Dear Mr. Darcy: A Retelling of Pride and Prejudice
Page 15
I cannot wait for this evening, the time is going so slow. Mr Collins is prosing on and Lizzy is telling me I must behave and Mama is talking of nothing but Mr Bingley. Only another hour to go and then I can get dressed. I am wearing my blue sarsenet and Kitty is going in yellow.
Your affectionate friend,
Lydia
Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Miss Susan Sotherton
Longbourn, Hertfordshire,
November 27
Dear Susan,
You will be pleased to hear that the ballroom at Netherfield has been put to good use, for last night Mr Bingley hosted a ball. I had high hopes for the evening and I dressed with unusual care, as I was looking forward to dancing with Mr Wickham and conquering what was left of his heart, but he did not attend. But I forget, you do not know about Mr Wickham. He is new to the neighbourhood and the most amiable young man in existence. He is charming, sincere, intelligent and handsome: in short, he is my model of what a young man should be. And I believe I may say without undue vanity that he is equally pleased with me. He singled me out at my aunt’s house and we spent most of the evening talking together. I looked out for him in the ballroom as soon as we arrived at Netherfield but I was disappointed in my expectations for he did not attend. He had some urgent business in town, or so Mr Denny said, but Denny knew as well as I did that Mr Wickham was driven away by Mr Darcy.
It seems that Mr Darcy’s father left Mr Wickham a valuable living in his will, but Mr Darcy was jealous of the affection his father bestowed upon Mr Wickham and so he gave the living elsewhere.
I am not surprised that Mr Wickham decided to avoid the ball. I would have avoided it myself if I had known how it was going to turn out. No Mr Wickham, and instead I had to dance with Mr Darcy. I would have refused him, but he asked me so unexpectedly that I could not think of any excuse and so I was doomed to dance with the one man in the room who, above all others, I had no desire to partner. I cannot imagine why he asked me, as he seemed to take no pleasure in my company and I certainly took no pleasure in his. I could not resist the urge to question him about Mr Wickham and I was not surprised that he quickly changed the subject, but not before he had said that Mr Wickham found it easy to make friends but less easy to keep them.
I have no desire to think about Mr Darcy and yet I must admit that he puzzles me. He is a thoroughly disagreeable man, monstrous in his dealings with Mr Wickham, and yet Mr Bingley likes him; and Mr Bingley, you know, is the most pleasant of men. How can this be?
Jane is certain that there has been some misunderstanding, that Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham are both amiable men who have been set against each other by some third party, but this is impossible—and besides, Jane’s opinion is not to be trusted, for when did Jane ever think ill of anyone?
It is a mystery. For my part, it can remain so. I have no interest in Mr Darcy, and if he is going to make life difficult for Mr Wickham, then I hope he will soon leave Netherfield so that we might all be comfortable again.
My dance with Mr Darcy was not the limit of my vexations. Indeed, it seemed as if almost my whole family was conspiring to disgrace themselves. Mr Collins insisted on dancing with me, and a more mortifying partner it would be impossible to imagine. He went left when he should go right, forward when he should go back, and he stood on my toes at least three times. I am beginning to fear, too, that his interest in me does not end in dancing and that he has it in mind to marry me. But I will not think of that until I am certain.
He further made himself ridiculous by attempting to ingratiate himself with Mr Darcy, as he knows Mr Darcy’s aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and Mama spoke in the loudest voice about Jane and Bingley’s forthcoming marriage, though nothing has been agreed upon. She would not lower her voice no matter how much I asked it of her.
As if that were not enough, Mary sang. Oh, Susan, how good it is to write to you, because you know exactly what I mean when I say that Mary sang! Why she will persist in doing it when she has no voice I do not know. Ordinarily it does no harm, but in front of Mr Bingley’s sisters and Mr Darcy, who are ever looking for something to ridicule or despise, it was humiliating. I caught my father’s eye, but instead of managing the situation with tact he almost pulled Mary from the piano, saying that she had delighted everyone long enough.
Caroline Bingley added her share to my vexations by trying to ridicule my friendship with Mr Wickham, saying that he was the son of the late Mr Darcy’s steward, to which I replied that he had told me so himself. When she could not discomfit me that way, she said that Mr Darcy had always been excessively kind to Mr Wickham but that Mr Wickham had never deserved his kindness and had returned it with infamous behaviour. When I questioned her she could give me no particulars, which did not surprise me, as her motives were transparent. She sought to lower Mr Wickham in my estimation because he is the son of a steward, and the son of a steward must always come beneath a man with ten thousand a year in her eyes.
I was very glad when the evening came to an end. Mama would not leave, however, but managed by some ruse to keep us there for a quarter of an hour after everyone else had gone, so that I saw how heartily we were wished away by most of the party. Not Mr Bingley, however, for I believe he would never send Jane away of his own accord.
It was the one good thing to come out of the evening, for he sought Jane out at the start of the ball and devoted himself to her for the entire evening. I am sure he will propose to her before long, and how fortunate an outcome that will be. Jane happily settled, and married to a good and cheerful man—it is almost worth the mortifications of this evening to see that come to pass!
And now I must go to bed. I am cross and out of sorts, but I hope that things will look better in the morning.
Write to me soon,
Lizzy
Miss Mary Bennet to Miss Lucy Sotherton
Longbourn, Hertfordshire,
November 27
Most noble Friend,
I have endured many serious trials this week on account of the Netherfield ball, but you will no doubt be pleased to hear that the rigours of my intellectual pursuits have allowed me to bear the follies of my family with stoicism. Indeed, I used the occasion to impart some knowledge to my sisters. When Kitty and Lydia filled the house with their idle chatter about officers, remarking on the importance of a red coat, I told them that Hannibal had managed to cross the Alps without a red coat, and so, too, had his elephant. But my attempts to awaken them to the joys of sisterly scholarship fell short of my hopes, as Lydia took no notice of me but instead embarked on a long and not very interesting story about when Mr Denny pretended to be an elephant and chased her all around the room.
Jane has spent the week sighing over Mr Bingley, encouraged by Mama, and Elizabeth talks of no one but Mr Wickham, who, it seems, is a paragon of virtue. I likened him to a young Apollo, hoping to awaken in her bosom an interest in the ancient Greeks, but her brain, alas, is not suited to such erudition. Nor is my sister Lydia’s, for she ran around the room shouting, ‘à pollo, à pollo.’ She persisted in thinking that Apollo meant ‘like a chicken,’ flapping her arms and squawking in a noisy manner, even when I protested that Mr Wickham was nothing like the aforementioned bird.
The only sensible conversation has come from my cousin, Mr Collins. We were both of us in agreement over the necessity of attending the ball, despite my family’s expectations that we would find such an entertainment unworthy of our superior powers, but as I remarked to them at the time, I think it no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening engagements. Society has claims on us all. I was much taken with this phrase and I have written it into my book of extracts. As a maxim it is both elegant and true, for I profess myself one of those who consider intervals of recreation and amusement as desirable for everybody.
Mr Collins agreed with me. He was able to set Elizabeth’s mind at rest when she feared that he might suffer a rebuke from the Archbishop or from Lady Catherine if he should venture to dance. In proof of his confidence, he asked
her for the first two dances. It was very noble of him, for he could expect nothing by the way of a sensible conversation. My sister Elizabeth means well, but alas, dear Lucy, she is not a Learned Woman.
This was brought home to me when I was solicited to sing after supper. She looked at me in consternation, realising that if she had applied herself to her music as I had done, she could have been the centre of attention; and determining, no doubt, to apply herself to the pianoforte as soon as she returned home.
My performance was much enjoyed and I was gratified to think that I had brought some culture to the gathering, for Mr Bingley and his London friends expect it. Indeed, I saw Miss Bingley and her sister exchanging looks of frenzied delight, whilst Mr Darcy listened in stunned silence, amazed to have found such sophistication in the country. His frozen features showed his determination to catch every note of my performance, despite Miss Bingley’s attempts to distract him.
I was preparing to embark on a third song when Elizabeth caught my father’s eye and he drew me from the pianoforte, saying that I had delighted the company long enough. I was startled, for the assembled company was evidently enjoying the music, but his following words showed his real thoughts: ‘Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit.’ And it is true that, whilst I sang, the other young ladies were squirming with embarrassment, knowing that they would have to follow my superior performance with one of their own. It would have been mortifying for them if I had continued any longer and shown their own efforts to be the effusions of mere amateurs.
Mr Collins was applied to, and made the most sensible speech of the evening, saying that he considered music an innocent diversion and perfectly compatible with the profession of a clergyman, as long as he did not devote too much time to it and neglect his other duties, such as the writing of sermons. My mother nodded her approval and remarked to Lady Lucas that he was a very clever man. It is the first sensible remark I have ever heard my mother make. Perhaps there is hope for her yet.
Mr Shackleton surprised me by saying that he did not see anything so very clever about Mr Collins, only the sort of cleverness which comes with being in the pocket of a Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Mr Shackleton is of the opinion that true cleverness comes in enhancing the lives of one’s neighbours in a quieter way, by carrying out such necessary duties as those of a clerk. It is an interesting opinion, and one that is worthy of further consideration.
I hope your own studies are improving and that you are growing daily in virtue and understanding.
Your sister in all but family relations,
Mary
Miss Kitty Bennet to Miss Eleanor Sotherton
Longbourn, Hertfordshire,
November 27
Dearest Ellie,
We have been to a ball and danced all night. I danced the first two with Mr Denny and the third with Colonel Forster, then the two fourth with Mr Collins—urrgh!—and the two fifth with Captain Carter. I went into supper with Mr Saltrum and then danced with Mr Shackleton and then Mr Dacres. Lydia danced the first two with Captain Carter and the third with Mr Collins—she was lucky and only had one dance with him, and she says it was the most tedious affair and he would keep stepping on her hem and turning all the wrong ways—then the two fourth with Mr Dacres and the two fifth with Mr King. She went into supper with Mr Denny and afterwards danced with Colonel Forster, when he was not dancing with Miss Graves, and then Mr Pratt. I do wish you were here—what fun we would have had! I hope there are lots of officers in Bath. Lydia is fagged. She says I must send you her love and tell you that she had new shoe roses, and says that she will write a note in the morning.
I do wish your papa would mend his fortunes and you would come back to Netherfield, but not before Mr Bingley has married Jane.
Love and kisses,
Kitty
Miss Charlotte Lucas to Miss Susan Sotherton
Lucas Lodge, Hertfordshire,
November 27
Dear Susan,
You are no doubt longing to hear all about the ball, and so here I am at my writing desk before breakfast. It was an interesting affair, and made a change in our daily routine. I was lucky and danced several dances, though Elizabeth was the focus of attention throughout the evening. I am not surprised. She was in looks, and attracted the admiration not only of her cousin but also of Mr Darcy. She did not see it, thinking that he asked her to dance only to mock her in some way, but that would have been out of character for him and I am surprised she did not realise it, she who is a great studier of character. He is proud and arrogant, yes, and I could well imagine him avoiding anyone he felt to be beneath him, but he does not have a propensity to mockery. I advised her to make herself agreeable to him, and cautioned her not to let her fancy for Mr Wickham make her appear unpleasant to Mr Darcy, who is a man of ten times Wickham’s consequence. But Elizabeth has no interest in a man’s consequence, and I believe she would rather marry a man she liked with a thousand a year than a man she did not particularly like with ten thousand a year. I cannot understand it. Happiness in marriage is very much a matter of chance, and those who start it in love very often fall out of love, whereas those who start it without love frequently end up the happier for it.
Jane was still the object of Mr Bingley’s affections, a fact my mama privately resented, not because she wishes Jane ill—though she would be happier if Mr Bingley had fallen in love with me—but because Mrs Bennet would talk of nothing else. She drove Mama almost to tears by enumerating the virtues of the match, crowing about Mr Bingley’s face, fortune, manner and address, and hoping that Mama might soon be equally fortunate in having a daughter wed.
She thought there was no chance of it, but I believe she might be mistaken, for Mr Collins has come to Meryton with the express wish of finding a wife. His first object was Jane, until he found she was likely to be soon engaged, and then Elizabeth became the object of his attentions. But Elizabeth has given him no encouragement—quite the reverse, in fact. She makes no secret of her irritation with him and last night she was grateful to me for drawing his attention to myself. She saw in it nothing but an act of kindness to herself. Such is the difference between twenty and twenty-seven!
Am I wrong, do you think, Susan, to try and win his—I will not say affections, for I doubt if he has any, unless they be for his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh—but his addresses, and his hand? I thought so at first, but if neither Jane nor Eliza will have him, then I see no reason why I should not be his third choice. He seems to have a comfortable home, Lady Catherine seems to be a sensible, if dictatorial, woman, and he has no vices. He has no virtues either, it is true, but his parsonage has two sitting rooms, so he tells me, and it seems to me that a wife might have one whilst her husband has the other. He is also fond of gardening. A man who is fond of such a pursuit will be out of doors a great deal in the summer and a sensible wife might see him very little, after all.
It might all come to nothing. He might offer for Mary if Elizabeth refuses him. But I believe he is my best hope. The next few days should prove interesting.
Yours affectionately,
Charlotte
Mr Collins to Lady Catherine de Bourgh
Longbourn, Hertfordshire,
November 27
Lady Catherine, I give thanks that I am in a position to inform you that your most estimable nephew, Mr Darcy, is in full and vigorous health, as I had the honour of meeting him last night at a private ball given by some gracious neighbours of my most revered cousins. It was an elegant entertainment, marked by the hospitality and politeness of the beneficent hosts, and one at which your nephew, if I might be permitted to say so, shone brightly. I was much struck when I learnt of his relationship to you and made so bold as to introduce myself, whereupon I was able to tell him that your ladyship and Miss Anne were exceedingly well a sennight ago. He was grateful for the knowledge and much pleased with the attention.
Of the other matter I cannot yet speak, but I am certain that before very long I will be abl
e to introduce you to Mrs Collins, if you should be gracious enough to allow the familiarity.
Your humble servant,
William Collins
Mr Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam
Netherfield Park, Hertfordshire,
November 27
Dear Henry,
I spoke at length with Colonel Forster at Bingley’s ball last night, and he shares your opinion of the war. It is a pity, because if a lasting peace could be secured it would be of benefit to the country as a whole, but if the French are determined to fight on then we have no choice but to defend ourselves and our interests overseas.
Bingley was less interested in the war and more interested in his first ball, or at least, the first he has hosted. He need not have worried, for it was generally well received. He danced every dance and charmed everyone, playing the perfect host, and Caroline was an excellent hostess. She arranged the whole thing very well and was gratified when I said so.
I saw nothing of Wickham, who cried off at the last minute, but his influence was felt still, for, when I asked Miss Elizabeth Bennet to dance, it became clear that he had been blackening my character and that she believed everything he had said. I could not correct her without disgracing my sister and the dance ended in silence.
The rest of the evening was no better. The company, though well enough for a small country neighbourhood, irritated me considerably.
I will be glad to leave the country. The weather has been abominable, and as Bingley has to return to town on business for a few days, I believe I will go with him. I have found myself attracted to…well, enough of that. Suffice it to say, I would do well to remove myself from certain temptations. Bingley, too…it will be better for both of us once we are in London again.
I will write to you again from there and send you news of Georgiana. I am thinking of having a miniature painted of her. It would please me to hang it next to the miniature of myself as a boy which my father so loved, in the drawing room at Pemberley.