5 November, 1830
Mansfield Parsonage
My dear Jamie,
I'm not sure whether or not to thank you for your last letter. I know you meant to be kind, but … well, I did not particularly enjoy having someone agree with me that I have been too uncharitable toward my cousins and my aunt's ward! I was rather hoping to have you tell me that I am a wonderful, kindly person, and I have every right to be outraged by Mr. Fulke's hostile attitude toward me, as I have never done anything deserving of such behaviour!
Instead you pointed out—in the gentlest way, of course—that now that I see how unpleasant it is to have someone treat me badly, perhaps I will want to be kinder toward others. And you ever so subtly ask me to consider if I have ever acted in a way to justify Mr. Fulke's behaviour!
Dear Jamie, I am so used to you supporting me in all things that it quite troubles me to have you point out that I am imperfect. I know I am not perfect, of course, but I would like others to think so!
You are right, insofar as regards Thea and Isabella, at any rate. Isabella, of course, has always been odious toward me, but that is not why I dislike her so. The plain fact of the matter is that I am jealous. It looks so ugly to see it written down on paper! Almost as ugly as admitting it in my own mind. For all my claimed superiority of mind, I am quite simple jealous of Miss Isabella Huston.
I understand Aunt de Lacey's motivation behind taking Isabella under her wing. When our aunt, plain Susan Price, with no discernable dowry except the paltry sum her uncle bestowed upon her, married a baronet—not merely the son of a baronet, but the baronet himself, and a most eligible one at that—well, the fashionable world reeled. Aunt de L. had to endure much scorn from the ton for many years.
So it would make sense that she would want, now that she has some standing amongst her peers, to play a sort of fairy godmother to a young girl who would otherwise be ostracized because of her birth.
It makes sense, as well, as Isabella's natural father was one of Sir Frederick's closest friends, and when he died, the girl and her mother were left penniless and friendless. And when Miss Huston passed away as well, and Isabella left an orphan … well! It simply speaks to my aunt and uncle's generous hearts, that they would take her in and treat her as their own, especially as they have no children.
I grant all that, Jamie! Do me that justice, at least. I fully see the kindness of our aunt, and I would like to love Isabella as a cousin, and defend her from the sneers of those who mock her for the circumstances of her birth, for which she, poor girl, can hardly be held responsible.
If only she weren't so arrogant! She flaunts her disgraceful beginning, and revels in how far she has risen. She boasts of my aunt's fondness for her without showing any affection in return. She is determined to make a wealthy match, and does not care over whom she must trample to get there.
Yet with all that, our aunt does dote on her. Everyone pities her (except from the aforementioned sneerers) and treats her as thought she were a princess. Young men fall under her spell, young ladies wish to be like her. She sets the fashion wherever she goes, she can command any company she likes …
Yes, I am jealous. Here am I, far more intelligent, well-bred, of a respectable family, and I have only last month made my first real friend (Aside from you, naturally). Why should the world revolve around Isabella? It simply isn't fair.
Dear me, I sound like a whiny child, and all I meant to do was explain my dislike of her! No, let me honest: I wished to justify it. And now, seeing it written …
It sounds quite petty.
Thea, of course, I have no excuse for, and well I know it. I don't, truly, dislike her. I simply can't like her. She is so very insipid.
You are right, of course, I should be kinder toward her.
I would love Richard, if he would let me. If only he didn't insist on treating me like a child! He is my cousin, just as you are, and I so wish to be better friends with him. we had such fun as children; it makes me quite angry at him sometimes to see him dismiss those days with his careless laugh.
(By the way, he was visiting Sunday last and saw Miss Fulke for the first time. I do believe he rather fancies her! He seemed quite struck by her beauty, at any rate. She did not seem to notice him, which I think added to her charms. Richard is not accustomed to being unnoticed!)
As for your other question—have I done anything to cause Mr. Fulke's dislike—I do not think I have. I have thought and thought, and I cannot think of anything I might have done to justify him. I have been polite; I have not spoken ill of anyone in front of him; I have not even attempted to shock him with my views on Parliament! Add to that, I have shown kindness to his sister (though that is because I like her, not for any altruistic reason) …
Really Jamie, I do believe I am innocent there.
I will strive to be more charitable toward Isabella and Thea—yes, and Richard as well, if he will let me. I would like to be a better person, though I do not look forward to the work involved in making me so!
Today is Guy Fawkes' Day. The village boys are planning their usual bonfire. I had hoped to go down and join in the celebration, but Papa does not think it proper for a young lady, so instead I will sit in the parlour and sew. Mama approves of my scheme to dress more simply despite fashion, but she shows it by asking me to sew my winter dress! I am a dreadful seamstress, but I will endeavour to make this dress well, to please her.
I hope you are well, Jamie dear. Do tell me if you ever plan to blow up Parliament. I will cast aside propriety like an old hat and rush to your side, ready to join in the good work!
Yours,
Cass.
