Letter from Mrs Fanny Bennet to Mrs Anne Gardiner, 4 April 1815.
My dear sister Gardiner,
Oh my dear sister! You cannot know how I long for you and my dear brother to be at my side, for such a flurry there is in Meryton! It is no good at all for my poor nerves - such fluttering, such spasms it behoves my body to inflict upon me! - but then, I never complain. What a lot has gone on in the last few months! I can hardly draw breath from all the to-do here and there. I shall tell you all of what has been happening in our poor neighbourhood since I last wrote, as you are not doubt wondering what on earth has caused such nervousness in your poor sister Bennet!
What a lot of fuss there has been in the last two months, sister, because it seems as if all of the county is up and leaving! It all started four months ago when old Mr Chappell popped off (a happy release, but I blame that Dr Watts, sister!). His dear wife was left in such a state, why, the suffering she went through, it was certainly no joke. Although I am inclined to think that she was acting, for she always did want attention! But after two months she had recovered sufficiently to sell Stoke, and move the family to London! Well, if that wasn't shock enough, the Gouldings decided to move to town also, not a week after the Chappells, selling Haye Park, because their son is so sickly that they think he should be near London practitioners! He always was a sickly little thing, poor fellow, and so partial to my girls, of course. I am sure he very nearly broke his heart when Lydia married dear Wickham! And then what do you think happened, but Edgar Purvis married some rich wench and decided to move to Kent on her fortune! So all his family went with him, and now three houses have been sold - Stoke, Haye Park, and Purvis Lodge! To crown it off, my dear, dear sister, my dear Jane has announced that Bingley and herself are leaving Netherfield and moving to Derbyshire! You can understand how distressed I feel, my dear sister, to hear news like that! And I am persuaded that my dear Jane should not leave, for she is with child, you know! But no one listens to my advice, as you know. So that is four houses abandoned, and the youngest Lucas child dead from the smallpox! What a dreadful disease! Lady Lucas is inconsolable, but as I said to my sister Philips just last evening, it is a mercy that the disease did not spread to anyone else!
My dear sister, I have just again picked up my pen, and I have such news! My heart quite races at the thought of it! It was not to be thought of so quickly! My sister Philips has just now quite ran from Meryton to tell me - "Sister!" said she, "I have news, and it surpasses imagination!" I daresay you will be in a whirl of anticipation by now, for I certainly was! Sister, all four houses are taken, and another! It was not to be thought of, but there it is, and to top it all, by the most genteel of people! I shall tell you all about it. Purvis Lodge has become Guildford Hall, (doesn't that sound distinguished!), and a Sir Edward Guildford is coming from London with his wife and seven children, on account of his gout! My sister Philips tells me he has a large fortune and is respected throughout England for his generosity, and his wife for her entertainment! Oh, my spine tingles at the thought of a ball at Guildford Hall! Oh, and my dear sister, the couple are not pleased with the ballroom at Purvis Lodge, and as Mrs Slithy told my sister Philips who told me, they are going to build a large, sumptuous ballroom onto the house! And coming to the great house of Ashworth which has been empty for so long, my dear sister, is an earl! I admit I almost shrieked when I heard it, sister! Better yet, he has a young wife, as he was a widower, who is sure to want to entertain! And even better still, he has five children, and his eldest son and heir, a Viscount, is an eligible bachelor, and said to be very handsome! And sister! You will never be able to guess this! Moving into the hall at Stoke for a time is no less a personage than the Sir Geoffrey Penfold! Yes, the man we all dreamed about dancing with if we should ever make it to London in our youth! The Beau of London! Apparently his country manor in Surrey was burned down in a terrible accident and he had to find a new country house. He married the Belle of the Season, as we all remember. I didn't think her at all pretty myself, but as she brings five children and a niece and nephew with her, my sister Philips and I have decided that for the sakes of Mary and Kitty, we will treat her with the utmost goodwill. Fancy, three handsome and rich sons who are entirely eligible! I would mention the nephew too, for he is said to be wildly handsome, but he has no fortune, or so I hear. But this niece, sister! From what I understand, Miss Estelle d'Arbre has a most dramatic and gruesome past! I understand that her mother, the sister of Lady Penfold, ran off with a Frenchman to Paris, and he was later hung for treason, a crime he did not commit! The mother and child were reduced to a state of poverty, and the mother died when the child was ten years of age. When Madame d'Arbre died, Sir and Lady Penfold sent for the child, and have raised her ever since. It is said that she is very beautiful, and quite normal, except for the trace of a French accent, and a mournful countenance. But is it not shocking! However, my tongue - or my pen - runs away with me. Into Haye Park come a family called Hendry who come from Bath; they appear to be very rich; they have three children; and are pretty young to have children that age - my sister Philips hints of an elopement years ago! I know not much about them. The fifth family that is to move into the area is not so much a family as a group, sister, and it is a circumstance which arouses much laughter! You see, sister, they move into Netherfield, and their party consists of a young man, his two sisters, one sister's husband, and two of the young man's friends! You see, sister? Almost exactly the same as the Bingley party! Even Mr Bennet laughed, and commented that he hoped they showed the same propensity to marry his daughters as the former Netherfield party; what with Bingley marrying Jane and Darcy marrying Lizzy! Imagine the prospect of another daughter happily settled at Netherfield - oh, what a comfort that would be!
And so, my dear sister, you can see the excitement we have been in for the last few months! The construction has begun on Purvis Lodge, which I should call Guildford Hall, and the first family is to arrive tomorrow. As for myself, I think all this hustle and bustle is much ado about nothing, and I make it my penchant to discourage the gossip of neighbours like Lady Lucas as much as possible; I consider it a shameful thing that several families cannot move into the neighbourhood without raising such a fuss. But anyways, I have taken the liberty of counting the number of young, eligible men who will now be in the path of the girls, and it comes to quite twelve, if you disregard fortune, and the number of young women will provide the girls with influential, polished friends who may be able to get the girls onto their brothers' notice, like Jane with Caroline Bingley! But, oh sister! When I think of Lizzy and Mr Collins! It all turned out for the best, indeed, how can Mr Collins compare with Mr Darcy? - That comforts me a lot when I think of Charlotte Lucas presiding over my own home! But, even if it has turned out for the best, if one of my daughters refused an offer, and he offered for that Maria Lucas instead - oh sister! I think I should die!
It does not seem that anything else has happened in Meryton over the last few months, besides all the shifting about and farewells that have been going on. But yes, sister, I forget! I have something very particular to tell you about my Mary. She has changed peculiarly. As much as I am fond of her, one has to admit she was a little like the ugly duckling in the tale, sister - she would moralise all the time she could, and insisted on wearing drab, unflattering garments - but as I said, sister, an odd change has come about her. She went away to Pemberley in August to visit Lizzy, and she came back a few weeks ago, changed beyond recognition. Lizzy had bought her several tasteful dresses, had advised her on hair and face, and as much as I can bring Mary to admit, talked with her often, and Mr Darcy too, which surprises me beyond belief. Anyhow, Mary has blossomed. She actually looks pretty, sister. Her father does not admit that part of it, but he acknowledged readily that she is greatly improved in sense - I am inclined to disagree with him, I always thought her a very wise, thoughtful person - but I cannot help but be pleased when I see that Mary now enjoys the thought of things she once found tedious beyond bearing; namely, balls. Kitty is pleased too, for she misses her other sisters, and she and Mary were not good friends before.
But my tongue runs away with me yet again. I hope you and the children are well, and give my love to my brother Richard.
Your loving sister-in-law, Fanny Bennet.
**************
Mary had indeed changed. She sat now in her bedroom, gazing from her comfortable spot on the window seat. The view was different now from her previous acknowledgement of it; not in a physical sense, but to her, it was almost beyond comparison. It seemed strange that just because Lizzy had taken the trouble of inviting her to Pemberley, had invested time and money in her apparel and in her mind, had actually seemed to care about what happened to her sister, just because of all this, she had changed so dramatically. It was a novel experience having someone interested in her for herself. It was also a novel experience now, looking into the mirror without a sense of apprehension, seeing that now instead of ugly, drab and plain features, it was now passably good-looking, perhaps pretty ones. Certainly not ravishing. But so different to her former looks. And when she looked into those eyes, she saw her soul actually sitting on the edge of them, unhidden and unhindered. She almost cried and laughed at the same time to think of her past character: a proud, self-righteous, idiotic stranger she had not seemed able to repress.
So what had happened? She didn't quite understand what had happened herself. She had gone to Pemberley in August reluctantly, knowing that she would be for the most part ignored, as usual. Mary was obstinate in her own way, and the more people stayed away from her because of her strange ways, the more she was determined to act in what she knew were ridiculous and vain ways. But upon arrival at Pemberley, she found Elizabeth disposed to be caring and vivacious with her younger sister, and Mr Darcy surprisingly ready to come down from his usual aloofness and make efforts with her. She didn't know if they had made a plan purposely to change her, or if they just did that on the spur of the moment, but it had certainly worked. Lizzy and Georgiana, Mr Darcy's younger sister, had spent a lot of time working on Mary's apparel, hair, and features, and every evening Mr Darcy and Lizzy would purposefully sit down with Mary and make sensible conversation, tolerating no rubbish, and showing that they seriously cared about her. So Mary Bennet came back to Longbourn at the end of September - changed.
She wore graceful, pretty dresses. She styled her hair. She took care of her appearance. She enjoyed the society of Kitty and other young women. She spent time on the pianoforte still, but played in a carefree, pleasant style. She enjoyed life for what it was. She stopped to smell the roses. She stopped reading the pompous Fordyce's Sermons and instead relied upon the untainted Scriptures, which could thrill her to the soul, unlike Fordyce. She was friendly. She had sense enough to be silly sometimes. She looked forward to balls, suddenly no longer a wallflower. She enjoyed having conversations with her father, and she knew he enjoyed it too, as she felt his surprise. She was stunned to find that she had a wit. She felt shyness instead of that insufferable superior attitude she had had before. She even felt vulnerable sometimes.
And now she stared out of the window. She had never noticed the beautiful wispy clouds before, nor the green, rolling hills, seemingly endless after they had been broken by the sporadic spots of inhabitation, nor the green, broad oaks to the north, nor the untidy, resilient poplars to the east. The sun was setting now, spreading its light over the hills - some parts were in mysterious darkness while others were drowned in glorious sunshine. It was all how Mary felt England should look. She had never actually noticed all of this before. Of course she had seen it, in a way, but searching her past now, she knew she had never done more than that. She had never felt part of it. She sighed happily, sat for a moment more, and ran downstairs to the sitting room.
My dear sister Gardiner,
Oh my dear sister! You cannot know how I long for you and my dear brother to be at my side, for such a flurry there is in Meryton! It is no good at all for my poor nerves - such fluttering, such spasms it behoves my body to inflict upon me! - but then, I never complain. What a lot has gone on in the last few months! I can hardly draw breath from all the to-do here and there. I shall tell you all of what has been happening in our poor neighbourhood since I last wrote, as you are not doubt wondering what on earth has caused such nervousness in your poor sister Bennet!
What a lot of fuss there has been in the last two months, sister, because it seems as if all of the county is up and leaving! It all started four months ago when old Mr Chappell popped off (a happy release, but I blame that Dr Watts, sister!). His dear wife was left in such a state, why, the suffering she went through, it was certainly no joke. Although I am inclined to think that she was acting, for she always did want attention! But after two months she had recovered sufficiently to sell Stoke, and move the family to London! Well, if that wasn't shock enough, the Gouldings decided to move to town also, not a week after the Chappells, selling Haye Park, because their son is so sickly that they think he should be near London practitioners! He always was a sickly little thing, poor fellow, and so partial to my girls, of course. I am sure he very nearly broke his heart when Lydia married dear Wickham! And then what do you think happened, but Edgar Purvis married some rich wench and decided to move to Kent on her fortune! So all his family went with him, and now three houses have been sold - Stoke, Haye Park, and Purvis Lodge! To crown it off, my dear, dear sister, my dear Jane has announced that Bingley and herself are leaving Netherfield and moving to Derbyshire! You can understand how distressed I feel, my dear sister, to hear news like that! And I am persuaded that my dear Jane should not leave, for she is with child, you know! But no one listens to my advice, as you know. So that is four houses abandoned, and the youngest Lucas child dead from the smallpox! What a dreadful disease! Lady Lucas is inconsolable, but as I said to my sister Philips just last evening, it is a mercy that the disease did not spread to anyone else!
My dear sister, I have just again picked up my pen, and I have such news! My heart quite races at the thought of it! It was not to be thought of so quickly! My sister Philips has just now quite ran from Meryton to tell me - "Sister!" said she, "I have news, and it surpasses imagination!" I daresay you will be in a whirl of anticipation by now, for I certainly was! Sister, all four houses are taken, and another! It was not to be thought of, but there it is, and to top it all, by the most genteel of people! I shall tell you all about it. Purvis Lodge has become Guildford Hall, (doesn't that sound distinguished!), and a Sir Edward Guildford is coming from London with his wife and seven children, on account of his gout! My sister Philips tells me he has a large fortune and is respected throughout England for his generosity, and his wife for her entertainment! Oh, my spine tingles at the thought of a ball at Guildford Hall! Oh, and my dear sister, the couple are not pleased with the ballroom at Purvis Lodge, and as Mrs Slithy told my sister Philips who told me, they are going to build a large, sumptuous ballroom onto the house! And coming to the great house of Ashworth which has been empty for so long, my dear sister, is an earl! I admit I almost shrieked when I heard it, sister! Better yet, he has a young wife, as he was a widower, who is sure to want to entertain! And even better still, he has five children, and his eldest son and heir, a Viscount, is an eligible bachelor, and said to be very handsome! And sister! You will never be able to guess this! Moving into the hall at Stoke for a time is no less a personage than the Sir Geoffrey Penfold! Yes, the man we all dreamed about dancing with if we should ever make it to London in our youth! The Beau of London! Apparently his country manor in Surrey was burned down in a terrible accident and he had to find a new country house. He married the Belle of the Season, as we all remember. I didn't think her at all pretty myself, but as she brings five children and a niece and nephew with her, my sister Philips and I have decided that for the sakes of Mary and Kitty, we will treat her with the utmost goodwill. Fancy, three handsome and rich sons who are entirely eligible! I would mention the nephew too, for he is said to be wildly handsome, but he has no fortune, or so I hear. But this niece, sister! From what I understand, Miss Estelle d'Arbre has a most dramatic and gruesome past! I understand that her mother, the sister of Lady Penfold, ran off with a Frenchman to Paris, and he was later hung for treason, a crime he did not commit! The mother and child were reduced to a state of poverty, and the mother died when the child was ten years of age. When Madame d'Arbre died, Sir and Lady Penfold sent for the child, and have raised her ever since. It is said that she is very beautiful, and quite normal, except for the trace of a French accent, and a mournful countenance. But is it not shocking! However, my tongue - or my pen - runs away with me. Into Haye Park come a family called Hendry who come from Bath; they appear to be very rich; they have three children; and are pretty young to have children that age - my sister Philips hints of an elopement years ago! I know not much about them. The fifth family that is to move into the area is not so much a family as a group, sister, and it is a circumstance which arouses much laughter! You see, sister, they move into Netherfield, and their party consists of a young man, his two sisters, one sister's husband, and two of the young man's friends! You see, sister? Almost exactly the same as the Bingley party! Even Mr Bennet laughed, and commented that he hoped they showed the same propensity to marry his daughters as the former Netherfield party; what with Bingley marrying Jane and Darcy marrying Lizzy! Imagine the prospect of another daughter happily settled at Netherfield - oh, what a comfort that would be!
And so, my dear sister, you can see the excitement we have been in for the last few months! The construction has begun on Purvis Lodge, which I should call Guildford Hall, and the first family is to arrive tomorrow. As for myself, I think all this hustle and bustle is much ado about nothing, and I make it my penchant to discourage the gossip of neighbours like Lady Lucas as much as possible; I consider it a shameful thing that several families cannot move into the neighbourhood without raising such a fuss. But anyways, I have taken the liberty of counting the number of young, eligible men who will now be in the path of the girls, and it comes to quite twelve, if you disregard fortune, and the number of young women will provide the girls with influential, polished friends who may be able to get the girls onto their brothers' notice, like Jane with Caroline Bingley! But, oh sister! When I think of Lizzy and Mr Collins! It all turned out for the best, indeed, how can Mr Collins compare with Mr Darcy? - That comforts me a lot when I think of Charlotte Lucas presiding over my own home! But, even if it has turned out for the best, if one of my daughters refused an offer, and he offered for that Maria Lucas instead - oh sister! I think I should die!
It does not seem that anything else has happened in Meryton over the last few months, besides all the shifting about and farewells that have been going on. But yes, sister, I forget! I have something very particular to tell you about my Mary. She has changed peculiarly. As much as I am fond of her, one has to admit she was a little like the ugly duckling in the tale, sister - she would moralise all the time she could, and insisted on wearing drab, unflattering garments - but as I said, sister, an odd change has come about her. She went away to Pemberley in August to visit Lizzy, and she came back a few weeks ago, changed beyond recognition. Lizzy had bought her several tasteful dresses, had advised her on hair and face, and as much as I can bring Mary to admit, talked with her often, and Mr Darcy too, which surprises me beyond belief. Anyhow, Mary has blossomed. She actually looks pretty, sister. Her father does not admit that part of it, but he acknowledged readily that she is greatly improved in sense - I am inclined to disagree with him, I always thought her a very wise, thoughtful person - but I cannot help but be pleased when I see that Mary now enjoys the thought of things she once found tedious beyond bearing; namely, balls. Kitty is pleased too, for she misses her other sisters, and she and Mary were not good friends before.
But my tongue runs away with me yet again. I hope you and the children are well, and give my love to my brother Richard.
Your loving sister-in-law, Fanny Bennet.
**************
Mary had indeed changed. She sat now in her bedroom, gazing from her comfortable spot on the window seat. The view was different now from her previous acknowledgement of it; not in a physical sense, but to her, it was almost beyond comparison. It seemed strange that just because Lizzy had taken the trouble of inviting her to Pemberley, had invested time and money in her apparel and in her mind, had actually seemed to care about what happened to her sister, just because of all this, she had changed so dramatically. It was a novel experience having someone interested in her for herself. It was also a novel experience now, looking into the mirror without a sense of apprehension, seeing that now instead of ugly, drab and plain features, it was now passably good-looking, perhaps pretty ones. Certainly not ravishing. But so different to her former looks. And when she looked into those eyes, she saw her soul actually sitting on the edge of them, unhidden and unhindered. She almost cried and laughed at the same time to think of her past character: a proud, self-righteous, idiotic stranger she had not seemed able to repress.
So what had happened? She didn't quite understand what had happened herself. She had gone to Pemberley in August reluctantly, knowing that she would be for the most part ignored, as usual. Mary was obstinate in her own way, and the more people stayed away from her because of her strange ways, the more she was determined to act in what she knew were ridiculous and vain ways. But upon arrival at Pemberley, she found Elizabeth disposed to be caring and vivacious with her younger sister, and Mr Darcy surprisingly ready to come down from his usual aloofness and make efforts with her. She didn't know if they had made a plan purposely to change her, or if they just did that on the spur of the moment, but it had certainly worked. Lizzy and Georgiana, Mr Darcy's younger sister, had spent a lot of time working on Mary's apparel, hair, and features, and every evening Mr Darcy and Lizzy would purposefully sit down with Mary and make sensible conversation, tolerating no rubbish, and showing that they seriously cared about her. So Mary Bennet came back to Longbourn at the end of September - changed.
She wore graceful, pretty dresses. She styled her hair. She took care of her appearance. She enjoyed the society of Kitty and other young women. She spent time on the pianoforte still, but played in a carefree, pleasant style. She enjoyed life for what it was. She stopped to smell the roses. She stopped reading the pompous Fordyce's Sermons and instead relied upon the untainted Scriptures, which could thrill her to the soul, unlike Fordyce. She was friendly. She had sense enough to be silly sometimes. She looked forward to balls, suddenly no longer a wallflower. She enjoyed having conversations with her father, and she knew he enjoyed it too, as she felt his surprise. She was stunned to find that she had a wit. She felt shyness instead of that insufferable superior attitude she had had before. She even felt vulnerable sometimes.
And now she stared out of the window. She had never noticed the beautiful wispy clouds before, nor the green, rolling hills, seemingly endless after they had been broken by the sporadic spots of inhabitation, nor the green, broad oaks to the north, nor the untidy, resilient poplars to the east. The sun was setting now, spreading its light over the hills - some parts were in mysterious darkness while others were drowned in glorious sunshine. It was all how Mary felt England should look. She had never actually noticed all of this before. Of course she had seen it, in a way, but searching her past now, she knew she had never done more than that. She had never felt part of it. She sighed happily, sat for a moment more, and ran downstairs to the sitting room.