Chapter 8
To My Dear Sister Elizabeth,
For sister is what you shall always be to me.
I hope you are doing well under the care of your father.
While I am certain he is showering you with every comfort, convenience, and luxury possible, I worry that you might be feeling a little out of place right now, since you have been uprooted from the only life you have ever known.
Your presence is missed here, though no one will say as much except Papa.
Even so, there is a certain something missing in our conversation at dinner, and Mary has been far more contemplative and much less stubborn than was previously her habit.
Mary King asked about you just yesterday, wondering if I had any news to share. She sends her regards and best wishes.
Our new neighbors at Netherfield have become more comfortable among us.
They have attended a couple of dinner parties where I was present.
Mr. Bingley is all that is charming and friendly.
I admit only to you, Lizzy, that when I am talking with him the rest of the room tends to fade away and I lose track of time.
I fear I may have been rude to others a few times in the process.
Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst have expressed a desire to be better acquainted with me, and I find them to be quite pleasant. They have wonderful manners and have many lively and interesting tales of life in London.
By the way, Mr. Darcy asked about you at a dinner party last night. He seemed to genuinely miss your company. It is a shame that your budding friendship was cut short. Perhaps you will meet again in London when your father takes you there in the winter.
I wish you luck, sister. It seems as though a Season in London might be more intimidating than I would be comfortable with, but you have always been more courageous than I, so I am certain you will do well. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the gentlemen in London immediately fell in love with you.
I must close this letter, but I will write again in a few weeks. Please write when you can. I would love to hear about your new life and how you are settling in.
Love,
Jane
November 14, 1811
Dear Elizabeth,
I am not certain you wish to hear from me, given how badly I have treated you over the last year, but my conscience will not be silent until I have tendered my most sincere apologies to you.
When I first began my more dedicated study of the Bible and religion, it was simply for the purpose of understanding how best to behave.
I soon discovered that there is most definitely a right way to behave and a wrong way, and those who behave in a wrong way are destined to be miserable even if they seem happy.
I also learned that sin is almost like a disease.
It travels from person to person like an influenza.
Therefore, when I discovered what it truly meant that you were illegitimate, I was incensed that Papa would have ever committed such an act.
What was even worse was that I took out my anger at Father’s actions on you, because I could not bring myself to disrespect him.
You, however, had nothing to do with it.
Even if I had been correct in thinking you were illegitimate, it still would have been wrong of me to blame you.
You had no more control over how you were brought into the world than I have control over the fact that I am female instead of male (a fact which, as you know, Mama laments on a regular basis).
My information was incorrect, however. Ever since learning that you were not illegitimate, I have been coming to see my actions in a clearer, far less flattering light.
I avoided and ignored you, the one who needed attention the most. I scorned and secretly disrespected my father, when it is my mother who is lacking in principle and care for her children.
My thoughts all came to a head this morning, though the story starts yesterday.
Yesterday morning, Jane received an invitation to dine with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. Jane seemed pleased, and Mama was truly excited, but Mama’s excitement disappeared when it became clear that Mr. Bingley would not be at this dinner.
You see, he and the other gentlemen of Netherfield were to dine with the officers of a regiment of militia that has been stationed here this winter.
Mama insisted that Jane could not go all the way to Netherfield without seeing Mr. Bingley, so she declared Jane would go to dinner on horseback.
The impending rain would then force Miss Bingley to invite Jane to stay overnight, making it possible for her to see Mr. Bingley in the morning.
Well, Mama’s plan worked too well. When we received a note from Jane stating that she was sick from getting soaked in the rain, Mama was only pleased that Jane could stay at Netherfield even longer. She cared nothing for the health of her own daughter.
That was the moment my eyes were opened.
Our father, who I had thought to be wholly bad, was nothing of the sort, while our mother was completely unnatural in her lack of feeling for her own offspring.
She cares nothing for the comfort of her children, only for the wealth they may receive by marrying well.
At the moment, I am sitting in Jane’s bedroom at Netherfield, writing to you while she sleeps. I insisted on coming here to nurse her back to health, and Papa supported me in my determination, despite Mama’s claims that there was nothing for me here.
I was already sorry for how I treated you even before this debacle opened my eyes.
Now, I am doubly so. I misjudged you. I misjudged our father.
And I misjudged our mother. I could no longer hold it in, so I needed to write to you to tell you how very wrong I was.
I hope someday, you can learn to forgive me.
Love,
Mary
November 16, 1811
Dear Mary,
I will not lie and tell you that your treatment of me didn’t hurt. It did, and we are both mature enough to admit it. However, I never blamed you for it, and you have my forgiveness freely.
Honestly, your treatment was refreshingly blunt, and I at least understood your motivations.
This was not the case with so many others.
I was shunned by practically our entire neighborhood, when I knew for certain I was not the only child born outside the bonds of marriage.
Yet, I was the one who was shunned, not those who broke their marriage vows.
I suppose no one really liked being reminded that such things happen, and that was all I was, a reminder of one of the less pleasant sides of life.
I would caution you against being too judgmental toward Mrs. Bennet. You run the risk of making the same mistake with her as you did with Mr. Bennet. You cannot know another’s heart or their thoughts, so it is best to leave judging others to One who knows all.
I thank you for your letter and your apology, and I wish you all the happiness possible in the future.
Love,
Elizabeth
November 30, 1811
Dear Elizabeth,
I have so much news to share, though not all of it is particularly pleasant.
Do you remember Papa mentioning a cousin by the name of Collins?
Due to the entail, he is the heir to Longbourn.
Well, he came to visit us a couple of weeks ago.
Mama thought he was here to marry one of us, so she threw Mary in his way frequently.
It worked, at least to a degree. Mr. Collins proposed to Mary, but Mary declined. Mama was quite upset. She apparently had her heart set on one of her girls marrying Longbourn’s heir so she could stay in her home even if Papa passed away. She has sniped at Mary occasionally ever since.
Mary, however, was firm in her choice, and I don’t blame her.
While Mr. Collins is a clergyman and a very respectable man, he is not as sensible as one might wish.
Once it was clear that Mary would not change her mind, Mr. Collins proceeded to turn his attention to Charlotte Lucas, and what do you think?
When he proposed to her just this morning, she accepted him.
While I do not think Mary to be a suitable wife for him, I think Charlotte, with her greater experience, might manage quite well. Besides, Mary has a larger dowry to fall back on if she never marries than Charlotte does.
The other bit of news is harder for me to write, though I think it will be good for me to share with someone who is not here and has no prior knowledge.
Four days ago, there was a ball at Netherfield.
Oh, Lizzy, it was so wonderful and magical.
I danced with Mr. Bingley twice, and we sat together throughout supper.
I was certain, by the end of it that he loved me. I just knew it. He told me he had to go to London for a few days to take care of some business but that he would be back as quickly as he could. He said he couldn’t wait to see me again and that he would miss me terribly.
Two days ago, I received a letter from Caroline Bingley. We had become such good friends, but she wrote to say that Mr. Bingley would prefer to stay in London after all, so she, the Hursts, and Mr. Darcy were heading to the city to be with him.
I hoped it was all a mistake. I know he loves me.
I just know it. But we received word this morning that Netherfield was to be closed for the winter.
He’s not coming back, and I shall miss him terribly.
What did I do wrong that chased him away?
And if it isn’t my fault, how could I have fallen in love with such a fickle man?
I think I could bear it all better if I just knew what went wrong, why he didn’t return.
Mama keeps mourning his loss even more often than she complains about Mr. Collins’ loss.
I don’t know if I can bear that for long.
Every time she complains about his fickleness, it hurts me.
I don’t think she realizes just how much she hurts me when she does so.
I do think I feel a little better after putting all this down in a letter. Thank you for letting me continue to write. Though you aren’t here to listen in person, I still can feel your supporting presence and patient listening ear.
Love,
Jane
December 6, 1811
Dear Jane,
I felt so bad when I read your last letter.
In hopes that I could do something for you, I asked Father if I could invite you here.
He said no, unfortunately. So, I then asked if you could join me in London in January.
He thought about it, but he said no in the end to that as well.
He explained that you would not be invited to the same parties that I would be, so it would likely be boring for you.
I wish I could do something to help you, but I feel so powerless.
It is an odd feeling. On the one hand, the daughter of a duke seems like she should be able to do anything she wants, but looks can be deceiving.
I can do nothing without Father’s permission.
There are even people in our own neighborhood that he refuses to allow me to associate with.
I told Edward of your plight, and he criticized Mr. Bingley at great length on your behalf. It was humorous and very sweet to hear him lambast poor Mr. Bingley when Edward knows nothing of the man at all.
Since I can do nothing practical to help you, I will simply have to send you a hug. I am with you in spirit, sister, and I hope you can feel more yourself soon.
Love,
Elizabeth
December 26, 1811
Dear Elizabeth,
I have such happy news. Mr. Bingley returned to the neighborhood a few days before Christmas, and he wasted no time calling at Longbourn.
His manner showed that he was truly happy to see me, and he readily accepted an invitation from Mama to join our family dinner on Christmas Eve, since he had brought no family with him.
It did not take long for him to explain his absence to me once we were finally able to converse in relative privacy.
He said that he had been under the mistaken belief that I did not return his feelings.
It took a conversation with Mr. Darcy for Mr. Bingley to realize that he had never truly asked me and that making such an important decision on such an assumption without verifying its veracity was foolish.
I quickly assured him, as much as my modesty allowed, that I returned his affection in full.
It was not long afterward that he proposed.
Oh, Lizzy, we are to be married next month!
I have never been so happy. Unfortunately, I cannot linger over this letter too long, since I have several more of its kind to write.
It is probably for the best, since it is certain to quickly become a panegyric to all of Mr. Bingley’s wonderful charms.
I hope you enjoy your time in London. Unfortunately, we will not be there. After our wedding journey, we will be traveling north to visit his family. I do wish you luck with your Season, however.
Love,
Jane