Colonel Fitzwilliam to Mr Darcy
Fitzwilliam House, London,
August 5
A note in haste. I am sending this by hand as I will not be able to travel to Cumbria with you after all. I have been called back to my regiment and by the time you receive this I will already be on the Continent. I will not conceal from you that things look bleak. There are rumours that more countries are set to make peace with France, and if that happens, I believe that only England will have the stomach, and the purse, for further opposition. Give my love to my family and tell Georgiana that I am looking forward to seeing her when I return to England.
By the way, I saw your friend George Wickham this morning. He was rolling out of a tavern at ten o’clock, drunk. He presented a sorry spectacle, lurching from one side of the road to the other. He is young yet, and there is a chance he will mend his ways before he is very much older, but it is lucky your father left it to you to decide if George should hold the living, for otherwise he would bring the church, the neighbourhood and the living—as well as himself—into disrepute.
Your cousin,
Henry
SEPTEMBER
Mr Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam
Darcy House, London,
September 25
I am sending this letter in care of your regiment and I hope it finds you, wherever you might be. I am beginning to wonder whether we will ever see peace on the Continent again. I thank God we are protected by the English Channel and that our navy keeps us safe, although I hear that the government are intending to repair and strengthen our coastal defences as a precaution against invasion.
Georgiana is now at school, where she is happily established. She was sorry not to see you and is looking forward to your next meeting. She will be much grown by the time you return. She has lost the sad, pinched look she had when Papa passed away, largely thanks to your mother. I am exceedingly grateful for it. I thought at one time that she would never recover, but all things pass and she is happy again.
I am not surprised by what you tell me of George Wickham. I have seen him several times in London myself. On the first occasion he tried to speak to me, but as he was under the impression there were three of me, he did not know which one to address and so he contented himself with falling over instead. On the last occasion, he was too busy with his women to notice me. Unless he changes, I doubt if he will even want the living. He has not shown any interest in the church, and I do not think he has any intention of becoming ordained.
You will be welcome at Pemberley when you return. Send a letter to announce your arrival if there is time or, if not, come anyway.
Your cousin,
Darcy
NOVEMBER
Mr Wickham to Mr Darcy
The Red Lion Inn, London,
November 6
My dear Darcy,
I owe you a letter! It must be nearly six months since I received your last. I neglected to thank you for the one thousand pounds, for which I must apologise. I would have done so when I saw you in London, but you did not see me and I could not get away from my friends, so I am repairing the omission now. I must thank you, too, for paying for my father’s funeral expenses and settling the small debts I had at the time. I hear you have appointed a new estate manager. I only hope he may be half the man my father was, God rest his soul.
I have been giving some thought to my future and I have decided not to go into the church, and so I have decided to relinquish all claim to the living your father so generously promised me. I hope you will now be able to bestow it elsewhere.
You will not think it unreasonable of me to ask for some kind of pecuniary advantage instead of the living. I mean to go into the law, and as you are aware, the interest on one thousand pounds—the sum your father generously left me—does not go very far. Your honoured father, I am sure, would have wanted me to have something in lieu of the living, and a further sum of money would be useful to me. Three thousand pounds should pay for my studies.
Your very great friend,
George
Mr Darcy to Mr Wickham
Pemberley, Derbyshire,
November 8
I am very pleased you have decided not to go into the church. I am also pleased you have decided to study for the law. I will send you three thousand pounds as soon as you resign all claims to the living.
Yours,
Darcy
Mr Wickham to Mr Darcy
The Red Lion Inn, London,
November 17
Thank you for the three thousand pounds in return for my forfeit of the living. You may be certain I will put it to good use. I will make your revered father proud of me.
Your very great friend,
George
1798
MAY
Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Mrs Gardiner
Longbourn, Hertfordshire,
May 6
Dear Aunt,
I am writing to thank you for the bonnet you sent me for my birthday, which I think is adorable and which is the envy of my friends. I have already worn it, you will be pleased to know. It adorned my head this morning on a walk into Meryton, where it was much admired. How lucky I am to have an aunt who lives in the capital and who can send me the latest styles! Thank you again for such a welcome gift.
I am being very much spoilt and I am having an enjoyable day. Jane has given me a new fan, which she painted herself, and Mary copied an extract from Fordyce’s Sermons in her best handwriting and then framed it. She presented it to me ‘with the hope that it would guide me through the Torrents and Turmoils of a Woman’s Life’; Kitty gave me a handkerchief, and Lydia said that she would have given me a new pair of dancing slippers, but she had already spent her allowance. I had a new pair of boots from Papa, for my others were worn through. Mama gave me a new gown, in the hope it would help me to catch a husband, and said, sighing, ‘Eighteen years old and still unwed! It is a sad day, Lizzy, a very sad day indeed.’
We are going to my aunt Philips’s this evening for a celebratory game of lottery tickets. Charlotte Lucas will be there and Susan Sotherton, so I will have some congenial company. There is a rumour abroad that Charlotte’s father means to give up his business and move out of Meryton now that he has been given a knighthood. I hope to hear more about it from Charlotte tonight.
Susan is not so fortunate in her papa. He is still drinking a great deal more than is good for him, and his gambling is causing the family some unease. They have already had to sell two of the carriage horses and more economies look certain to follow—if Mr Sotherton can be persuaded to make them.
It is fortunate that Netherfield Park is entailed on Frederick, so that at least Mr Sotherton cannot gamble the roof from over their heads, as he does not own it but only holds it in trust for his son.
An entail is a strange thing, is it not? Here are we, bemoaning the fact that our estate is entailed, so that Papa cannot leave it to Mama (or anyone else he pleases) when he dies, but must leave it to Mr Collins, meaning that we will no longer have a home.
But with Susan’s family it is quite the reverse. They are relieved that Netherfield Park is entailed, for otherwise their papa could sell it and then they would no longer have anywhere to live. Mama hopes that one of us will marry Frederick, but as he appears to be quite as fond of drinking and gambling as his papa, we are none of us inclined to have him. We will not marry until we find men we like, admire, love and respect. Or, at least, Jane and I will not, though I cannot answer for my younger sisters, who seem to think that marriage to anyone is an object, just so long as they can do it by the age of sixteen.