Hello, my name is Harriet Smith and I would like to begin by refuting the rumor that I am a complete and utter idiot. I understand I am not intelligent, I am only somebody's natural daughter, and I have little to recommend me. I am not often given to melancholy, but I do wish I had more to offer sometimes. Is it any wonder, then, that I should be so quick to accept the friendship and guidance of Miss Woodhouse? Miss Emma Woodhouse is everything I am not, and I am grateful for all she has done for me. However, there is someone else whose company I value.
Mr. Robert Martin is a gentleman farmer. He is not rich, but he is well-read and amiable. He loves his mother and sisters dearly, and he is always so kind. He does not laugh at my ignorance but is enthusiastic when he explains things. I know women are not supposed to be overly intellectual, but no man of sense could want a stupid wife, and I believe it pleases him to be able to share his knowledge with me.
And now, the most wonderful thing has happened. I received a letter from him this morning. At first, I could not read it, I was so flustered. I worried it may not contain good news, if he felt the need to write rather than speak to me. Then when I did read it, I could hardly believe it. He wants to marry me! Even now, I can hardly write.
Soon, I began to think of my response and who I would tell, and my thoughts went to Miss Woodhouse. For the first time, I became anxious. Do you know, when I first met Miss Woodhouse, I thought her all kindness and condescension to speak with me and call me her friend, though I am so far beneath her socially. I thought the same thing when we met Mr. Martin a few days ago. But afterward, when we spoke of him, she seemed to disapprove. She even reminded me that he had not gotten the book I suggested when he went to town, as if he had nothing better to do with his time than read silly novels! But I did not know what to say then. Yes, I am aware that, for all Miss Woodhouse's virtues, she is quite… Oh, I cannot think of the word. I will have to ask Mr. Martin when I next see him.
Here he is now. I quickly accept and express my enthusiasm to tell everyone, including Miss Woodhouse. He interrupts me.
"Does she not already know?"
There is something in his tone which suggests he knows of Miss Woodhouse's disapproval. How can I tell him…
"Did you think I would make my answer known to anyone before you?"
Yes, that is a good beginning. Now I must try to sound a little hurt.
"Or did you believe I would be compelled to ask advice about my heart from someone who does not know her own?"
Brilliant! This catches him by surprise, and I continue, partly to explain and partly to ask his opinion on something I have long wondered about.
"Would it be very foolish to think that a man who has known a woman for a very long time, who knows all her flaws yet still loves her as a friend could ever see her as something more?"
"You mean to say that Mr. Knightley…"
My name is Harriet Smith. I am not intelligent, but I am to marry an intelligent man. I am somebody's natural daughter, but soon I will have a family. I have little to recommend me, but I have been blessed with more than I could ever imagine. And now I only hope my friend will find so much happiness.