Mrs. Bingley had always loved to write letters. At the age of eight her Aunt Gardiner had gifted her some stationery for christmas, and since that day she was lost to her pen.

She did not write stories using her imaginations, that was something she left to her most close sister.

No, Mrs. Bingley wrote about things she knew, things that happened to herself and her family.

At the age of eight she only had her aunt Gardiner to write to, mostly about her little sisters or about the new lace Mama had brought home. At 12 she gained another correspondent when her friend Hannah moved to Cornwall. At 15 she did not write nearly as many letters as she got back, as she had a very serious admirer that lived far enough to see a letter warrant every other day. At 22 letters had become an odious business to Mrs. Bingley. They tended to contain bad news and answers were difficult to write and even more difficult to read.

Now, at the age of 27, Mrs. Bingley had become an excited correspondent again. Since moving up North with her husband and little daughter, she wrote to her parents and unmarried sister at home once a week. It were happy letters, containing news about the gardens, her husbands business and every little accomplishment her daughter Rose had mastered.

Rose was also mostly her topic when writing to her old childhood friend Mrs. Collins down south in Kent. While Mrs. Collins had been Mrs. Bingleys sisters most particular friend, Mrs. Bingley and her had started writing to each other after they both found themselves mothers to little girls and silently wished to do things a bit different than their mothers had done with them all this time ago.

Other letters were not as enjoyable to write, but Mrs. Bingley did not admit that to herself most of the time. Her husbands sister Mrs. Hurst was a dear woman. She was mostly interested in writing about the newest fashion in london, where she resided with her husband Mr. Hurst and their son, a very energetic and boisterous boy of almost three years of age.

Writing to Mr. Bingleys other sister was always a bit like playing with fire. Over the most of Mr. and Mrs. Bingleys early marriage, Caroline had stayed Mrs. Hurst in town. From there she had written sporadically, telling about dance partners and asking for more pin money. There was a certain sadness in her tone, something Mrs. Bingley accounted to the fact that Carolines biggest object of admiration had married Mrs. Bingleys own sister. But Carolines spirit had come back in full force when she had to face her 25st birthday still unmarried. She had married one Mr. Blake only four month earlier in a lavish affair that was held in Mr. Bingleys townhouse but was sadly not attended by some of the illustrious guests Caroline had hoped to impressed.

Infact, one of the highest ranking guests at her wedding had been Mrs. Darcy, something that Caroline still had not gotten over with.

After Mrs. Blakes wedding, she had moved to her husbands hometown of Manchester, from where she was writing the letter Mrs. Bingley was currently reading.

„And for dinner yesterday we had the nicest pecan. I am sure they will have nothing as fine served in Pemberley, as my cook is from France and last time I visited Eliza they still had an english cook. And I am sure they did not change anything about that. Of course dearest Eliza is not to fault for that, she is simply not as able to be a refined hostess as you are, my dear Jane."

Wincing a bit, Mrs Bingley put the letter down and looked over to her little daughter playing with her toys. The last time they had dined at Pemberley had been almost two month ago. They had a lovely light dinner and some strawberry cream to celebrate little Imogens christening. After that Mrs. Bingley had not dined in Pemberley again, as she had gone into her confinent and had to stay in Gingerfield. But she was sure Mrs. Darcys very english cook was still doing a most excellent job.

„I had one of my husbands business partners over and he brought his wife and sister. They had very fine garments one, but sadly lacked in manners and grace. I told Mr. Blake shortly after they left that he should stop associating with them but he will not see reason. Its this blasted town for sure, it is simply not possible to find refined company here."

Mrs. Bingley knew it had been a big disappointment to Mrs. Blake that her husband had not sold his factories but rather forced her to live on the outskirts of Manchester with him, from where she could see the factories black clouds just from her bedroom window. But Mrs. Bingley had always thought Mrs. Blake disappointment would soon wear off when she only experienced for some more time how wonderful live with a most beloved husband was.

„Now Jane, I find myself wondering why you did not say anything about my excellent suggestion about hiring a new governess for Rose already. Your daughter is turning four this very month and the simple girl you hired is simply not fit to make a properly educated gentlewoman out of her. Now I know that you had not the most refined education yourself, my dear Jane, but surely you know that it is very important that your daughter becomes a most accomplished girl to ensure her the right husband."

Mrs. Bingley shook her head slightly. The young woman she had hired to help her raise Rose was the most genteel and jolly governess Mrs. Bingley could have hoped for. Admittedly she did not speak italian or play the harp like a proficient, but she was a most proficient piano player, conversed freely in french, did the most pretty needlework and most importantly was she good natured, had a kind spirit and loved Rose to death.

„I pray every night that it will be a boy this time, as my brother needs an heir to Gingerfield and that is surely not the role you would want Rose to fill."

Here Misses Bingley downright started laughing. Of course Rose would not inhirit the estate if the next child was a boy. But if not, her little daughter would be the most fitted mistress an estate could have. Just yesterday Mrs. Bingley had spoken with her husband about it and as usual the pair agreed most sincerely about the matter.

„Also you should hire a wet-nurse this time. I still shudder to think that you nursed Rose on your own. That is surely nothing any fashionable woman should do! Also you will not have the time to do so this time, with having two children and Gingerfield being so far removed your mother."

Mrs. Bingley had no time to reflect on that statement for a long time, as a sharp pain shook trough her body. The baby was finally coming!

Just five hours later Mrs. Bingley gave birth to a very healthy boy, little Andrew Bingley, named after her husbands late father. While she was nursing Andrew, Misses Bingley imagined with a small smile, how happy Mrs. Blake would be to hear that Rose would not fall into the role of a landowner now. And how piqued that Mrs. Bingley was now nursing another child by herself!

—-

First of all a big thanks to everyone following, favoriting and reviewing this story so far!

This chapter was a bit difficult to write as I wanted to stay true to both Janes and Carolines character while putting my own spin on how I imagine their futures to unfold.
I hope you liked what came out of it and would love to hear all of your feedback! So please review and tell me what you think!