I suspect I will again begin contributing a great deal to the revenue of the Post Office, as I have few associates here. My friends are all in London—what irony. I hope Mrs. Darcy is well, and that she continues well, and that neither you nor Georgiana suffer the start of nervous disorder as Georgiana’s coming out draws near.
Yours, &c., R. F.
XXIX. MISS BINGLEY TO MRS. HURST
January 9
Dear Louisa,
Now I am in Bath and you are not! And he is here. I need not specify who “he” is, for you know too well how my hopes have persisted despite my best efforts to conquer them. I am determined that I shall make a conquest while I am here in Bath. Not of him, but of someone. I will marry this year. There is a Mrs. Bingley now, and I am a guest in my brother’s home, no matter what pains he may put himself to in order to pretend that I am not.
I suspect Jane is in the family way. They have not said anything, but she has been twice visited by a medical man, and she and Charles smile at each other even more than is usual for them. The Bennet women do breed prodigiously, do they not? First Mrs. Darcy and now Mrs. Bingley. And Mrs. Wickham gave birth to a surprisingly large, healthy lad, for all that he was born only seven months after the wedding. I hope Mrs. Darcy has nothing but girls.
I shall marry. I want away from it all. I am not without my charms, and I have received at least one offer every year that I have been out. Fool that I am, I declined them all. I shall not make such a mistake again. The next unobjectionable offer I receive will be the last.
Your sister, Caroline
XXX. COLONEL FITZWILLIAM TO MR. DARCY
January 13
Darcy,
I have visited the physician and endured much pain as his assistant manipulated my hip this way and that. Mr. Schofield himself even condescended to palpate the affected area. His guess is that a fragment of the bullet remains, and is irritating the nerves and the joint. There is nothing for it, unless I will consent to go under the surgeon’s knife. He says that such a course carries serious risks, as there is no guarantee that a bullet fragment is even there, or that an operation will not do more harm than good. (This, of course, assumes that an operation does not kill me outright.) In his discussion of the arguments against an operation, he neglected to mention that such a plan would require me to suffer to allow myself to be sliced open, and poked at in the hope of finding something. If I am so fortunate as to indeed have a fragment in my hip, it will, no doubt, be ossified and have to be wrenched out. I am sick to my stomach just thinking of it. I will not do it, and Mr. Schofield quite agrees with me that it is better for me to manage the pain as best I can than undergo such agonies with no sure expectation of a good outcome. He therefore suggests that I set aside my pride and take up the cane at all times, and prepare myself to go through a great many hot linens throughout the remainder of my life.
Physicians and talk of operations aside, my time in Bath passes pleasantly. The Bingleys are here, I imagine you know, and my brother has recently joined them. I have seen Miss Bingley several times. Her behavior toward me is somewhat cold. I confess to being rather conflicted in her presence. I want her as a friend, but I am afraid to put myself forward, for fear she will misinterpret me. My behavior this summer past was imprudent, and things are awkward.
I am vastly amused by Ashbourne’s friendship with Mr. Bingley. They are so different, Mr. Bingley at ease in every society, Ashbourne at ease in none, and yet they seem to get on famously. I do not understand it at all, but I think it a very fine thing for my brother. I have not previously been much in company with Mr. Bingley. I confess I never knew quite what to make of your friendship with him, but I find that he is agreeable and not altogether unintelligent. I give you leave to continue arranging his life. You have condescended to direct the lives of far less worthy individuals.
Yours, R. F.
XXXI. MISS BINGLEY TO MRS. HURST
January 14
Dear Louisa,
I have this comfort, at least. I waste my time pining for only one Fitzwilliam. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s brother, rich and titled though he may be, holds not the least interest for me. I have never met a queerer, more disagreeable man in my life. I do not know what Charles was thinking in bringing him into the house, to stare morosely at walls and blunder through conversations. Charles claims he is “agreeable, once you become acquainted with him.” I ask you, how does one become acquainted with a man who barely opens his lips except to say something impolitic.
He is more to be despised because he brings Colonel Fitzwilliam himself round quite often. Louisa, how can a man’s mere presence be agony and joy at once? And why can I not be rid of these abominable feelings?
Enough! I will be rational now.
Do you recall Sir Frank Watson? We had a minor flirtation during my first season, but nothing ever came of it. He is in Bath, and we have seen a good deal of each other. His wife died about a year ago, and he is out of the blacks now. He pays me the kindest attentions of late, and I encourage them all. We flirt quite shamelessly. You would blush to see it. He is an idiot, of course, but he is handsome and rich and I would be able to manage him without the least trouble.
Have you had the news? Jane is indeed in the family way. I said everything right and congratulatory when they told me. They expect the confinement in June. I can only hope to be married by June.
Your sister, Caroline
XXXII. COLONEL FITZWILLIAM TO MR. DARCY
January 20
Darcy,
Were Bingley any other sort of man, I would fear for your friendship with him. After the spectacle my family has made of itself in his very house, I would not blame him for casting the entire family off.
My father came unexpectedly to Bath on the 15th. He disagrees with my assessment of my situation, and has found a physician to parrot him. I must submit to the operation; anything less would be unworthy of me. Unworthy of him, he means. The man is senseless! Am I to risk my life and put myself to agonies for an operation that offers no sure hope of success or relief? Our discussion became quite uncomfortable and heated. It is not the first time my father and I have traded harsh words, and yet I am not able to dismiss some of his more cruel statements from my memory easily. This, fortunately, happened within the walls of my own lodgings.
Unfortunately, my father then decided to call upon Andrew, at Bingley’s house. Andrew, in a rare showing of fraternal loyalty, declared himself to agree with me. Moreover, I understand, he said that even if he did not, he should not pressure me to change my mind, I being the one who must live (or not) with the consequences of any decisions that are made. This uncommon filial defiance did nothing to calm my father, and he upbraided him most severely.
Perhaps this, too, might have passed without much consequence, but I happened to call upon Andrew while my father was still there. I found Andrew, seated in a chair, being scolded like a child and not saying the least in his own defense. You know that I am not given to protecting my brother. We are not always on good terms, partly because I find his unwillingness to act as a man before my father unseemly. But I could not stand by and watch this display without saying something.
The end of it is that my father and I shouted at each other for a time before my father stormed from the house, and Andrew locked himself in his room and did not come out of it for two days.
Mr. and Mrs. Bingley are of such yielding tempers and easy characters that I daresay they were excessively shocked by our display. I apologized as best as I could, and forgiveness was both freely granted and declared utterly unnecessary.
There is something else, which I hesitate to tell you. I went back yesterday to see Andrew again. I found him in surprisingly good spirits. I saw Miss Bingley also, and she reminded me so much of herself, her true self, the woman she is when she is not preening and pursuing, that I engaged her in a very long, very agreeable conversation. I think perhaps some of my speech was imprudent, for I revealed to her things that I am now embarrassed to
have told her. Nothing improper, I assure you. But I have been more troubled about this sorry business of my hip than I have let on, even to you. I should not have spoken so candidly to her about the subject.
She is much occupied with Sir Frank Watson at present. He is a fool and she deserves better.
I am exhausted from the events of the past few days and beg your forgiveness for my lack of civilities. I trust everyone is well. Tell Georgiana I will be in London for her presentation at court.
Yours,
R. F.
XXXIII. MISS BINGLEY TO MRS. HURST
January 27
Dear Sister,
Forgive me for not writing sooner. I have had headaches of late, and when I am not laid up with them, I am occupied with Sir Frank. He makes his intentions very plain, and I am in daily expectation of an offer. I will accept him. A fool he may be, but he is a rich and handsome fool. I only wish I did not see the colonel so very often. Is it not odd, Louisa? Colonel Fitzwilliam has not more than a few thousand a year, and even I am not so smitten as to think him Sir Frank’s equal in looks, and yet I would—
Well, there is no use thinking about it. I shall tell you more of Sir Frank. He is very handsome. There is something very delicate in his features, but they are not effeminate. The curl of his hair and the curve of his jaw puts one in mind of a classical statue. He is tall, but not overly tall. And his eyes are a shocking blue. He is entirely perfect for me. He never teases me, and treats me as though I were a princess. Sir Frank defers to me in everything. I am sure I would be very content to be married to him.
Did I mention to you the conversation that I had with Colonel Fitzwilliam some time ago? He was so candid with me, and our speech flowed so easily. No, never mind, I will not speak of it. It has not been repeated, and it will not be repeated. There is no use thinking on it.
I do wish Lord Ashbourne would leave. He had made some noise about going, but Charles begged him to stay so earnestly. You have the intelligence of the affair between him and his father from Jane, I know. No doubt, she put the whole thing in an absurd light, which made it all an unfortunate misunderstanding. Well, the truth of it is, Lord Buxton is a very disagreeable man. Colonel Fi I am sorry for his sons, but glad that I am not part of such a family.
My head begins to ache again, and I expect Sir Frank shortly. Perhaps he will make his offer today. I will be glad to have this matter settled.
Your sister, Caroline
XXXIV. COLONEL FITZWILLIAM TO LORD BUXTON
January 31
Dear sir,
I regret to inform you that I will not accede to your wishes. As you have expressed your intention of withdrawing all financial support of my stay in Bath in such a case, I have taken the preemptive step of repairing to plainer lodgings and have enclosed my new direction, should you care to write to me here. I cannot give any intelligence regarding my brother’s failure to answer your letters, but as he spends money on nothing but dead insects and religious books, I suspect your threats to cut his allowance will not have the effect you desire.
Your respectful son, Richard Fitzwilliam
XXXV. COLONEL FITZWILLIAM TO MR. DARCY
January 31
Cousin,
My brother has discovered himself. Just today he wrote to my father, refusing his lordship’s demand that he return to London. I was privileged to see the letter before it was sent, and I must say that it almost borders on the insolent. We will make a man of him yet. The moment the post left, Ashbourne seemed to realize what he had done. I left him to Bingley’s care, that gentleman having far more patience for my brother’s anxieties than I do.
I saw Miss Bingley at the Upper Rooms two days ago. She was in company with Sir Frank Watson for much of the night. I blush for her when she is with the man. She acts like such a simpering idiot, agrees with every word he says, and pretends to care about his cravats and coats as much as he does. I am too clear-sighted with respect to my own sex to fail to realize that many men are pleased with such behavior, but it would never do for me. She can be rational, you know, and I infinitely prefer her when she is.
I asked her to dance. I should not have, but something in her eyes told me that she had had enough of Sir Frank’s inane conversation, and I felt duty bound to come to her rescue. She seemed at first pleased, but she was ultimately very dull with me, and seemed eager to be out of my company. I had hoped we could be something like friends again, now that she has turned her attentions to Sir Frank, but I suppose that we shall not ever be as we were last summer. Is it not odd how I now look on the summer months wistfully? At the time, I longed for them to end. And yet yesterday I found myself thinking on nothing so much as the ride Miss Bingley and I took through Hyde Park.
My letters are dreadfully self-centered of late. I do apologize. I am glad to hear that Mrs. Darcy is in good health. Anxiety about an impending confinement is only natural. As to your suspicions that the ladies of the neighborhood are adding to her fears by telling her horrid tales, I daresay you are correct. It is the same in the army. No green soldier goes into battle without having been first terrified out of his wits by stories of fearsome injuries, gruesome deaths, and suchlike things. It is far from kind, but that seems to be the way of the world. (This reminds me, I have it that Ensign Wickham is being sent to the West Indies and may see battle. I really must write to him before he goes.)
My love to Georgiana.
Your servant, R. Fitzwilliam
XXXVI. MISS BINGLEY TO MRS. HURST
February 2
Louisa,
Forgive my poor penmanship, but I write to you in agitation. I saw Colonel Fitzwilliam at the Upper Rooms some few days ago, and he asked me to dance. I was so pleased, but he was so agreeable that it was soon all I could do to keep myself from bursting into tears. I do not want to marry Sir Frank Watson! I despise being in love. It makes me such a fool. Sir Frank is rich and handsome and his connections are good. He is a baronet. I would be presented at court as his wife. And he is perfectly—
He is perfectly dull and stupid, and his company is a trial. But what am I to do? Yesterday evening, he gave me to understand that he will call today, and he was so particular about finding me alone. I have not slept a wink this night, and I write to you now by candlelight, my hand shaking and my head throbbing. I cannot stay in this house. I will not be nothing but my brother’s sister any longer. Once the child comes—I must marry. I must have an establishment of my own. To be Lady Watson would be an answer to my hopes and dreams. Why can I not see my way to letting go of foolish, childish, romantic thoughts?
It is later now, just after dawn. I have spent some time crying, and it has done me good. Things seem clearer now. When Sir Frank comes, I will make the only prudent choice.
Sir Frank has come and gone, but my headache was so bad that I could not possibly go down to see him. The matter is thus delayed. I feared he would think I was avoiding him, so I sent a message through my brother that I very much hoped he would call again tomorrow. Perhaps Colonel Fitzwilliam will come to the house today, declare his love for me, and save me from this wretched decision.
Perhaps also I will learn to fly tomorrow.
All my love,
Caroline
XXXVII. COLONEL FITZWILLIAM TO MR. DARCY
February 2
Dear Cousin,
I saw Andrew today and found him in surprisingly high spirits. No reply has yet come from my father, but Andrew is determined to hold fast and not return to London until the beginning of March. I never thought I would pen these words, but I am proud of him.
Miss Bingley was upstairs with a headache when I called. She has had several recently. I made a joke about her wishing to avoid me, but Bingley assured me that was not the case. He seemed worried about her. She is prone to migraines, I recall that from our conversations this past summer, but she told me they were infrequent. It seems that of late she has been troubled with frequent headaches. I hope it is nothing serious.
I saw Sir
Frank Watson today also, and I felt I had to greet him, for all that he is such dull company. He acted very strange with me, and more so when I mentioned I had just come from Bingley’s. He said something about hoping Miss Bingley would not be cross with him and that he would “much rather have been with her this afternoon” and being so sorry that her headache delayed him and some other things that I could not quite make sense of. He seemed somewhat agitated. I do not know what to make of it, but I am once again convinced that Miss Bingley could do far better. Why is she prepared to waste herself upon a man like Sir Frank Watson? Bingley is good to her and she is still young. She need not rush headlong into an imprudent match. If it were not so terribly improper, I would speak to her and try to dissuade her from the scheme, but I cannot imagine how I would broach the topic.
Forgive me for spilling so much ink upon a topic that cannot interest you. I am oddly troubled by this.
I send my regards and love to everyone.
Yours, R. F.
XXXVIII. MISS BINGLEY TO MRS. HURST
February 4
Louisa,
I have never been so wretchedly miserable or so embarrassed in my life. I will never leave my room again. Nay! I will leave my room and flee to the Continent. Perhaps I will flee to another continent. Even Australia could not be a greater evil than Bath is at present.
Caroline
XXXIX. COLONEL FITZWILLIAM TO MR. DARCY
February 9
Darcy,
I received your most recent letter this morning. You were brief and to the point, but then you always are. Do I acquit myself if I tell you that I had already come to the same conclusion? Yes, I am in love with Miss Bingley. I particularly liked your decision to send me a few of the letters that I have written since June, with certain passages marked for my review. I have perused some of them, and it is so apparent, I take exception to my own foolishness.
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