'Kay, here's instalment three! Thanks for the lovely reviews, like I said, they just totally made my day! And I'm not sure who NW is(anonymous reviewer), but I'd like to thank them for pointing out the stupidest mistake an author could make. My story now has a properly-spelt title, thank goodness.
The following two letters(yes, just two) were added on the spur of the moment. The idea of writing two letters from two characters so completely different amused me, and so I just had to write them. The second letter, I have to admit, sounds rather silly, but I don't really have the mood to give the second writer even a chance of appearing intelligent(prejudiced me, but there it is). Both letters are written on the same day, which is about three days before the Netherfield Ball. The weather was inspired and confirmed by this phrase from the book:
"...from the day of the invitation, to the day of the ball, there was such a succession of rain as prevented their walking to Meryton..."
I hope the letters live up to your expectations!
III. A Rainy Day
Longbourn
Saturday, November 23 1811
My dearest Aunt,
So much has happened since I wrote you last! Had you been personally present here, you would have known the rumours much sooner –as it is, it falls unto my lot to enlighten you. For the happier news first –our dear Jane is finally, undoubtedly on the cusp of being engaged! Isn't it wonderful! –and to Mr. Bingley, of all people. I cannot imagine my mother in a more blissful state of mind.
Although it is not official –dear Jane has assured me of this fact most firmly- all of Meryton knows it is definitely bound to happen –all a matter of time, as my Aunt Phillips insisted the other day. You have always known me as being wary of popular rumours and conjectures, always attempting to attain a certain amount of unprejudiced judgement before I condescend to acknowledge the belief; thus you may very well conjecture as to how unassailable and solidly existent the proofs may be to satisfy my rigorous inquisition. Mr. Bingley is as amiable as he was said to be and more. He is a fine, charming, jolly young man –always seeking to please and be pleased, and he is forever kind and civil to every person possible. Oh –no, he is not always perfectly civil, for when Jane is present in the same room as he, all notions of civility and etiquette seem to fly out the window as he attaches himself to my sister with constant joy and rapture. Indeed, everyone here, save Jane, is aware of his marked inclination toward my sister. Jane herself is rather strangely choosing to be calm and detached about the matter, seemingly unsatisfied with the proofs laid before her very eyes. She insists that I may be mistaken, but simultaneously agrees quite whole-heartedly that he is a wonderful, warm caring person –as if that does not tell one enough! Very well, her eyes will be opened the day Mr. Bingley kneels before her, and I am very certain that the day is not far.
And now, on to the less pleasant news. We now have a guest at Longbourn, a Mr. William Collins, rector of the parsonage of an illustrious estate in Kent, Rosings Park wherein reside a Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her daughter Anne. Mr. Collins is our cousin –the evil, estranged cousin who is to inherit Longbourn after Papa's passing; in short, the very man who may throw us into the hedgerows if he so chooses. You may very well imagine Mama's consternation at the foretelling of his visit, however, it is nothing compared to the consternation I experience at the moment as he resides as a guest under our roof. It seems to be Mr. Collins' manifest intent to find himself a wife –and not any wife, but one that would originate from the, in his words, worthy halls of Longbourn. Oh! aunt –you may imagine my situation when it was perfectly apparent to me that I was the object of his attentions. Mama does nothing to dissuade him, in fact, it seems to me she has already given him her approval. Mr. Collins has already availed himself to engage me for the first two dances at the upcoming ball at Netherfield, and honestly, I am not certain whether I should laugh for the folly of it all or deplore at my awkward circumstances. I see I have mentioned nothing of the man's character himself, and thus I shall do so for you to be perfectly cognisant of the situation at the moment.
I will not be exaggerating, my dear aunt, when I say that Mr. Collins is the most pompous man with the least good sense in his head, I have ever happened to meet. He boasts no good taste nor general cleverness, he tries unduly hard to be the utmost civil when he borders on abject imprudence with his statements. If he were not harbouring such unwelcome inclinations towards me, I should have found the whole of his character much entertaining –already Papa doats on him and his various idiosyncrasies. He speaks every word as if he reads from a particularly onerous book of Fordyce's sermons, in fact, he admitted as much the other night over the dinner table –he apparently practises and ponders over every word he must speak, with such dutiful calculation as must be laughable. He speaks of his benefactress, the Lady de Bourgh with prodigious enthusiasm and idiotic superiority. As a matter of fact, when he speaks of Lady Catherine(which is almost always), he does so with such pertinacious pride, such unplaced ego that I am left most thoroughly irked every time. And by all means, from what I have heard of the Lady from her snivelling rector, I place the lady in no higher regard than I do her nephew –but we shall come to that presently. Mr. Collins is to me odious enough so that I can fill pages and pages with my dislike for him and dismay at his intentions. Indeed, from such a description, I am sure you do not wonder at my determined aversion to this man. I can only truthfully say that I am waiting impatiently for the culmination of this farce –his proposal; not the way Jane might dream about Mr. Bingley, but only to put a firm end with definite closure to this state of affairs. Mama might think it quite satisfactory for a girl of my situation and my talents, but I have to admit I have seen enough of you and my uncle, and more recently, Jane and Bingley, to wish for more out of the felicity of acquiring a husband.
And now for the final topic I am most anxious to introduce to you. You are, I am sure aware of the posting of the –shire regiment in Meryton for I am sure Mama and my youngest sisters have talked of nothing else since they first found out. The officers are to be found in such abundance as to satisfy every creature wearing a frock in the county –forgive me, I sound rather boorish; I suppose it is not true, in any case, for Mary would rather hide in her room with a book of sermons, as she is doing at the present moment. There are, of course, the usual rakes and the young coxcombs; there are, however, also some gentlemen quite worthy of an acquaintance. I have had the pleasure to meet one such man in the past week, a Lieutenant Wickham, a very handsome man with excessively pleasing manners, whose greatest merit, according to me, is that he can take Lydia's wild behaviour with admirable equanimity and good stride. Mr. Wickham, in fact, might be able to claim an acquaintance with you, for he was raised on an estate, Pemberley, in Derbyshire, which I understand is not far from Lambton –the town of your childhood which I have heard you speak of on numerous occasions. Mr. Wickham was the only son of the steward of that estate, and being a favourite with the master of Pemberley, old Mr. Darcy(who has since passed away), he was blessed with many facilities through his childhood, culminating with his studies in Cambridge. I should at this point mention to you that I am acquainted with the current Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire, and believe me, aunt, I have never met a more reserved, prideful man. His very posture reeks of hauteur and his speech of disdain and contempt –everyone here is most astonished that a man like him is a very close friend to a man as affable and amiable as Mr. Bingley. Indeed, it is through Mr. Bingley that I have met him; had Bingley not been violently in love with Jane and been frequently in our presence, I do not think I would know Mr. Darcy –the little that I do know- as I do now. He makes no attempt to socialise, to converse, or just be plain friendly, instead choosing to restrict himself to his own party, and is always merely civil. Again, you may wonder at my dislike for this man as well, but I am sure you would understand, dear aunt, if I told you that this man offended your dear niece with a most callous remark, though meant to be unheard by herself, and has continued to offend her since with his pride. I shall say no more; I shall describe the rest to you in perfect detail when we may meet next. I only mentioned the latter two gentlemen in the hope that you may atleast know more of them by your Derbyshire connection. Depend on it there is more to the story than I have penned down, for the former has been, in my fervent opinion, most cruelly mistreated by the latter. There! –that should be enough to rouse your interest, and I hope that you shall be curious enough to come visit us soon, if only to satisfy that curiosity. Upon my word, I have been rambling on, you must forgive me, dear aunt. Mary is already livid that I am using such copious amounts of her paper, but in view of present circumstances –the ennui that comes with a rainy day, and the exciting news that accumulates between a gap in correspondence- I'm sure you do excuse my sudden propensity for letter writing.
Do write back if you are able, I know you shall be here in four weeks' time, but you must know by now that a letter from you is always welcome! All my love to my uncle and my dear little cousins, and to you, of course, dearest aunt!
I remain, your loving niece,
Elizabeth Bennet
Netherfield Hall
Saturday, November 23, 1811
My dearest Adele,
My! –it has been a while since I corresponded, and at the present moment I feel quite lost –marooned, as it were- amidst a sea of mediocrity and insipidity. You know very well my strictures and laments concerning my present situation, and I'm afraid I have not had any sort of happy epiphany since. The country is invariably dull, filled with ennui and unfashionable ignoramuses. Everyday as I wake up, I find myself wondering what on earth possessed Charles to lease this place in such a backwater part of England. I only hope, and I'm quite sure, that you will knock some sense to him the instant we return to London. Although this is all I have to say concerning my brother, I am sure you are earnestly hoping for more, and as your dearest friend, I shall oblige. Charles is doing splendidly –I have to say, the country satisfies him for the moment, and for his sake, I am trying my utmost to keep my disappointments to myself. Do not worry for his affections- in such a sad little village like this, you could not imagine he would find someone worthy here –why, the idea is laughable! Indeed, he thinks about you often, and was recounting to me only the other day a dance which he shared with you in London last season, and with no little affection, I assure you. Truly, Adele, you are quite safe, and when we return, you may recommence your pretty courting immediately –but, there! I shall not tease you, ma chère, and so you may deem yourself safe. Mr. Darcy coaches him daily about the cares and duties of the master of an estate –I need not say how splendidly he instructs and Charles absorbs. Indeed, I have seen too many young gentlemen with vast estates of their own, but not a clue about the management of things; it is therefore no surprise, and I'm sure you'll agree, that Pemberley is one of the most beautiful estates I have set my eyes upon. Ah –Mr. Darcy! –I shall say no more, Adele, for fear of filling entire pages with my silly romantic thoughts. The one clear advantage that I have observed since our removing to Hertfordshire is the increased proximity between myself and Mr. Darcy. As a matter of fact, at times, it feels like the two of us are the only sane people in the entire room! –and thus we shall have to amuse ourselves together. He dances with no one but me and Louisa, he says it is because he knows no one outside our party, and to be sure, why would he want to know anyone here? Upon my word, if Mr. Darcy weren't here, I should certainly have gone mad with boredom and helplessness.
There! I am expatiating again, do forgive me, mon amie. Your news about Miss Gunther did not surprise me a jot; I'm sure we all knew how indecently forward she was acting with Mr. Yates –and all for money. Goodness! –I am thankful we did not socialise with her too often, and although she was reputed to be pretty stilish, in my opinion her clothes were only mediocre, I assure you. In fact, I hardly use the fan she presented to me, for fans of that kind seem to be quite out of fashion now –such ridiculously pale colours as to be monotonous and mundane! Oh! –can you imagine her countenance at the announcement of Mr. Yates' engagement? I suppose one must feel sorry for her, if she hadn't been so blatantly mercenary. Well, I am not one to dwell on unpleasantness, however much deserving it seems to be. I sincerely hope Cynthia Gunther's little retreat in the Continent will find her a nice beau –perhaps even an acceptable marriage.
I was also very intrigued by your description of Miss Haversham's coming out –of course, St. James' Court is only one half, coming out at Almack's is quite the popular notion to be a fitting second half of a coming-out, I do agree. However, I am sure you are very well aware of my disapproval of Almack's; indeed, I should not place so much importance on a mere assembly room –all one does there is dance, and I have never really had an inclination towards balls and dancing and such. To be sure, I am of the opinion that it is a most pathetic form of social conduct; one would be at a more respectable and civilised advantage with a proper intellectual conversation instead of prancing about to noise like the savages of the wilds. You must listen to Mr. Darcy on this particular subject, he is so elegantly eloquent, so masterfully precise that you could not disagree with him. You are aware of his distaste, nay, dislike for Almack's and I perfectly comprehend him and concur with him –dancing is a superior waste of time, indeed!
Well! –I have written quite a long letter, have I not? Of course, it is not as if I can never write letters of sizeable length –I am a prodigious letter-writer, much unlike Charles or Louisa, but very much like Mr. Darcy. There is little else that offers as much pleasure as the smell of wet ink and clean sheets of paper, I must say. Tout de même, I must sign off, for I must arrange for the place settings –oh! –I see I have not mentioned it, Charles has very foolishly acquiesced to host a ball this next Tuesday here at Netherfield Hall for the entire neighbourhood, as well as the regiments of the –shire militia, who are at present, camped in Meryton for the winter. What can I say, Adele? The poor man is practically helpless against the onslaught of these impulsive, impolite women! You cannot guess the number of times I have thought of my dearest friend Adele and her lovely mother Lady Grantley, and how together we would show these uncultured barbarians a thing or two about society. Well, well, I must depart, for the servants here seem not to know a thing when it comes to hosting a fashionable soiree, and I must supervise them every single minute. My kindest regards to Lady Grantley and your sister. I am hoping we shall return to Town for the holidays and in turn hoping to see you at Grantley House forthwith! Pray for our speedy return, my dear –for a chance to meet Charles ere long!
Your dearest friend,
Caroline Bingley
A/N: "Adele Grantley", to whom Caroline writes her letter, is actually another jab at Caroline Bingley's total evilness. Can you guess what inspired the addressee's name?(Just the last name -first name was purely my invention)
Also, I have included some French words/phrases in Caroline's letter, since it seemed very fashionable for ladies of the Regency Era to casually throw in a couple of French phrases in conversation. I wasn't sure which ones were more frequently used, however, so I've just interspersed the letter with a couple of generic terms.