Matlock
1 July 1812
Matlock, Derbyshire
Dearest Mary and Jane,
I hope you do not mind, but I will combine your letters together for the rest of the holiday, since you are clearly sharing everything anyway, much to my great pleasure, and it will save us considerable coin on postage.
As I have already well described Oxford, Blenheim, Warwick, Kenilworth and Birmingham in my previous letters I shall dwell on them no more. Now I have the most alarming part of the story to tell, and you shall be truly shocked. I am as well, although truth be told, I am more embarrassed than anything.
Yesterday we were to tour our last grand house before going to visit Aunt's relations in Lambton, the great estate of Matlock. As with all the great houses I did not want any chance of embarrassing our relatives by looking like penniless beggars, so I have been wearing my best dresses and paying special attention to my appearance. In this particular case, by chance I was wearing the day dress I was wearing that day I walked to Netherfield when you were sick, all those months past, although I've done quite a bit of refreshing on it since then. Does that not seem like another lifetime?
The estate was absolutely glorious. In our tour, we have seen everything from the ostentatious yet hideously vulgar to the refined and elegant. Matlock was the best example I have yet seen of pure refinement. Everything showed a true sense of taste and beauty going back several generations at least. It sounds like the polar opposite of how you describe Rosings, Jane. I must admit I was quite taken with the place.
The housekeeper was an interesting and amiable woman, the sort you could sit and chat with for hours. She has served the family faithfully for many years, and sang their praises extensively. She was a bit on the impertinent side, and even hinted that one of the Earl's sons remained unmarried; as if such a man might be interested in me. I did take some comfort from her faith in my beauty, misplaced as it is. She had the look of truth about her, so perhaps this family is very unlike all the very rich that we are more familiar with. Pity we did not meet any of the Matlocks during our earlier experiences. I remembered that Jane said the Colonel at Rosings was the son of an Earl, but I can no longer remember which particular one. It is unfortunate he was not the son of the Earl of Matlock, as the housekeeper makes him sound like a real man among men.
I believe I am woolgathering, because I have yet to come to the most shocking part of the story. We were touring a gallery of paintings, mostly of long dead relatives that were not of very much interest, when I heard the most beautiful pianoforte I have ever encountered. This was an instrument that could have graced a London ballroom or even the Prince Regent's music room, and whoever was playing it would not have been embarrassed to present at a London theater. I must admit, I was thoroughly entranced.
Such as my distraction at the beauty of the music, I lost track of the housekeeper and my aunt and uncle, and went to try to get just close enough to hear well. I came upon a partially open door, and looked through to see a young lady playing the instrument with a look of concentration that was quite formidable. She could not have been very old, probably around the same age as Kitty; but there the similarities ended. This young lady was dressed very elegantly but simply, and she was entirely entranced in her music, as if being transported to another world, and she momentarily transported me to the same place. I swear, it was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.
Such was my rapture with the music that it took me several moments to notice there was a well-dressed gentleman standing next to the pianoforte, looking down on the young girl. I could only see both in profile, but something about them seemed familiar. The gentleman appeared older, so I surmised he was probably brother or uncle, rather than suitor. I felt guilty for intruding on the privacy of such a moment between family members, and turned to leave.
As I turned, the last thing I saw before I hurried away in embarrassment was the gentleman turning his head. Apparently, he had sensed my presence. Perhaps I made a noise, but the last thing I saw of him as I turned to make my hasty exit was a glance at the side of his face. I am certain he did not see my face, and for that I am eternally grateful, because I saw just enough of him to recognize his visage. Yes, my dear sisters, I am certain you have guessed his identity by now. I had been caught out spying in the private portion of the home by none other than Mr. Darcy. Apparently, he has some connection to the family.
I was thoroughly mortified at having been away from the tour, and invading the privacy of another's home without leave, a break in propriety more like Lydia's doing than ours. Adding the embarrassment of running into the man that hates me the most in the world, I was frightened out of my wits. I am not actually silly enough to believe Mr. Darcy will do me any real harm; but I was thoroughly overcome by the entire encounter. I thank the stars that he could not possibly have seen my face, as I hurried away from the room. At most he would have seen the back of my dress, which would tell them precisely nothing about my identity. It is not as if he would remember one lady's dress from half a year past.
I hurried from the room, and since we were close to the front door, I am ashamed to admit that I went out to the front of the house to hide in mortification. Our tour was nearly up so the carriage had already been pulled around after the horses had been seen to. I asked a kindly appearing older footmen to deliver a message to aunt and uncle that I was somewhat indisposed and then I did the most mortifying thing ever. I simply went into the carriage and hid like a frightened girl, hoping that the gentleman would not come looking for me.
Mr. Darcy did in fact come out of the house just a few moments later, apparently looking for the curious invader. I shrunk back into the corner of the carriage, and was surprised to see him look around for several minutes, before shaking his head and going back into the house. Apparently, he thought his domain was once again safe from intruders, and I simply waited for our aunt and uncle; and steadfastly refused to enlighten them on the exact nature of my indisposition.
I so hate to repeat myself, but this was the most mortifyingly embarrassing moment of my life, and I cannot imagine what I would have said to him should he have caught up with me. What could I say, after acting so indecorously; after confirming all his worst suspicions about me? It was much too embarrassing for me to remember my fright of the man until much later. I truly hope he did not recognize me, although I'm quite certain he never got a look at my face so I believe I am safe, and it seems unlikely his opinion of me could diminish anyway.
Tomorrow we go to Lambton, and all will be well. It is only a few miles from Pemberley, but I doubt I need worry about encountering Mr. Darcy in the inn or Aunt's friends' houses, so I am perfectly safe from notice.
While I have enjoyed our holiday, I am very much looking forward to being back home in Cheapside, and back to my own pursuits at the warehouse.
Yours etc&
Elizabeth
Lambton
5 July 1812
Lambton, Derbyshire
Dearest Jane and Mary,
Another day. Another mortifying experience. At the rate things are going here in Derbyshire, I am seriously regretting coming hither instead of remaining home in Cheapside for the summer. I must own however that there is at least some amusement to be had, but it will be your amusement at my expense I am afraid. You will be astounded at the ill luck of my latest escapade.
I was visiting the local bookshop which as you know is owned by a very old and dear friend of Aunt Gardiner. Aunt and Uncle were off visiting acquaintances a few miles from Lambton, and I was looking forward to a few hours of solitude to read my new purchases.
As I was returning to the inn with my latest volumes, I came around the corner of a smithy and you will not believe who I encountered! My feeling of comfort and safety in Lambton was quite overrated, as on a very narrow lane I walked headlong into none other than Mr. Bingley, accompanied by both Mr. Darcy and his sister. I tried my best to pretend I had not seen them and move past, but the lane was much too narrow and I was too far from the corner. Thus, I was forced to exhibit at least the minimal civilities; much as it pained me. As I mentioned before, Mr. Darcy's estate is but five miles away, but I had felt quite confident he would not be wandering around this village.
Jane, you will chastise me for saying this, but the encounter taught me something that will be of much use to you if you yet have any of your heart engaged. Mr. Bingley is actually a simpleton. There you have it, and you can be happy you are not saddled to him. How do I come to this conclusion you ask? Because he greeted me as if we were old friends, exactly as if nothing had happened. He blathered on for a good minute or two about how delighted he was to see me, and could name the exact date of our last encounter as well as the number of months elapsed since (November the 26th and eight months as it turns out). He even asserted that he could not remember a happier time than when we were all together at Netherfield, which does not really coincide with the fact that he ran from the place as if it were infested. The whole thing was astonishing; and I hardly knew how to react. Nothing in my life, even Mr. Collins, prepared me for dealing with such intransigence.
Then he asked the most peculiar question of all! He asked if all my sisters were still at Longbourn, which seemed an odd question since one of the sisters was standing in front of him, and in all these eight months he had not made the slightest effort to know anything of us at all. I assumed Mr. Darcy must have told him about our two encounters in town, so it seems clear at least one of the sisters has been away from home.
I confess I had a bit of sport of him, going through the status for Lydia, Kitty and Mary in thorough and tedious detail, followed by a minute description of Lydia's trip to Brighton, then my travels (omitting Matlock for obvious reasons). I quite deliberately blathered on for a good five minutes, and was sure to make frequent and copious references to my residence in Cheapside. Naturally, I completely neglected to mention Jane at all. Not a single word. He did not seem to have the nerve to ask directly, so I just left him wondering. Jane, if he truly wants to know your status, all he needs do is return to his own estate, or even just ride through Meryton and stop at the inn for a flagon.
I was then forced to accept an introduction to Miss Darcy, and pretend to talk cordially with Mr. Darcy and his sister for a moment or two. I don't know if I mentioned it before, but Miss Darcy is tall and pretty, but so shy it would take a mule with half a dozen ropes to drag a conversation out of her. Is this what Miss de Bourgh is like? Miss Darcy appears to be the perfect foil to Mr. Bingley, who cannot seem to shut up; and I am certain Miss Bingley will never wed so the three of them can make a merry party.
After a few minutes of this agony, I begged off, citing Aunt and Uncle awaiting me. I felt a tiny bit bad about the blatancy of the lie, but I am certain my conscience will recover. Mr. Darcy exerted himself to not stare at me with quite the level of malevolence I have become accustomed to, and even said a few words; so perhaps absence has moderated his disapprobation or softened his manners.
With that, I made my curtsies, and walked around them. Before I left though, I was feeling quite generous, so I thought I should show the lot of them that the Bennet sisters are well mannered and benevolent. As I started walking away, I observed that they were a very handsome couple, and I wished them much felicity together. They looked perplexed by the statement, so they probably did not know I was aware of their relationship; but by then I had quite enough of their company so I simply hurried away before any of them could reply.
Your snidest sister,
Elizabeth
Blacksmith
11 July 1812
Lambton, Derbyshire
Dearest Sisters,
What an unusual day I have had. We shall begin with the surprising but not alarming part. Uncle Gardiner acquainted himself with a local tradesman by the name of Mr. Livingston. He is a very pleasant man of about the same age as our aunt and uncle, who was known to Aunt Gardiner in their youth. He is softly spoken, well mannered, obviously fashionable and very well-educated. The two of them talked long into the night, and even allowed me participation in the conversation. Even more exciting, they now propose a joint venture of sorts between the two of them and my employer, Mr. Ellery. Uncle believes it may be quite profitable, and from what he could explain to me it seems a very reasonable business.
Based on the desire for this mutual endeavor, Uncle has asked if we might stay on in Lambton for an additional fortnight. I am to resume employment with Mr. Ellery, but I will be acting as clerk for discussions between the two men, and relaying messages to Mr. Ellery. It is all very exciting, as I get to be involved in the very beginning of a new venture and I can hardly wait to begin. We are not certain if Mr. Ellery will agree to join, but if not, Uncle says he will find another and will cover my wages himself; as if I would allow him to do so.
Now we come to the alarming part. Before all this happened, I was out for my morning walk when I quite by chance ran into none other than Mr. Darcy at the blacksmith ship. I imagine he must have had trouble with his horse on his morning ride, as I can think of no other reason for him to not leave the care of the animal to his grooms.
Once again, I tried to avoid the acquaintance but was unable to do so with any degree of civility, but then the oddest thing happened. I am quite beside myself to explain it. Mr. Darcy greeted me most cordially, and then spent a quarter hour engaging me in conversation! Conversation! Mr. Darcy! I know that is repetitious, but I must write it several times just so I may believe it myself. I know we argued several times while Jane was not sick at Netherfield, and of course we argued more in that atrocious dance at the Netherfield ball, but this was just plain, ordinary, civil conversation. I am all agog!
After the debacle at Matlock I was quite nervous to even encounter him, but he was very amiable and even on the chatty side. The transformation was astounding, and I quite despair of being able to explain it. The effect was something like talking to a more erudite version of Mr. Bingley.
By unspoken agreement, we did not discuss anything at all about Mr. Bingley or all the various sisters (mine, Mr. Darcy's, Mr. Bingley's). We talked oddly enough of books and plays, and it was… dare I say it… surprisingly pleasant. His manners were the very best I have ever seen them, and I was reminded that he is the only man of my acquaintance that does not seem to look down on my education, such as it is. I even engaged in a bit of impertinence by professing some opinions I do not actually possess, but he took it all in stride and seemed to enjoy it.
In the beginning, I was keen to get rid of him so I mentioned quite carefully that I was there with my aunt and uncle in trade, and even went so far as to tell him where I now live, and of my own employment; being unable to think of anything that would release me from the conversation more quickly. Astoundingly, he asserts that he would like to meet my aunt and uncle, and even asked me some insightful questions about my clerk's duties. I am quite certain he was just being polite, but even this level of civility was wholly unexpected. I naturally prevaricated about the introduction, so he need not be troubled with the acquaintance. I do not believe any meeting would be to either party's benefit.
At the end of the quarter-hour we did each other adieu, and I am surprised to find he no longer seems to hold me in contempt. I have no idea what I may have done to release him from his anger, but I will accept it as just one of the oddities of life. Perhaps he has a bad memory, or maybe seeing his sister well settled has softened his edges, or mayhap it is just being in a place where he is the master of all he sees and he takes comfort in its familiarity.
All in all, it was an interesting, albeit uncomfortable experience. I would obviously prefer not to repeat the meeting, but it was surprisingly cordial.
Yours etc&
Elizabeth
Business
15 July 1812
Lambton, Derbyshire
Dearest Mary and Jane,
I imagine you may need to become accustomed to a letter from me telling you I am surprised with the events of the day, as things are quite mad her in Lambton.
Uncle's business negotiations have gone apace, and we have been out on the carriage meeting other tradesmen nearly all day for the past three days. I have gone along and diligently recorded all the decisions and questions for post back to town, and have also done some calculations for the gentlemen which were much appreciated. My work in the ledgers has been paying off, and I must say that all the gentlemen are surprisingly delighted with me.
Now I must leave off my shameless boasting before you begin to feel I am spending entirely too much time in male company, or I am in danger of taking up trousers. Fear not, I am still a lady and I do still look reasonably fetching despite the ink stains on my fingers that I can never quite remove anymore. I have also clearly gone quite insane, boasting about my appearance, but such it is.
Today, I also believe I managed to embarrass myself again, as I was once again wearing the same day dress I wore to Matlock, which as quite unaccountably become a bit of a favorite. Unfortunately, I did not plan on encountering Mr. Darcy, but when we returned, there he was sitting in the common room of the inn. I was at first simply shocked to see him there, and when he got up to make his greeting, I am certain I turned beet red when I ascertained that he would probably recognize the dress from Matlock. In fact, I am quite certain he did for he looked the dress up and down, then gave what could only be described as a smirk; making it quite possibly the first non‑frown and non‑haughty expression I believe I have ever noticed on his countenance. Ever the gentleman, he refrained from embarrassing me further by mentioning it, but I am certain he ascertained my folly.
Even more astounding, I just reread the previous paragraph, and I have no idea why I wrote 'ever the gentleman', when such a thought would have been inconceivable a fortnight ago, but I must reluctantly own that he has been nothing but a gentleman every time I have encountered him in Derbyshire (well, apart from chasing me out of Matlock, but I believe that must be treated as an aberration or if I go completely mad and see it in a prudential light, he may have been trying to apologize for frightening me).
He specifically asked me to perform introductions to Aunt and Uncle, which I did, eager to show him that I have relations besides you two that I am not embarrassed by. He then without batting an eye joined us for tea, and chatted with both parties for a good half‑hour. Who would have thought? He does not know Aunt personally but they have several common acquaintances, and unlike Miss Bingley, he thinks nothing of associating with people in trade, and in fact discussed our new venture with what appears to be significant interest.
He very politely asked of our plans for the remainder of our stay, and then bid us adieu. Uncle and Aunt were as astounded by the performance as I was, but they both regained their equanimity quickly enough.
Tomorrow they have no business, so I am to have some time for a walk in the morning, which is much needed as I have been cooped up in carriages and doing my clerical duties these three very long days.
Lambton is a small market town nearly indistinguishable from Meryton, except the country is wilder, the hills higher, and the trails likely to be more difficult. Being in the country, Uncle has agreed to allow me to wander unaccompanied as I once did in Hertfordshire, but I will wear my tradeswoman's garb to eliminate having people stare at me. I can pass as a maid or governess in my new dresses with the greatest of ease, and I must confess, I feel more comfortable attired in that fashion these days. It affords a level of freedom from scrutiny we would have been quite unaccustomed to in Hertfordshire.
Yours etc&
Elizabeth
Avoidance
23 July 1812
Lambton, Derbyshire
Dearest Sisters,
No! No! No! No! No! Both of your suppositions are entirely unfounded, and you may rest assured Mr. Darcy does not hold me in any particular regard. I can understand Jane paying me back for encouraging affection with the colonel at Rosings, but cannot imagine why my sweetest sister Mary has joined in! Insufferable girls!
It is funny the things I remember out of the blue. Charlotte once overheard Mr. Darcy saying, 'A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment.' He may have been correct in your cases. You both appear to have been in Mrs. Bennet's company too much.
Jane, I know how you like to think the very best of anyone and everyone; which is very much to your credit. The fact that you can still do so after exposure to Mr. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam demonstrates the full depth of your goodness. However, despite your predilection to think the best of people, I am afraid I only give you leave to think of Mr. Darcy as a more pleasant man than I gave him credit for, and perhaps to believe he does not dislike me as much as I believed in the spring, or possibly he does not particularly dislike me at all.
Something has just occurred to me. I had forgotten the name of Jane's colonel from Rosings, so I went back to the old letters to reacquaint myself with the man. It appears he is the son of the Earl of Matlock, so my famous pianoforte escapade was in his parents' house, and he was the man the housekeeper told me remained unmarried. Of course, with his manners at Rosings, his single state is not to be wondered at. I would be doubly-mortified about the Matlock incident all over again, but considering his shameless boasting when you were in Kent, I imagine I may just consider it payback.
So, your suppositions are entirely idle and unwarranted, and I am surprised you can even suggest it after our history. It is true that Mr. Darcy now appears to be as Jane and I described Mr. Bingley that first night after the assembly. We never disputed that he was handsome and rich. He now appears to have acquired a bit of amiability, so he is in fact all a young man ought to be… when he is in his own county, among his own associates. However, you know as well as I do that even should my inclinations run that way; which they most definitely do not; such a man is not for the likes of us. I find it comforting to fully comprehend his motivations, so without any fear of attachment, I will simply enjoy his company when I encounter him, much like any other indifferent acquaintance.
And about our mother, I have come to a decision. I find myself reaching my age of majority, and eagerly entering the world of adults, so perhaps it is time I grew up. I have reluctantly thought to spend a se'nnight in Longbourn on my way back to Cheapside to try my very best to repair my relationship with her. I have sent her a note proposing the scheme and await her reply. I know not whether I will be successful, but the attempt seems to be a childhood task I have left undone too long. Wish me luck.
So now that I have sufficiently tamped down your impertinence regarding Mr. Darcy, I will relay the news of the day; but I forewarn you both not to waste valuable postage on more unwarranted suppositions. Mr. Darcy was in Lambton today, and asked cordially if I would allow him to show me a few favorite paths, and I surprisingly agreed. We did in fact have a very pleasant walk of some duration, and I must say I took some pleasure in his company for the very first time.
During the walk, I believe I may have discovered the true reason for his unexpected predilection for appearing in Lambton every day. It appears that Mr. Bingley brought his sisters for a visit to Pemberley, and given that fact, Mr. Darcy's daily absence from his estate makes perfect sense. Were I residing at Pemberley (you may both quite laughing now), I should leave every morning before dawn, and return each night after supper. I find myself reasonably content with his company. He is the best-read man of my acquaintance, and I suspect he may even give Papa some competition. He attends operas and plays in town frequently, so we have many things we can converse on. He does not seem to mind conversing on subjects that are usually the province of gentlemen, and seems to despise the conversation ladies are encouraged to pursue. Aunt Gardiner tells me her acquaintances generally hold him in high regard, so perhaps there is more to him than I have given him credit for.
When we returned to the inn, he quite surprised me by inviting Uncle Gardener to fish with him in his trout stream. You can well know the outcome of that request, so against all odds, it would appear that Uncle is to visit Pemberley.
Mr. Darcy also oddly enough asked permission to call on me in the morning, which I assume he finds more practical than waiting idly at the blacksmith shop just to avoid his more insufferable guests. I surprisingly enough find I am not as averse to the idea as I would expect.
Jane, I hope you do not feel I am acting disloyal after his showing in Hertfordshire, but I find myself curios to try to understand what he is all about. You need not fear an attachment, but I would at least like to no longer be afraid of him.
Yours etc&
Elizabeth
Introductions
25 July 1812
Lambton, Derbyshire
Dearest Sisters,
Another day… another shock. Who would have thought based on Mr. Darcy's behavior in Hertfordshire that he hails from a madhouse county? He appeared at the inn this morning, but surprisingly he brought his sister to be introduced to our entire party. At first I was astonished, but I now must make a confession. I am perhaps just a bit prejudiced against the gentleman (or a lot); mayhap from that first slight at the assembly these many months past, exacerbated by my presumed reasons for his dragging the Netherfield party away, and then cast in stone by Colonel Fitzwilliam's revelations in Hunsford.
I assumed he would not wish an association with someone in trade, or more specifically, someone related to our mother; but in retrospect, it is obvious Mr. Bingley is from trade, and he is as the colonel asserted in Rosings a great friend of Mr. Darcy. He even seems to be good enough for Miss Darcy, so I therefore must conclude that I do not know the man at all. What else might I be wrong about?
Miss Darcy is as shy as I previously detailed, but with an effort I managed to engage her in a discussion of music, and she turned out to be a lovely woman after I got her talking. I obviously did not want to mention the debacle at Matlock, but told her that both her brother and some other acquaintances had praised her talent, and I would like to hear her play one day. It was a bit forward, but I would so much like to hear her again that I am quite willing to skirt propriety or suffer embarrassment for the privilege. She is apparently a vengeful girl, as she then proceeded to shock me into speechlessness, by asserting that her brother claimed a strong enjoyment of my playing. Me! Elizabeth Bennet! I was speechless.
Mr. Darcy was obviously just being polite, since I could not even play in the same county as Miss Darcy, but I must confess the praise did warm my heart. While I am confessing my sins, I must own that I gave both brother and sister quite a bright smile in return; although I was then quick to correct Miss Darcy about my actual skill, lest she harbor unrealistic expectations.
Our visit was quite pleasant and I surprisingly find myself enjoying company with both Darcy's. I do not even mind her attachment to Mr. Bingley, as I have long believed you deserve better than a man who would quit the county without so much as a by your leave, regardless of what his sister or his friend thinks. Perhaps Mr. Darcy did Jane a service? There is a wholly unexpected thought!
The end of the visit brought one more surprise. Miss Darcy, looking for all the world like she was doing something difficult under the watchful eye of her brother, invited us to dine at Pemberley. I was surprised, but the look on her brother's face gave credit to the idea that he put her up to it. While I know of few things in life I would less rather do than share some hours with the Bingley sisters, I find myself quite looking forward to it. After all the descriptions of Pemberley we have heard, I would very much like to satisfy my curiosity. The library alone should be worth a few hours with the pernicious sisters, and truth be told both sisters are so dense there is a certain amount of amusement to be had at their expense by saying things they cannot understand.
So, we are to Pemberley after all. Uncle is to gird his loins for battle with Mr. Darcy's trout stream, which he asserts is quite overrun so it may not be that much of a battle. Aunt and I are to spend the morning with the ladies and then join the gentlemen for luncheon. Mr. Darcy has a bit of the look of mischief about him, and I should not be surprised if he failed to mention the engagement to the Bingleys. Perhaps Miss Bingley will find our sudden presence so shocking that she will do something completely unexpected, such as be polite… Well, enough of my flights of fancy. It is one thing to dine at Pemberley, but the latter suggestion is obviously too farfetched for serious consideration.
Sisters, I must let you in on a shocking secret. I find I am looking forward to the excursion. There, I have said it in writing, and may not retract it now. Despise me if you will.
Yours etc&
Elizabeth
Pemberley
27 July 1812
Lambton, Derbyshire
Dearest Sisters,
I have had the most shockingly up and down day of my life, and ended up quite distressed, but paradoxically contented that all my previous confusion has been resolved and I fully comprehend everything about our situation in all its particulars. I can think of no way to convey it except to relay the entirety of the day's events in detail, in the hope that writing it all out will help bring clarity of thought and spirit. I apologize that the letter is so long, but I do not have time before the post to make a shorter one.
True to plan, we went to Pemberley and the look on Miss Bingley's face was absolutely priceless. I believed both Darcy siblings may have a sense of humor as the Bingley sisters seemed to have no any idea we were to attend. The sisters exerted themselves to the usual level of civility, and they were shockingly forward, practically gushing over Miss Darcy. I am astounded they are not astute enough to detect that Miss Bingley's intentions are completely transparent. Miss Bingley wishes to be mistress of Pemberley, and sees Miss Darcy as her ticket. Unfortunately, they cannot see that their fawning sycophant behavior just drives Miss Darcy deeper and deeper into a protective shell like a clam, until you can hardly get a single word out of her. I am surprised Mr. Darcy allows it, but I suspected that he was simply exposing his sister to the type of behavior she can expect when she comes out into society, as the poor girl must toughen up a little if she does not want to be eaten alive by the ton… at least that is the explanation that seemed to make the most sense.
Mr. Darcy seemed like either an indifferent sportsman, or an overprotective brother because he kept popping in to check on the ladies every half-hour. Since he never seemed inadequate as a sportsman in Hertfordshire, I had to conclude the latter was his motivation. Each time he appeared, he observed the room for a bit, conversed with a few assorted guests, and then returned to his sport, only to repeat the exercise a half-hour later. I cannot believe he caught a single fish. At this point of the day, I was quite prepared to give him credit for at least being a good brother; which even Mr. Wickham would acknowledge as truth.
The gentlemen returned from their sport in good time for luncheon; and the second and most vexingly confusing part of the day commenced. I was most curious to observe the relationship between Mr. Bingley and Miss Darcy, as we so far have only Miss Bingley's word on the subject. An hour of close observation confirmed that it was simply Miss Bingley's dream, as they have no more affection than any other indifferent acquaintances. I was a bit surprised they did not correct my parting statement from our first meeting, but I suppose there is really no polite way to bring up such a thing. Of course, that made me question my own judgment from January when I concluded Miss Bingley was telling the truth just because I observed them in town, he was being polite, and Mr. Darcy stared at me menacingly. I must own that even though I somewhat facetiously said back in January that I did not trust Miss Bingley, I must admit that even cynical me found it hard to believe she would outright lie straight to my face.
I really believe I must learn to examine my own bias in these matters, as I seem to be wrong about as often as not. Of course, all of that does not really change the fact that Mr. Bingley left Jane alone in Hertfordshire with hardly a backward glance, but it did make me wonder at my own conduct here in Derbyshire. Why am I being amiable with the Darcys considering Colonel Fitzwilliam's disclosure in April, which seemed at least to be more reliable than anything to come from the superior sisters?
At this point in the day, I was conjecturing very charitably that perhaps Mr. Darcy knew that Mr. Bingley was an indifferent suitor and took him away to protect Jane. If that were the case, I can think of no way he could accomplish the task and also let us know it had been done with any sense of propriety. The duty of leave-taking fell to Mr. Bingley, and he deferred it to his unreliable sister. I was quite convinced that was the right of it, and was beginning to feel considerably more warmth toward Mr. Darcy.
During conversation, just before luncheon, Mr. Bingley did try once again to hint around at the status of all my sisters, but I was in no more of a mood to indulge him than I was a few days ago, so I once again refused to answer a question he could not even work up the nerve to ask directly. I believe he left my company feeling quite frustrated; which was entirely to my satisfaction. You can see that I need not give up the mantle of the cruelest of the Bennet sisters, as I am practicing the arts continuously; and of course, I have such able instruction from the superior sisters.
After luncheon, Mr. Darcy offered to give us a tour of the house. Everyone in the party joined in the start of the tour through the principle rooms, and we saw very much what we would see if we had taken a public tour. The house is quite beautiful, matching Matlock in elegance and simplicity; and I found I like it very much indeed. Naturally, I also observed my companions and could see Miss Bingley mentally cataloging all the things she would do move toward the vulgar if she had any control over the décor; which was an amusement in its own right.
During the tour, Mr. Darcy seemed to be going out of his way to drag out the tour, inserting sufficient detail of every feature to satisfy both my curiosity and our aunt and uncle's; and clearly at least double what the superior sisters were capable of understanding or tolerating.
After the tour of the ground floor is where things began to get strange. By this time the sisters were dragging, but of course those in my party are made of sterner stuff, so we were quite refreshed. Through some sort of signal or trickery, Mr. Darcy convinced the Bingleys to abandon the tour in favor of more refreshment. After they were gone, Mr. Darcy unexpectedly offered to show us some of the guest rooms on the next floor. This was quite surprising, but we acquiesced readily enough. The rooms were everything that you would expect, and I must say everything wonderful. I was quite surprised at Mr. Darcy taking the trouble to show them to us.
After the guest rooms were complete, Mr. Darcy's behavior became even odder. He asked if Aunt and I would indulge him by advising him on the décor of a particular room. It seemed an odd request, but not sufficient to commit him to Bedlam, so we agreed while Uncle went to find the other gentleman. Miss Darcy naturally accompanied us, and we ascended to the next floor and over to the family wing. Mr. Darcy showed us a room that was absolutely stunningly beautiful. The furnishings and colors were not currently fashionable, and the room appeared as if it had not been used in some time; but it had a timeless elegance that looked like it could stand the test of decades without strain.
Mr. Darcy asked anxiously for our opinion, which seemed like the strangest thing he has ever done. I indicated that I could not think of a single thing to change in the room, and Aunt agreed. He seemed quite happy with the praise, so I exerted myself to ask what room it was, and nearly swooned when he indicated it was the mistress' suite, vacant and unchanged these 15 years since his mother passed. It took me several moments to comprehend the honor of being shown the room, and then looking at Miss Darcy, I calculated her mother must have died in childbirth or soon thereafter; so the poor girl never really had a mother. Perhaps the housekeeper or governesses performed the office suitably, but with no sisters and no mother, she must have had a difficult upbringing.
At that time, I began to have a new and more charitable theory about Mr. Darcy's intent. I believed he could see his sister was lonely and completely unprepared for society. I then suspected he wanted her to have a friend near to her own age but somewhat older to possibly support her in the endeavor. She has a companion, but that is not the same as a friend; and I fancied myself the one that he had chosen to try to fulfill the office. Perhaps the fact that I have never been the slightest bit impressed by his wealth, manners or position in society had given me a certain aura of respectability in his eyes; and of course, since it is obvious to the most casual observer that I am not setting my cap for him, he could consider himself completely safe. The intimacy of showing his mother's suite to us was not lost on me, and I was very conscious of the honor of having him want me to befriend his sister and it all made complete sense. I must confess, at that moment I felt I could almost be friends with the man, and being friends with Miss Darcy is as easy as breathing.
I felt quite content with the exchange, and fancied that Miss Darcy might as well, and we returned to the ground floor to take more refreshment and things took yet another unexpected twist.
When we returned to the drawing room, I found I had another introduction in front of me. Yes, as you may have surmised, I was introduced to the infamous Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was apparently to visit for a fortnight. He was exactly as Jane described in Kent, so I need not go through any tedious details about the next hour of idle conversation. He and Mr. Bingley were having an amiability contest, with both talking much but saying little.
When it came near time to leave though, Colonel Fitzwilliam showed that a decorated soldier can be more forward and direct than an idle man like Mr. Bingley, because he asked about Jane specifically. The past hour had left me feeling more and more insecure in my assessment of our host and his designs; particularly since I have found my opinions to be wrong in so many instances. I also was beginning to think I could never really trust that I could learn anything whatsoever from a gentleman's manners, since both the colonel and Mr. Bingley were everything amiable and polite, but both hosted character defects that we have all discussed many times; and of course, Mr. Darcy's manners seem to change with the wind. When it was nearly time to go, Colonel Fitzwilliam found a quiet place where we could not be overheard and asked after you directly Jane, and apologized for not being able to take leave properly.
Jane, at this point I think I learned something. As you well know I have something of a fiery temper and angry people are not always wise; and henceforth you may hold me up as an example of that principle. I found I had just about all this man's company I could stand, and he also reminded me of what had happened in November. Since he was being direct, I decided I could do the same. I asked him if he remembered his very last conversation in Kent. He looked somewhat perplexed, but managed to assert that he did. I quite boldly asked him if he could tell me why his cousin Mr. Darcy had performed such an admirable service for Mr. Bingley. He seemed confused by the question, but took it in stride, and told me, and I must quote, "There were some very strong objections against the lady". At that very moment, any cordial feelings towards any gentleman in Hertfordshire evaporated like smoke.
Almost instantly, the full and complete truth fell on me like an ax. All my previously discarded ideas about Mr. Darcy came back full force, and I felt nearly ill at how badly I had been taken in by his newly minted amiability. It all became very clear in a single moment. Mr. Darcy is just another rake like his friend and his cousin, and they were simply toying with me for their own amusement. How could Mr. Darcy claim my elder sister who is superior to me in every way was so unsuitable as to make an entire party quit the county without taking leave; and then try to ingratiate himself with me but a few months later? I could think of only one explanation to fit that set of facts, and it did not paint anyone in that county in a favorable or even honorable light.
At that moment, I felt physically ill. I gave Aunt Gardiner the signal to say I wished to leave as soon as possible, and Uncle asked for the carriage be brought around. The superior sisters made some faux protests at our departure, and Mr. Darcy asked if we might stay for supper, but Aunt and Uncle understood that I was truly distressed, and completed our departure as quickly as it could be done with any semblance of politeness. Mr. Darcy seemed perplexed by the suddenness of our desire to depart immediately, but I was not concerned with his feelings, as his conquest can wait for his next unsuspecting victim.
Before I left, I thought I should insure that the so-called gentlemen understood that I was onto their game, and done with the lot of them. I managed one more time to speak quietly with the colonel, and tasked him to, "Tell your cousin that I am fully appraised of his good deed, in every particular, and I concur that he did the exactly correct thing for all involved." He seemed thoroughly befuddled by that, and even more perplexed when I further charged him to ask his cousin for the 'precise identity of the most unsuitable lady', then I left him to explain to his cousin how their amusement was over and done for. I have no idea how long they thought they could string us along, and as I had shown myself to be completely lacking in discernment, perhaps they thought they could continue the game indefinitely, or more likely until their goal was achieved, whatever it was.
Forgive me for breaking a confidence, but my judgment was and continues to in serious doubt, so I begged Aunt and Uncle to advise me. I told them the entire story from that ill-fated assembly in Meryton to the Colonel's final declaration and asked them if I was in error. We discussed it for several hours, and finally, they said that my explanation was not the only possible one, or perhaps not even the most likely; but that we were unlikely to get any better, and it would perhaps be for the best if we simply returned to our own sphere. Any man who would slight a lady on his first acquaintance without even the courtesy of an introduction could just as easily be a cad as anything else; Mr. Bingley's actions needed no explanation; and the colonel's boasting could not possibly be seen in a prudential light. In the end, since there is no benefit to us to spend time with members of first circles, and since there is no affection in either direction, there is really no need to continue the acquaintance. It is not as if we will run into any of those men in Cheapside, so we decided that our business with the Darcys and Fitzwilliams was complete. There is really nothing we can do to protect their next victim, except insure that she is not a Bennet or Gardiner.
We are to leave in four days' time. I now think I fully comprehend completely how you felt last winter Jane, and I am heartily sorry I could not quite understand you then. I do not feel like I was a very good sister. I fell for a cad's sweet words like a fish to a tasty worm, and he nearly reeled me all the way into his basket; even though I had your two experiences to teach me caution. I shudder to think what would have happened had I not happened on the colonel today. I have no idea what Mr. Darcy was about, but considering how unsuitable the Bennet sisters are, I can imagine no honorable intention.
I believe that with my message via the colonel, the men will all know their game is over and the Bennet sisters are now forewarned, forearmed, and no longer to be trifled with. Just in case one of them should wish to continue their conquest, Uncle has advised I stay with him at all times until our departure; and since three of those days are devoted to his business; that can be easily arranged. He also wrote a very cleverly worded note thanking the hosts graciously for the day, while making it clear that we were otherwise engaged for the remainder of our stay. It was polite and firm, just the sort of thing that marks our uncle as a true gentleman. We also agreed to breakfast early and leave on our business before calling hours, just in case one of them wishes to make a last effort at furthering the acquaintance; and I most certainly will not walk out or do anything else for that matter without my uncle or a footman for protection.
And so, at long last, I fully comprehend my own foolishness, and I am heartily ashamed of my lack of discernment. However, I am grudgingly satisfied that all the Bennet sisters are well and truly finished with this entire wolf pack, and we can now get on with our own lives free of their influence.
I must close now as the post is to leave soon, and I have some serious reflections about my own lack of judgment to ponder at some length.
Faithfully,
Elizabeth
Severance
3 August 1812
Lambton, Derbyshire
Dearest Sisters,
I can now faithfully report that I know exactly what a true gentleman is. He is exactly as our Uncle Gardiner. For the last two days, Mr. Darcy has called several times each day, asking to speak with myself or Uncle Gardiner, and we simply took his calling cards and burned them. However, Mr. Darcy is a stubborn and persistent sort, our uncle is not a man to shy away from anyone or anything, and the man finally exhausted Uncle's patience, so he agreed to meet.
Uncle Gardiner does not hold with the notion that females should be protected from all knowledge of the world; but neither would he sanction me meeting with Mr. Darcy without my approval, which was not forthcoming. He suggested I stand outside the door so I could hear what the man had to say without being directly involved. He did not consider it eavesdropping, nor did I, since I was no doubt the topic of conversation.
Their discussion lasted for several minutes, with Mr. Darcy asserting that there was some sort of misunderstanding, and he would like to explain himself. Uncle was unfailingly polite, kind and deferential… until he had enough. I could hear the moment when he lost his temper, as his voice started sounding like an ax scraping across a whetstone. He proceeded to put the man in his place with a set down for the ages.
He said, "Mr. Darcy, my nieces know exactly four Northmen. One paid very particular attention to my eldest niece for six weeks, then left without a single word, save a very nasty letter from his sister. The second both slighted my second-eldest publicly without ever having met her, and then boasted of arranging his friend's bout of ungentlemanly behavior to at least his cousin and who knows who else. The third openly boasted of your perfidy as an everyday occurrence, to the very same niece four months later, not even being aware he was boasting about breaking her own heart to the very lady herself. The fourth left Meryton with a mountain of debt that he will never be able to pay back, even should he attempt it, which seems unlikely. I believe my nieces have had quite enough of Northmen, and I take that opinion directly from Elizabeth."
Oh, it was so perfect I actually kissed my uncle after Mr. Darcy left. It made me reflect, and upon further thinking I believe I am tempted to give up on the gentry entirely. Of all the men we are acquainted with, the only three I truly esteem are Uncle Gardiner, Uncle Philips and Mr. Ellery. You will note that they are all men of trade. Yes, I believe I will be most content to leave the gentry behind and join the ranks of the tradesmen. They seem much more worthy on average.
We leave in two days' time, and the post is coming soon so I must close.
Your rebellious sister,
Lizzy
Rebellion
4 August 1812
Lambton, Derbyshire
Mr. Thomas Bennet, Esq.
Longbourn, Hertfordshire
Mr. Bennet,
You will please forgive the formal style of this letter, and the unusual delivery. I am well aware of your indolence with respect to correspondence, as well as with other matters so I have asked my Uncle Philips to deliver the missive by hand and wait for you to read it.
I wish to make you aware sir of a serious breach of all manners, civility and even human decency that has gone unchecked in your household for many months, and has finally reached a breaking point which cannot be undone. I also wish to appraise you of the consequences thereof.
Please find attached a two-page letter crossed dated 5 August 1812 from your wife, Mrs. Francine Bennet, apparently in response to a short note I sent her as an olive branch, of which I have also attached a copy. Also, please note another letter dated 1 August from my aunt, Mrs. Louisa Philips. Please take the time to peruse all three letters now.
If you have read them, you will have ascertained that the letter from your wife, Mrs. Bennet, is the vilest, most hate filled, ignorant, uncharitable, ignorant (I repeat deliberately for emphasis) piece of slander that it has ever been my poor fortune to witness, let alone have addressed to me. I do not know of a single other person who is capable of such vile language. Some of the words were so bad I had to ask my uncle to translate them into the King's English, and he steadfastly refused to do so on around half.
Mrs. Philips' missive includes the same slanderous gossip, with a clear indication that the gossip has been circling in Meryton society like vultures for these many months; with the primary source being your own wife, Mrs. Francine Bennet, who cannot even keep her incivilities inside her own home.
I also have reliable accounts that the same unrepentantly nasty language has been heaped upon your four daughters indiscriminately for most of a year, and my heart goes out to them for they cannot escape it. My only correspondents have been your daughters, Jane and Mary. I believe Jane has minimized it, to spare my feelings; but Mary seems more inclined towards the unvarnished truth, but also seems to have reached her utter limit of tolerance.
From these clear truths, I must conclude sir that either your wife, Mrs. Francine Bennet has deliberately decided to break the vows she swore at your side when you joined in holy matrimony, in particular, the honor and obey portions; or that you have not bestirred yourself from your book room to instruct her properly in the most basic of civilities which should have been engrained either at her mother's knee, or by her husband's instruction. I would assume the latter case, but you are entitled to your own opinion.
I am reliably informed that your wife, Mrs. Francine Bennet has repeatedly said that she will never speak my name again, but I must assume she means that in a figurative sense; as she repeats the assertions many times over the course of an hour.
I on the other hand would not use such language frivolously. It is therefore my unpleasant duty to inform you that I will never speak her name again literally. From this day, I am no longer known to your wife, Mrs. Francine Bennet in any way. I will never step foot in Longbourn again. If she should happen to encounter me in a lane or unexpectedly in another house, I will cut her direct. I will no longer tolerate a single word of her abuse. You may choose to check her or not, as you choose as head of the household; but if you wish any of your four daughters to marry well or even retain their sanity, I would suggest a more active course than you have previously ascribed to. You may choose to give me control of my pin money through Uncle Gardiner; or cut it off entirely and either spread it across your other dowerless daughters, or waste it on yet more books.
If you wish some advice, I would recommend you save it for dowries, as I have only recently learned you sent your silliest, worst behaving and most unreliable daughter to Brighton with a camp full of soldiers, under the chaperonage of another young lady of even less sense. Severe damage to the remaining three Bennet daughters' reputations seems the most likely outcome. I have long abandoned any pretense or hope of marrying well, but I will be sorry to see the rest of my worthier sisters' reputations ruined; as seems imminent.
Uncle and Aunt Gardiner have seen these letters, as has Uncle Philips. Uncle and Aunt Gardiner have agreed to assist me in setting up an establishment in town, and I have already secured employment which will satisfy my meager requirements for a good life. I am of age now, so am neither duty nor honor bound to notify you of anything, but so long as you allow correspondence with my sisters, I will promise to give you word of any significant events in my life through them. I will also beg that you allow each of your other daughters save Lydia to have a few months in town to attempt to find husbands without the constant screeching of your wife, Mrs. Bennet; who is very much more of a hindrance than a help in matrimonial matters.
I have saved enough money to retain Uncle Philips services for a few hours, and he will present you with a legal, signed and witnessed document attesting to the above stipulations.
I also feel I may no longer bear the same name as that hateful woman, so I have taken steps, with Uncle's permission to remove myself from it. Perhaps one day I will marry a worthy tradesman and change it again, but I am disinclined to wait, so for now I remain,
Elizabeth Gardiner
Consolation
4 August 1812
Lambton, Derbyshire
Dearest Sisters,
Please prepare yourself for either a raging firestorm or no reaction whatsoever to the missive I have just delivered to Mr. Bennet. I cannot bear to write it again so I have tasked Uncle Philips with showing you a copy or giving you the broad outlines. I will stay at the inn when we pass through Meryton, and I would beg you to both visit me there, and return to town with me for a time. Uncle and Aunt have agreed to the scheme, and should Mr. Bennet survive his approaching thrashing that Uncle Gardiner has planned, you should be able to do so with his permission; although Jane is of age and does not require it.
I received the most horrid letter from my former mother right after I wrote you about Uncle's setdown for Mr. Darcy, and I finally at long last have had all I can take. I have no idea how the rest of you survive in that madhouse. It is far worse than either of you surmised in previous correspondence.
You will see the letter from Uncle Philips. I must see you when we go through Hertfordshire, although I will not be going to Longbourn. Please say you will come visit me.
Your dearest sister,
Elizabeth Gardiner
P.S. Please forgive the tears. I have had two of the three most trying days of my life in rapid succession.
Elopement
7 August 1812
Lambton, Derbyshire
Dearest Sisters,
Stupid Stupid Stupid Lydia! She has well and truly ruined what small chance we had to marry well, but she will not ruin our lives, of that I assure you. I warned Mr. Bennet of this, and in perhaps my only accurate assessment of this entire year, I predicted this very outcome in the last horrible letter to him cutting off my relationship with Mrs. Bennet.
As you well know, this letter follows on three of the worst days of my life, but I fear this is the very bottom, because if Mr. Wickham is anything like his other Northman comrades, I truly fear for Lydia. While true that she has made her own bed, she is still my sister and I see no way this can end well, or even not end very very badly.
I am afraid that this has just confirmed my belief that none of the Bennet sisters will marry well. Our chances were not good before, and it is now nigh on impossible; but do not despair. I have been preparing myself this half-year, so other than having complete certainty of our general unsuitability to marry anyone of consequence, rather than my previous near certainty, my outlook has not changed very much. As you know, my recent experience leads me to prefer tradesmen anyway, but even that hope will probably be quashed with this scandal. There is very little hope it will not spread to town.
My first inclination was to panic and insist we leave posthaste so that our uncle could assist in any way possible, but that feeling soon passed. What purpose would be served by running around hither and yon with our hair afire, when there is really nothing to be done? The die has been cast, and nothing we do is likely to change the outcome. From what you say of the debts Mr. Wickham left in Hertfordshire, and the number of women and girls he apparently tried to charm, it seems extremely unlikely a marriage is in the offing. I only hope Lydia can be recovered from whatever rookery Mr. Wickham probably has her secreted off to, but even that seems too much to hope for.
Uncle's business here in Derbyshire has been concluded, and as you well know, we have not been enjoying our holiday or our business very much these last few days, so we shall leave at a decent hour on the morrow, and arrive back in Meryton in four days' time as expected. I shall continue to Cheapside with Aunt and Uncle as I have said, and resume my employment, which has become not just an amusement, but essential for our futures. Do not fret about this, as I shall not. After the loss of a mother and my own belief in my sensibility and discernment, what is my reputation. The scandal will eventually die down, and tradesmen of real quality will eventually be found for us, and all will be well.
Uncle Gardiner already helped me work out the sums regarding how I may support myself in my own establishment, and while difficult, it is manageable; but it would be easier if two or three of us lived together and shared the burden. I believe both of you will need to join me sooner rather than later, but I will leave that to your discretion.
My only advice is to not let Mrs. Bennet ruin your life. I can well imagine her taking to her bed and her salts, crying to all the gods that she is ill-used. In fact, I quite imagine she will try to lay this debacle at my door as well; but I very well know she is simply reaping what she has sown this last ten years. It will only affect me insofar as it affects both of you, so I beg you not to allow her to do so. Come back to Cheapside with me that we may begin anew. We will send for Kitty once we have an establishment, and I believe we will all be better off for leaving Hertfordshire.
Your beloved sister
Lizzy Gardiner
Friends
8 August 1812
Lambton, Derbyshire
Dearest Sisters,
I do believe every day in this accursed county is worse than the last, and I am so relieved that tonight's inn is very close to its southern border, and tomorrow I shall leave it forever.
We were preparing to board Uncle's coach this morning when I was approached by the very last person I ever expected to see, Miss Darcy. I confess I did not have the slightest idea what to do with the her. She appeared to be there without her brother's knowledge or permission, as she was accompanied only by a rather burly footman. Uncle looked at the pair of them askance, but I cannot blame the poor girl for her brother and cousin's actions any more than I could blame you two for Mrs. Bennet's, so I agreed to talk with her.
The young lady was practically in tears, and begged me to tell her what happened between her brother and I to sever the connection. How could I possibly answer a question like that? I have known her for mere days, and aside from the impropriety of sharing such private information, I still do not believe I am completely impervious to repercussions from her brother. He is still a man who could make trouble for me, particularly when I leave my uncle's protection, as I feel I must. I cannot be a burden to them forever, particularly since it will be four much‑reduced Bennet sisters without husbands instead of just one.
I really think her brother went too far with his scheme, as the young lady was quite looking forward to having a real friend. In the end, I could probably forgive him nearly any of his many trespasses, but to use his own sister so abominably is beyond the pale.
I began to comprehend that the poor girl probably has an enormous dowry and a very rich and unmarried brother, so she has no doubt had to ward off fortune or husband hunters like Miss Bingley nearly since birth. Perhaps she has never had a real friend. Can you imagine growing up without sisters or friends like Charlotte? And despite recently severing all connections with my former mother, I cannot imagine growing up with no mother at all. For the first time in my life, I was happy about our lack of fortune.
I confess I had not the slightest idea what I could tell her. I tried prevaricating until she literally begged me to tell her the truth. I did not have the heart to tell her about her brother or cousin. I was trying to think of anything I could say, when she importuned me to be the only person she had ever met to not treat her like a baby; and that request was too much for me to bear. I still could not tell her about the men in her life who will still be there tomorrow and the day after and the day after, but I had to tell her something that was true.
In the end, the only thing I could think to tell her that was both true, and not in any way blaming her family for the permanently severed connection was to tell her about our family's scandal. Since I am certain Mrs. Bennet is blathering it all over Meryton even now, I believed there was no lasting harm in telling her, as it would place all the blame on our family, and none on hers. It would be shocking for such a young girl, but likely not the first such scandal she has heard of, and it seemed the perfect solution. I just did not have the heart to crush the poor soul by revealing the true reason.
So, that is what I did. I told her that she could not keep a connection to us because my youngest sister had eloped with a known rake and gambler; and chances of a marriage at present seemed extremely unlikely. It was therefore impossible to maintain any further association, lest the poor sweet girl be tarnished by association. I judged this would be just shocking enough to the lady to relieve any apprehension that she was at fault, and allow her to proceed to find a more appropriate friend, now that she had the idea in her mind. It was a terrible solution, but the only one I could think of that would not jeopardize her relationships with her closest family; something I could not do to such an innocent girl, or really any woman.
I was taken aback when she turned white and asked for the rake's name, and I am afraid that in yet another spectacular lapse in judgment, I gave it to her. In my distress, I completely forgot that Wickham grew up at Pemberley, and she may actually know him personally. As soon as the name escaped my lips I regretted it, and even more so when she collapsed in my arms in a dead faint.
Aunt Gardiner was there to attend her immediately, and Uncle sent the Darcy coachman to return to Pemberley for Mr. Darcy posthaste. Her footman carried her inside the inn, and application of a cold cloth brought her around nearly immediately, with no lasting harm done.
I apologized profusely over and over again, while she tried to do the same. We both finally started laughing in a sort of hysteria. When she had settled down, I told her we had sent for her brother, and we would wait for his arrival before departing. She begged me to talk to her brother again, but I confess I did not have the strength for it, nor did my uncle have the inclination; particularly with Miss Darcy present.
I gave her leave to tell her brother about our scandal, surmising it would be one more thing that would keep the family away from us, and I did not have the heart to ask her to keep a confidence from her guardian. With our coach loaded and the horses waiting impatiently in the traces, we waited only for Mr. Darcy to appear, then with Uncle telling him she had fainted but appeared fine now, we took our leave as politely as we could, given our history, and left her in his care.
I sit here and cry over the exchange. Everything I do regarding that family seems wrong, and even though I had nothing but affection for Miss Darcy, and strove at every turn to do the right thing by her, in the end I know I caused her pain, and the poor girl is worse off for having made the acquaintance.
There is nothing I can do about it now, so I will close and try to sleep.
Your bedraggled sister
Lizzy