Introducing Mrs. Collins
Dear Charlotte,
Let me, for the sake of clarity – and all that is romantic – first state that I am very happy in my marriage and blessed in my position and that I am as much in love with Darcy as ever, etc. But now, that achieved, may I also declare that I miss you intolerably!
As much as I am enjoying my time with my husband, I cannot help but mourn the loss of our delightful November days.
Being removed from my family home, and especially since Jane has married, I miss having such kinship at close quarters.
Having you near reminded me of such sisterly comfort.
It is a shame, indeed, that friendship should have to make way for matrimony.
But to have good friends to stay was a balm indeed; I feel rather proud of myself for having manufactured such an excellent scheme, and I hope we shall do it again soon.
I do not wish to draw your mind to unwelcome thoughts, but I wanted to inform you that Wickham has been censured by superiors within his regiment.
He cannot be demoted without drawing attention to his specific actions (and thereby to ourselves and to you), but he will never rise to any rank beyond where he is now; both Darcy and Fitzwilliam have set about ensuring this.
He will soon be in Spain, so he will at least be put to some use.
It is small consolation, but to know he will never truly thrive makes me glad.
It is a unique situation we are in. We must support them financially, or Lydia – and any children that follow, and I bet that will be soon – would fall into ruin. But he must be humbled in some way. Therefore, it has been a difficult balance. I hope we have done right.
But tell me, how is Mr Collins? And how do you fare?
I heard that Lady Catherine held a ball.
Were you invited? We were not, and quite pointedly so!
She invited Georgiana, but not Darcy! Can you imagine?
She is wilful and petty as ever, but her attempts to offend only serve to divert me. If only she knew.
Ah, it is a comfort to write to you. I wished to write cheerfully, but I know you would wish to know the truth: that my father is very unwell.
You may have noticed in November that he was a good deal changed.
I had thought it was the shock of Lydia, etc.
and that he might recover, but now I think on it, he was not truly well before that occurred.
He is thin now and easily wearied. Jane assures me he is being tended to.
He has seen Bingley’s physician – a good one – but they cannot detect anything.
Jane keeps me well informed; she is at home with them often, as Netherfield is so near. We do not know how it will go.
I am to travel to Longbourn to stay with them next week, and I think I will be there for some time, so you may write to me there.
Your loving friend,
Eliza