicilian Romance, when A Young Lady’s Exploration of the Geology of Her Native Country would have been a more suitable title. It was a very illuminating document and I was enthralled by the account of the labyrinthine catacombs to be found beneath the marquis’s castle. The rock on which it was built must have been of some soft variety, and the caves were no doubt made by the act of water upon the stone.

I was also entranced by the musical content of this most worthy tome, and interested to know that Julia’s singing had alerted her dead mother’s friend to her presence in the wilderness. This aspect of the human voice is often overlooked in histories, but its power for reuniting lost loved ones is nevertheless an important one. And how deeply philosophical were the reflections of Hippolitus. I am glad that you found such a useful book in the circulating library, and I am gratified that it was written by a woman. I have written to Mrs Radcliffe and invited her to join our select circle of Learned Women.

I have recommended the work to Mr Shackleton. It is good to know that there is one person in Meryton who has a brain, even if, when I told him I was thinking of becoming a bluestocking, he said that he was sure I would be the most intelligent girl in Meryton, whatever the colour of my stockings. I had to inform him that a bluestocking was a Learned Woman who spent her time in rational activities, and who discussed literature and other intellectual things, instead of wasting her time on balls and bonnets. He listened attentively and then apologised earnestly for his mistake. I told him graciously that it was no matter, and we continued to have a lively discussion about music and literature.

To be sure, I thought I had misjudged him when I felt his hand on my knee. But when I reproved him, saying that we were in Meryton and not in Sodom and Gomorrah, he was heartily offended and said that he had merely been brushing a moth from my gown.

It was then my turn to apologise.

Your sister in all but relatedness,

Mary

Miss Lydia Bennet to Miss Eleanor Sotherton

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

January 18

Dear Ellie,

Such larks! We were at my aunt Philips’s house last night and Captain Carter was there and he pretended to be Colonel Forster. He cut off a lock of my hair and used it to make a moustache. We laughed and laughed.

Talking of Colonel Forster, the rumours are true, he is to be married.

Miss Watson pretends to care nothing of it, but Kitty says that Miss Watson suspected something last November and told him that if he could not tell her it was a lie he had better not come to her house again. So that is why he stopped going there.

It seems he has known Miss Harriet Brown for years. She lives in his hometown and there was an understanding between them, but then she was cool to him the last time he was home on leave and so that is why he took up with Miss Watson. But now Miss Harriet is smiling on him again.

He is to be married next month, or soon after, and he is to bring Miss Harriet to Meryton. She is not much older than I am, and Mama said if he had not been spoken for already she was sure Colonel Forster would have proposed to me. I wonder what his wife will be like. I hope she will be fond of dancing and give lots of balls.

Lizzy has not been so lucky. Mr Wickham has deserted her for Mary King—nasty freckled thing—just because Miss King inherited ten thousand pounds. I am sure I cannot blame Miss King for wanting him, he is ever so handsome, but I wish Lizzy could inherit ten thousand pounds and then she could have him. Or even better I could inherit it and then I could be Mrs Wickham! I will be sixteen in June and I hope to be married soon after. What fun it would be to be married before my sisters, and to be married to someone as handsome as Mr Wickham!

Kitty sends her love but is too busy to write as she is trimming her bonnet.

Your good friend,

Lydia

Miss Eleanor Sotherton to Miss Lydia Bennet

Bath, January 20

I wish we had some officers here, everyone is ancient, at least a hundred, and they talk of nothing but their gout, all except my sister Susan, who is newly engaged to Mr Wainwright. He is very handsome and very rich and I wish he had a brother for me to marry but he has only three sisters.

Frederick is surprisingly sober. Lucy is as prosy as ever. She is busy reading a novel which she insists is a history book. She is making extracts from it and then making notes on the extracts, just as if it were a learned work. She thinks it is a treatise on the iniquities of the Catholic Church and the causes of the French Revolution, when it is nothing but a story about a girl whose wicked father has locked her mother in the catacombs so that he can marry someone else. But at least it is better than her sermonizing and telling us to study all the time.

Hurry up and marry someone and then invite me to stay. If I have to live in Bath much longer I will die of boredom.

What is Kitty doing to her bonnet?

Your devoted friend,

Ellie

Miss Jane Bennet to Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Gracechurch Street, London,

January 22

My dearest Lizzy will, I am sure, be incapable of triumphing in her better judgment, at my expense, when I confess myself to have been entirely deceived in Miss Bingley’s regard for me. But, my dear sister, though the event has proved you right, do not think me obstinate if I still assert that, considering what her behaviour was, my confidence was as natural as your suspicion. I do not at all comprehend her reason for wishing to be intimate with me; but if the same circumstances were to happen again, I am sure I should be deceived again.

Caroline did not return my visit till yesterday; and not a note, not a line, did I receive in the meantime. When she did come, it was very evident that she had no pleasure in it; she made a slight, formal apology for not calling before, said not a word of wishing to see me again, and was in every respect so altered a creature, that when she went away, I was perfectly resolved to continue the acquaintance no longer. I pity her, though I cannot help blaming her. She was very wrong in singling me out as she did; I can safely say that every advance to intimacy began on her side. But I pity her, because she must feel that she has been acting wrong, and because I am very sure that anxiety for her brother is the cause of it. I need not explain myself further; and though we know this anxiety to be quite needless, yet if she feels it, it will easily account for her behaviour to me; and so deservedly dear as he is to his sister, whatever anxiety she may feel on his behalf is natural and amiable.

I cannot but wonder, however, at her having any such fears now, because if he had at all cared about me, we must have met long, long ago. He knows of my being in town, I am certain, from something she said herself; and yet it would seem, by her manner of talking, as if she wanted to persuade herself that he is really partial to Miss Darcy. I cannot understand it. If I were not afraid of judging harshly, I should be almost tempted to say that there is a strong appearance of duplicity in all this. But I will endeavour to banish every painful thought, and think only of what will make me happy—your affection, and the invariable kindness of my dear uncle and aunt. Let me hear from you very soon.

Miss Bingley said something of his never returning to Netherfield again, of giving up the house, but not with any certainty. We had better not mention it. I am extremely glad that you have such pleasant accounts from our friends at Hunsford. Pray remember me to them, and do go to see them, with Sir William and Maria. I am sure you will be very comfortable there.

Yours truly,

Jane

Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Mrs Charlotte Collins

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

January 22

My dear Charlotte,

I am commanded to send you my sister Jane’s best wishes, and I do so gladly, knowing that you will be happy to receive them. Mr Bingley, alas, is not so willing to receive them, or rather, I suspect, his sister is determined that he should not have them. Jane has been three weeks now in London and has finally seen through Miss Bingley’s protestations of friendship, having been treated coldly and with incivility. Miss Bingley wishes her brother to marry Miss Darcy, and she is determined that Jane shall not come between them. From everything Mr Wickham has said of Miss Darcy, she will make him abundantly regret what he has thrown away in Jane, being an imperious girl, every bit as proud and disagreeable as her brother.

It seems that everyone is playing us false this New Year, when at the end of last year everything seemed so promising: Jane unhappy, and my own situation not much better, though I believe I have a temperament which can better bear the loss. Mr Wickham has become less and less attentive, and although my head applauds this turn of events, my affections cannot be so triumphant. I still think him one of the most charming young men of my acquaintance, but his poverty has caused him to transfer his attentions to Miss King, who has recently inherited ten thousand pounds. It is an inducement, is it not? Though I believe that I would have been his choice had his fortune permitted it.

I am looking forward to visiting you in March.

Your friend,

Lizzy

Mrs Gardiner to Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Gracechurch Street, London,

January 22

My dear Lizzy,

I know you have heard from Jane, and so you are aware that Miss Bingley has been a false friend to your sister, and that Jane does not intend to see Caroline again. I cannot say that I am sorry. It would have been very difficult for the two young women to be friends when the spectre of the brother’s previous affection lay between them. And even if this were not the case, I would not like Miss Bingley as a friend for Jane; she is a very cold and supercilious woman. Your sister has now accepted that her intimacy with the Bingleys is at an end.

But what of you? When last we met you promised me you would not encourage your feelings for Mr Wickham. Have you been successful in your endeavour, or is he still a favourite with you? Let me know how you go on.

Your affectionate aunt,

Margaret

Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Mrs Gardiner

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

January 24

My dear aunt,

I have that to tell you about Mr Wickham which will please you more than it pleases me: his attentions are at an end. I am now convinced, my dear aunt, that I have never been much in love; for had I really experienced that pure and elevating passion, I should at present detest his very name, and wish him all manner of evil. But my feelings are not only cordial towards him, they are even impartial towards Miss King, to whom he has transferred his affections.

I cannot find out that I hate her at all, or that I am in the least unwilling to think her a very good sort of girl. There can be no love in all this. My watchfulness has been effectual; and though I should certainly be a more interesting object to all my acquaintance were I distractedly in love with him, I cannot say that I regret my comparative insignificance. Importance may sometimes be purchased too dearly.

Kitty and Lydia take his defection much more to heart than I do. They are young in the ways of the world, and not yet open to the mortifying conviction that handsome young men must have something to live on as well as the plain.

Your loving niece,

Lizzy

FEBRUARY

Mr Charles Bingley to Mrs Bingley

Bath, February 10

Dearest Ma,

Caroline said that I looked seedy, she thought London was not doing me good and she persuaded me to take a house in Bath, so here we are. Upon my honour it is lively enough but somehow the concerts and amusements do not entertain me as much as I thought they would. I am glad you are coming to stay with us; I am looking forward to seeing you again and you must stay until Easter.

I thought of going back to Netherfield Park next month but as I would have to see Miss Bennet again, and as Darcy and Caroline assure me that Miss Bennet had no affection for me, I have decided against it. I think it would be hard to be with her and know that she did not care for me. I am not complaining. She is an angel and can do far better I am sure, for I am a very ordinary sort of fellow. Come soon, Ma, you will like it here. If Ned cannot tear himself away from business, then come without him.

Your loving son,

Charles

Mrs Bingley to Mr Charles Bingley

Yorkshire, February 12

If that girl doesn’t think she’s the luckiest girl alive to have won your affections, Charles, then she’s not worth a candle. There are plenty of other girls who know a good thing when they see it. You’ll have them falling all over you before long, you mark my words. Never you fret, your old ma will be there next week and we’ll have a high old time of it. Is that friend of yours, Mr Darcy, there? How is Caroline getting along with him?

Your doting Ma

Mr Charles Bingley to Mrs Bingley

Bath, February 14

Dear Ma,

Caroline thinks she is getting along very well with Mr Darcy but she is no further forward than before. He is not in Bath; he has gone to stay with his cousins in Cumbria. Caroline wanted me to take a house there also but I told her I will not chase Darcy round the country like a puppy and so she has had to make do with Bath.

Your loving son,

Charles

Mr Darcy to Mr Bingley

Fitzwater Park, Cumbria,

February 19

Dear Charles,

I have just had a letter from Georgiana and she asked after you particularly. I know how much she enjoyed your company over Christmas and I hope you will come to stay with us at Pemberley after Easter.

I find myself in the middle of unusually clement weather up here in the Lake District, thank God, for you know how much I detest bad weather in the country. But the days are fine and we spend them out of doors, sailing on the lake, riding, fishing, and taking outings to entertain the ladies. They are all of them very accomplished and they paint and sketch; they are as pleased as we men that the weather is fine.

Maud is well and my godson is thriving. He was christened yesterday. He has a fine set of lungs and he displayed them to us throughout the ceremony. Maud made several comments about wanting to repay me by standing godmother to my children and exhorted me to provide her with them without delay. My aunt was of the same mind and introduced me to a very pretty young woman by the name of Miss Barton; however, I made it clear to her that I have no plans to marry this year.

The rector, Mr Grayson, accompanied us back to the Park and I was glad of it for I wanted to ask if he could recommend a deserving young man to fill the living of Kympton. It is only eighteen months since I had to appoint a new incumbent when Mr Rogers died, but now his successor has met with an unlucky accident and I am having to fill the living again. Luckily Mr Grayson was able to recommend a young man who is newly ordained but who is known to Mr Grayson personally and sounds very promising. I mean to speak with him tomorrow and see if he would be suitable.

The only complaint I have to make of my present circumstances is that my aunt is fond of charades and I am obliged to play, though I avoid it whenever I can.

I hope you are well entertained in Bath. Pray write to Georgiana and let her know how you get on—she has never been to Bath and she is longing to hear all about it. I know that Caroline and Louisa have promised to write but I believe Georgiana would value a letter from all of you. I have encouraged her to reply to everything she receives, as it will give her some practise in the art of letter writing, which will be very useful to her.

Darcy

Mr Bingley to Mr Darcy

Bath, February 25

My dear Darcy,

Of course I will write to Georgiana. You should bring her here, there are concerts and balls and all manner of entertainments. She is a little young for some of them, to be sure, but Caroline is convinced she would like the libraries and the firework displays and begs me to ask you to join us here as soon as you return from Cumbria. One of my younger sisters is here, who is not yet sixteen, and two of my younger brothers, and they are all very taken with the place. My mother is enjoying herself, too.

Have you heard anything from Colonel Forster? You will remember we met him in Meryton. I have written to him several times to ascertain his thoughts on the war. It seems a long way away, but my brother Ned is interested in the future of the hostilities because it affects the future of trade. Upon my soul, Ned has done very well for himself and we are all very proud of him, though Caroline says he needs to buy himself a new coat.

You will like to hear something of our neighbours at Netherfield. Colonel Forster happened to mention something about them in his letters and it seems that Charlotte Lucas has married Mr Collins. Did you know? If you remember, Mr Collins was the cousin of the Bennets, and also, I believe, your aunt’s rector. If you go to Rosings at Easter as usual, it seems likely you will see her there.

Bingley

MARCH

Mr Darcy to Mr Bingley

Fitzwater Park, Cumbria,

March 7

My dear Bingley,

I knew of Mr Collins’s marriage, as you surmised. Hurst heard something of it as we left Netherfield and he happened to mention it to me. It seems that Mr Collins proposed to Miss Elizabeth Bennet at first but was refused and then found more favour with her friend. He is fortunate in his wife, I think—I remember Miss Lucas as being a sensible young woman.

I have given the living of Kympton to Grayson’s protégé, Mark Haydock. I heard him preach as part of his duties as the curate of Highwater, and my aunt invited him to Fitzwater Park so that I could see something more of him. He is young, intelligent, sensible and committed to the church, whilst understanding the foibles of human nature and being prepared to encounter them in all their forms. He is popular with the people hereabouts as he does not preach, unless it is from the pulpit, and yet he sets a good example in his daily life. He attracts a great deal of attention from the ladies, as he has a handsome face but he does not trade on it. I think he will do very well.

Darcy

Mr Mark Haydock to Mrs Haydock

Cumbria, March 7

Mama, I have had a piece of astonishing good fortune. The Fitzwilliams have guests and one of them is a cousin of theirs, a Mr Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire. He happened to need a rector for one of his livings and I was recommended to him. In short, he has given me the living! It is a great thing for me, a very great thing indeed, the kind of preferment I could only dream of. The living is a handsome one and, from all I hear, the rectory is a fine house in large gardens. Mr Darcy himself is an imposing gentleman. I was nervous of him at first, although he is not many years older than I am, for he has an air of pride about him, but once I began to know him, I found him to be intelligent and—I will not say agreeable, for he remained aloof throughout our meetings—but at least not disagreeable. I think I have been very lucky and I have given thanks for it, you may be sure.

I am to travel to Derbyshire at the end of March and take up my duties shortly thereafter. I will write to you when I have any more news.

Your loving son,

Matthew

Mrs Charlotte Collins to Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,

March 10

Dear Eliza,

The daffodils are out and the banks outside the parsonage are covered in them. Mr Collins has spent the morning digging up some of the bulbs and moving them around the garden, a healthy recreation which I have encouraged, though I believe they looked prettier where they were.

He is a little out of sorts at the moment. When we went to Rosings Park for dinner last night, Lady Catherine happened to mention that her nephew, Mr Darcy, had been looking for a new vicar to fill the living of Kympton and I could tell that Mr Collins hoped he might be given it, for it would have meant an extra two hundred pounds a year. He began to say that he had been most impressed with Mr Darcy when he met him at Netherfield, and that it would be an honour to serve such a bountiful man, but hardly were the words out of his mouth than Lady Catherine finished by saying that Mr Darcy had already appointed a Mr Haydock. Mr Collins was disappointed, I could see, but he immediately remarked that he was sure a nephew of Lady Catherine’s could never appoint anyone unworthy to such an important position, and to console himself with the fact that Mr Darcy may have other livings to give.

I hope you have not forgotten your promise to visit me. I miss you, Eliza, and I look forward to seeing you and to showing you my new home. My father and sister are to set out on the twenty-third and you promised to be one of the party, you know. Indeed, I quite rely upon it. We are unlikely to leave Kent for some time, Mr Collins being unable to leave his duties, and I would like to remind myself of my Hertfordshire life and Hertfordshire friends.

Your friend,

Charlotte

Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Mrs Charlotte Collins

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

March 15

My dear Charlotte,

How can I refuse you? Besides, I am looking forward to seeing you again. The arrangements have all been made, and even improved, for now we are all to stay with my aunt and uncle for a night on our way down to Kent. We will be leaving Longbourn on the twenty-third and as it is only twenty-four miles, there will be plenty of time for us to spend the morning shopping and the evening at the theatre before we leave again. We will be with you by the twenty-fourth.

I am longing to see Jane again. She writes to me often but although she takes great pains to make sure her letters are cheerful, and although I know she loves being with our aunt and uncle and our troop of little cousins, I know she still misses Mr Bingley. That odious Caroline! She has deliberately separated them, I am sure of it, and that odious Mr Darcy! He is as bad as Caroline, if not worse. Who are they to decide how Jane and Bingley shall be happy? What business is it of theirs? And now Jane is pining for him. I hear it in her letters, for try as she might she cannot make them as lighthearted as they once were. But I console myself that I will be with her again soon and then I will be able to better judge how far she is from recovery.

I must confess that, quite apart from the joy of seeing you and Jane again, I will not be sorry to get away from home. Mary practises the pianoforte, very loudly, for hours every day and my only escape is to go for a walk; which, as the weather is cold and wet, brings me no pleasure. Kitty and Lydia are worse than ever. Colonel Forster’s new wife is very young and just as silly as my sisters, and she is always having parties where they dress up and make a lot of noise, laughing with the officers. Officers are all very well, but I confess since the loss of the attentions of one, the others hold very little interest for me.

He is still friendly, still attentive, but in a different way. He makes it clear by small words and looks and gestures that he is not free to marry as he will, and I understand him perfectly. We are still very much of one mind on most things, however, and, whether married or single, he must always be my model of the amiable and pleasing. It is perhaps a good thing, then, that I am to go away, for it cannot be long before he marries Miss King and I would rather not be here when the wedding takes place.

Your friend,

Lizzy

Miss Mary Bennet to Miss Lucy Sotherton

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

March 23

Most noble Friend,

My sister Jane is in London still and my sister Elizabeth has left for Kent, which means that I can practise on the pianoforte for hours together without any interruption. To be sure, Mama says my playing gives her a headache and Papa asks if I would not rather be outdoors, and Kitty cries whenever I approach the instrument, but these are no more than the ordinary obstacles which fall into the path of the Learned Woman.

Mr Shackleton agrees with me. I discussed the matter with him this evening, when we both dined with my aunt Philips, and he said that the lives of the great were always fraught with difficulty.

I was prevailed upon to play the pianoforte after dinner. I was just embarking on my second sonnata when I was alarmed to find Mr Shackleton’s arm around me. He was shocked when I reproved him and said that I had mistaken his motives entirely, explaining that he had merely been reaching round me to turn over the pages of my music.

Harmony was restored, as I remarked to him as I embarked on a third sonnata, and he laughed at my witticism and said that I should make a note of it in my book of extracts. I have duly done so. My only regret is that no one ever reads the book. I am sure my sisters would benefit from it, for it would be sure to impart learning and wisdom to anyone who opened its pages. I have tried to encourage Lydia and Kitty to read it, and to be sure Lydia started to do so, but she only laughed when she read that Mr Shackleton had had his hand on my knee, and Kitty was no better, saying that there should only be one n in sonnata.

Your sister under the skin,

Mary

Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Miss Susan Sotherton

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,

March 24

You will be anxious to know all about my visit to London and my arrival in Kent, and so I sit down now to write you a letter.

Jane was very happy to see me and I to see her, as you can imagine. We have been apart for a long time and we had much to talk about. But on questioning my aunt later, I found that my dear sister has periods of dejection, and who can blame her? She has lost the attentions of a most amiable young man, through no fault of her own, and does not see how she will ever meet a man she likes half as well. I sympathise with her deeply, for I am no luckier in my attachment to Mr Wickham, but I believe my spirits are of a sort to better bear the disappointment. Besides, I was not separated from him by others, but by his own choice, and that I think makes it easier to bear.

Through all this, though, I cannot help blaming Mr Bingley, for if he was as much in love with Jane as he appeared he should have resisted his friends’ efforts to influence him and followed his heart; which leads me to think that it is possible for a young man to be too amiable. But even as I write this I remember Mr Darcy saying that Mr Bingley was easily swayed by his friends; how much more blameworthy, then, must those friends be for influencing someone they knew would not be able to resist. But blame will not help Jane, and I believe that she is in the best place, where there is congenial company and plenty to do.

The company here at Hunsford is not so congenial. Charlotte is the same, but I cannot place such confidence in her as formerly, for I cannot forgive her for marrying such a stupid man. She has a home, it is true, and a life of her own, but the price she paid is a heavy one and although she does not resent it, I resent it for her. Oh, why can there not be as many amiable and sensible young men in the world as there are women who deserve them! She welcomed me affectionately, however, and I was very pleased I had come. Despite everything, I miss her. Meryton is unfortunately not supplied with so many sensible young women that I can easily bear the loss of another one.

Mr Collins was in all his glory, displaying the good proportions of the rooms, their aspects and their furniture—everything from the sideboard to the fender—and showing us around the garden, pointing out the numbers of fields beyond. Sir William and Maria were as admiring as he could have wished for, pleased with everything they saw and exclaiming over the sight of Rosings Park in the distance.

Luckily I did not have the right shoes for walking over the fields, nor did Maria nor Charlotte, and whilst Mr Collins conducted Sir William thither, we three returned to the house. With Mr Collins forgotten there was an air of comfort throughout, and I believe he is very often forgotten. And when he cannot be forgotten, and says something particularly foolish, then Charlotte is wise enough not to hear.

We are to have the honour of seeing Lady Catherine at church on Sunday, and I am assured by Mr Collins that she is all affability and condescension; although I was warned by Mr Wickham that she is authoritative and self-important, and I suspect his judgement is the true one. Apparently, she is likely to include Maria, Sir William and myself in every invitation issued to the Collinses for the length of our stay—courtesy indeed!

And so our time is to be spent sharing Charlotte’s daily activities, which will be enjoyable enough. It will only be made vexatious when we are interrupted by Mr Collins or patronised by Lady Catherine.

Then, my dear Susan, I will have more pleasures to look forward to, for my aunt and uncle have invited me to go on a tour of the Lake District with them in the summer. I am already looking forward to it.

Write soon and tell me all your news.

Lizzy

Miss Susan Sotherton to Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Bath, March 25

Dearest Lizzy,

Your letter makes me ashamed—I have not written to you in an age, for my Mr Wainwright is keeping me busy. I have been to visit his family and found them all charming, and a wedding date has been set. We are to be married in August. My mama is very happy, for it is a better match than she hoped for me, and I am overjoyed, as I truly love my Mr Wainwright. Papa is happy, as Mr Wainwright’s mother has insisted on arranging the wedding, so it will not cost Papa a penny, and he went out to celebrate by getting drunk. Frederick, however, said he wished me happy and gave me a small present, a brooch, bought with money he had saved himself from his inheritance from our late aunt. Although it is not a large fortune, it is not inconsiderable and he has begun to husband it, spending less than its income so that he is gradually restoring the capital. News of this has spread and he is no longer shunned so resolutely by the Bath mamas. Eleanor is now more hopeful of finding a husband for herself, and Lucy hopes that Frederick will restore the library at Netherfield so that she might continue her studies there when we return home. If we return home. But as Jane no longer needs Netherfield to be let to Mr Bingley, I hope we will return home sooner rather than later. Alas, until Papa mends his ways it is not likely.

I am glad that Charlotte is happy. I wish her many fine days and a husband who is busy elsewhere. And to you, Lizzy, I wish fine weather for country walks and a handsome stranger.

Your dear friend,

Susan

Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Miss Jane Bennet

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,

March 26

My dearest Jane,

I have had my first sight of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. We dined at Rosings last night and saw her in all her glory. She is a tall, large woman with strongly marked features and a sense of self-importance which rendered Sir William speechless and reduced Maria to perching, in fright, on the edge of her chair.

Miss de Bourgh was as unlike her mother as it was possible to be, for she was thin and small, with insignificant features; there was neither in face nor figure any likeness between the ladies.

The dinner was exceedingly handsome, and Mr Collins could not have been happier as he took his place at the bottom of the table, by her ladyship’s desire. Lucky Mr Collins, to be so easily pleased! He commended every dish, his flattery echoed by Sir William, so that I wonder Lady Catherine could bear it; however, she seemed very pleased. We ate almost in silence, although when we retired to the drawing room after dinner, there was a great deal of talking, all on Lady Catherine’s side. She held forth at length, enquiring into Charlotte’s domestic concerns and giving her a great deal of unnecessary advice, and then turned her attention to me. Oh, Jane! I could scarcely keep from expressing my astonishment at her impertinence when she asked about my sisters, demanding to know if any of them were handsome or likely to be married soon, where they had been educated and what kind of carriage my father kept! She then demanded to know about our governesses, and on learning that we had none, remarked that our mother must have been a slave to our education! I did not know where to look, nor how to keep from smiling! She then deigned to tell me that my sisters should not all be out at once, and was surprised when I answered her back, saying that I saw no reason why the younger girls should not have their share of society and amusement as well as the older. I do not believe anyone has ever answered her back before.

The gentlemen soon joined us and we played at casino, but there was no conversation that did not pertain to the game. When Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh had played as long as they wished, the tables were broken up and the carriage was ordered, and I was asked for my opinion of Lady Catherine on our way home. I gave what praise I could, but Mr Collins was not satisfied and took matters into his own hands, praising Lady Catherine as he felt she deserved. He had not done by the time we reached the parsonage, and he followed me upstairs so that he could continue singing her praises. It was only when I bid him a firm ‘Good night’ that he gave over, but I heard him saying, ‘affable…condescending…’ to Charlotte as they went downstairs.

How I am to manage here over the next few weeks I do not know. I am sure I will find it more and more difficult to remain silent whilst Lady Catherine gives her decided opinion on everyone and everything; however, I am determined to be on my best behaviour for Charlotte’s sake.

Sir William will be here only for a week and will then return to Meryton, but Maria will stay here for six weeks with me. I wish you could be here, too, Jane, but I am persuaded you will be much happier where you are.

Your loving sister,

Lizzy

Miss Jane Bennet to Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Gracechurch Street, London,

March 30

Dearest Lizzy,

Your letter made me smile. I am sure I am glad it is you and not I who have to face Lady Catherine; she sounds to be as formidable as I had expected. I am very glad to be here with my aunt and uncle instead. We have had fine weather since you left and I walk in the park with the children every day. We have been to the theatre again and this evening we go to a concert. My aunt has invited a number of young men to dine. She says nothing but I know she is hoping to help me over my disappointment by reminding me that other young men exist. And indeed, I know that they do, only none I like as well as…But there, I will not mention his name, it is better not. He is destined for another and there is no use repining.

I have had a letter from Mama, telling me not to hurry home, for she is sure there are many more eligible young men in London than in Meryton. Lydia included a note, asking me to send her a sketch of the latest fashions, for she is going to one of Colonel Forster’s balls, and Kitty asked me for some sarsenet. My aunt and I are going to Grafton House tomorrow to buy it. Mary has asked for some music, as she is planning to play a sonata. I cannot help thinking that there will be little call for a sonata at a ball.

Your loving sister,

Jane

APRIL

Mrs Charlotte Collins to Miss Susan Sotherton

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,

April 14

Dear Susan,

As you know, Elizabeth is our guest at the parsonage, together with my sister, but what I think you do not yet know is that Mr Darcy is here also, staying with his aunt Lady Catherine. He has only been here a few days and yet I suspect as much as I did last autumn that he is attracted to Elizabeth, though she persists in thinking he does not like her. It is possible that he looks at her only to find fault with her, as she thinks, but I do not believe it. When Mr Collins went to pay his respects to Mr Darcy and his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam, who is also a guest at Rosings, the gentlemen returned to the parsonage with him. I am sure that Mr Darcy would not have waited on us so soon if Elizabeth had not been here. He had little to say for himself, but his eyes were drawn to her and at last remembering his manners, he enquired after the Bennets. Eliza could not resist saying that Jane had been in town for three months and asking if he had seen her, to which Mr Darcy replied that he had not. Elizabeth pursued the subject no further and I think Mr Darcy was happy to let it drop. However, he continued to look at her until he and his cousin returned to Rosings.

We dined with Lady Catherine, and Mr Darcy was once again very attentive to Elizabeth, as was his cousin, and I am not surprised for Elizabeth was at her liveliest. Even Lady Catherine demanded to have her share of their conversation. When coffee was over, Colonel Fitzwilliam invited Eliza to play the piano and Lady Catherine engaged Mr Darcy in conversation, but the latter abandoned her soon enough and walked over to the piano to listen to Eliza. He positioned himself so as to be able to see her face and Elizabeth teased him, saying that he had come to frighten her. He looked surprised, but not displeased. I am sure he has never met anyone like Elizabeth before. She continued to tease him, saying to Colonel Fitzwilliam that Mr Darcy had danced only four dances at his first Meryton assembly. I thought he would be angry, but instead a smile played about his lips. He is ready to fall in love with her, if he is not in love with her already. I wish she would show him some encouragement, for I am sure he would offer for her if she did. It would be a brilliant match for her. Mr Darcy is a man of consequence and wealth, and moreover he is very well-thought-of hereabouts. His cousin joined in with the teasing, saying that Mr Darcy would not give himself the trouble to talk to strangers, and instead of being angry, Mr Darcy took it all in good part.

But that is not all. This morning, Maria and I walked into the village and when we returned we found Mr Darcy in the parsonage, and learnt that he had been talking to Elizabeth for half an hour. I was sure he must be in love with her, or he would never have called on us in such a familiar way, but when I said as much to Elizabeth, she said that he had been silent for most of the visit. It is very odd, but I cannot shake the feeling that he is deeply attracted to her. I do not want to press the idea with her, however, because I do not want to raise expectations which might only end in disappointment. But if she were sure of his affections, I think her dislike of him would evaporate, and why should it not? He is tall, handsome, intelligent, well-bred, wealthy…the sort of man that any woman would be proud to call husband.

I cannot help thinking that it would be a good thing if Lizzy were to marry him, for he has several wealthy livings at his disposal and it would be no bad thing if Mr Collins were to be appointed to one of them. But only time will tell.

Charlotte

Mr Bennet to Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

April 16

Lizzy,

You will no doubt be surprised to receive a letter from me, though I half promised one, but I find I cannot manage without you here at Longbourn. Your sisters grow sillier every day and your mother is no better. Without you and Jane, all sense has gone and I am longing for your return. I am sure that you will find it difficult to tear yourself away from Mr Collins, and I know that my company cannot possibly compensate you for the loss of his sensible and erudite conversation, but I miss you, Lizzy, and I am writing to hurry you home. Come as soon as you like; it cannot be too soon for me.

Your affectionate

Father

Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Mr Bennet

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,

April 18

Dear Papa,

I will come as soon as I can, but it will not be for a few weeks, I fear. Charlotte depends upon me to remain with her until the start of May and my aunt Gardiner expects me to stay for a few days with her before returning home. Though I doubt if my sisters will ever be sensible, yet something might be done to curb the worst of their excesses and in the process you might make them better companions for yourself. Lydia would benefit from some attention and Kitty, too. At present they have nothing to think of but red coats. Could you not give another turn to their minds? I doubt if they will ever become scholars but there are some books in the library they might like; if you will take the trouble I am sure you will find them willing to give over at least a small portion of their day to rational enterprise.

There is very little that is rational here, save Charlotte, of course. She tends her household and her parish with great success. Mr Collins continues to flatter Lady Catherine, who accepts every word graciously as though it is her due. Maria is in awe of everyone and everything. Mr Darcy stares us all out of countenance—yes, he is here. It is not so very surprising, I suppose, as his aunt is Lady Catherine. What pleasure he gains from his visit I cannot guess, since his aunt’s behaviour is such as to make any sensible person blush. But perhaps he likes it. I suppose he must, for he is his own master, and he could just as easily spend Easter in Derbyshire or London if he had a mind to do so. Instead he plagues us here at Rosings.

Your loving daughter,

Lizzy

Mr Darcy to Mr Philip Darcy

Rosings Park, Kent, April 20

Philip, this letter might surprise you, or then again, not. I think you guessed that I was speaking of myself when I wrote to you about an inferior woman at Christmas, and not Bingley as I protested; or, at least, not entirely about Bingley, for it is true that he was attracted to a woman of inferior birth and that I saved him from an imprudent attachment. But it is my own case that now concerns me, for I was also enamoured of a woman who was unsuitable in every way.

I first met her at a local assembly and paid no attention to her, thinking her, quite rightly, beneath my notice. But the more I came to know her, the more I came to be intrigued by her, for her quick wits and lively intelligence stimulated me and made me want to know more of her. I began to seek her out, enticed by her conversation, which gleamed like a vein of gold amidst the dull talk and endless flattery of everyone else around me.

I found myself looking forward to seeing her and I started each day by wondering when and where we would encounter each other. My pulses quickened and the blood ran more swiftly in my veins whenever she entered a room. I was alert, where usually I am bored. I was further attracted by the fact that she was not in awe of my wealth or my position and that she treated me as she would anyone else. She was constantly challenging me, making no allowances for my name or fortune, in fact she seemed to delight in teasing me and tormenting me. She had a way of looking at me, as if daring me to cross swords with her, which fascinated me; it called forth all my instincts, base and otherwise, and made me so far in danger of forgetting myself that on more than one occasion I was tempted to kiss her. I did not do it, of course, but the urge grew stronger and stronger, and the energy I needed to resist was becoming more and more powerful, until I felt that I was in some danger from her.

I knew the remedy: to avoid her. But by some unlucky chance her sister became ill whilst visiting Bingley, and when Elizabeth called to see her sister, Bingley invited her to stay. I was thrown more and more into company with her and it was not long before I had to admit to myself that I was at risk of being overwhelmed by my feelings entirely. Where I had once thought she had not one good feature in her face, I found myself thinking her uncommonly pretty, with a pair of fine eyes which, when she teased me, sparkled. And tease me she did. What is more, I looked forward to it.

But I was still not lost, at that time. I recognised my weakness and I attempted to control it by putting her in her place, to remind her—as well as myself—that she was beneath me. But every attempt I made failed. When I asked her if she wanted to dance a reel, she saw at once what I was about, and knew that I wanted her to admit to liking the unrefined dance. So instead she outwitted me, replying that if she said yes I would despise her taste, so she would refuse—then challenged me to despise her if I dared. And indeed I did not dare! Or, rather, I did not want to, for she had outmanoeuvred me and I felt nothing but admiration for her.

I was still enough the master of my feelings to resist her charms, however, and to force myself to avoid her whenever I felt it necessary. But the pull towards her was so strong that when Bingley left Netherfield Park for a few days to attend to business in town, I followed him. I gave as my reason my concern for his attachment to an unsuitable woman; but I was just as concerned, if not more so, about my own unsuitable attachment. I encouraged him to remain in town, away from the object of his affections—and away from mine. I was sure that, with no reason to return to the neighbourhood, I would soon forget her. And for a time it seemed that I was right. Back in my own world, I saw the folly of becoming entangled with someone from such a low level in life. I knew that she would never be able to fit in with my kind; that, in short, it would never lead to anything but disaster.

And so I occupied myself with business and friends and family, taking myself off to Cumbria and surrounding myself with people I knew. But thoughts of her would intrude at the most inopportune moments and I found myself comparing every other young woman I met to her—unfavourably, I might add. None of them had her playful disposition or her lack of deference or her complete unconcern for my position, my wealth, or indeed anything else that young women usually court.

How things would have turned out if I had not visited Rosings I do not know, but the fact of the matter is that I did visit Rosings—indeed, I am still here—and by some unlucky chance she was here also.

I never thought to meet her in Kent, but her friend had lately married the rector of Hunsford and Elizabeth is visiting her friend. There! I have said her name. It is a name which haunts me and plagues me and delights me and gives me no peace.

Elizabeth.

Elizabeth, Elizabeth, Elizabeth.

It seems folly to me now, but when I first found out she was here, I thought it would be a useful test of my resolve. I flattered myself that I was no longer in any danger from her, but the more I see of her, the more I find it impossible to resist her. I find myself drawn to her as if to a magnet whenever she dines with us; and when she does not cross my path by accident, I walk in the park, following her favourite routes in the hope of seeing her. If she is not to be met with in the park, my feet turn of their own accord towards the parsonage, where I know I will find her. The other day I went in, even though I knew her friend to be away from home, and almost found myself proposing to her.

It is madness! The inferiority of her family, who are small country gentry; the wild behaviour of her younger sisters, who spend their time flirting with the officers stationed nearby their home; the vulgarity of her mother; the irresponsible nature of her father; the family’s lack of connections or fortune; all of these things make it impossible. It would degrade me to marry her. I would be laughed at by all my friends, jeered at by my enemies and pitied by all. I could never possibly marry her. And yet—and yet I cannot keep away from her. The lightness of her spirits, her humour, her arch smile, her teasing, her eyes—oh! Philip, her eyes! which sparkle when she teases me and show she knows her power over me—all these things drive me to distraction.

I can tell no one but you. You know my character, you know how proud and disdainful I am, but against my better judgement I have been enraptured by her. It is out of the question for me to marry her; out of the question to make her my mistress.

I would leave if I could, but if I go now it will look particular and that is something I very much want to avoid. I do not know what to do.

Your beleaguered cousin,

Darcy

Mr Philip Darcy to Mr Darcy

London, April 21

Darcy, leave at once. Make some excuse and go today, this minute, never mind if it looks particular, it will soon be forgotten. Do not linger another moment. This kind of fever is virulent and the only thing that can control it is a prolonged absence from its source. Have your valet pack your things and meet me in London straightaway. If you stay, you will regret it.

PD

Mr Darcy to Mr Philip Darcy

Rosings Park, Kent, April 22

Philip, your letter arrived too late. I have proposed. I never meant to. I was in a ferment of passion, I did not know what I was doing. I was looking forward to seeing her, for she was engaged to drink tea with my aunt, and I was surprised and humiliated at the bitterness of my disappointment when she did not attend. She had a headache, her friend said. I wondered what could have occasioned it; I wondered how bad it was; I wondered if she needed a physician. I could not ask without it causing interest and so I said nothing, but excusing myself on account of a letter which I said needed an urgent reply, I bent my steps to the parsonage and before I knew what I was doing I was inside.

I do not know what possessed me, but possessed I was. I enquired after her health in a hurried manner and she replied coldly, not pleased to see me. Her manner only inflamed me more. I sat down in an effort to collect myself but my passions rose within me like a volcano and I believe it would have killed me to keep them in. They erupted from me as I told her that in vain had I struggled, but that I ardently loved and admired her.

Once started, I could not stop. I poured out my feelings: my horror at the behaviour of her family, the inferiority of her station in life, and the degradation it would be for me to marry her; but that, despite all this, I could not root out my feelings, that they were impossible to conquer, and I expressed my hope that she would accept my hand in marriage.

I did not doubt she would accept me and I was resentful even as I waited for her answer—resentful because she had brought me to this pass, resentful that she had taken control of my thoughts and feelings and reduced me to a state of helplessness—but that was nothing compared with the feelings I had when she rejected me. Can you credit it? I confess that I cannot. It is incredible to me. I am still smarting with the humiliation of it. To be rejected by anyone—I, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley—is inconceivable. And yet to be rejected by Elizabeth Bennet, who is no one from nowhere, and who should have been honoured I even noticed her, let alone proposed to her? The thing is incredible. And all because I listed the scruples that had long kept me from forming any previous proposal. Had I flattered her into the belief of my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination, by reason, by reflection, by everything, then I am convinced she would have accepted me, whatever she might say. But disguise is my abhorrence and I made no scruple of my struggles. And how did she repay this honesty? With contempt, telling me that she had never sought my good opinion, never wanted it and had no difficulty, in short, of throwing my proposal back in my face.

It has done one thing for me, however. It has cured me of my feelings for her. I am only now ashamed of what those feelings have been. I pray you will never mention this to anyone, not even to me. I have only to answer the remarks she threw at me in her refusal, and then I have done with her. An encounter would not be wise for either of us, but a letter—yes, a letter will show her how wrong she has been.

I am looking forward to seeing you again. Tell me you will be in London for the Season. I myself will be there. I cannot leave Rosings soon enough. I am now ashamed of myself for ever having thought well of her, for being attracted to her and—above all—for proposing to her. This unfortunate affair is over. Once I have placed the letter into her hands, I hope I never see Elizabeth Bennet again.

Darcy

Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Miss Susan Sotherton

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,

April 22

I scarcely know where to begin…I cannot believe…and yet, did not Charlotte always say…But how was I to know, how to think she was right? Of all men, Mr Darcy! And yet there is no doubting it now. Oh! That man! How right my mother was to call him so! To come here and…but I must tell you all.

You know that Mr Darcy is here. He has visited us constantly and I never knew why. I laughed at Charlotte when she said he came for me, for his attentions were certainly not loverlike; indeed, when he called here one day and found me alone, he scarcely opened his mouth. But now…

I was unwell, a headache—caused by Mr Darcy, for I had discovered he played a role in separating Bingley from Jane; Colonel Fitzwilliam told me so—and so I stayed at the parsonage when Charlotte, Maria and Mr Collins went to Rosings for tea. I read Jane’s letters again, mourning her lack of cheerfulness and the knowledge that Mr Darcy was the cause, when the doorbell rang. Thinking it might be Colonel Fitzwilliam come to ask after me, I put the letters aside, but what was my astonishment when Mr Darcy walked in!

You will readily imagine my feelings: he was the last man in the world I wanted to see. I could not understand what he was about. He asked after my health, but seemed to be labouring under some heavy burden, and then he burst out, saying that he admired me and loved me! I have never been so astonished in all my life. I thought he had run mad, or else had taken too much wine. But it soon became apparent that he was perfectly sane and sober, for he strode around the room and told me that I was beneath him, that my family were in every way reprehensible, that it would be an insult to his own relations, but that he was determined to marry me!

My moment of feeling flattered—for who could be insensible to the compliment of a proposal from such a man?—swiftly passed, to be replaced by anger, mortification and contempt, and I roundly rejected him. He started; he had not expected it. He thought I would fall at his feet and thank him for his condescension, which shows how little he knows me! And then he asked why he was rejected with so little civility! When he had spent ten minutes roundly abusing my parents, my sisters, my station in life and his own wayward feelings!

You may be sure I answered him in kind, asking him why he had couched his proposal in such insulting terms. But I could not wait for his answer, for my feelings against him were such that they had to be given voice. I told him that I could never marry a man who had ruined my sister’s happiness, and he changed colour, which removed every last shred of doubt in my mind that he was indeed the person responsible. He did not apologise, as might have been expected, but said only that he had been kinder to Bingley than to himself. This civil reflection did not do anything to lessen my anger, as you may imagine, and I set about him for his cruel and inhuman treatment of George Wickham. And what was his reaction? Shame for his misdeeds? Not a bit of it! He waved them aside and declared that I had only rejected him because he had not flattered me enough!

Why do men find it so hard to understand that we will not fall at their feet if they ask us to marry them? I am beginning to think that they are all either too stupid or too arrogant to see that we are not all eager to spend the rest of our lives with cruelty or pride; that we might draw back from trusting our future happiness to a man who has shown no interest in our feelings, but only in his own needs and desires.

I dare tell no one else of this proposal. I would tell Jane—how I miss her!—but I would then have to reveal that Mr Darcy interfered in her affairs, and I do not want to reopen that wound. I cannot tell any other member of my family. Can you imagine what Mama would say if she knew? And what she would say if she knew that I had refused him? She would not speak to me when I refused Mr Collins, and what is Mr Collins to Mr Darcy? She would no doubt banish me from the country if she knew I had denied her the right of visiting Pemberley and the opportunity to talk of it constantly to Lady Lucas!

Neither can I tell Charlotte, for she would certainly counsel me to marry him. She has been advising me to encourage him since almost the first moment I laid eyes on him, and I do not want to hear any arguments in his favour. I am still boiling with anger.

I am not even certain enough of my aunt to confide in her, for she would ask me if I refused Mr Darcy on account of Mr Wickham, and I would not know how to reply; for although I would have refused Mr Darcy even if I had never met Mr Wickham, I cannot deny that it gave added anger to my rejection of him.

Thank goodness I have you, Susan.

You must promise to tell no one of this. I hereby swear you to secrecy.

How I am longing to see you again. Is there any chance of you coming to Meryton, even for a few days? For I am afraid there is no chance at all of me coming to Bath.

And now I must go and bathe my face, for I was so angry that, once Mr Darcy left, I sat down and cried for half an hour. I can scarcely believe it even now, that he should have proposed to me; that he should have been in love with me for months without my knowing it; that he should wish to marry me, despite all his objections to the match. In another man it would have been gratifying indeed. But his pride! His abominable pride, his shameless avowal of the part he played in Jane’s unhappiness and the unfeeling manner in which he mentioned Mr Wickham, his cruelty towards whom he did not even attempt to deny! No, I do not regret my decision, quite the reverse.

But already I hear the sound of the carriage. I am not equal to facing Charlotte. She is sure to tell that something is wrong and I cannot face her like this, with my face streaked and my eyes no doubt swollen.

Write to me soon. Tell me how you go on in Bath, where life is normal and no impossible men seek to disturb you.

For now, adieu,

Lizzy

Miss Susan Sotherton to Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Bath, April 23

How cruel, Lizzy, to confide in me and then swear me to secrecy, for with such a secret I could amaze the whole of Bath! Mr Darcy in love with my Lizzy! Though it does not surprise me, for you know I love you and so how can I be amazed when you are loved by someone else? It shows that, if nothing else, Mr Darcy has some sense, even if he has no manners and is evidently in need of some lessons in humility.

How I longed to say something when your letter arrived, for several ladies arrived a few moments later as they paid a morning call. Miss Violet Cranmore launched into her favourite topic at once—well, almost her favourite topic, for her favourite topic is herself—but her second favourite topic, then, of Caroline Bingley, and Caroline’s attempts to win Mr Darcy. They were at the seminary together and hate each other, it is plain to see.

‘Caroline’s efforts are pitiful,’ said Violet. ‘She keeps writing to me and telling me how important she is to him, but everyone knows Mr Darcy will never marry beneath him. He is as good as betrothed to Miss Anne de Bourgh.’

I wanted to smile sweetly and say that, actually, Mr Darcy had no intention of marrying Miss de Bourgh; that he was in love with my friend and that he had just proposed marriage to her.

Oh, how I wish you had accepted! Not really, of course, I could not bear to see you marry a man you do not love. But if you could have loved him, what fun it would have been to see her face, and the face of her superior mama, for they both of them look down on me. They are annoyed that I have caught Mr Wainwright, who has a handsome fortune, far larger than that of Violet’s intended.

Have you told Charlotte yet? Do you think you ever will? And what about Jane? She will want to know, even if it hurts her to begin with, I am sure of it. And anyway, there is no need to tell her that Mr Darcy interfered in her own life, only that he proposed to you. When will you be seeing her again? It is so exciting. And that is always the way of things; either there is nothing to tell, but one has perfect liberty to tell it, or something so momentous it would rock everyone, but one is unable to breathe a word!

Write to me soon, dearest, you know you can tell me anything, and I promise faithfully to keep your confidence, whatever it costs me!

Your loving friend,

Susan

Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Miss Susan Sotherton

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,

April 23

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.

PD

Mr Darcy to Mr Philip Darcy

Darcy House, London, May 20

My dear Philip,

Ashamed as I am to admit it, I have not been able to forget Elizabeth, though God knows I have tried. I have thrown myself into the Season and I have never been at home. By day I attend to business—and I have started several new works in order to fully occupy myself, including commissioning a new orangery at Pemberley—and when I am not dealing with business affairs I am riding or boxing or fencing; either that or escorting Georgiana on pleasure trips. By night I go to soirées, balls—indeed, any entertainment rather than remain at home and give myself time to think. But try as I might, the thought of her haunts me. I see her everywhere I go. I catch sight of the back of a woman’s head and think: Elizabeth! Then the woman turns and I see it is not she, and I am disappointed, even though I should not be; even though our time together was categorized by verbal sparring and not by pleasantries, and should be easy to forget. But the memory of her lingers. The day I proposed in particular will not leave me. I said some things to her that were, perhaps, better left unsaid. Even worse, I cannot forget her face as she told me I was the last man in the world she could ever be prevailed upon to marry.

It used to make me angry when I thought of it, but now I find myself doubting, and wondering whether I deserved her anger. I have been too used to having my own way, perhaps. It was not well done of me to throw the inferiority of her connections in her face, nor their behaviour. She has no control over either and so of what use was it to mention it, save to show my own magnanimity in overlooking them? And that was not only condescending but arrogant of me. I am beginning to understand why she refused me, and to think that if I had managed things better…but no, I said so at the time and she returned that I could not have offered her my hand in any way that would have induced her to accept it.

I feel myself growing angry again as I think of it…but also to admire her. How many women would have refused me, even if they did not love me nor even like me? I cannot think of one. But she refused me, even knowing she was turning down Pemberley, my fortune, my position, everything that goes with being my wife. There are few enough people with principles in the world, and even fewer who stick to them when temptation to abandon them offers, but she is that rare person, a woman of honour and integrity. And I have lost her. By my own arrogance, conceit and pride, I have disgusted her.

But I was not intending to think of her, let alone write of her. Your invitation comes at a good time, you see. A change of scene will perhaps encourage a change of thoughts. I will be glad to come to Wiltshire and I will bring Georgiana with me. You will be very pleased with her; she is quite lovely.

I have to be back in London in a few weeks—I have already sent out invitations to a picnic, or rather, Georgiana has—but you may expect us on Saturday.

Darcy

Miss Lydia Bennet to Miss Eleanor Sotherton

Hertfordshire, May 21

I am going to Brighton! I am going to Brighton! Lord! What a lark! Harriet is a darling! I knew she would invite me. Mama is delighted. Kitty is jealous and says she should have been invited because she is older than me, but Harriet is my particular friend. La! The streets will be paved with officers and I will be able to flirt to my heart’s content. There will be Denny and Pratt and Wickham and all the rest. They dined with us last night and Kitty was wild when we all talked about Brighton. Wickham spent a great deal of time talking to Lizzy about her stay in Kent as well, but he did not seem to like what he heard. I dare say he did not like to hear that Mr Darcy had been there. Who would like to hear about Mr Darcy? He does not even have a red coat.

You must write to me every day in Brighton, though I am sure I will be too busy to write to you. But I will write when I can. Tell your mama she must take you to Brighton—I am sure you can live there as cheaply as Bath—then we will have fun together. I am writing this in haste from Colonel Forster’s house because we leave here early tomorrow.

Love,

Lydia

Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Miss Susan Sotherton

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

May 22

Dearest Susan,

The house is much quieter without Lydia, and Meryton seems deserted without the officers. Mama gave a last dinner for them and I had a chance to speak to Mr Wickham. The more I saw of him, the more I was convinced that Mr Darcy spoke the truth, for there was something alarmed in Mr Wickham’s eye when he saw that I had heard about the conditions attached to the living he was left, and he coloured when I said that I understood Mr Darcy better than I had done. I could not repress a smile when he said that Mr Darcy must have been on his best behaviour in front of Miss de Bourgh, as he wishes to marry her! But all in all I am not sorry that Mr Wickham has left us—a state of affairs I could not have guessed at a few short weeks ago.

As for Mr Darcy, I find that I view him with more compassion and respect than formerly, but I cannot forgive him for wounding my sister, and I am glad that he shows no signs of returning.

Although I am glad to see the regiment go, I must confess that our lives are much duller now. Our parties are less varied and we go out less often. I find myself looking forward more and more to my trip to the Lakes with my aunt and uncle.

Your friend,

Lizzy

Miss Lydia Bennet to Mrs Bennet

Brighton, May 27

Mama, you will never guess what we did yesterday: we went first of all to the library, where Denny and Wickham attended us, and where I saw such beautiful ornaments as made me wild. I have ordered a new gown and bought a new parasol, it is the darlingest thing, only I can say no more, Harriet is calling me, we are going out again!

Give my love to my sisters,

Lydia

Miss Lydia Bennet to Miss Kitty Bennet

Brighton, May 30

Kitty, you would die if you could see what we have all been up to here, we have been sea bathing, Harriet and I went in our underwear, DO NOT LET MAMA OR ANYONE ELSE KNOW. Things are different in Brighton, not so stuffy as they are at home. Lord! What fun we have. The men are all wild for me, I have a dozen different flirts. There are parties every night and I went to one last night dressed as a man. I borrowed Denny’s coat and breeches and wore a piece of wool as a moustache, I thought I would die laughing. Wickham was in on the joke, he laughed as much as anyone. There are a lot of new officers here, Jakes and Little and Madison, and a whole host of others, all laughing and joking and teasing and dancing and flirting; well most of them anyway. Some of them are ancient, friends of Colonel Forster’s who are here on leave, and all they talk about is the war. I am glad I am not married to Colonel Forster, he is far too old and stuffy, poor Harriet! She should have married Denny. Lord! Was there ever such a place as Brighton? Tomorrow we are going to have a bathing party by moonlight, I have bought a new bathing dress, it is quite scandalous. DO NOT TELL ANYONE.

Lydia

JUNE

Colonel Fitzwilliam to Mr Darcy

Brighton, June 2

Darcy, I am home on leave and am visiting friends in Brighton before heading north. Colonel Forster is here and asks me to remember him to you. His wife is here, too, and a prettier creature it would be hard to imagine. She is young and gay and it is a pleasure to see her enjoying herself. She has a friend with her, a Miss Lydia Bennet. I cannot help wondering if she is any relation to your Miss Elizabeth Bennet—though perhaps I should not call her your Miss Elizabeth, as I am sure you will have overcome your feelings for her now. I have not yet seen Miss Lydia so I do not know if there is any resemblance, but I mean to ask her if there is a relationship when we meet.

Another acquaintance is here, and one less welcome: George Wickham. He bowed when he saw me but looked uncomfortable, as well he might. I was tempted to call him out but did not want to cause a scandal: any action I take against him would lead to speculation and that is something I am determined to avoid. If not for this, I would gladly run him through.

How is my ward? Growing more beautiful every day, I am sure. I hear you are in Wiltshire at the moment: Mama knows everything! She and Maud are hoping for news of Philip’s intended, so you must write to them and let them know your opinion of her. Philip will have chosen some paragon, I am sure, but what is she really like? We rely on you to tell us.

My sister Maud will soon be presenting you with another godchild, so you must look about you for a christening present.

I do not believe I will have time to call in at Wiltshire on my way north to see my family, but I hope to see you in London, either on my way up to Cumbria or on my way back down again. When will you be leaving Wiltshire? I must be back with my regiment in a few weeks’ time. I would be there now if not for this confounded injury. With the French advancing towards Turin my place is on the Continent, not here, but I am little use as I am. I cannot sit a horse nor walk for any length of time and my right arm will not do my bidding. I only hope the Austrians throw Napoleon out of Italy and save me the trouble.

Your cousin,

Henry

Mr Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam

Wiltshire, June 4

Henry, it is good to hear from you, though frustrating for you to be home at such a time. The war shows no sign of ending and if not for the troops stationed at Brighton and other likely landing spots, we would be in some danger of Napoleon invading these shores. But the Channel protects us, as it has done before.

I did not know you had been injured. Would you like my physician to attend you? I can send him down to Brighton if you think he would be of use.

I will be returning to London in a few days’ time. Georgiana is hosting a picnic on the seventh and we must be there for that. You are welcome to join us. If you will not be returning to London so soon, then call in at Darcy House whenever you arrive; you know you are always welcome.

You ask about Philip’s intended bride. She is everything you imagine: beautiful, accomplished, elegant, well-bred, and yet—Henry, it is not enough. It is enough for Philip, he is pleased with his choice and she with him, but it is not enough for me. There are two similar females here, they possess everything a man could require of a wife, and yet I have no wish to marry either of them. I am happy to escort them in to dinner, to dance with them and converse with them, but to spend the rest of my life with them? No. I already know everything about them. There is nothing to discover, nothing to intrigue or stimulate. They never change. Their thoughts and feelings are what they were a year ago, and will be the same when another year has gone by. Marriage to either one of them would be like bathing in tepid water: nothing to complain of, but nothing to desire either.

You will tell from this that I have not forgotten Elizabeth. I have tried, but the more I see of other women, the more I know that Elizabeth is the only one I have ever wished to marry. She is not perfect—far from it—but it is her flaws and imperfections that entrance me—those, and her eyes. I want to see them looking back at me across the breakfast table; I want to see them sparkling with mischief as she teases me; I want to see them widen as I show her all the delights of Pemberley and offer them to her, not with arrogance but with humility.

But it is pointless to think of such things.

I am beginning to wish I had not encouraged Bingley to leave the neighbourhood. But of what use would it be for me to return there? Elizabeth made her feelings for me clear; though perhaps it would lessen her ill opinion of me if she could see that some of her reproofs have been attended to.

But this is idle speculation. I will torment myself with it no more.

Come to us as soon as you can in London; Georgiana is longing to see you.

Your cousin,

Darcy

Colonel Fitzwilliam to Mr Darcy

Brighton, June 5

I will not be in town in time for your picnic, alas. I am here with Wilkins and I am at his disposal. He arranges the business just as he pleases: the privilege of wealth! I do not think we will remain here very much longer, however, and I hope to join you in London soon. I will be glad to see you again but I will be sorry to leave Brighton. The sea breeze is refreshing and the fishermen’s nets set out to dry on the Steine give the place charm.

You must bring Georgiana here for the summer, Darcy; the sea air will do her good and the south coast will not have the unpleasant memories for her that the east coast must have. The pleasure gardens, the promenades and the libraries will amuse her. They are all flourishing, thanks to the patronage of the Prince of Wales, who spends more and more of his time here. They say he means to leave London altogether and live in Brighton permanently. It is certainly possible; he is enlarging his marine pavilion and making it fit for a prince. It is a very handsome dwelling, but even so I think he is in error for spending so much on his amusements when the country is at war. He ought to be retrenching so that he can better equip the troops. I said so only last night to Colonel Forster when we dined together.

By the bye, Forster’s wife’s friend, Miss Lydia Bennet, is indeed a relation of your Miss Elizabeth, a sister. I have seen her only once, briefly, as she was going out with Colonel Forster’s wife, but I had a chance to speak to her and ascertained that her family were well before she set off for the shops with Harriet. It amazes me that women can spend so much time shopping, but Lydia and Harriet look very well on it.

Look for me on the sixteenth.

Henry

Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Miss Susan Sotherton

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

June 20

Dear Susan,

It is very quiet here at Longbourn. Kitty has at last given over lamenting her absence from the Brighton scheme and consoles herself with reading and re-reading her letters from Lydia. She keeps them close and runs out of the room with them if anyone draws near her. I dread to think what they contain; stories of flirtations, most likely, and the names of a dozen officers. The letters are all so heavily underlined it is a wonder there is any paper left to write them on! I laugh, but all the same, I wish my father had been more sensible of the dangers to Lydia of such a trip. She is heedless and headstrong and loves to be the centre of attention, and I fear this trip will be the death warrant of all possibility of common sense for her. To put such a girl, at the tender age of fifteen, in the way of dozens of young men who are all bored and away from home, is to put temptation in her way, and Lydia has never known how to resist temptation. Her behaviour in Meryton was abominable; how much worse must it be in Brighton, with no one there to curb her worst excesses? I can only hope that the young men are better able to control themselves than Lydia is, and that my father is right when he says that Colonel Forster will see that no harm comes to her.

Mary continues to try Mama’s nerves with her constant practise on the pianoforte, and if not for Jane I would not know what to do. But with Jane’s companionship I can bear anything. How she came to be so different from my other sisters I do not know, but she is everything Kitty is not. She bears her disappointment without complaint and busies herself about the house, treating Mama with her usual calm patience and providing me with a confidante when I feel I must talk of Mr Darcy or burst. How can I have been so wrong about him? How can I not have seen him for the man he is, and instead seen him for a man he is not? I thought myself so clever when I teased him, and yet I could not have been more mistaken. But I am well rewarded for it, am I not? For I never think of him now without mortification and shame, and I cannot help thinking of what might have been…that is, until I remember that he parted Jane and Bingley, and then I regret neither him nor Pemberley nor his ten thousand a year! You see, I can laugh at myself still, and a good thing, too, or I fear I should go into a decline!

Mama, I am sure, would be very pleased if I did—it would add to her consequence to have a daughter who was brought low by love. As it is, she continues to lament the absence of Mr Bingley, saying that she will never mention him again and then talking of him in the very next breath. I spare Jane from these outbursts as often as I can by listening to them myself and by turning Mama’s thoughts into a happier direction, though unfortunately that direction is always towards Lydia and how many flirts she has in Brighton. I am not surprised that Papa has retreated to his library and emerges only at mealtimes.

And so now I am looking forward to my trip with my aunt and uncle. We cannot go to the Lakes as we planned, for my uncle cannot spend so long away from his business, and my aunt has suggested that we go to Derbyshire instead. I was taken aback by the suggestion, but I did not hesitate for long before writing and agreeing to the change, for I might venture into Derbyshire, I think, without meeting Mr Darcy. It is a large enough place. And a good thing, too, for what would I say to him if I were to meet him again? It would be humiliating. And yet I cannot help wishing that I had had a chance to speak to him after receiving his letter.

And that, my dear Susan, is all my news.

Your loving friend,

Lizzy

Mr Philip Darcy to Mr Darcy

Wiltshire, June 24

Darcy,

We have set a date for the wedding: December 4. You will be receiving an invitation any day now. It will be a grand affair held in the cathedral and we look forward to seeing you there.

PD

Mr Darcy to Mr Philip Darcy

Darcy House, London, June 26

My dear Philip,

I am glad your affairs are prospering and I look forward to seeing you married. It is good to know that at least one of us will be continuing the Darcy name. I only wish my own affairs were going half so well. I have tried to forget Elizabeth Bennet but there is always something to remind me of her. Only yesterday Henry dined with me—he is in town once again after a spell in Brighton—and I learnt something disastrous to my peace of mind. When I revealed that I regretted my interference in Bingley’s affairs, Henry said that I agreed with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, then. When I looked surprised, he said that he had mentioned the matter to Elizabeth when they walked together at Rosings. Oh, not by name, nor in any great detail: he said only that I had saved a friend from the inconveniences of an imprudent marriage, and that there were strong objections to the lady. He meant to show me in a good light, never suspecting that Elizabeth was a relative of the lady involved, but she must have guessed that the friend in question was Bingley and that the lady was her sister. Small wonder then that she was angry, both when speaking to Henry—she told him that I had had no right to interfere—and when rejecting me. I admire her for her anger, and for her partiality, though at first it exasperated me, for what kind of woman would she be if she could stand by and hear a beloved sister abused in such a way? It cannot have been pleasant for her to hear of the matter spoken of in such a casual way, nor can it have been pleasant for her to think that anyone could object to her sister. I confess that as to Miss Bennet herself, there cannot be any rational objection. She is a very pretty girl, sweet natured and good-hearted, and singularly untainted by the vulgarity of the majority of her family. Moreover, she has an optimistic temperament that suits Bingley’s own. If he seems no happier in another month then I mean to give him a hint that a return to Netherfield would not be a bad thing. I once thought he would make a good husband for Georgiana but I no longer think they will suit.

Darcy

Mr Philip Darcy to Mr Darcy

Wiltshire, June 28

I am sorry to hear that you have still not recovered from your infatuation, but I could not agree with you more when you say that Bingley and Georgiana will not suit. He is a pleasant enough young man but his family are in trade and I once had the misfortune of meeting his mother. He is not nearly good enough for Georgiana; she can look far higher for a husband. I have one or two young men in mind for her, and I will introduce you to them the next time you are in Wiltshire. Better yet, I will introduce you to them at the wedding, and Georgiana, too. It will be just the right atmosphere for the introduction. They are both the kind of men she should be marrying.

PD

JULY

Miss Georgiana Darcy to Miss Anne de Bourgh

Darcy House, London, July 9

Dearest, dearest coz,

It seems an age since I have seen you. You will come and stay with us at Pemberley, won’t you, when we go there for the summer? It will not be long before we go; indeed, Fitzwilliam is already there, overseeing plans for the house party next month and making sure that work is progressing on the orangery. He will be returning to London shortly and then he will be escorting me back to Derbyshire. Oh, I am so looking forward to it. I am tired of London, though I dare say I am ungrateful, for Fitzwilliam arranged a host of picnics and parties for me, and took me to all the museums and galleries. But I am longing to be in the country once again. Ullswater is looking forward to it, too. She will much prefer to be there, where she can run around to her heart’s content and sniff and nose about in the shrubberies without anyone bothering her or telling her it is time to go home.

Caroline Bingley will be joining us, and her brother and sister, but although she is very accomplished and I like singing and playing duets with her, I cannot talk to her as I can to you. I believe she wants me to marry her brother—she is always telling me what a good, kind man he is—but I have no wish to marry him. Charles is a kind friend, but I dream of love and I do not love him.

I have guessed your secret. I believe you are in love with my guardian. I do not know why I did not see it before. I was too young, I suppose, but happening to take out your letters the other day in order to renew the ribbon tying them about, I read them again. How long have you been in love with him? Is he to visit you at Rosings? Or will you be able to persuade your mama to take you to Cumbria to visit his family?

I believe that Fitzwilliam, too, is in love. He has been distracted recently and he has spoken to me of love and marriage more often than formerly. He keeps telling me that I will be able to marry whomsoever I choose and that he will not stand in my way if I truly love a good and honourable man who deserves me, whatever his background might be. It might be idle fancy on my part, but I think not.

I wondered if Caroline Bingley was his choice. That would seem to explain his remarks about a lover’s background, but I am certain she is not good enough for Fitzwilliam, and besides, he would tell me if it were Caroline. But I can think of no one else in our intimate circle who might have won him. Can you? Whoever the lady is, she must be very special to have captured Fitzwilliam’s heart and I am sure an announcement cannot be long in coming. I speak with a sister’s partiality, but I truly believe that no better man lives, and that any woman would be lucky to marry him.

Write to me soon.

Your loving cousin,

Georgiana

Miss Anne de Bourgh to Miss Georgiana Darcy

Rosings Park, Kent, July 11

What a relief it is to be able to speak of it at last! You have guessed correctly, dear coz, I am in love with your guardian and always have been, ever since we were children. He has always been so good to me and has always paid such kind attention to me that it has kindled in me a long-lasting affection which eventually deepened into love. But alas! he does not see me, or if he does, he sees me not as a woman, but as a sickly creature he has known all his life.

Oh, this confounded illness! If only I were healthy, I could go for long country walks and put some colour into my cheeks. I could eat more and fill out my figure so that I would look more womanly, and buy some lower-cut dresses instead of the high-necked gowns that Mama always forces me to wear. I have no desire to flaunt myself indecently, but it is very hard to be starched up to the ears when everyone else is looking devastatingly beautiful in scoop-necked gowns. If I could only be well enough to go to London and look around the shops, I would encase myself in colourful silk from head to foot instead of the grey brocade Mama thinks so suitable. Then he would look at me in the way he looked at Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

I am not surprised he was drawn to her, both men were, Henry and your brother. She was so lively and healthy looking, with her bright eyes and her pink cheeks and her air of youth and vigour; whereas my air is one of tiredness. And her clothes! Nothing vulgar, but at the same time they could not help but display her figure, which believe me was noticeable, though she seemed unaware of it herself.

I go out in my phaeton whenever I can to improve my looks, and I am sure I could walk if Mama would only let me, but she says it would tire me too much. I sometimes think it is sitting indoors all day long that tires me, and that brisk exercise would instead put new life into me. But alas! When I said as much to Mama, I was unfortunately seized with a coughing fit, which led her to raise her eyebrows and declare that I was delicate and must not think of going out of doors on foot.

But hold. I wonder if Elizabeth Bennet is the woman who has entranced Darcy? He was certainly very attentive to her when she was here. He walked over to the parsonage almost every day and he has never done that before. The only differences between this year and last were the presence of the new Mrs Collins and Miss Elizabeth. Since I cannot imagine Darcy putting himself out for Mrs Collins, who is very pleasant but unremarkable, I can only think he went there to see Miss Elizabeth.

If he is in love with her, I hope he marries her. In fact, I hope he marries anyone, as long as the woman is not me. Mama has always wanted a match between us but I could not marry him, even if I were not in love with Henry. You are right, dear coz, Darcy is one of the noblest men alive, but he frightens me. He is so very determined. He needs a stronger woman than I to be his wife. Miss Elizabeth, though, was not in awe of him; she teased him in a way that astonished me. She would make him an excellent wife. Her liveliness would counteract his stateliness and she would be a merry sister for you, and a merry cousin for me. But no, it cannot be. If she were the woman, then Darcy would have proposed by now and she would have accepted him, and we would all know of it. Unless they are waiting for her father’s permission? It is interesting to speculate. But it is probably someone else who has caught his eye, or no one at all. I do hope there is a woman and that she is Elizabeth. Would it not be fun?

You must tell me if you hear anything more about a wife for Darcy, and send me any news you may have about Henry. I treasure everything I hear about him and I rely on you, since no one else knows my secret. I sometimes think I should make my feelings clear to him but alas! I am a woman and we are not allowed to do such things, otherwise I would gladly shout my love from the rooftops. Imagine Mama’s face if I did! And imagine Mr Collins’s face as he tried to decide whether to applaud me for my honesty or revile me for my forwardness, wondering all the time what Mama’s reaction might be! I have half a mind to do it, just to see.

Write soon, dearest.

Your loving coz,

Anne

Mrs Charlotte Collins to Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,

July 12

Dear Eliza,

I have some news which I hope will please you as much as it pleases me. I am going to have a child! I have just written to Mama but I wanted to write to you by the same post so that you will hear it first from me. I fear my mama will be a little too vocal in her delight. I fear, too, that your mama will be similarly vocal in her lack of delight. But I hope you will be pleased for me. I know you thought my marriage ill-advised but last year at this time I was nothing but Charlotte Lucas, spinster, with no life to call my own. Now I have my own home to care for, my parish affairs to interest me and a child on the way. I am happy with my lot.

Your friend,

Charlotte

Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Mrs Charlotte Collins

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

July 18

Charlotte, of course I am delighted for you. Mama is less pleased and is even more vocal than you might imagine. Papa has retreated to his library and Jane and I now take regular refuge out of doors. Thank goodness for fine weather! Mary amuses herself by spouting words of wisdom, remarking on the blessing of an olive branch, and Kitty has written of it to Lydia. We were not allowed to see Lydia’s reply. Kitty read it with many smothered giggles and furtive glances towards us, as though we were likely to steal it away from her, and when Papa asked her what it contained she said only that she would not betray a sister’s confidence nor spoil Lydia’s happiness. With this cryptic reply we had to be content, although I doubt that Lydia’s letter contained much about your happy event, and suspect it contained a great deal about officers, red coats, private balls, assemblies and flirting.

Poor Kitty! It is very hard for her to read all about the exciting times Lydia is having when she is having so little excitement herself, apart from my aunt’s card parties. I must confess, they are not so lively now that the officers have gone, but I am not sorry on the whole that they have left us.

My dear Jane is still quietly melancholy but does not complain. I am full of admiration for her fortitude. Luckily, she will have the little Gardiners to play with soon, for my young cousins are to stay here at Longbourn whilst I travel to Derbyshire with my uncle and aunt. The children’s high spirits will lift Jane’s own low mood, and Jane’s steady sense and sweetness of temper will be exactly what they need as she teaches them, plays with them and loves them.

I have started a cap for the baby and hope to have finished a dozen by the time it arrives.

Lizzy

Mr Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam

Darcy House, London, July 20

Henry, it is done. I have encouraged Bingley to think of Jane Bennet once more. I told him something of my meeting with Miss Elizabeth at Rosings: that she had been staying with the Collinses and that I had spoken to her about her family. He asked hesitantly after her sisters and I told him that Miss Bennet had been out of spirits. I saw the workings of his mind flit across his face: that Jane was out of spirits because she missed him, and I saw hope rising within him. When he said he thought that he might return to Netherfield Park after his visit to Pemberley, I gave him my blessing.

It is enough that I have ruined my own chances of happiness; I will not ruin his as well.

I never before knew what a burden it was to be so admired. I have become so used to looking after everyone and everything since my father died—my sister, the tenants, the estate, the Pemberley staff, my friend—that I had forgotten that some of them were capable of taking care of themselves. And I have come to realise something else as well: that I do not always know what is best for everyone else. I wish I could say that I had come to this knowledge on my own, but it is Elizabeth who has shown it to me. I resented her for it at first, but now I thank her for it.

I will be taking Georgiana to Pemberley in August. If you have not returned to your regiment by then, I hope you will join us. We will be quite a party, and you will be well entertained. You will meet Caroline, Louisa and Charles there, and I have invited the rector of Kympton, Mr Haydock, too. I like him. He is intelligent and sensible and yet he is also lively and a favourite with his parishioners. I think he will like Georgiana and she him. Not that I am thinking of her marrying him, but it will do her good to have some more young men to mix with; she knows so very few of them at the moment and I want her to become accustomed to their ways before she has her formal come-out.

Darcy

Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Miss Jane Bennet

Derbyshire, July 30

My dearest Jane,

Our Derbyshire adventure is filled with as much novelty and amusement as I had hoped; indeed, if not for your absence, it would be perfect. We have passed through Oxford, stopping to see the university and then going on to visit the palace at Blenheim. As we travelled farther north, passing through Birmingham and then on into Derbyshire, the landscape began to change into something altogether wilder than anything I have so far seen. I never thought such hills existed in our country. The roads climbed constantly, so that we often left the carriage and walked in order to spare the horses until they reached the summit of the moors, which are truly splendid. I have never seen such grandeur of landscape. Standing on top of the moors it is possible to see for miles, and to believe oneself at the end of the world, for apart from a few sheep there is nothing to be seen in the remoter areas, save swathes of harsh grasses, large boulders and picturesque stone walls. We are too early to see the heather, but my aunt tells me it covers the moors with a purple cloak in the late summer and I hope to come back again one day and see it.

We have been blessed with fine weather and we walk each day, sometimes by the side of boulder-strewn rivers and sometimes through woodland, as well as visiting any houses of note along the way. My aunt is eager to see Chatsworth, and I am just as eager to visit it.

One place I am not so eager to visit is Lambton. Although I have some curiosity to see my aunt’s old neighbourhood, it is so close to Pemberley that I am apprehensive about it, for Pemberley is exactly the kind of great house my aunt likes to visit. I have thought of taking her into my confidence, but it would lead to so many questions that I cannot bring myself to do it. If she insists on seeing Pemberley, therefore, I intend to make enquiries as to whether or not the family is at home, and if they are, I think I will plead a headache and remain at the inn.

How are my cousins going on? Are they plaguing you? Not too much, I hope. I dare not ask if Kitty and Mary are plaguing you, let alone our mother, as I fear I know the answer to that already.

I must go. My aunt is ready to go out. We will be at Lambton by the time a reply is able to reach us, so write to me at the inn there; we plan to reach it by August fourth.

Your loving sister,

Lizzy

AUGUST

Miss Lydia Bennet to Miss Kitty Bennet

Brighton, August 1

Lord! Kitty! What a lark. You will never guess and you must not tell, not until it is done and I can sign my name Lydia Wickham! Is it not a good joke? My dear Wickham and I are eloping. The next time I write to you I will be Mrs Wickham! You must come and stay with us, we will be returning to Brighton or perhaps London, just as soon as we get back from Gretna Green. Is it not romantic? We will be married in Scotland, over the anvil. I will be married at sixteen! And my sisters not yet married, and all of them older than me. I will get a husband for you as soon as I return, never fear. There are officers aplenty in Brighton and we must go back there eventually, for Wickham’s regiment is there. You might marry Denny or Pratt or Colonel Fitzwilliam, though he is not very handsome, but they cannot all be as handsome as my Wickham. Lord! What a lark! I thought I would die laughing when Wickham said we could run away together! How surprised Harriet will be. They will all be astonished. It will be the talk of Brighton and I dare say I will be the toast of the officers. Only tell no one of it. You know how Lizzy and Jane tried to stop me going to Brighton in the first place, they will only try to spoil my fun if they know. Mama would not do anything to spoil it, but she would tell everyone and I want to tell them myself, you know.

Your soon-to-be-married sister,

Lydia

Mr Wickham to Mrs Younge

Brighton, August 2

Belle, I am in a fix. I thought I would have longer credit here but the shopkeepers in Brighton are used to being swindled and they have started demanding payment. I found a line of creditors at my door this evening and had to climb out of the window. Lydia Bennet saw me but thought it was all a lark. When I said I would have to leave Brighton, she said we should elope. You know me, Belle, I cannot say no to a woman, and the upshot is that I am on the point of escaping to London. I will need somewhere to stay until things blow over. Do you still have your boarding house? I hope so, for I have nowhere else to go. I will be there sometime tomorrow.

Hoping this letter reaches you before I do,

George

Miss Lydia Bennet to Mrs Harriet Forster

Brighton, August 2

My dear Harriet,

You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help laughing myself at your surprise tomorrow morning, as soon as I am missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with who, I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world I love, and he is an angel. I should never be happy without him, so think it no harm to be off. You need not send them word at Longbourn of my going, if you do not like it, for it will make the surprise the greater, when I write to them, and sign my name Lydia Wickham. What a good joke it will be! I can hardly write for laughing. Pray make my excuses to Pratt for not keeping my engagement, and dancing with him tonight. Tell him I hope he will excuse me when he knows all, and tell him I will dance with him at the next ball we meet, with great pleasure. I shall send for my clothes when I get to Longbourn; but I wish you would tell Sally to mend a great slit in my worked muslin gown before they are packed up. Good-bye. Give my love to Colonel Forster. I hope you will drink to our good journey.

Your affectionate friend,

Lydia Bennet

Miss Jane Bennet to Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

August 3

Dearest Lizzy,

I knew you would enjoy yourself with my aunt and uncle and I am glad you are now having your share of the amusements. I would have liked to have you with me in London earlier in the year, but it would have been too cruel to deprive our father of both of us at once. He misses you sorely, and I believe he might even write to you in a few days’ time. In the meantime, you will want to know what we have been doing in Hertfordshire. We had a card party at my aunt Philips’s house the night before last and then yesterday we went to dinner with the Lucases. Lady Lucas could talk of nothing but Charlotte’s impending happy event and Mama could not help being disagreeable. I have started a bonnet for Charlotte’s baby. I could not decide whether to make it blue or pink and so I have settled on yellow.

My cousins keep me busy. In the morning I help them with their reading and in the afternoons we spend most of our time out of doors. Mary, too, helps with their education, although I do not think that Fordyce’s Sermons are of much use to the little ones, since they cannot understand one word in ten. Kitty plays with them sometimes but more often she is shut up in her room, writing to Lydia or reading letters from her. I must say that Lydia has surprised me. I did not think she would be such a regular correspondent. She still sends no more than a few short notes to Mama and Papa, but her letters to Kitty arrive with increasing frequency and Kitty laughs and giggles as she reads them. I am glad she is happy again.

I can write no more at present, my cousins need me, but I will finish my letter tomorrow. For now, adieu.

August 4

Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something has occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming you—be assured that we are all well. What I have to say relates to poor Lydia. An express came at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to bed, from Colonel Forster, to inform us that she was gone off to Scotland with one of his officers; to own the truth, with Wickham! Imagine our surprise. To Kitty, however, it does not seem so wholly unexpected. I am very, very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides! But I am willing to hope the best, and that his character has been misunderstood. Thoughtless and indiscreet I can easily believe him, but this step (and let us rejoice over it) marks nothing bad at heart. His choice is disinterested at least, for he must know my father can give her nothing. Our poor mother is sadly grieved. My father bears it better. How thankful am I that we never let them know what has been said against him! We must forget it ourselves. They were off Saturday night about twelve, as is conjectured, but were not missed till yesterday morning at eight. The express was sent off directly. My dear Lizzy, they must have passed within ten miles of us. Colonel Forster gives us reason to expect him here soon. Lydia left a few lines for his wife, informing her of their intention. I must conclude, for I cannot be long from my poor mother. I am afraid you will not be able to make it out, but I hardly know what I have written.

Jane

Miss Mary Bennet to Miss Lucy Sotherton

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

August 4

Most noble Friend,

My sister Lydia is ruined. I am not surprised. If ever a girl was born to be ruined, it is Lydia. She has run away with an officer. Mama has spent the day bewailing her poor baby’s fate, though as I remarked to Mama, Lydia is not in point of fact a baby, but a young lady of sixteen summers. Mama ignored me, saying that if she had only had her way we would all have gone to Brighton. When I said that if she had carried the day, she might now have four daughters who had run away with officers instead of only one (since I would never have done anything so foolish), she told me that she wished I would run away and then I would not be able to plague her with my moralising. Poor Mama! She would never be accepted into the bluestockings, for she has far too many nerves.

My sister Jane has spent the morning writing to Elizabeth, whilst I have spent my time more profitably by searching for suitable extracts to sustain my family in their hour of need.

Your sister in moral rectitude,

Mary

Miss Jane Bennet to Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

August 5

By this time, my dearest sister, you have received my hurried letter; I wish this may be more intelligible, but though not confined for time, my head is so bewildered that I cannot answer for being coherent. Dearest Lizzy, I hardly know what I would write, but I have bad news for you, and it cannot be delayed. Imprudent as a marriage between Mr Wickham and our poor Lydia would be, we are now anxious to be assured it has taken place, for there is but too much reason to fear they are not gone to Scotland. Colonel Forster came yesterday, having left Brighton the day before, not many hours after the express. Though Lydia’s short letter to Mrs Forster gave them to understand that they were going to Gretna Green, something was dropped by Denny expressing his belief that Wickham never intended to go there, or to marry Lydia at all, which was repeated to Colonel Forster, who, instantly taking the alarm, set off from Brighton, intending to trace their route. He did trace them easily to Clapham, but no farther; for on entering that place they removed into a hackney coach, and dismissed the chaise that brought them from Epsom. All that is known after this is that they were seen to continue the London road. I know not what to think. After making every possible enquiry on that side of London, Colonel Forster came on into Hertfordshire, anxiously renewing them at all the turnpikes, and at the inns in Barnet and Hatfield, but without any success—no such people had been seen to pass through. With the kindest concern he came on to Longbourn, and broke his apprehensions to us in a manner most creditable to his heart. I am sincerely grieved for him and Mrs Forster, but no one can throw any blame on them. Our distress, my dear Lizzy, is very great. My father and mother believe the worst, but I cannot think so ill of him. Many circumstances might make it more eligible for them to be married privately in town than to pursue their first plan; and even if he could form such a design against a young woman of Lydia’s connections, which is not likely, can I suppose her so lost to everything? Impossible! I grieve to find, however, that Colonel Forster is not disposed to depend upon their marriage; he shook his head when I expressed my hopes, and said he feared Wickham was not a man to be trusted. My poor mother is really ill, and keeps her room. Could she exert herself, it would be better; but this is not to be expected. And as to my father, I never in my life saw him so affected. Poor Kitty has incurred their anger for having concealed the attachment; but as it was a matter of confidence, one cannot wonder.

I am truly glad, dearest Lizzy, that you have been spared something of these distressing scenes; but now, as the first shock is over, shall I own that I long for your return? I am not so selfish, however, as to press for it, if inconvenient. Adieu!

I take up my pen again to do what I have just told you I would not; but circumstances are such that I cannot help earnestly begging you all to come here as soon as possible. I know my dear uncle and aunt so well that I am not afraid of requesting it, though I have still something more to ask of the former. My father is going to London with Colonel Forster instantly, to try to discover her. What he means to do I am sure I know not; but his excessive distress will not allow him to pursue any measure in the best and safest way, and Colonel Forster is obliged to be at Brighton again tomorrow evening. In such an exigence my uncle’s advice and assistance would be everything in the world; he will immediately comprehend what I must feel, and I rely upon his goodness.

Jane

Mr Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam

Carriage, on the way to London,

August 8

Something terrible has happened. Wickham! How I curse his name! Oh, do not fear, it is not Georgiana he has run away with this time, but another young woman. If you have not yet returned to your regiment, meet me in London at my club. If you cannot meet me, pray let me know Mrs Younge’s address as soon as possible; I know you discovered it last year and I have urgent need of it.

But I must explain. I must go back, in fact, to make you understand my interest in the matter, nay my determination to put everything right.

I returned to Pemberley a few days ago and having occasion to ride on ahead of the rest of the party in order to attend to some business with my steward, I turned the corner of the stables to find myself looking into the eyes of Elizabeth Bennet! Never had they looked more beautiful, and never had I been more tempted to take her in my arms and kiss her, but I could do nothing except stand and stare. I thought for a moment it must be a dream, a hallucination, for the day was very hot, but when she blushed I knew it was not a dream. Recovering myself, I advanced and spoke to her, if not composedly, at least civilly. As I spoke I could not stop my eyes from roving over her, taking in every small detail of her face and hair. From the depth and beauty of her eyes to the remaining blush on her cheek, I was drinking her in.

She turned away, embarrassed, but she turned towards me again when I spoke to her. I know not what I said; something about the weather, her journey, my surprise at seeing her, the date on which she left Longbourn, her stay in Derbyshire and the health of her family; in short, nothing, but simply words to hold her so that I would have more time to look at her and love her and wonder how I ever thought I would be able to conquer my feelings for her. And all the while she was as uncomfortable as I was, and yet she did not turn away; not after the first time, which, I am convinced, was only because of embarrassment.

And when I could think of nothing further to say, I still remained rooted to the spot, unable to leave, unwilling to relinquish one second of her company, glad to be with her, wanting to be near her; wanting to look at her, and to hear the sound of her breathing and to feel my fingers shiver with the desire to reach out and touch her.

I still want her. I cannot disguise it from myself. No one else will ever do. Only Elizabeth.

I knew it as I stood there, unable to leave, whilst the gardener looked at me curiously and her aunt and uncle watched me from a distance and I knew I must depart, but could not.

At last I tore myself away and went indoors, making sure that the house was ready to receive my guests, as had been my original plan. But I could not remain long indoors. I wanted to be near her, and to show her that her reprovals had been attended to; that I was no longer insufferable or disdainful of the feelings of others; that I had changed.

And so I left the house. I found her at last as she walked by the river. She was at that part of the grounds where the path is open and I saw her long before I reached her. I could tell she saw me, too. The walk seemed endless. A turning in the path hid her from view and then I was suddenly in front of her. Mindful of her previous words about my incivility, I set out to please and to charm her. She seemed to sense it and to want to imitate my politeness. She remarked on the beauty of the place, then blushed and fell silent, as if remembering that, had she accepted my proposal, it could have been hers. Any other woman would have made it hers, even if she despised me. But not Elizabeth. Only love will do for her. And I have known, deep down, for many years, that only love will do for me.

Our conversation faltered and I asked if she would do me the honour of introducing me to her friends. Something of her mischievousness returned, for she smiled with a gleam in her eye as she introduced them as her aunt and uncle. I was surprised; I knew they lived in Cheapside and had therefore not expected them to be so fashionable. To please her, and to show her I was not the rude, arrogant and unfeeling man she thought me, I walked with them, all the time wondering how I could make sure I saw her again. Her party were on a travelling holiday and I did not want them to leave Derbyshire, and so I hit upon the happy notion of inviting her uncle to fish at Pemberley.

And so we continued, the two ladies in front and the two gentlemen behind. I was just wondering how I could alter things when luck played into my hands. Her aunt became tired and leant on her husband’s arm, leaving me free to walk with Elizabeth. There was a silence, but I was not anxious. I was content to catch her scent and to watch the play of colour on her cheek. But she was not easy and soon made it clear that she had been told the family were away from home, and that she would not have taken the liberty of visiting Pemberley otherwise.

I blessed my good fortune. A day later and I would have been in residence, in which case she would not have come; a day earlier and I would have been in London and missed her. I acknowledged that I had arrived earlier than expected and told her that Bingley and his sisters would be joining me.

It was not a happy thought. She became withdrawn and I could tell that her thoughts had returned to her sister and my interference in the matter of Bingley’s attentions. I sought to divert her and found a happy topic in my own sister, asking if I might introduce Georgiana to her during her stay at Lambton. She was surprised, but agreed, and I was content. I would very much like the two of them to come to know each other.

We walked on in silence, each deep in thought. My mind was wondering how I could have stayed away from her so long and wondering how soon I could offer her my hand again. Her mind I did not know, but I hoped it was not entirely set against me.

We reached the carriage and I invited her to walk into the house as her relations were some quarter of a mile behind. She declined, saying she was not tired, and we talked of nothing in particular but each one of us, I am sure, was thinking a great deal. At last her aunt and uncle joined us and the three of them departed.

My thoughts were turbulent, as you might imagine, but the following morning I took Georgiana to meet her and the two of them liked each other. Bingley was with us, and talked of the Netherfield ball. It showed me once and for all that he has not forgotten Miss Bennet, and I am now resolved to do everything in my power to encourage him to see her again.

The meeting was not without its embarrassments, but they were less than formerly and I courted the good opinion of not only Elizabeth but her relations. She saw it, and from time to time a gleam of astonishment lit her eye. I had not realised until then how rude my behaviour had been at Netherfield, for my present civility surprised her.

We stayed only half an hour. I wanted to stay longer. I would have been happy to remain there for the rest of my life. But courtesy compelled me to take my leave—not, however, until I had secured her promise to dine with us the following day.

The evening passed slowly but not unpleasantly, and when my guests had gone to bed I walked the halls of Pemberley, imagining Elizabeth’s step on the stairs, her laughter in the garden, her singing in the drawing room, her brightness and vivacity filling the house and bringing it back to life; for ever since my parents died, a part of Pemberley has been dead.

Her visit to take tea with Georgiana the following day only intensified my feelings and all was going well until this morning, when I paid a visit to the inn at Lambton and found Elizabeth in a state of great distress. I was immediately alarmed and thought she must be ill, but she broke down and revealed that she had just received a letter from home, and that her sister Lydia had run away with George Wickham!

I longed to comfort her, to go to her and put my arms around her, to let her cry against my shoulder, but I could do nothing without outraging propriety and occasioning gossip, so I did what little I could, sending for her aunt and uncle. But I am determined not to rest until I have rescued her sister and relieved her from the agony of this despicable affair.

And so now you see why it is imperative I find Wickham.

I hope you can decipher this letter. I am writing it in the carriage and the potholes are playing havoc with my penmanship. I never thought it would be so long but my feelings have run away with me. A glance out of the window shows me that we are approaching London and I must finish my letter quickly. I must right this wrong, for my own sake as well as Lydia Bennet’s. If I had explained his character, given some hint of it when I was at Netherfield last autumn, this could not have happened. The girl would have been on her guard against him; or, at least, if she was too foolish to heed the warning, then Forster would have been alerted to the danger and kept a better eye on her.

I pray you are still in London and that I will find you there, but if not, I will leave this letter for you at Fitzwilliam House. Come to me at once, and of course say nothing of this to anyone. All may yet be well and the girl’s reputation saved. Though she is not a blameless innocent, as Georgiana was, still she does not deserve this, and neither does Elizabeth.

Darcy

Miss Susan Sotherton to Mrs Charlotte Collins

Bath, August 9

How very glad I was to hear your exciting news. If it is a girl, I hope she grows up to be just like you, if a boy, I hope he grows up like…well, I cannot think of any suitable man for him to emulate. It would certainly be better if he did not grow up like any of the men in my family. I hope he grows up to be someone very good and brave and intelligent. In fact, if he is a boy, I think it would be simpler if he should just grow up to be like you as well! Pray let me be a godmother.

My news is less exciting, but glorious nonetheless. I have chosen my wedding dress. Madame Chloe is to make it for me, after one of the fashions in La Belle Assemblée. It is in the latest Grecian style, with a high waist, a round neck, short sleeves and a sash. I am enclosing a sketch so that you can see how delicious it is. Mama and I are going to London tomorrow to buy the silk at Grafton House. We intend to stay there for a few days so that we can buy everything else I will need as well; all except my shoes, which I am having made here in Bath. They will be made of white silk to match the dress.

I never thought my wedding outfit would be half so fine. Indeed, there were times in the last few years when I thought I would have to dress in rags, but now that I am to marry a rich husband I can buy whatever I please. I am very vain, I dare say, but I am enjoying every minute of it.

We are going to have the ceremony in Bath. I did hope, when Elizabeth said Mr Bingley had left Netherfield, that he would give notice, then we could return there for a few months and I could be married from home. But although Mr Bingley stays away, it seems he does not want to relinquish his tenancy. I am disappointed for my own sake but I am pleased for Jane. I have quiet hopes that he keeps Netherfield Park because he wants to see her again, and wishes to continue his pursuit of her. Let us hope so, for never a dearer creature lived than Jane Bennet.

By the bye, do you have Elizabeth’s address? I know she is in Derbyshire with her aunt and uncle, and her last letter told me where she expected to be for the next week, but I have somehow misplaced it. Or, to tell the truth, my father burnt it with a pile of other papers in a fit of rage. I believe he thought it was a bill. You will tell from this that he is no better and that we all despair of him ever retrenching and conserving what little is left of his fortune. Luckily, I will soon be married and I will not have to worry about his temper any longer, nor his drinking nor his gambling nor anything else. I am very glad my dear Mr Wainwright has none of these vices; he is the most amiable man that ever lived and I am very much looking forward to being his wife.

If you have Elizabeth’s address, pray let me have it, for I want to send her a sketch of my wedding dress. I hope she is enjoying herself in Derbyshire. Indeed she must be, for her aunt and uncle are sensible, intelligent people and Derbyshire itself is very fine. After all the vicissitudes of her life over the last few months I am sure that no one deserves a little happiness more than Elizabeth, and I wish her a handsome husband, just like my Mr Wainwright.

Write to me soon,

Susan

Lady Lucas to Mrs Charlotte Collins

Lucas Lodge, Hertfordshire,

August 10

Charlotte, such news! Far be it from me to take pleasure in the misfortune of our neighbours, but the Bennets are disgraced! Lydia has done what I always said she would, and run away with one of the officers. You probably remember him, he was here before you married: a handsome fellow by the name of George Wickham. He was very charming to be sure, but there was something about him that was not quite right. I thought so at the time. ‘Depend upon it,’ I said to your father, ‘that man will come to a bad end.’ And now I am proved right, for not only has he run off with Lydia, he has left a mountain of debts behind. Mrs Bennet keeps to her room and will have no one but Hill to look after her, for fear the other servants will gossip, but it is impossible to keep such a thing quiet. I had it from the butcher’s boy, who had it from the Bennets’ maid. Mrs Bennet is in hysterics and even Mr Bennet is shaken out of his customary complacency.

I am sorry for them, of course, but they are sadly to blame. If they had looked after Lydia better, and not indulged her so much, it would have been a different tale. But Mrs Bennet would bring Lydia out when she was only fifteen, instead of waiting until she was sixteen as is customary, and then encouraged her in her wild ways. I am sure I would have been mortified if one of my daughters had flirted with all the officers in such a way, laughing and joking and getting up to who knows what kind of mischief. And then to let her go to Brighton, unguarded, with no one but Colonel and Mrs Forster to take care of her…it is no wonder she came by such an unhappy fate. If the Bennets had looked after her properly, as Sir William and I looked after you, she could have one day married a good and decent man like Mr Collins.

Ah, Mr Collins! You have done well, Charlotte, very well, with your marriage. Such a fine parsonage! And such a patroness! And the chimney piece at Rosings costing eight hundred pounds!

I am to visit Mrs Bennet again this afternoon, and I mean to take her some jam. I am sure there is nothing like it for making the world seem a brighter place and she will need it, poor woman, to comfort her in her family’s disgrace.

Your affectionate

Mother

Mrs Charlotte Collins to Miss Susan Sotherton

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,

August 11

Susan, have you not heard? There is great trouble in the Bennet household. Mama has written to me about it three times already. Elizabeth is once more at Longbourn, and Lydia has run away with George Wickham. It is the talk of the neighbourhood.

Mrs Bennet went off into hysterics and of course it was then impossible to keep it from the servants and it was all round Meryton in the hour. Mama went round to the Bennets’ at once, to condole with Mrs Bennet and to offer her services. She wrote to me of it as soon as she returned to Lucas Lodge. Poor Elizabeth and Jane! They have to bear the burden of it, for Kitty is no help and Mary is more interested in sermonizing than making herself useful. This will be a sore trial for our friends. It seems that Mr Wickham is not the man everyone thought him, for he has not paid his debts and it transpires that this is not his first attempt at seduction.

He was very attentive to Mary King when she inherited a fortune and he was also very attentive to Elizabeth at one time. Thank God she resisted him!

The latest news is that Mr Bennet has gone to London to try and find Lydia. I hope for everyone’s sake that she is soon discovered. But I must go, I hear Mr Collins’s step in the corridor. Alas! he was in the room when I read the first letter from Mama, and as I could not help exclaiming when I read of Lydia’s elopement, it was impossible for me to keep it from him. I fear he means to write to the Bennets, despite my best efforts to discourage him.

Your dear friend,

Charlotte

Miss Mary Bennet to Miss Lucy Sotherton

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

August 11

Most noble Friend,

Let us rejoice that we have followed the path of womanly virtue and that we have not strayed into the wilderness of infamy that is the present abode of my sister Lydia, for she has run away with George Wickham. Let us give thanks that our studies have prepared us for the wickedness of men, so that we are warned against them, and that their blandishments have not succeeded in luring us from the tranquillity of our families to a certain doom.

My sister Elizabeth has returned home, summoned by Jane, and she is much chastened, for she sees now the sense of my studies, which she was inclined to deride. She sits with my mother and attempts to console her, but Mama is beyond consolation.

My father has gone to London to look for Lydia, and to make Wickham marry her, but I fear his efforts will be in vain. Mama expects Lydia to be found and talks often of Lydia’s marriage, but Lydia is not the sort of young lady that men marry. She is the sort of young lady that men run off with and then abandon to a life of poverty and vice.

I have memorised some of my extracts and I comforted my sisters by telling them that although it was a most unfortunate affair, and one which would be much talked of, we must stem the tide of malice and pour into the wounded bosoms of each other the balm of sisterly consolation.

Elizabeth was humbled into silence by my wise words, and, seeing how affected she was, I added that, unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we could draw from it a useful lesson: that loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable; that one false step involves her in endless ruin; that her reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful; and that she cannot be too much guarded in her behaviour towards the undeserving of the other sex.

Elizabeth was speechless with admiration.

Mr Shackleton, too, who had learnt of the matter from my aunt, thought the sentiments very well expressed.

I have given him leave to copy them into his book of extracts.

Your sister in virtue,

Mary

Mr Gardiner to Mrs Gardiner

Gracechurch Street, London,

August 11

My dear wife,

You will be anxious to hear what little news I have, though I wish it could be more, and more to the point. However, I have found Mr Bennet and persuaded him to come to Gracechurch Street, so that we are both here now at home. He has already been to Epsom and Clapham to try and discover something from the hackney carriage drivers, though without gaining any satisfactory information, and he is now determined to enquire at all the principal hotels in town in case the young couple spent the night at one of them before procuring lodgings. I do not expect any success from this measure, but as he is eager to be doing something, I mean to assist him in pursuing it. I have tried to persuade him to leave London when it is done, but he will not hear of it. I wish he would return to Longbourn. There is nothing he can do here that I cannot do, and his agitation makes him ill suited to doing what little can be done. However, if he will not leave then he will not leave and I must hope for better things tomorrow. I will write again very soon and let you know how we go on.

Your loving husband,

EG

P.S. I have written to Colonel Forster to desire him to find out, if possible, from some of the young man’s intimates in the regiment, whether Wickham has any relations or connections who would be likely to know in what part of the town he has now concealed himself. If there were anyone that one could apply to, with a probability of gaining such a clue as that, it might be of essential consequence. At present we have nothing to guide us. Colonel Forster will, I dare say, do everything in his power to satisfy us on this head. But, on second thought, perhaps Lizzy could tell us what relations he has now living, better than any other person.

Mr Collins to Mr Bennet

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,

August 12

My dear Sir,

I feel myself called upon, by our relationship, and my situation in life, to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are now suffering under, of which we were yesterday informed by a letter from Hertfordshire. Be assured, my dear sir, that Mrs Collins and myself sincerely sympathise with you, and all your respectable family, in your present distress, which must be of the bitterest kind, because proceeding from a cause which no time can remove. No arguments shall be wanting on my part that can alleviate so severe a misfortune—or that may comfort you, under a circumstance that must be of all others most afflicting to a parent’s mind. The death of your daughter would have been a blessing in comparison of this. And it is the more to be lamented, because there is reason to suppose, as my dear Charlotte informs me, that this licentiousness of behaviour in your daughter has proceeded from a faulty degree of indulgence; though, at the same time, for the consolation of yourself and Mrs Bennet, I am inclined to think that her own disposition must be naturally bad, or she could not be guilty of such an enormity, at so early an age. Howsoever that may be, you are grievously to be pitied; in which opinion I am not only joined by Mrs Collins, but likewise by Lady Catherine and her daughter, to whom I have related the affair. They agree with me in apprehending that this false step in one daughter will be injurious to the fortunes of all the others, for who, as Lady Catherine herself condescendingly says, will connect themselves with such a family? And this consideration leads me moreover to reflect with augmented satisfaction on a certain event of last November, for had it been otherwise, I must have been involved in all your sorrow and disgrace. Let me advise you then, my dear sir, to console yourself as much as possible, to throw off your unworthy child from your affection forever, and leave her to reap the fruits of her own heinous offence.

I am, dear sir, your faithful servant,

William Collins

Miss Lucy Sotherton to Miss Mary Bennet

Bath, August 12

Hail!

I am saddened, nay grieved, to learn of the fate of your sister, but—may I say it?—not surprised. Many are the times I tried to tempt her back to the path of Athena by my sagacious reasoning and learned erudition, but she only laughed at me and said that she preferred men in pantaloons to women in pulpits. And now we see the end of the path of perdition, where your sister lies prostrate with grief, weeping over her lost virtue; or, worse yet, laughing in the face of virtue and drinking cheap spirits from the bottom of life’s grimiest bottle.

If news reaches you of Lydia’s ultimate fate, you will find a sympathetic listener in me, no matter how shocking that news might be; for too well do I know that you do not share in her immorality and that you have renounced the fleshpots for the pure world of wisdom where you and I, dearest friend, will reside for eternity.

Your faithful friend,

Lucy

Miss Mary Bennet to Miss Lucy Sotherton

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

August 13

Most noble Friend,

Thank you for the noble sentiments expressed in your reply to my last and for your belief in my own unsullied virtue. I am continuing to write in my book of extracts, and my family now see the wisdom of it, indeed they are dumbstruck every time I open my book. If only they had paid more attention to their own education, they, too, could have had a ready store of solace close to hand.

The only one of my family to have emerged from this disaster in a favourable light is Mr Collins. He has written to my father and, Jane being instructed to open and read any letter that arrived in my father’s absence, I have had the pleasure of discovering its contents. It was a very sensible letter in which he has advised my father to throw off his unworthy child from his affection forever, and leave her to reap the fruits of her own heinous offence. His sentiments were so ably expressed that I have borrowed his letter and I have copied it into my book of extracts.

Your fellow sister along the path of wisdom and virtue,

Mary

Miss Lucy Sotherton to Miss Mary Bennet

Bath, August 14

Hail!

I am glad that you are continuing with your studies at this grievous time, but I must warn you that I detected in your letter a lingering admiration for your enticing cousin, Mr Collins. Let your sister’s fate serve as a warning. Mr Collins is not for you. He has given his hand elsewhere, and no matter how learned his discourse or how just his sentiments as he expresses his proper opprobrium of your sister’s fall, you must not sink into the pit of depravity by coveting your neighbour’s ox nor ass; not even when that ass is as alluring as Mr Collins.

With any other correspondent I would have to explain myself, dearest friend, but you will understand at once that I am alluding to the scriptures and that I am not likening your revered cousin to a farmyard animal; for his voice is the honeyed voice of reason and not the braying of a donkey. But no matter how soft his voice or how perspicacious his reasoning, he belongs to Mrs Collins, your erstwhile, if not wholly deserving, neighbour.

Take comfort, dear friend, in the history I am sending you, of an orphan lost in the forest. Arm yourself with her fortitude, and give thanks that your tragedies are not those of one whom the fates have abandoned, for you still have your parents, woeful though they may be, and a dear friend who will call your feet back to the straight and narrow whenever they are tempted to stray.

Your sister beneath the skin,

Lucy

Mr Gardiner to Mrs Gardiner

Gracechurch Street, London,

August 15

My dear wife,

I am sorry for the long gap between this letter and my last but I did not want to write again till I had received an answer from Colonel Forster; I only wish I had something of a more pleasant nature to send. Colonel Forster has made extensive enquiries but as far as he can discover, Wickham does not have a single relation with whom he kept up any connection, and it was certain that he has no near one living. His former acquaintances have been numerous; but since he has been in the militia, it does not appear that he was on terms of particular friendship with any of them. There was no one, therefore, who could be pointed out as likely to give any news of him. And in the wretched state of his own finances, there was a very powerful motive for secrecy, in addition to his fear of discovery by Lydia’s relations, for it has just transpired that he had left gaming debts behind him to a very considerable amount. Colonel Forster believes that more than a thousand pounds would be necessary to clear his expenses at Brighton. He owes a good deal in the town, but his debts of honour are still more formidable.

The only good news that I have to send is that I have persuaded Mr Bennet to return to Longbourn. He has been rendered spiritless by the ill-success of his endeavours and he has at last yielded to my entreaties, for which I am very grateful. He will be more use to his family in Meryton than he is here. I will continue the search and do everything in my power to discover the young couple.

I hope you will then feel free to return to Gracechurch Street. I believe that Jane and Elizabeth are over the worst of the shock, and once their father is home, they will have someone to support them through this time of trial.

Your loving husband,

EG

Mr Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam

Darcy House, London, August 17

My dear Henry,

Thank God you knew Mrs Younge’s address, for it is only that which allowed me to discover Wickham. I tried to persuade Miss Lydia to leave him, promising to escort her back to her family, but she refused my help and expressed her intention of staying with him. It was evident that she believed him when he said he would marry her, and she thought an elopement to Gretna Green was imminent, just as soon as he had raised the money for the carriage fare. Nothing I could say would change her mind and at last I could do nothing more for her than make him agree to marry her; although, I say ‘for her’ when in fact I did it all for Elizabeth. It was Elizabeth I thought of as I engaged with Wickham, and the thought of her suffering which forced me to continue long after I would have left him otherwise.

He was insolent and impertinent, as you can imagine, and he soon returned to his favourite subject, the living of Kympton. He had the audacity to tell me that if I honoured my late father’s wishes, he would be happy to become a clergyman, and as a clergyman he would take Miss Lydia to wife.

I replied in short order that the living had been given to Mark Haydock, an excellent man of intelligence and sound common sense, who was in robust health and likely to hold the position until he was ninety, and that therefore the living was no longer available.

He hung out for as long as he could, but when he saw that I was immovable on the subject, he started to bargain more rationally. I had little inclination to bargain with him, God knows! but I promised to pay his debts and, furthermore, give him something to live on. He at last agreed, for he knew that his only choice was to face his creditors: I left him in no doubt that if he did not marry Miss Lydia, then I would give them his address. With no money to fly, he was caught.

My next step was to visit Elizabeth’s uncle and tell him what had been arranged. He was surprised, and at first refused to let me help in any way. But a thoughtful look gradually crept over his face and I could see that he guessed I had done it for Elizabeth’s sake.

From that moment on, he had no more objection to make. He agreed to say nothing of my involvement to anyone, and he further agreed to ask Mr Bennet to make a small contribution to the affair, in order to convince Mr Bennet that matters were not so bad and to make him feel that he is, himself, setting matters to rights.

I, of course, will bear the burden of Wickham’s debts.

As for Wickham, he will quit the militia, where he is no longer welcome and where Lydia’s disgrace is known, and he will go into the regulars. I have undertaken to help him acquire an ensigncy in the north. Lydia will now stay with her uncle until the wedding takes place. It cannot be until September because the banns must be read, but once it is done, Lydia and Wickham will go north and, I very much hope, out of my life for good.

It is a bad business, but I am thankful it is no worse.

I have sworn Mr Gardiner to secrecy. I do not want Elizabeth to know what I have done. She would be grateful and I do not want her gratitude, I want her love. I have done little enough to earn it but I must win it, for nothing else will make me happy.

Darcy

Mrs Bennet to Mrs Gardiner

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

August 19, ten o’clock

Sister! What a fortunate day this is! I knew that Lydia would be married if only she could go to Brighton, and see, she is! Only sixteen! Lucky, lucky Lydia, to be marrying such a handsome man! And to be married before all her sisters! Tell her she must have the finest muslins from Grafton House and to send the bills to her father. And she must have a new carriage. I believe there are some very good carriage makers in town. There are one or two houses within a few miles of Longbourn which I think might suit her. Haye-Park might do, if the Gouldings would quit it, or the great house at Stoke, if the drawing room were larger; but Ashworth is too far off! I could not bear to have her ten miles from me; and as for Purvis Lodge, the attics are dreadful. But we will find somewhere for her before very long.

I will include a note for my own dear girl; pray give it to her for me.

Your affectionate sister,

Janet

Mrs Bennet to Miss Lydia Bennet

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

August 19, eleven o’clock

My dear Lydia!

Happy was the day you went to Brighton! If I had had my way, we would have all gone, and I dare say all of your sisters would have found husbands by now, but I was overruled. Is it any wonder I am a martyr to my nerves? But at least one of my daughters has found herself a husband, and at only sixteen! Clever, clever Lydia! What fun you will have, showing your ring off to everyone in Meryton. I was wild to come down to London to be with you but your father has forbidden me to leave the house. He says your aunt and uncle will do everything that is necessary, but what is an aunt to a mother? I wanted to help you buy your wedding clothes but your father is being most disagreeable and he has told me he will not give you a shilling. It is fortunate, then, that your mother has some small income of her own, and here it is, dear Lydia, everything I have. You must go and buy yourself some new clothes. To be sure, there is not enough time to buy everything I would wish for you, but something can be done. You must have a new dress and a new bonnet, and do not forget to buy a new pair of gloves and a fan.

Oh, how I am looking forward to seeing you again and calling you Mrs Wickham! How green everyone hereabouts will be. You can have no notion of how spiteful they have been. Lady Lucas has been exceedingly unpleasant, though I put that all down to jealousy because Mr Collins is not as handsome as dear Wickham, and Mr Collins does not have a blue coat.

I am going out now to spread the news of your engagement. It is perhaps a good thing I am to remain in Meryton, to be sure, for I am certain that no one can do that as well as your own dear mother.

Mama

Miss Lydia Bennet to Mrs Bennet

Gracechurch Street, London,

August 20

My dear Mama,

Lord! How I laughed when I got your letter. I wish you could come to London, how happy we would be. My aunt and uncle are being horrid unpleasant and they will not allow me to set foot out of the door, let alone buy any new wedding clothes. My aunt preaches and sermonizes all the time, indeed, she is almost as bad as Mary; however, I do not listen to one word in ten, for as you might imagine I am busy thinking of my dear Wickham. I would marry him tomorrow but the banns have to be read and the ceremony cannot therefore be held until the first of September. We are to be married at the church of St. Clement’s. I am quite wild for it as you can imagine. How I am to pass the time until then I do not know, since my aunt and uncle never let me have any fun. The Little Theatre is open and I am wild to go; do write to my aunt, Mama, and tell her to take me.

Tell my sisters to write to me, too. They must take the opportunity of addressing me as Miss Lydia Bennet for the last time: before very long I will be signing myself

Lydia Wickham!

Miss Mary Bennet to Miss Lucy Sotherton

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

August 22

Most noble Friend,

I know you will give thanks with me when you learn that the worst disaster has been averted and that my sister Lydia will now wed her vile seducer, George Wickham. I had thought that such enforced marriages happened only on the Continent. Though I know from my reading—our reading, dear Lucy—that young women are frequently seduced in Italy, and then chained up in dungeons beneath sinister castles, I never expected to encounter it here in England (though without the chains), and we must hope (since Gracechurch Street is a respectable establishment) without the dungeon.

It only shows what dangers are all around us. We must be on our guard, you and I, and make sure that no seducers charm us with their sweet words, robbing us of our virtue—our most treasured possession. Mr Shackleton agrees with me. He says that seducers are more common than is usually supposed and that he has his doubts about Alfred Courtney. I was surprised, as Mr Courtney has always been a pleasant young man—indeed, he was good enough to compliment me on my playing the other evening—but Mr Shackleton assures me there are Rumours. He has warned me to preserve a stoical silence in the presence of the man. I think, after my sister’s unfortunate experiences, I will follow his advice.

It is lucky that I already have some experience of stoical silence, or else nothing would have enabled me to remain quiet when my mother heard the news that Lydia was to be married. She was in transports of delight, saying that she longed to see Lydia again, that Lydia and Wickham must come to stay as soon as they are married, and what fun it would be to introduce her to all the neighbourhood as Mrs Wickham.

Papa took a more rational view of the matter and said that he would never let Kitty or me out of his sight, that he would not reward Lydia’s impudence by recognising the marriage and that she should never again set foot in the house. An argument ensued and Papa vowed that he would not be moved on the subject. But Mama prevailed and Lydia and Wickham are to visit us.

Your true sister—for you are more surely my sister than the fallen woman who is Lydia,

Mary

Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Miss Susan Sotherton

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

August 23

Dear Susan,

I am sure you will have heard by now of our troubles, for Mr Collins could have learnt of them from no one but Charlotte, and as she knows of them she has certainly told you. He wrote Papa a very stupid letter; however, he is a very stupid man and I expected no better.

Forgive me, I am out of sorts this morning. I meant to write and send you all my love, for this is the last time I will be able to write to you as Miss Sotherton; by this time next week you will be Mrs Wainwright. And not long afterwards, Lydia will be Mrs Wickham.

I cannot bear it. The more I think about it, the worse it seems, not only for Lydia but for me.

Oh, Susan! My confusion about Mr Darcy is growing daily. If only I could go back to thinking him rude and above himself, how happy I would be. If only I could tease him and laugh at him and pay him back for slighting my charms! If only he had never proposed to me, or written me that letter: for it was the letter which forced me to see him as a very different man. If only I had not met him again in Derbyshire…but you do not know about my visit to Lambton, and how everything there changed things.

You know that I was going to Derbyshire with my aunt and uncle. Once there, my aunt had a wish to see Pemberley, for as you know she grew up in the neighbourhood, and once I had discovered that Mr Darcy was not at home, I decided I could visit his estate without ill effect. It would have looked very odd if I had refused to go, and indeed, I will admit that I was curious to see a place about which I had heard so much.

Susan, it is the most beautiful estate you ever saw. Nothing vulgar or ostentatious, but everything has been done to make it the loveliest place in England. The park contains a variety of grounds and as we drove in at the lodge, we found ourselves travelling first through a wood, the prettiest wood you have ever seen, then ascending for half a mile before finding ourselves at the top of an eminence. The trees gave way to open ground and my eye was immediately caught by Pemberley House, which was situated on the opposite side of the valley, beyond a meandering stream. It was basking in the sunlight and I found myself thinking, Of all this I might have been mistress!

But then I reminded myself of Mr Darcy’s feelings towards my family and I knew my aunt and uncle would not have been welcome, and so I ceased to regret it as a home, but yet to admire it as a splendid residence.

We drove on, crossing a bridge and then rolling to a halt by the front door. We were greeted by the housekeeper, who is used to showing people around the house, and I discovered that, inside as well as out, it is the most charming place. There are sweeping views from every window and the most elegant wallpapers and furnishings decorate the rooms.

When we had seen all of the house that was open to general view, we were passed over to the gardener, who led us towards the river. I stopped to look back at the house, and my aunt and uncle looked back also, wondering as to the date of the building, when suddenly Mr Darcy appeared round the corner of the house! I could not believe it. I thought at first he must be an apparition but I quickly realised that he was real. He was coming from the direction of the stables and it was apparent that he had come home unexpectedly.

I wished the ground would open and swallow me up. I felt a wave of humiliation and I could not keep a blush from spreading over my face. I could not bear him to think that I had sought him out deliberately. I wanted to tell him that I was there by accident, at the wish of my aunt and uncle, and that we believed he was from home. But I was too embarrassed to speak, let alone cross the twenty yards that stretched out between us, and so I turned away with my feelings in a whirl.

You may imagine my horror when I heard his footsteps approaching, and my embarrassment when I received his compliments. I scarcely dared lift my eyes to his face, and I know not what answer I made to his enquiries after my family.

I was dumbfounded by the change in his manner. Gone was his pride, his haughtiness and his arrogance. To my astonishment he was speaking to me in the most affable manner; indeed, it seemed as though he were putting himself out to please me, and to set me at my ease.

Presently he fell silent and then, after standing a few moments without saying a word, he took his leave. My aunt and uncle joined me, but I was so overcome by my own feelings that I did not hear a word they said. I was overcome with shame and vexation, certain that he would think I had deliberately thrown myself in his way again.

And yet he had not met me with derision or disgust. He had met me with great civility. I could not make him out.

We walked on round the lake, but yet my thoughts were all fixed on the one spot of Pemberley House where Mr Darcy might be. I longed to know what was passing in his mind, and whether, in defiance of everything, he still held me dear.

It seemed that he must, for he soon joined us again and spoke to my aunt and uncle in the most affable manner. He even invited my uncle to go fishing with him! And, what is more, he asked if he might be allowed to introduce his sister to me.

My aunt and uncle were curious at the sight of so much attention, but I did not feel I could enlighten them. I scarcely knew what his attentions meant myself.

The next day, he brought his sister to see me at the inn where we were staying, and she is the sweetest, most charming girl imaginable—not at all the proud young woman Mr Wickham described.

He brought someone else, too: Mr Bingley. And oh, Susan! Say nothing of this to anyone, in case I am mistaken, but I believe he still has feelings for Jane. In fact, if Mr Darcy gives his approval, I believe Mr Bingley will return to Netherfield and seek Jane out again.

But will Mr Darcy give his approval? I thought so, because he was very changed, and spoke well of her and did not discourage Mr Bingley from speaking of her.

Things were going very well…he was attentive, charming, generous, kind…and then Lydia ran away with Wickham! Even worse, I told him! I could not help it. The letter arrived just before Mr Darcy entered the room and I was so horrified that I could not conceal my distress. For Lydia’s elopement to happen at such a moment, when I had just acknowledged to myself that Mr Darcy was the one man in the world I could be prevailed upon to marry, was cruel indeed.

I had thought it was all over; that I had no chance with him; that, having offered me his hand once he would not do so again. But then the meeting at Pemberley and his evident efforts to please aroused hope in my breast and made me hope that things had changed…

But now those hopes are broken before they were ever fully formed. To marry me? When Lydia has disgraced herself and the rest of the family, thereby justifying everything he said to me about my family: my sisters’ behaviour and my father’s lack of any kind of control? No, it is impossible. And even more impossible, because if he married me, he would be related to Wickham, his worst enemy. It is unthinkable.

And yet I do think of it, Susan, all the time. I remember every word spoken between us. I remember his looks, his expression, his voice, the touch of his hand.

I cannot forget.

But I must.

I must.

But I have been writing only of myself. What of you? Tell me of more pleasant things. Give me all your news. Distract my thoughts. Make me forget about Mr Darcy, and make me cease to regret everything I have lost, for it is a comfort to me, at least, that you, dear Susan, are happy.

Lizzy

Miss Susan Sotherton to Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Bath, August 24

My poor Lizzy,

How I feel for you. I wish that everyone could be as happy as I. Only a few more days and I marry my dear Wainwright, and I wish with all my heart that you could marry your Mr Darcy. I have never heard you talk about a man in this way before, and you are too sensible to think such things about a man unless they are true. I believe you are in love with him and I will hope for some miracle which might yet unite you.

You are right when you say that I had already heard about Lydia’s escapade from Charlotte, but do not judge her too harshly. She did not tell Mr Collins deliberately, rather she was reading a letter from her mama when Mr Collins was in the room and could not help exclaiming over the news, and then she could not keep it from him. I am sure she would have kept your confidence otherwise.

And now I must go, there is time for no more; Mama is calling me and I must see to the final preparations for my wedding. I will write to you again as soon as I can, but I must now sign myself for the last time,

Susan Sotherton

SEPTEMBER

Colonel Fitzwilliam to Mr Darcy

Fitzwilliam House, London,

September 2

Darcy, you must be relieved that Wickham is safely married and the whole business is over with. What are your intentions now? Are you planning to visit Hertfordshire? You mentioned something about revealing the truth to Bingley; that you suspect Miss Bennet has feelings for him, but what of your own feelings? Are you going to speak to Miss Elizabeth?

I think she would make a worthy mistress of Pemberley.

Henry

Miss Caroline Bingley to Mrs Bingley

Pemberley, Derbyshire,

September 3

Greetings and felicitations, dearest Mama!

It is raining today and I am full of ennui. Mr Darcy left us a few days ago to attend to business in London. I cannot think what he finds to do in London at this time of year. However, he insisted he must go and that no one could conduct the business for him.

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?

And so I determined to treat him like any other guest. I summoned the courage to ask about his sister, but once he had told me that she was well, he lapsed into silence again, and at length both he and Mr Bingley went away.

Why, if he wished to see me, did he not speak to me? And why, if he did not wish to speak to me, did he come?

Did you ever have such moments with Mr Wainwright? Did you ever feel so painfully embarrassed that you wished never to see him again, whilst hoping with all your heart that you would?

Tell me, Susan, what do you think he is about? For I cannot live with this uncertainty.

Your dear friend,

Lizzy

Mr Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam

Darcy House, London,

September 25

Henry, I am sorry it has taken me so long to reply to your last but I have been in Hertfordshire, making amends for the wrong I did Charles in deceiving him about Miss Bennet. As soon as I told him that I suspected she had feelings for him, and that she had been in London earlier in the year without his knowledge, he returned to Netherfield Park at once. He paid a call at Longbourn straightaway, where he was warmly welcomed by Mrs Bennet. She is as vulgar as ever, but I believe he would tolerate ten such Mrs Bennets for the chance of marrying his beloved Jane; as I would gladly tolerate a hundred Mrs Bennets if I thought that Elizabeth might marry me.

I had hoped, when I went to Longbourn, that I would find Elizabeth welcoming; that the warmth of our meetings in Derbyshire would be continued in Hertfordshire; but instead I found her ill at ease in my company.

Henry, I do not know what to think. I was sure we were coming to know each other in Derbyshire, and that she was starting to forgive me for my former rudeness. I could see that she was surprised by my courtesy to her aunt and uncle, but nevertheless pleased by it, and I felt sure that she looked more kindly on me, realising I had changed. If not for her wretched sister eloping with Wickham, I am certain we would have come to an understanding. But the mood was broken when she was forced to return home—forced to it by the elopement of her sister, whom I could have protected if I had only made Wickham’s character known.

And now I do not know if I have any hope of ever winning her affections, or if I have disgusted her too much for her to forgive me.

I fear the latter. If she had given me any encouragement, any hope when I visited her in Hertfordshire…but there was none. She scarcely looked at me, let alone spoke to me, and I can see no reason to return.

I fear my chance of winning her has gone forever.

Darcy

Lady Lucas to Mrs Charlotte Collins

Lucas Lodge, Hertfordshire,

September 29

Dearest Charlotte,

We all hope you are taking care of yourself and not working too hard; also, make sure you eat well. You must look after yourself. Your father talks of nothing but the happy event and is looking forward to introducing his grandchild at St. James’s.

Meryton is full of news, though none so good as your own. The Bennets are insufferable because Jane Bennet is engaged to Mr Bingley. Mrs Bennet can talk of nothing else, and grows very tiresome, for you know what a gossip she is. It is ‘Jane and Mr Bingley this,’ ‘My future son-in-law, Mr Bingley, that’ and ‘My daughter, who will be Mrs Bingley.’

She was less pleased to play hostess to Mr Darcy, who accompanied his friend, although no one knows why he went. It is not as though he can have anything to take him to Longbourn. Poor Elizabeth! She had to entertain him whilst her sister sat with Mr Bingley, though he has now gone back to town on business, but everyone says he plans to return and Mrs Bennet is quite put out. ‘What does he come here for?’ she asks. ‘I quite detest him.’ But as the friend of Mr Bingley she has to tolerate him.

You have been lucky in your choice of husband, Charlotte, but I do hope he is not plaguing you too much. Remember to encourage his hobbies. I have always encouraged your father to take up outside employment of one kind or another. I cannot be doing with him under my feet all day long. Press upon Mr Collins the advantages of gardening. A man can never be too much in the garden.

Your loving

Mother

Mrs Charlotte Collins to Mrs Susan Wainwright

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,

September 30

Susan, how glad I was to hear of your wedding and your bridal tour, and it seems that one wedding has brought on another, for you will have heard by now that Jane Bennet is betrothed. Things happen in threes, so they say, and I think there will be another betrothal in Meryton before long. Mr Darcy has been often at Longbourn, so my mother says, and if I do not miss my guess, he will propose to Elizabeth very soon. I thought, as long ago as last year, when we were all together in Meryton, that he was attracted to her, and I counselled her to make herself agreeable to him. She would not do it, but her impertinence did her no harm with him; indeed, I think it attracted him more. To be sure, things did not look so promising when he went away, but now that he is back, and visiting Longbourn for no reason, I think it certain that he intends to marry her. I am glad of it. I like him. His manners are not prepossessing to begin with, but they improve on acquaintance. I have seen him many times, both in Hertfordshire and Kent, and I believe he would make Elizabeth an excellent husband, as well as being an excellent catch.

Your dear friend,

Charlotte

OCTOBER

Miss Anne de Bourgh to Miss Georgiana Darcy

Rosings Park, Kent, October 1

Dear coz,

Mama had a letter from Colonel Fitzwilliam this morning and he mentioned that you were unwell and so I write to cheer you. He sent us news of his deployment and I was glad that his injuries have healed so that he will soon be where he wants to be, back on the Continent and fighting Napoleon. I fear for him each time he goes into battle but I am glad for him nonetheless: he came to Rosings when he was injured and he was frustrated and bored, unlike his usual self. I only hope we may see him again soon.

We have more excitement here than usual. Mrs Collins is expecting a child in the spring and Mr Collins is very proud of the fact, though I fear he is more delighted because the news has pleased Mama than for his own sake. Mama has already told Mrs Collins what she must eat and what exercise to take, as well as how to raise the child and how to educate it. She has also suggested the child follows Mr Collins into the clergy and said that by the time it is grown, Mr Collins will no doubt have inherited Longbourn and so the child may have the living he now holds. Mr Collins was very grateful, as you can imagine, and bowed most profusely, though whether he will be so humble when he inherits his own property I do not know.

Having been in favour for a few weeks or so, even since the Collinses gave Mama the news, Mr Collins is now very markedly out of favour, however. He happened to say that Mr Bingley is to marry Miss Bennet, a circumstance which held no particular interest for Mama, and which Charlotte learnt in a letter from her mother, for it is the talk of Hertfordshire. He then went on to say, most unluckily, that Mr Darcy had accompanied his friend to Longbourn on several occasions and that he was on the point of proposing to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I felt my heart soar at the news, for although I like Darcy very well as a cousin, you know my heart is elsewhere. But Mama sat as one stunned. She quickly recovered and said it was unthinkable that Darcy, descended from kings and related to earls, should offer for a woman with neither family nor fortune to recommend her. Seeing that he had displeased Mama, Mr Collins quickly remarked that the news was unreliable, mere gossip, and as Lady Catherine was so gracious as to remark, it was unthinkable, preposterous, ludicrous, and a dozen other such words.

Mama was for the moment mollified, but she kept returning to the subject and she has now announced that she means to go to Hertfordshire and make sure that Miss Elizabeth has no intention of marrying Darcy, and to tell her that she forbids the match. I think Mama is mistaken in thinking it will have any effect, for Miss Elizabeth has a decided personality and I believe she will not be browbeaten.

Mama means to take me with her, and I must confess I am looking forward to seeing the battle, although I am less happy at the thought of the rest of Mama’s plan; for after she has visited the Bennets, Mama intends to make sure that Darcy offers for me. She has never been in a hurry for the engagement before, since she likes to have me with her—or, perhaps it is better to say, she likes to have someone with her—but now I believe she is beginning to think that if the engagement is not formalised, Darcy might look elsewhere.

I am sending you a sketch of the park, which I have just completed, and I console myself with the thought that, if Mama is determined to visit Darcy, then at least I will have the consolation of seeing you.

Your dear coz,

Anne

Miss Georgiana Darcy to Miss Anne de Bourgh

Darcy House, London, October 2

Dearest Anne,

I think your sketch is beautiful, I have sent it to be framed and I intend to hang it by the fireplace in my bedroom. I do hope you call here, for I would so love to see you again.

How I wish the rumours might be true, and that my brother will marry Miss Bennet! I liked her very much when I met her and I know that she is special to him. He told me a great deal about her before I even met her, and all of it good. That is not like Fitzwilliam, for you know he is easily bored and has very little time for the women who cluster around him. But I know he was taken with Elizabeth. There, I am calling her Elizabeth, quite as if she were my sister already!

I am sure Fitzwilliam would like to marry her. I can think of no other reason for him introducing me to her, and being so pleased when we got on well together. He introduces me to very few people, thinking that I am too young to come out, which in general is true, and in the past he has only introduced me to young women who are related to his friends, like Miss Bingley.

Oh dear, poor Caroline: I know she would like to be Mrs Darcy, but it will never happen, even if my brother does not marry Elizabeth. He does not like her very much. He admires her accomplishments and he thinks her a suitable companion for me, and of course he likes Mr Bingley a great deal, but Caroline is not always wise and does not see when her amusing remarks become spiteful. Fitzwilliam sees it and hears it, though. He is ill-humoured himself sometimes—you see, I know my brother, and much as I love him I know that he is not perfect—but there is a generosity and kindness at the heart of him that I think Caroline lacks.

Elizabeth does not lack it. When I met her in Derbyshire she put me at my ease and went out of her way to protect me from some comments that Caroline made about George Wickham.

It seems odd to me now that I was ever betrothed, however secretly, to George. He ran off with Miss Bennet’s sister Lydia, you know. It was all hushed up but I could not help seeing that my brother was very agitated, and I could not help overhearing the directions he gave to his coachman, nor seeing what was in one of my guardian’s letters, for my brother was so distracted that when he gave it to me to read, he forgot to remove the sheet which had been intended for him alone. By the time I realised what I was reading, I had already learnt the truth: that George had preyed upon another young woman and that, having ruined her, he was refusing to marry her.

I do not think that he would have refused to marry me; indeed, I think that was his intention, but only because of my fortune. And if I had not been an heiress but had been foolish enough to believe him—which I am ashamed to say that I would have been—then my fate would have been the same.

Fitzwilliam had to pay George in the end to marry Lydia—and it is that, I think, which has persuaded me that my brother is really in love with Elizabeth, for he would not have sought out George Wickham for anyone else.

I do hope he is about to propose to her, and I do hope she says Yes. I would love such a sister. But whether it will ever come to pass…we must just wait and see.

I am sending you one of my own sketches and I hope you find it pretty.

Your loving coz,

Georgiana

Mr Collins to Mr Bennet

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,

October 2

Dear Sir,

I must congratulate you on the approaching nuptials of your eldest daughter, whose beauty is matched only by her modesty and elegance. As a clergyman it is my duty to encourage the institution of matrimony and I am sure that the marriage of your uniformly charming daughter to so estimable a man as Mr Bingley will bring joy to all who know them.

Having thus offered you the sincere congratulations of Mrs Collins and myself on this happy event, let me now add a short hint on the subject of another; of which we have been advertised by the same authority. Your daughter Elizabeth, it is presumed, will not long bear the name of Bennet after her elder sister has resigned it, and the chosen partner of her fate may be reasonably looked up to as one of the most illustrious personages in this land. This young gentleman is blessed, in a peculiar way, with everything the heart of mortal can most desire—splendid property, noble kindred, and extensive patronage. Yet in spite of all these temptations, let me warn my cousin Elizabeth, and yourself, of what evils you may incur by a precipitate closure with this gentleman’s proposals, which, of course, you will be inclined to take immediate advantage of. My motive for cautioning you is as follows: we have reason to imagine that his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, does not look on the match with a friendly eye.

After mentioning the likelihood of this marriage to her ladyship last night, she immediately, with her usual condescension, expressed what she felt on the occasion; when it became apparent that, on the score of some family objections on the part of my cousin, she would never give her consent to what she termed so disgraceful a match, I thought it my duty to give the speediest intelligence of this to my cousin, that she and her noble admirer may be aware of what they are about, and not run hastily into a marriage which has not been properly sanctioned.

I am truly rejoiced that my cousin Lydia’s sad business has been so well hushed up, and am only concerned that their living together before the marriage took place should be so generally known. I must not, however, neglect the duties of my station, or refrain from declaring my amazement, at hearing that you received the young couple into your house as soon as they were married. It was an encouragement of vice; and had I been the rector of Longbourn, I should very strenuously have opposed it. You ought certainly to forgive them, as a Christian, but never to admit them in your sight, or allow their names to be mentioned in your hearing.

And now, dear sir, I must give you some news of my own which I am sure will delight you. My dear Charlotte is in an interesting condition and she will soon grace us with a young olive branch, which, if we are blessed with good fortune, will be a boy, a son and heir to come after me and to come, if I may so put it, good sir, after you; a child who will inherit Longbourn and continue the noble tradition of elegance and hospitality so charmingly begun by your own grandfather and so estimably continued by your father and yourself.

I remain, sir, your humble servant,

William Collins

Mr Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam

Netherfield Park, Hertfordshire,

October 5

Henry, direct your letters to Netherfield Park, as I am once again with Bingley. I have hope, hope at last! My aunt sought to interfere in my affairs and in so doing has done me an unexpectedly good turn.

Having heard a rumour that I was about to propose to Elizabeth—it seems that Mrs Collins’s mother suspected my feelings and guessed my reasons for going to Longbourn—Lady Catherine visited Longbourn herself to tell Elizabeth that she must not marry me. When Elizabeth refused to give her any undertaking that she would never marry me, my aunt bore down on me like a Fury and demanded that I give her an undertaking never to offer my hand to Elizabeth. I did not give it. I would not have given it anyway, as she has no right to interfere in my affairs, but I was in no mood to even contemplate it when I learnt that Elizabeth had refused to put paid to the rumours.

My spirits lifted, for I knew that Elizabeth would have been only too happy to declare her intention of never marrying me if she had decided definitely against me, and so I set out at once for Hertfordshire. And now here I am, with hope in my heart, and tomorrow I must put that hope to the test.

I mean to ask her to marry me again. One way or another, tomorrow my fate will be sealed.

Pray for me, Henry.

Your cousin,

Darcy

Miss Kitty Bennet to Miss Eleanor Sotherton

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

October 6

Dear Ellie,

Everything here is horrible. Lydia is having all the fun in the north and if I had only been allowed to go to Brighton, I could have married an officer and I could be having fun flirting up in the north, too, instead of stuck here in the middle of nowhere. There are not even any new bonnets in the milliners’. Jane is the only one enjoying herself. She is having fun with Mr Bingley, though it is no fun for the rest of us as she sits and talks to him all the time and the rest of us might as well be dying of the plague for all she cares about us.

That Mr Darcy is here all the time, too. I do not know why he keeps coming, he never says anything to anyone, and as Mama says, he is the most disagreeable man in existence.

Mama keeps making me and Lizzy entertain him so that Jane can have Mr Bingley all to herself. We had to go for a walk with him today so that Jane and Mr Bingley would not have the bother of talking to him, but I managed to run off to the Lucases’. Lizzy said she did not have anything particular to say to Maria Lucas and so she walked on with Mr Darcy, which I must say was very noble of her; there could have been no pleasure in it for her.

Poor Lizzy! I would not be her for a kingdom, having to walk about with Mr Darcy. They are still out walking, though Jane and Mr Bingley returned an hour ago. Mama thinks they must have got lost. How horrid for Lizzy, to be lost with that man, and to have to wander through the country lanes with him all afternoon!

I would rather be here, writing to you, though it would be better to go somewhere like Bath or Brighton and get a husband. But Papa says he will never let me go anywhere, and if he does not relent, I will turn into an old maid.

Kitty

Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Mrs Charlotte Collins

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

October 7

My dear Charlotte,

You were right! Mr Darcy is in love with me, he proposed to me yesterday and I have said yes! I am so happy that I cannot even be angry with you for being right where I was wrong, and for seeing what I could not. To think, you knew it all along, before I knew it myself, before even my dear Mr Darcy knew it; though he tells me now that he was struck with the beautiful expression in my eyes almost the first day he met me, as soon as he had roundly condemned my looks to everyone else! It seems that when Sir William Lucas begged a partner for me at Lucas Lodge last November, Mr Darcy was ready to oblige, although he liked me better for my spirit in refusing.

I am sure I cannot claim any virtue for it, as I was motivated by a wish to confound his expectations and remove any reason he might have for disdaining me rather than by any nobler instincts. He had slighted my charms and so I was determined never to like him, and I was certain that he would never like me. Such is the blindness that prejudice brings with it.

But I was wrong! Charlotte, we have been talking all day, and you may imagine how much we have to say. We have a year’s worth of conversation.

When I stayed with Jane at Netherfield to nurse her through her cold, he found himself so much in danger from me by the end of the visit that he withdrew into silence lest he should raise any expectations in my breast. And I thought he was simply being arrogant and disdainful; particularly after Mama’s visit, which I knew had disgusted him. And when he left the neighbourhood with Mr Bingley, my loss caused him a great deal of unhappiness; more unhappiness than his loss caused me, for by then I had heard Mr Wickham’s tale of woe and I was foolish enough to believe it.

When I think how Mr Wickham duped me, and how easy I was to dupe, I am ashamed. And when I think of how I treated my dear Mr Darcy at Easter, when I was still in the grip of all my blind prejudices, I blush with mortification.

But let me not dwell on such things. As soon as Mr Wickham’s villainy was revealed I began to think differently about everything, though I thought it too late, because by then I had lost my dearest Mr Darcy.

And now I must tell you of something which happened at Easter, when I was staying with you and Mr Collins, and which I did not tell you about at the time because of my confusion and my uncertainty as to my own feelings. It is this, Charlotte: that when I was staying at the parsonage, Mr Darcy proposed to me.

And now you are shocked, I suppose—or perhaps not, as you always suspected he had a partiality for me. It was on the night of Tuesday, the twenty-second of April that he offered me his hand. The date is ingrained in my memory. You and Mr Collins and Maria had gone to dine at Rosings Park, but I had stayed behind pleading a headache. And indeed I did have a headache, for I had just discovered that Mr Darcy had separated Mr Bingley and Jane. You may guess at my feelings towards Mr Darcy then, and my unwillingness to meet him at dinner.

But what should happen, when I was sitting alone in the parsonage, but that Mr Darcy should walk in! Oh, Charlotte, the things I said to him! And the things he said to me! He criticised my family, my person, my station in life, and then had the temerity to propose to me. You may imagine my reply. I not only condemned him for separating Mr Bingley and Jane, but for ruining Mr Wickham’s hopes as well.

In reply, he wrote me a letter. He told me the truth about Mr Wickham: that Mr Wickham was a wastrel and other, less savoury, things; and I realised how wrong I had been about everything. But it was too late to put matters right.

And there matters would have ended, had I not met Mr Darcy again in Derbyshire. How changed he was, how polite and attentive to my aunt and uncle, how unfailingly courteous to me. And then came Lydia’s elopement and I thought all hope had gone forever. But I was wrong!

Oh, Charlotte, I cannot tell you how happy I am! What does it matter what happened in the past, when everything in the present is so right? My dearest Mr Darcy smiling at me, my darling Jane happily betrothed, Susan blissfully married, and you, dear Charlotte, with your olive branch on the way.

I have time for no more. I must go. Give my love to Mr Collins, though I fear he will be horrified at my news! And perhaps it would be better to stay away from Lady Catherine for the next few days. My dear Mr Darcy intends to write to her and apprise her of our betrothal, and you know her feelings towards me. She liked me well enough as a friend of her rector’s wife, but not as the mistress of Pemberley. I fear the shades will be polluted after all.

Your friend,

Lizzy

Mr Darcy to Mr Philip Darcy

Netherfield Park, Hertfordshire,

October 7

Philip, you must forgive me, but I have offered my hand to Elizabeth Bennet and she has accepted. I know you wanted me to make a great match, one which would enhance the standing of Pemberley and the Darcy name, but believe me, I have made the right choice. Elizabeth is the only woman I could ever take to Pemberley and the only woman I could ever make my wife. I am persuaded my father would be pleased. How well I remember his letter, telling me what I must look for in a wife, and I have found it and more besides. I have found something my parents had, something better than rank or wealth; I have found love. You must come to the wedding. When you meet her, you will understand.

Darcy

Mr Bennet to Mr Collins

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

October 8

Dear Sir,

I must trouble you once more for congratulations. Elizabeth will soon be the wife of Mr Darcy. Console Lady Catherine as well as you can. But, if I were you, I would stand by the nephew. He has more to give.

Yours sincerely,

John Bennet

Mrs Bennet to Mrs Gardiner

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

October 8

Sister, Lizzy is too busy to write herself, but I wanted to tell you the wonderful news: she is to marry Mr Darcy.

I knew how it would be as soon as I saw them together at the assembly. I said to Mr Bennet, ‘You mark my words, we’ll have Lizzy at Pemberley before the year is out.’ Such a charming man! So handsome, so tall! A house in town, ten thousand a year! How rich and great Elizabeth will be! What pin money, what jewels and carriages she will have!

But I must go. The gentlemen are coming to luncheon and I must speak to Cook. We are having venison and fish and six sauces. A man like Mr Darcy will have French chefs, I am sure, and I am not about to let him think that we cannot cook in Hertfordshire. I intend to give him a luncheon the like of which he has never eaten before.

Your sister,

Janet

Miss Mary Bennet to Miss Lucy Sotherton

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

October 9

Most noble Friend,

It has been a week of proposals. Mr Bingley has proposed to Jane, Mr Darcy has proposed to Elizabeth and Mama has proposed to move to Pemberley after the wedding.

I was surprised that Mr Bingley offered for Jane because he seemed eager to leave Netherfield last year, and as for Mr Darcy, he has never looked twice at Elizabeth in his life, except to find fault with her and to say that she was only tolerable. I have read much about the fickleness of women, and indeed I have made many extracts on the subject, but it has become clear to me that men are the fickle sex.

I am beginning to lose my faith in extracts.

Your dolorous sister of the bosom,

Mary

Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Mrs Gardiner

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

October 10

I would have thanked you before, my dear aunt, as I ought to have done, for your long, kind, satisfactory detail of particulars; but to say the truth, I was too cross to write. You supposed more than really existed. But now suppose as much as you choose; give loose to your fancy, indulge your imagination in every possible flight which the subject will afford, and unless you believe me actually married, you cannot greatly err. You must write again very soon, and praise him a great deal more than you did in your last. I thank you, again and again, for not going to the Lakes. How could I be so silly as to wish it! Your idea of the ponies is delightful. We will go round the Park every day. I am the happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so before, but not one with such justice. I am happier even than Jane; she only smiles, I laugh. Mr Darcy sends you all the love in the world that he can spare from me. You are all to come to Pemberley at Christmas.

Your loving niece,

Lizzy

Mr Darcy to Lady Catherine de Bourgh

Netherfield Park, Hertfordshire,

October 10

Lady Catherine, I am sure you will want to wish me happy. I have asked Miss Elizabeth Bennet to marry me, and she has done me the great honour of saying yes.

Your nephew,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Mr Darcy to Miss Georgiana Darcy

Netherfield Park, Hertfordshire,

October 10

My dear sister,

I know you will be delighted to hear that Elizabeth Bennet and I are to marry. I will tell you everything when I see you next.

Your loving brother,

Fitzwilliam

Miss Georgiana Darcy to Mr Darcy

Darcy House, London, October 11

Oh, dear brother, I cannot tell you how delighted I am! I have always wanted a sister, and Elizabeth is the very one I would have chosen. I do so hope she will love me as much as I already love her.

When you told me you wanted to introduce me to her in Derbyshire, I suspected you were in love with her; indeed, I suspected it even before that, for you had a look about you whenever her name was mentioned. No one who did not know you as I do would have noticed it, but I hoped then that you might have found someone to make you happy. I know how difficult you are to please—oh dear! that did not come out as it should!—but there are so many women who court you for your name instead of yourself and you see through them at once. I am beginning to know something of it myself, and although last year I could not see through it, I believe that I now know the difference between honest interest and self-interest. At least I hope so.

But Elizabeth is not like that. She is warm and kind and genuine. I do not know how else to explain it. She was so good to me in Derbyshire. She persevered in talking to me, even though I was so shy I could do nothing but murmur in monosyllables. I wanted to make a good impression on her, as I could tell at once that you were full of admiration for her—your eyes soften when you look at her, you know, and the expression of boredom you frequently wear completely disappears—and I was so afraid of saying something foolish that I could scarcely say anything at all. Then I worried that she would think me a fool, but she made such an effort to put me at my ease that I soon felt much more comfortable.

But I think it was when we stayed beyond the half hour, and you then asked me to join you in inviting her to dinner, that I was sure she was special to you. And I was so pleased, even though I was alarmed at the thought of being your hostess on such an important occasion, for you know I do not want to ever let you down again in any way.

That is why I decided to receive her in the salon. The windows there, you know, are my favourite, opening as they do right down to the ground. I was so afraid of doing wrong that I was tongue-tied when she arrived, but I saw by her expression that she did not think any the worse of me for it. I am glad she was so forgiving, for you know I did not perform my duties as hostess very well. Having given orders in the kitchen the night before and having sent to the hothouses for the best fruits, I froze when they were brought in, and if not for Mrs Annesley, I would not have remembered what to do. You will think me a sad case, I am sure! I am only glad you were not there to see my embarrassment. I was very glad when you came in to play the host, and I felt such happiness when I saw your eyes go to Elizabeth. I was glad for you and glad for me, selfishly, because I felt from the first that I could easily love such a sister.

She was so good to me when Caroline began to talk about the militia. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. I could not lift my eyes from the carpet. I knew that Caroline wanted to pain Elizabeth, for she had not been able to resist laughing at the Bennets when we were playing our duets or singing together, and saying that they all ran after the officers. She could not have known how she was wounding me when she mentioned them. Elizabeth’s collected behaviour, however, soon calmed me and I was able to raise my eyes again.

I was hoping to see more of her, and I was very sorry when her uncle had to return suddenly, taking her with him.

And here, dear brother, I have a confession to make. It has troubled me for some time but I cannot have secrets from you. I know what it was that took you to town. You handed me one of my guardian’s letters in a hurry, without first removing the page that was for you alone. I also know why you helped in the way you did. I suspected it at the time, and I hoped to hear that I would have a sister months ago, but, however, I am very glad to learn that I am to have one now, especially as it is the right one.

Do you think we might go shopping together when she is in town? It would be such fun to do the things that sisters do. Elizabeth, I know, has four sisters of her own, but I am persuaded that she is kind enough to indulge me, if you will permit it. I am so happy I feel as if I could write another four pages, but I cannot end the letter without asking when the wedding is to be.

Your loving sister,

Georgiana

Lady Catherine de Bourgh to Mr Darcy

Rosings Park, Kent, October 12

Fitzwilliam,

I do not call you nephew, for you are no longer a nephew of mine. I am shocked and astonished that you could stoop to offer your hand to a person of such low breeding. It is a stain on the honour and credit of the name of Darcy. She will bring you nothing but degradation and embarrassment, and she will reduce your house to a place of impertinence and vulgarity. Your children will be wild and undisciplined, and your daughters will run off with stable hands. Your sons will become attorneys. You will never be received by any of your acquaintance. You will be disgraced in the eyes of the world, a figure of contempt. You will bitterly regret this day. You will remember that I warned you of the consequences of such a disastrous act, but by then it will be too late. I will not end this letter by wishing you happiness, for no happiness can follow such a blighted union.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh

Miss Anne de Bourgh to Miss Georgiana Darcy

Rosings Park, Kent, October 12

Dear coz,

We have just heard the news. Mama had a letter from Fitzwilliam, telling us of his betrothal. It is such a relief, I am overjoyed and I wish Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth every happiness!

Mama, on the other hand, is not overjoyed, and I am keeping out of her way. I sent a message downstairs to say that I was not well and I intend to keep to my room all day. I hear from my maid that the Collinses have thought it expedient to visit Mrs Collins’s family in Hertfordshire and I am not surprised. Mama is livid. She has had three of the maids and two of the footmen in tears this morning, upset by her complaining about anything and nothing. She has written a letter to my aunt in Cumbria, telling her she must write to Fitzwilliam and forbid the match. It will do no good, I am sure my aunt is too sensible to take any notice, but it has gone some way to relieve Mama’s feelings. She further relieved them by writing to Fitzwilliam and telling him he would disgrace his name, his family and indeed everything else if he married Elizabeth. However, I am sure he will be too happy to care for anything Mama might say.

I intend to remain in my room for two or three days and I have had the foresight to bring my pencils and paints, my needlework and my novels with me.

Do you think Henry will be home for the wedding? If so, I hope he might call on us here at Rosings, though I would not blame him if he stayed away. I wish we might attend the wedding, but Mama is so angry that she has declared she will not go and so there is no hope of that—unless she changes her mind, so that she can stand up when the vicar asks if any man can show any cause why they may not be joined together, and say that yes, she knows of a just cause, that Elizabeth would pollute the shades of Pemberley! Oh dear, I wish that thought had not occurred to me, for I now find myself wondering if it might happen. I will have nightmares about it, I am sure; or, even worse, that Mama might stand up and say that he was promised to me.

I will not think of it. I will think of church bells and white satin and flowers instead. You must tell me all about it; I rely on you, Georgiana.

Your dear coz,

Anne

Mrs Bennet to Mrs Gardiner

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

October 15

My dear sister,

Were there ever such times! Jane to marry Mr Bingley, Lizzy to marry Mr Darcy! We are coming to London to shop for wedding clothes and we will be with you on the eighteenth. Poor Lydia had no time to shop for her clothes, but I mean to make up for it with Lizzy and Jane. I will not let anyone say that my girls did not have the best dresses for their wedding. Speaking of Lydia, I have told her to write to her sister and beg her husband’s help for poor Wickham. He has been very hard done by and I am sure that Lizzy’s husband would be glad to be of use to him. Who better than his own brother-in-law to assist him? I am sure he deserves it, for never a handsomer young man lived.

Now, if I can only get Mary and Kitty married, my happiness will be complete. Mr Darcy’s cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, will be standing up with him, and I think he might do for one or other of them. Then there is Mr Bingley’s younger brother, who is to stand up with him. To be sure, the Bingley fortune comes from trade, but Mr Bingley and his sisters are very genteel, and I am sure the rest of the family is just the same.

We will stay with you until Monday.

Your sister,

Janet

Miss Mary Bennet to Miss Lucy Sotherton

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

October 16

Most noble Friend,

This has been a doleful time for the cause of Learned Women. One of my sisters is already married, and now two more of my sisters are betrothed. Although I never had any hope of Lydia, and very little of Elizabeth, I did think, in time, that my sister Jane might abandon the path of frivolity and walk the highway of learning. But alas! It is not to be. Now Kitty and I are the only two girls remaining unspoken for. Kitty says she will never find a husband if Papa keeps her chained to Longbourn. I applauded her attempt at imagery; however, as we were at my aunt Philips’s house at the time, her metaphor of being chained to Longbourn was not well chosen. When I pointed this out, Mama said, ‘Oh, Mary, do be quiet,’ but Mr Shackleton agreed with me.

He told me I looked charming in my new gown and asked me to dance with him. When I demurred, he reminded me that dancing was a healthful exercise and said that, in point of fact, he thought it more beneficial than playing the pianoforte, for that exercises only the fingers and dancing exercises the entire body.

I was much struck by his comment and I have decided that I should dance more often. Once my sisters have left the neighbourhood, I will no doubt be called upon to display true elegance and erudition, in the physical as well as the mental arts.

As Mr Shackleton led me back to my seat, I overheard my aunt Philips saying that we had had three weddings, and would no doubt soon have another one.

I cannot think what she means, unless she was referring to Kitty, who sat next to Mr Haydock all evening. He is visiting his cousins and means to spend some weeks in the neighbourhood, though what he can have to talk to Kitty about I do not know.

Your fellow traveller through this vale of vice,

Mary

Miss Kitty Bennet to Miss Eleanor Sotherton

Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

October 17

Dearest Ellie,

It is not fair, Mama is to go to London tomorrow with my sisters Jane and Elizabeth, but she will not take me. I do not see why I should not go to London, for I am sure that my attendant’s gown is just as important as their bridal gowns, or at any rate, nearly so. But I am to be left behind with Mary.

We have had a new visitor to the neighbourhood: Mr Haydock, the vicar of Kympton. I met him at my aunt Philips’s house. You may be sure I let him know what I thought of him for stealing poor Wickham’s living from him, but Mr Haydock just looked down his nose and pretended not to know what I was talking about, then tried to say that Wickham had not deserved the living, and then laughed at me when I told him he was an odious man and that I would not speak to him. And he is odious, though admittedly very handsome. It is a good thing Lydia was not here, or she would have been very severe on him.

Mama says that, now my older sisters are getting married, I must hurry up and find a husband for myself. Mr Darcy’s cousins will be at the wedding and Mama says I must try to catch one of them. I am sure I will do my best. They are all very rich and if they are handsome as well, I think I would like to marry one of them. Lydia got a husband by running away with him and Jane got one by going to stay with him and Lizzy got one by nursing her sister devotedly. But as I believe Papa would track me down if I ran away with anyone, and as I cannot invite myself into someone else’s house, and as I have no sister to nurse, then unless Mary should happen to be taken ill, I do not know how it is to be done.

I said so to Mr Haydock, but he only laughed at me.

I saw that he was to be no help and so I suggested to Mary that she should visit Cumbria and endeavour to catch a cold there, but she said she could not catch a cold to order, and when I said that she should pretend to have a cold, she said that he who walketh in vice does so ne’er so often as something or other, and then looked pleased with herself and said she must remember to tell it to Mr Shackleton. I do not know why she does not marry him and have done with it, but she says she will never marry, she is a follower of the goddess Athena. She has asked Mama to buy her an owl. Mama said she had better have a new dress instead and make herself agreeable to all the rich gentlemen who are certain to be at Mr Darcy’s wedding.

Lots of love and kisses,

Kitty

Mrs Lydia Wickham to Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Newcastle, October 23

My dear Lizzy,

I wish you joy. If you love Mr Darcy half as well as I do my dear Wickham, you must be very happy. It is a great comfort to have you so rich, and when you have nothing else to do, I hope you will think of us. I am sure Wickham would like a place at court very much, and I do not think we shall have quite money enough to live upon without some help. Any place would do, of about three or four hundred a year; but, however, do not speak to Mr Darcy about it, if you had rather not.

Your sister,

Lydia

Miss Georgiana Darcy to Miss Anne de Bourgh

Netherfield Park, Hertfordshire,

October 29

My dear Anne,

I write this to you in the carriage on my way back to London from Netherfield Park. You made me promise to tell you all about the wedding and I have now the leisure to do so. I travelled to Hertfordshire on Saturday and my guardian escorted me. I must confess I thought of you for most of the journey, and how you would have liked to be sitting with him in the carriage; I do so sincerely hope he comes to see you soon. We stopped for lunch at an inn and arrived at Netherfield Park in time for dinner. Caroline was there, saying how happy she was, but although I do not like to think ill of people, I believe she was not really happy. I overheard her once, as I entered the room, saying something spiteful about Elizabeth to her sister; however, perhaps I misheard. I hope so.

I spent the next few days getting to know all of my future sisters, as well as Elizabeth’s parents, and the time passed very quickly.

We all retired early the night before the wedding and woke to mist, but it soon lifted and by the time we had finished breakfast it had cleared away completely. Fitzwilliam seemed very nervous and so did Mr Bingley. It was up to my guardian to distract their thoughts and occupy them until it was time to leave.

I dressed with great care, as you can imagine, given that I was to be an attendant. My dress was very elegant, white muslin with ribbon trim and white flowers in my hair. Elizabeth and Jane looked beautiful. They were dressed in white silk, but Jane’s dress had a round neck whilst Elizabeth’s had a square neck, the one trimmed with ribbon and the other with lace. They wore veiled bonnets and carried bouquets of roses, from which Kitty had removed the thorns. I believe she enjoyed the day as much as I did, for she was an attendant, too. She had the idea of decorating the lich-gate with flowers, and they smelled lovely as we passed underneath.

The ceremony was so beautiful that I almost cried, although I must confess I had an anxious moment when the vicar asked if anyone knew of any reason…I could only think of you saying that your mama might turn up and halt the wedding, and I glanced towards the door once or twice, expecting to see her there. But it all went well. Mary played the organ—I believe it must have several keys missing, for it sounded very odd—and then all too soon the ceremony was over and we all went back to Longbourn for the wedding breakfast.

Mrs Bennet introduced Kitty and Mary to my guardian and remarked on how handsome they were looking, and said what a pity it was that all his brothers had not attended the wedding. And I could only think how I wished you were there, and that your mama would say that you were looking handsome to him. There was a great deal of eating and drinking, and one of Charlotte Collins’s little brothers kept saying that when he was a man he would drink as many bottles of wine as he wanted, and Mrs Bennet said that he shouldn’t, and he replied that he should, and so it went on—until Mrs Bennet espied Mr Bingley’s brother, Mr Ned Bingley, who stood up with his brother, and introduced him to Kitty and Mary.

Mr Ned Bingley is very different to his brother, but I like him. He is very honest and says what he thinks. He did not flatter me or praise me and I liked that. I am afraid that a great many men give me compliments because they know I am an heiress. Miss Bingley tried to introduce him to Miss King, saying that she had inherited ten thousand pounds, but he said he had no wish to live off his wife.

He does not have a great deal of charm, but I have experience enough to know that charm is dangerous and not worth a great deal.

He asked me about myself, and he was interested to learn that I was Fitzwilliam’s sister, but more because I was the sister of his brother’s friend than because I was a great heiress. Somehow his straightforwardness made it easier for me to talk to him and I asked him about himself. He is engaged in trade, and although I should have been horrified, I found that instead I was interested. He owns a number of shops in the north and he said that if ever I find myself in Yorkshire, I should tell Charles and then Charles will tell him and he will show me round one of the shops himself.

I was also introduced to Mr Bingley’s mother. Anne, what can I say? I have never met anyone like her. She frightened me at first because she was so different to anyone I knew, and she was so very unlike Caroline and Louisa. But she had a good heart and I saw her wiping away a tear as Jane and Charles left the church. I believe she will by this time have returned north with her son Mr Ned Bingley.

Elizabeth and my brother left for the Lake District at about the same time. Elizabeth looked radiant. There is no other word to describe it—she positively glowed. Her eyes were sparkling with happiness and I have never seen my brother look more proud or happy. I hope I may be so lucky when I marry.

By this time they will be on their way to the Lake District, where they are to visit the Fitzwilliam cousins and tour the lakes before returning to Derbyshire. Elizabeth is looking forward to meeting Ullswater. I am glad Ullswater is more staid now and does not jump up at people as she used to, though I think that Elizabeth would only laugh and not shout at her and say she should be confined to the stables.

I will soon be back in London but I will be spending Christmas at Pemberley with my brother and sister. My sister! How good that sounds!

I hope your mama has recovered from her ill humour by then, and we might all be there together.

Your loving coz,

Georgiana

NOVEMBER

Mrs Elizabeth Darcy to Mrs Gardiner

Fitzwater Park, Cumbria,

November 4

My dear aunt,

You will see from the address on this letter that at last I am touring the Lakes, and it has been well worth the wait. I thought nothing could be better than our wedding, which was perfect, but the week since then has been even better. Every day brings me new knowledge of my husband and the knowledge draws me closer to him. I am more in love with him than ever and I know my husband to be violently in love with me.

How you will smile as you read that phrase, and how you teased me when I used it last year, saying that Bingley was violently in love with Jane. But if you could see me now, then you would not tease me, I am convinced, for you would be forced to acknowledge the truth of it. I have proof of my dear husband’s uncommon love and affection every day. I believe I am the happiest woman alive. And this is before I have even taken up residence at Pemberley!

But you will want to know more about our wedding trip. We set out after the wedding breakfast, travelling for some way with Jane and Charles and seeing the sights together, alternating an hour or two in the carriage with an hour or two of walking through new and pleasant countryside or visiting some place of interest.

We stopped overnight along the way, once at an inn and the rest of the time with my husband’s friends. They were very pleased to see us and welcomed us into their homes. When we had travelled as far north as Yorkshire, Jane and Charles left us, going on to see Charles’s family. I know that Jane was feeling apprehensive about meeting the rest of his family, but I have had a letter from her this morning and she says with relief that they made her very welcome and that she likes them very much. This will not surprise you, for when did Jane ever dislike anyone? But I believe, from what she has said, that they are good people, and more like Charles than Caroline.

My husband—you will be hearing that phrase a great deal in this letter, for I am very much enjoying writing it!—my husband and I then travelled on to Cumbria, stopping to enjoy the scenery whenever a particularly splendid view offered itself. We took advantage of the fine weather and often made a picnic in some picturesque location, enjoying being just the two of us.

Today we arrived at Fitzwater Park. Colonel Fitzwilliam was here to greet us, having travelled more quickly, and it was good to see a familiar face in the midst of so many unfamiliar ones. He has a large family. His mother made me very welcome, but his father was more reticent, merely looking down his nose at me and saying, ‘Harrumph!’ It was no worse than I expected from an earl, and it was a good deal better than I was prepared for. At least he did not tell me I was polluting the shades of his ancestral home. I cannot really be surprised at his attitude, since he obviously expected his nephew to marry a young woman with an old name, at least, and very possibly with a title. What interested me was my husband’s reaction. He was not in the least put out. There was no hint or suggestion in his face, voice or manner that he agreed with his uncle; indeed, he wore an expression of quiet pride and happiness whenever he looked at me. It is wonderful to see how it transforms his face, that smile. I cannot decide which I like most: his haughty expression, which, it must be admitted—though not to him!—is decidedly attractive, or his softer expression, which is merely decidedly handsome!

He introduced me to his cousins and they were all more or less agreeable. Peter was out walking with one of his friends, but another five cousins were indoors. I will not trouble you with all their names here; suffice it to say that I liked all of them at least a little, and I liked Maud very much. I expected to like her, because Georgiana had already told me something of her kindness, but how often does it happen that a person we think we will like turns out to disgust us in some way? But Maud was lively, sensible and amusing. She has two very well behaved children and Darcy is their godfather.

It was a revelation to me to see him allowing the children to pull his coat tails and play with his watch, with never a cross expression or a word of impatience. I had never considered him in such a light before, but I believe that as well as making an excellent husband he will also make a very good father.

You see, aunt, I can find no fault with him. How long this will last I do not know, but I beg you will indulge me in this one letter and then I promise not to boast of his many perfections again. It must make you very tired; indeed, you are probably running over the lines with a quick eye and a sigh even now! And so I will tell you more of Cumbria.

The scenery is even more dramatic than it was in Derbyshire, with mountains whose sides are clothed in the colours of autumn and whose tops are hidden in the clouds. The walking here is invigorating and the scenery breathtaking.

Fitzwater Park is even larger than Rosings and more imposing. It is in an elevated position with grounds that stretch down to the lake. There is boating on the lake whenever the weather is suitable, I am told, and we hope to go sailing tomorrow. I have also been promised a view of Aira Force waterfall, which drops sixty-five feet and is said to be very splendid. I will write and tell you more when I have seen all the sights.

Your loving niece,

Lizzy

Mrs Jane Bingley to Mrs Elizabeth Darcy

Netherfield Park, Hertfordshire,

November 17

My dear Lizzy will forgive me for saying that she was quite wrong when she thought that she and Mr Darcy would be the happiest people alive, for I am convinced that that honour goes to Charles and myself. I cannot believe there was ever a time when I did not know him, for he is as necessary to me as breathing. I sought to be happy when I thought all hope had gone, but I could never concentrate or take pleasure in anything, all I could do was school myself to pretend. But now, how different everything is! I knew as soon as I met him that Charles was just what a young man ought to be: sensible, good-humoured and lively, with easy manners and good breeding. Now that I have him as my husband I have everything I could wish for.

Our visit to Yorkshire was interesting but I am glad to be back home—or where, for a time at least, we are making our home—at Netherfield Park. I like the house very well, I always have, but I must confess, Lizzy, that it is already proving to be too close to Longbourn.

When we returned from Yorkshire, we found Lydia and Wickham at Longbourn. They had overstayed their welcome, however, and Papa had given them a strong hint to be gone. They had ignored this hint, but when we returned they found it expedient to act upon it and in short, Lizzy, they came here. Fortunately, Wickham was called back north yesterday and they have left us now, but I dare say they will be here again before very long. They are finding it very difficult to manage on what little money they have. Lydia has never been good at economising and I am afraid they live beyond their means.

I hope it is not unkind of me to say that I am glad they have gone, for just at this moment I would rather not have guests. Charles and I are establishing our life together and it is not very convenient, particularly as Mama visits Netherfield every day. When she cannot get the horses for the carriage, she walks. I dare say the exercise is doing her good, and I think it is of benefit to Mary, for Mama must have company and either Kitty or Mary, or both, always accompany her. But for my part I could wish for rather more time to ourselves and rather less time with my family.

Charles bears it very well, even though he has already been persuaded to help Lydia and Wickham, and I fear that Lydia means to write to you, too. He says they are no trouble and that he is delighted to have them here, and he remarks that I was good to his family and that he has every intention of being equally good to mine.

Though his family are not what I am used to, I confess I like them. His mother is an affectionate woman who sincerely dotes on her children, and his brother Ned is very courteous. He reminds me of my uncle Gardiner: a man of business, and energetic in pursuit of it, but with good manners and good breeding besides. The little ones are lively and playful; in short I feel myself to be very fortunate.

You will be pleased to know that Mary studies less than formerly, which I think is a good thing. Mr Shackleton has persuaded her that too much study is bad for the brain.

Kitty has become closer to Maria Lucas in Lydia’s absence. Away from Lydia, she is becoming more sensible and is far better company.

I am not the only one to think so. The rector of Kympton, Mark Haydock, has been spending some time in the neighbourhood and he seems to find Kitty’s company amusing. I have caught him once or twice looking at her with an air of benevolent indulgence. For her part, I believe that Kitty has a liking for him, or will have, once she forgives him for taking Wickham’s living; for of course she has heard the story from Lydia, in a very partial form. Certainly she seems to want his good opinion, and as he is a sensible man, I have high hopes of his attentions being good for her.

Charlotte and Mr Collins were here for a short visit earlier in the week but have now returned home. We were invited to a party at Lucas Lodge in their honour and we accepted. Lady Lucas could talk of nothing but Charlotte’s interesting condition and Mama talked over her about Mr Darcy. I think Mama is growing bored, now that three of her daughters are married, and when Mary and Kitty marry, I think that it might be better if Charles and I were no longer in the neighbourhood, for she will have a great deal of leisure and will be here even oftener than at present.

After Christmas we intend to look about us for another house. Charles has long wanted to buy an estate, and as Netherfield Park is entailed on Frederick, it would not be possible to buy it, even if he wanted to. But I think he has a mind to move farther north, perhaps into Cheshire, and I am in agreement. The lease on Netherfield runs out next September and we hope to have found our new home by then.

Whether the Sothertons will move back to Meryton, who can say? It will depend on Mr Sotherton, and whether he has conquered his propensities for fast living. Frederick, at least, it appears, has been saved, for Susan writes that he has mended his ways. I am glad. I always liked him and felt he was good at heart. I would like them to return to Meryton and I know that Kitty and Mary would value Ellie and Lucy’s company.

But that is for another time, indeed, another year, and there are many things to look forward to before that. Will you come to us for Christmas? I am longing to see you again.

Your loving sister,

Jane

Mrs Elizabeth Darcy to Mrs Jane Bingley

Pemberley, Derbyshire,

November 22

Dearest Jane,

I can see that we will have to perpetually argue about who is the happiest, because I cannot forego my own claim. Is not marriage wonderful? I cannot think how I managed before! Everything about life is so much better now. Our visit to the Lake District was wonderful and even the travelling was not tedious. Cumbria was very striking—beauty on an impressive scale—and the Fitzwilliam family were very grand but for the most part they were friendly.

We will not be able to join you for Christmas, as we will be holding a house party here, and of course you must come to us. Do say you will. Mama writes to me every day, dropping hints about visiting, and if she has a firm invitation for Christmas, I believe it will protect us from an impromptu visit before then. I have invited Charlotte as well, but she is not inclined to travel, with her olive branch so near to being delivered.

I have persuaded Fitzwilliam to invite his aunt Lady Catherine. I cannot say that I particularly want her here, but the rift must be healed sometime so it might as well be now. My resentment, once incurred, does not last forever, you see, though I am relying on you to rescue me from her if the occasion demands!

But do not let the thought of her prevent you coming to us. I am longing to show you Pemberley and I am growing to love it more every day. Fitzwilliam says that I must redecorate it if I wish but I prefer to leave it as it is. Everything is in good taste, and besides, it reminds me of my first visit here with my aunt and uncle. I can scarcely believe it was less than a year ago.

Fitzwilliam loves it even more than I do. He enjoyed our time in the Lakes but even then I could tell he was longing to return. He was eager to show me all his favourite spots in the house and garden and he wanted to introduce me to all his neighbours. We have been dining out every evening and so far I have met eleven of the principal families of the neighbourhood. I hope to meet more when we host our first dinner party next week.

Their welcome to me has been varied. Some of them have been warm and friendly, showing an interest in Hertfordshire; indeed, the Braithwaites know the Lucases—it seems that they all met at St. James’s. But others look down on me shockingly. My dear husband left his conversation to give me his support last night when Mrs Yates drew her skirts away from me as though I were contaminated and asked me pointedly, ‘Who are your people?’ But I understood her malice easily enough, as her unmarried daughter was by her side, and I was not to be intimidated by the likes of a Mrs Yates, you may be sure. It is a good thing I have some irritations to put up with, or else my life would be in danger of being too perfect!

Lydia has already written to me, saying that Wickham would like a place at court and asking me to speak to Fitzwilliam about it. I have no intention of asking my husband to help Wickham any further, but I sent Lydia some money; otherwise I fear she will bankrupt the shopkeepers in her town before she is done.

It is interesting to hear that Kitty likes Mark Haydock. I think I will invite her to stay on at Pemberley when the rest of our guests leave after Christmas so that she can see more of him. Kympton is not too far away and she will be company for Georgiana. Georgiana is still very shy, although growing less so, and she would benefit from Kitty’s lively spirits, as Kitty would benefit from Georgiana’s elegance and poise. The two of them will complement each other very well.

But now I must go, for if there is anything I like more than writing to you, dear Jane, it is spending time with my husband and being the mistress of Pemberley. For all its grandeur, it is home—as anywhere would be home that held my dear Mr Darcy.

Fondest wishes from your loving sister,

Mrs Elizabeth Darcy