Dear Mr. Darcy Part 13

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 embarra.s.sments, 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 pa.s.sed 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 penmans.h.i.+p. 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 G.o.dmother.

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 fas.h.i.+ons in La Belle a.s.semblee. 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 Derbys.h.i.+re 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 Derbys.h.i.+re. Indeed she must be, for her aunt and uncle are sensible, intelligent people and Derbys.h.i.+re 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, Hertfords.h.i.+re, 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 G.o.d 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, Hertfords.h.i.+re, August 11 Most n.o.ble 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 s.e.x.

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 princ.i.p.al 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 a.s.sist 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 relations.h.i.+p, 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 Hertfords.h.i.+re. Be a.s.sured, 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 circ.u.mstance 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, Hertfords.h.i.+re, August 13 Most n.o.ble Friend, Thank you for the n.o.ble 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 a.s.s; not even when that a.s.s 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 fort.i.tude, 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 friends.h.i.+p 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 G.o.d 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, G.o.d 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 grat.i.tude, 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, Hertfords.h.i.+re, 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, Hertfords.h.i.+re, 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 s.h.i.+lling. 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 pa.s.s 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, Hertfords.h.i.+re, August 22 Most n.o.ble 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 a.s.sures 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, Hertfords.h.i.+re, 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 Derbys.h.i.+re...but you do not know about my visit to Lambton, and how everything there changed things.

You know that I was going to Derbys.h.i.+re 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 furnis.h.i.+ngs decorate the rooms.

When we had seen all of the house that was open to general view, we were pa.s.sed 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 embarra.s.sed 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 embarra.s.sment 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 pa.s.sing 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 fis.h.i.+ng 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.