Give my love to my sisters, Lydia Miss Lydia Bennet to Miss Kitty Bennet Brighton, May 30 Kitty, you would die if you could see what we have all been up to here, we have been sea bathing, Harriet and I went in our underwear, DO NOT LET MAMA OR ANYONE ELSE KNOW. Things are different in Brighton, not so stuffy as they are at home. Lord! What fun we have. The men are all wild for me, I have a dozen different flirts. There are parties every night and I went to one last night dressed as a man. I borrowed Denny's coat and breeches and wore a piece of wool as a moustache, I thought I would die laughing. Wickham was in on the joke, he laughed as much as anyone. There are a lot of new officers here, Jakes and Little and Madison, and a whole host of others, all laughing and joking and teasing and dancing and flirting; well most of them anyway. Some of them are ancient, friends of Colonel Forster's who are here on leave, and all they talk about is the war. I am glad I am not married to Colonel Forster, he is far too old and stuffy, poor Harriet! She should have married Denny. Lord! Was there ever such a place as Brighton? Tomorrow we are going to have a bathing party by moonlight, I have bought a new bathing dress, it is quite scandalous. DO NOT TELL ANYONE.

Lydia

JUNE.

Colonel Fitzwilliam to Mr Darcy Brighton, June 2 Darcy, I am home on leave and am visiting friends in Brighton before heading north. Colonel Forster is here and asks me to remember him to you. His wife is here, too, and a prettier creature it would be hard to imagine. She is young and gay and it is a pleasure to see her enjoying herself. She has a friend with her, a Miss Lydia Bennet. I cannot help wondering if she is any relation to your Miss Elizabeth Bennet-though perhaps I should not call her your Miss Elizabeth, as I am sure you will have overcome your feelings for her now. I have not yet seen Miss Lydia so I do not know if there is any resemblance, but I mean to ask her if there is a relationship when we meet.

Another acquaintance is here, and one less welcome: George Wickham. He bowed when he saw me but looked uncomfortable, as well he might. I was tempted to call him out but did not want to cause a scandal: any action I take against him would lead to speculation and that is something I am determined to avoid. If not for this, I would gladly run him through.

How is my ward? Growing more beautiful every day, I am sure. I hear you are in Wiltshire at the moment: Mama knows everything! She and Maud are hoping for news of Philip's intended, so you must write to them and let them know your opinion of her. Philip will have chosen some paragon, I am sure, but what is she really like? We rely on you to tell us.

My sister Maud will soon be presenting you with another G.o.dchild, so you must look about you for a christening present.

I do not believe I will have time to call in at Wiltshire on my way north to see my family, but I hope to see you in London, either on my way up to c.u.mbria or on my way back down again. When will you be leaving Wiltshire? I must be back with my regiment in a few weeks' time. I would be there now if not for this confounded injury. With the French advancing towards Turin my place is on the Continent, not here, but I am little use as I am. I cannot sit a horse nor walk for any length of time and my right arm will not do my bidding. I only hope the Austrians throw Napoleon out of Italy and save me the trouble.

Your cousin, Henry Mr Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam Wiltshire, June 4 Henry, it is good to hear from you, though frustrating for you to be home at such a time. The war shows no sign of ending and if not for the troops stationed at Brighton and other likely landing spots, we would be in some danger of Napoleon invading these sh.o.r.es. But the Channel protects us, as it has done before.

I did not know you had been injured. Would you like my physician to attend you? I can send him down to Brighton if you think he would be of use.

I will be returning to London in a few days' time. Georgiana is hosting a picnic on the seventh and we must be there for that. You are welcome to join us. If you will not be returning to London so soon, then call in at Darcy House whenever you arrive; you know you are always welcome.

You ask about Philip's intended bride. She is everything you imagine: beautiful, accomplished, elegant, well-bred, and yet-Henry, it is not enough. It is enough for Philip, he is pleased with his choice and she with him, but it is not enough for me. There are two similar females here, they possess everything a man could require of a wife, and yet I have no wish to marry either of them. I am happy to escort them in to dinner, to dance with them and converse with them, but to spend the rest of my life with them? No. I already know everything about them. There is nothing to discover, nothing to intrigue or stimulate. They never change. Their thoughts and feelings are what they were a year ago, and will be the same when another year has gone by. Marriage to either one of them would be like bathing in tepid water: nothing to complain of, but nothing to desire either.

You will tell from this that I have not forgotten Elizabeth. I have tried, but the more I see of other women, the more I know that Elizabeth is the only one I have ever wished to marry. She is not perfect-far from it-but it is her flaws and imperfections that entrance me-those, and her eyes. I want to see them looking back at me across the breakfast table; I want to see them sparkling with mischief as she teases me; I want to see them widen as I show her all the delights of Pemberley and offer them to her, not with arrogance but with humility.

But it is pointless to think of such things.

I am beginning to wish I had not encouraged Bingley to leave the neighbourhood. But of what use would it be for me to return there? Elizabeth made her feelings for me clear; though perhaps it would lessen her ill opinion of me if she could see that some of her reproofs have been attended to.

But this is idle speculation. I will torment myself with it no more.

Come to us as soon as you can in London; Georgiana is longing to see you.

Your cousin, Darcy Colonel Fitzwilliam to Mr Darcy Brighton, June 5 I will not be in town in time for your picnic, alas. I am here with Wilkins and I am at his disposal. He arranges the business just as he pleases: the privilege of wealth! I do not think we will remain here very much longer, however, and I hope to join you in London soon. I will be glad to see you again but I will be sorry to leave Brighton. The sea breeze is refreshing and the fishermen's nets set out to dry on the Steine give the place charm.

You must bring Georgiana here for the summer, Darcy; the sea air will do her good and the south coast will not have the unpleasant memories for her that the east coast must have. The pleasure gardens, the promenades and the libraries will amuse her. They are all flourishing, thanks to the patronage of the Prince of Wales, who spends more and more of his time here. They say he means to leave London altogether and live in Brighton permanently. It is certainly possible; he is enlarging his marine pavilion and making it fit for a prince. It is a very handsome dwelling, but even so I think he is in error for spending so much on his amus.e.m.e.nts when the country is at war. He ought to be retrenching so that he can better equip the troops. I said so only last night to Colonel Forster when we dined together.

By the bye, Forster's wife's friend, Miss Lydia Bennet, is indeed a relation of your Miss Elizabeth, a sister. I have seen her only once, briefly, as she was going out with Colonel Forster's wife, but I had a chance to speak to her and ascertained that her family were well before she set off for the shops with Harriet. It amazes me that women can spend so much time shopping, but Lydia and Harriet look very well on it.

Look for me on the sixteenth.

Henry Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Miss Susan Sotherton Longbourn, Hertfordshire, June 20 Dear Susan, It is very quiet here at Longbourn. Kitty has at last given over lamenting her absence from the Brighton scheme and consoles herself with reading and re-reading her letters from Lydia. She keeps them close and runs out of the room with them if anyone draws near her. I dread to think what they contain; stories of flirtations, most likely, and the names of a dozen officers. The letters are all so heavily underlined it is a wonder there is any paper left to write them on! I laugh, but all the same, I wish my father had been more sensible of the dangers to Lydia of such a trip. She is heedless and headstrong and loves to be the centre of attention, and I fear this trip will be the death warrant of all possibility of common sense for her. To put such a girl, at the tender age of fifteen, in the way of dozens of young men who are all bored and away from home, is to put temptation in her way, and Lydia has never known how to resist temptation. Her behaviour in Meryton was abominable; how much worse must it be in Brighton, with no one there to curb her worst excesses? I can only hope that the young men are better able to control themselves than Lydia is, and that my father is right when he says that Colonel Forster will see that no harm comes to her.

Mary continues to try Mama's nerves with her constant practise on the pianoforte, and if not for Jane I would not know what to do. But with Jane's companionship I can bear anything. How she came to be so different from my other sisters I do not know, but she is everything Kitty is not. She bears her disappointment without complaint and busies herself about the house, treating Mama with her usual calm patience and providing me with a confidante when I feel I must talk of Mr Darcy or burst. How can I have been so wrong about him? How can I not have seen him for the man he is, and instead seen him for a man he is not? I thought myself so clever when I teased him, and yet I could not have been more mistaken. But I am well rewarded for it, am I not? For I never think of him now without mortification and shame, and I cannot help thinking of what might have been...that is, until I remember that he parted Jane and Bingley, and then I regret neither him nor Pemberley nor his ten thousand a year! You see, I can laugh at myself still, and a good thing, too, or I fear I should go into a decline!

Mama, I am sure, would be very pleased if I did-it would add to her consequence to have a daughter who was brought low by love. As it is, she continues to lament the absence of Mr Bingley, saying that she will never mention him again and then talking of him in the very next breath. I spare Jane from these outbursts as often as I can by listening to them myself and by turning Mama's thoughts into a happier direction, though unfortunately that direction is always towards Lydia and how many flirts she has in Brighton. I am not surprised that Papa has retreated to his library and emerges only at mealtimes.

And so now I am looking forward to my trip with my aunt and uncle. We cannot go to the Lakes as we planned, for my uncle cannot spend so long away from his business, and my aunt has suggested that we go to Derbyshire instead. I was taken aback by the suggestion, but I did not hesitate for long before writing and agreeing to the change, for I might venture into Derbyshire, I think, without meeting Mr Darcy. It is a large enough place. And a good thing, too, for what would I say to him if I were to meet him again? It would be humiliating. And yet I cannot help wishing that I had had a chance to speak to him after receiving his letter.

And that, my dear Susan, is all my news.

Your loving friend, Lizzy Mr Philip Darcy to Mr Darcy Wiltshire, June 24 Darcy, We have set a date for the wedding: December 4. You will be receiving an invitation any day now. It will be a grand affair held in the cathedral and we look forward to seeing you there.

PD.

Mr Darcy to Mr Philip Darcy Darcy House, London, June 26 My dear Philip, I am glad your affairs are prospering and I look forward to seeing you married. It is good to know that at least one of us will be continuing the Darcy name. I only wish my own affairs were going half so well. I have tried to forget Elizabeth Bennet but there is always something to remind me of her. Only yesterday Henry dined with me-he is in town once again after a spell in Brighton-and I learnt something disastrous to my peace of mind. When I revealed that I regretted my interference in Bingley's affairs, Henry said that I agreed with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, then. When I looked surprised, he said that he had mentioned the matter to Elizabeth when they walked together at Rosings. Oh, not by name, nor in any great detail: he said only that I had saved a friend from the inconveniences of an imprudent marriage, and that there were strong objections to the lady. He meant to show me in a good light, never suspecting that Elizabeth was a relative of the lady involved, but she must have guessed that the friend in question was Bingley and that the lady was her sister. Small wonder then that she was angry, both when speaking to Henry-she told him that I had had no right to interfere-and when rejecting me. I admire her for her anger, and for her partiality, though at first it exasperated me, for what kind of woman would she be if she could stand by and hear a beloved sister abused in such a way? It cannot have been pleasant for her to hear of the matter spoken of in such a casual way, nor can it have been pleasant for her to think that anyone could object to her sister. I confess that as to Miss Bennet herself, there cannot be any rational objection. She is a very pretty girl, sweet natured and good-hearted, and singularly untainted by the vulgarity of the majority of her family. Moreover, she has an optimistic temperament that suits Bingley's own. If he seems no happier in another month then I mean to give him a hint that a return to Netherfield would not be a bad thing. I once thought he would make a good husband for Georgiana but I no longer think they will suit.

Darcy Mr Philip Darcy to Mr Darcy Wiltshire, June 28 I am sorry to hear that you have still not recovered from your infatuation, but I could not agree with you more when you say that Bingley and Georgiana will not suit. He is a pleasant enough young man but his family are in trade and I once had the misfortune of meeting his mother. He is not nearly good enough for Georgiana; she can look far higher for a husband. I have one or two young men in mind for her, and I will introduce you to them the next time you are in Wiltshire. Better yet, I will introduce you to them at the wedding, and Georgiana, too. It will be just the right atmosphere for the introduction. They are both the kind of men she should be marrying.

PD.

JULY.

Miss Georgiana Darcy to Miss Anne de Bourgh Darcy House, London, July 9 Dearest, dearest coz, It seems an age since I have seen you. You will come and stay with us at Pemberley, won't you, when we go there for the summer? It will not be long before we go; indeed, Fitzwilliam is already there, overseeing plans for the house party next month and making sure that work is progressing on the orangery. He will be returning to London shortly and then he will be escorting me back to Derbyshire. Oh, I am so looking forward to it. I am tired of London, though I dare say I am ungrateful, for Fitzwilliam arranged a host of picnics and parties for me, and took me to all the museums and galleries. But I am longing to be in the country once again. Ullswater is looking forward to it, too. She will much prefer to be there, where she can run around to her heart's content and sniff and nose about in the shrubberies without anyone bothering her or telling her it is time to go home.

Caroline Bingley will be joining us, and her brother and sister, but although she is very accomplished and I like singing and playing duets with her, I cannot talk to her as I can to you. I believe she wants me to marry her brother-she is always telling me what a good, kind man he is-but I have no wish to marry him. Charles is a kind friend, but I dream of love and I do not love him.

I have guessed your secret. I believe you are in love with my guardian. I do not know why I did not see it before. I was too young, I suppose, but happening to take out your letters the other day in order to renew the ribbon tying them about, I read them again. How long have you been in love with him? Is he to visit you at Rosings? Or will you be able to persuade your mama to take you to c.u.mbria to visit his family?

I believe that Fitzwilliam, too, is in love. He has been distracted recently and he has spoken to me of love and marriage more often than formerly. He keeps telling me that I will be able to marry whomsoever I choose and that he will not stand in my way if I truly love a good and honourable man who deserves me, whatever his background might be. It might be idle fancy on my part, but I think not.

I wondered if Caroline Bingley was his choice. That would seem to explain his remarks about a lover's background, but I am certain she is not good enough for Fitzwilliam, and besides, he would tell me if it were Caroline. But I can think of no one else in our intimate circle who might have won him. Can you? Whoever the lady is, she must be very special to have captured Fitzwilliam's heart and I am sure an announcement cannot be long in coming. I speak with a sister's partiality, but I truly believe that no better man lives, and that any woman would be lucky to marry him.

Write to me soon.

Your loving cousin, Georgiana Miss Anne de Bourgh to Miss Georgiana Darcy Rosings Park, Kent, July 11 What a relief it is to be able to speak of it at last! You have guessed correctly, dear coz, I am in love with your guardian and always have been, ever since we were children. He has always been so good to me and has always paid such kind attention to me that it has kindled in me a long-lasting affection which eventually deepened into love. But alas! he does not see me, or if he does, he sees me not as a woman, but as a sickly creature he has known all his life.

Oh, this confounded illness! If only I were healthy, I could go for long country walks and put some colour into my cheeks. I could eat more and fill out my figure so that I would look more womanly, and buy some lower-cut dresses instead of the high-necked gowns that Mama always forces me to wear. I have no desire to flaunt myself indecently, but it is very hard to be starched up to the ears when everyone else is looking devastatingly beautiful in scoop-necked gowns. If I could only be well enough to go to London and look around the shops, I would encase myself in colourful silk from head to foot instead of the grey brocade Mama thinks so suitable. Then he would look at me in the way he looked at Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

I am not surprised he was drawn to her, both men were, Henry and your brother. She was so lively and healthy looking, with her bright eyes and her pink cheeks and her air of youth and vigour; whereas my air is one of tiredness. And her clothes! Nothing vulgar, but at the same time they could not help but display her figure, which believe me was noticeable, though she seemed unaware of it herself.

I go out in my phaeton whenever I can to improve my looks, and I am sure I could walk if Mama would only let me, but she says it would tire me too much. I sometimes think it is sitting indoors all day long that tires me, and that brisk exercise would instead put new life into me. But alas! When I said as much to Mama, I was unfortunately seized with a coughing fit, which led her to raise her eyebrows and declare that I was delicate and must not think of going out of doors on foot.

But hold. I wonder if Elizabeth Bennet is the woman who has entranced Darcy? He was certainly very attentive to her when she was here. He walked over to the parsonage almost every day and he has never done that before. The only differences between this year and last were the presence of the new Mrs Collins and Miss Elizabeth. Since I cannot imagine Darcy putting himself out for Mrs Collins, who is very pleasant but unremarkable, I can only think he went there to see Miss Elizabeth.

If he is in love with her, I hope he marries her. In fact, I hope he marries anyone, as long as the woman is not me. Mama has always wanted a match between us but I could not marry him, even if I were not in love with Henry. You are right, dear coz, Darcy is one of the n.o.blest men alive, but he frightens me. He is so very determined. He needs a stronger woman than I to be his wife. Miss Elizabeth, though, was not in awe of him; she teased him in a way that astonished me. She would make him an excellent wife. Her liveliness would counteract his stateliness and she would be a merry sister for you, and a merry cousin for me. But no, it cannot be. If she were the woman, then Darcy would have proposed by now and she would have accepted him, and we would all know of it. Unless they are waiting for her father's permission? It is interesting to speculate. But it is probably someone else who has caught his eye, or no one at all. I do hope there is a woman and that she is Elizabeth. Would it not be fun?

You must tell me if you hear anything more about a wife for Darcy, and send me any news you may have about Henry. I treasure everything I hear about him and I rely on you, since no one else knows my secret. I sometimes think I should make my feelings clear to him but alas! I am a woman and we are not allowed to do such things, otherwise I would gladly shout my love from the rooftops. Imagine Mama's face if I did! And imagine Mr Collins's face as he tried to decide whether to applaud me for my honesty or revile me for my forwardness, wondering all the time what Mama's reaction might be! I have half a mind to do it, just to see.

Write soon, dearest.

Your loving coz, Anne Mrs Charlotte Collins to Miss Elizabeth Bennet Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent, July 12 Dear Eliza, I have some news which I hope will please you as much as it pleases me. I am going to have a child! I have just written to Mama but I wanted to write to you by the same post so that you will hear it first from me. I fear my mama will be a little too vocal in her delight. I fear, too, that your mama will be similarly vocal in her lack of delight. But I hope you will be pleased for me. I know you thought my marriage ill-advised but last year at this time I was nothing but Charlotte Lucas, spinster, with no life to call my own. Now I have my own home to care for, my parish affairs to interest me and a child on the way. I am happy with my lot.

Your friend, Charlotte Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Mrs Charlotte Collins Longbourn, Hertfordshire, July 18 Charlotte, of course I am delighted for you. Mama is less pleased and is even more vocal than you might imagine. Papa has retreated to his library and Jane and I now take regular refuge out of doors. Thank goodness for fine weather! Mary amuses herself by spouting words of wisdom, remarking on the blessing of an olive branch, and Kitty has written of it to Lydia. We were not allowed to see Lydia's reply. Kitty read it with many smothered giggles and furtive glances towards us, as though we were likely to steal it away from her, and when Papa asked her what it contained she said only that she would not betray a sister's confidence nor spoil Lydia's happiness. With this cryptic reply we had to be content, although I doubt that Lydia's letter contained much about your happy event, and suspect it contained a great deal about officers, red coats, private b.a.l.l.s, a.s.semblies and flirting.

Poor Kitty! It is very hard for her to read all about the exciting times Lydia is having when she is having so little excitement herself, apart from my aunt's card parties. I must confess, they are not so lively now that the officers have gone, but I am not sorry on the whole that they have left us.

My dear Jane is still quietly melancholy but does not complain. I am full of admiration for her fort.i.tude. Luckily, she will have the little Gardiners to play with soon, for my young cousins are to stay here at Longbourn whilst I travel to Derbyshire with my uncle and aunt. The children's high spirits will lift Jane's own low mood, and Jane's steady sense and sweetness of temper will be exactly what they need as she teaches them, plays with them and loves them.

I have started a cap for the baby and hope to have finished a dozen by the time it arrives.

Lizzy Mr Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam Darcy House, London, July 20 Henry, it is done. I have encouraged Bingley to think of Jane Bennet once more. I told him something of my meeting with Miss Elizabeth at Rosings: that she had been staying with the Collinses and that I had spoken to her about her family. He asked hesitantly after her sisters and I told him that Miss Bennet had been out of spirits. I saw the workings of his mind flit across his face: that Jane was out of spirits because she missed him, and I saw hope rising within him. When he said he thought that he might return to Netherfield Park after his visit to Pemberley, I gave him my blessing.

It is enough that I have ruined my own chances of happiness; I will not ruin his as well.

I never before knew what a burden it was to be so admired. I have become so used to looking after everyone and everything since my father died-my sister, the tenants, the estate, the Pemberley staff, my friend-that I had forgotten that some of them were capable of taking care of themselves. And I have come to realise something else as well: that I do not always know what is best for everyone else. I wish I could say that I had come to this knowledge on my own, but it is Elizabeth who has shown it to me. I resented her for it at first, but now I thank her for it.

I will be taking Georgiana to Pemberley in August. If you have not returned to your regiment by then, I hope you will join us. We will be quite a party, and you will be well entertained. You will meet Caroline, Louisa and Charles there, and I have invited the rector of Kympton, Mr Haydock, too. I like him. He is intelligent and sensible and yet he is also lively and a favourite with his parishioners. I think he will like Georgiana and she him. Not that I am thinking of her marrying him, but it will do her good to have some more young men to mix with; she knows so very few of them at the moment and I want her to become accustomed to their ways before she has her formal come-out.

Darcy Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Miss Jane Bennet Derbyshire, July 30 My dearest Jane, Our Derbyshire adventure is filled with as much novelty and amus.e.m.e.nt as I had hoped; indeed, if not for your absence, it would be perfect. We have pa.s.sed through Oxford, stopping to see the university and then going on to visit the palace at Blenheim. As we travelled farther north, pa.s.sing through Birmingham and then on into Derbyshire, the landscape began to change into something altogether wilder than anything I have so far seen. I never thought such hills existed in our country. The roads climbed constantly, so that we often left the carriage and walked in order to spare the horses until they reached the summit of the moors, which are truly splendid. I have never seen such grandeur of landscape. Standing on top of the moors it is possible to see for miles, and to believe oneself at the end of the world, for apart from a few sheep there is nothing to be seen in the remoter areas, save swathes of harsh gra.s.ses, large boulders and picturesque stone walls. We are too early to see the heather, but my aunt tells me it covers the moors with a purple cloak in the late summer and I hope to come back again one day and see it.

We have been blessed with fine weather and we walk each day, sometimes by the side of boulder-strewn rivers and sometimes through woodland, as well as visiting any houses of note along the way. My aunt is eager to see Chatsworth, and I am just as eager to visit it.

One place I am not so eager to visit is Lambton. Although I have some curiosity to see my aunt's old neighbourhood, it is so close to Pemberley that I am apprehensive about it, for Pemberley is exactly the kind of great house my aunt likes to visit. I have thought of taking her into my confidence, but it would lead to so many questions that I cannot bring myself to do it. If she insists on seeing Pemberley, therefore, I intend to make enquiries as to whether or not the family is at home, and if they are, I think I will plead a headache and remain at the inn.

How are my cousins going on? Are they plaguing you? Not too much, I hope. I dare not ask if Kitty and Mary are plaguing you, let alone our mother, as I fear I know the answer to that already.

I must go. My aunt is ready to go out. We will be at Lambton by the time a reply is able to reach us, so write to me at the inn there; we plan to reach it by August fourth.

Your loving sister, Lizzy

AUGUST.

Miss Lydia Bennet to Miss Kitty Bennet Brighton, August 1 Lord! Kitty! What a lark. You will never guess and you must not tell, not until it is done and I can sign my name Lydia Wickham! Is it not a good joke? My dear Wickham and I are eloping. The next time I write to you I will be Mrs Wickham! You must come and stay with us, we will be returning to Brighton or perhaps London, just as soon as we get back from Gretna Green. Is it not romantic? We will be married in Scotland, over the anvil. I will be married at sixteen! And my sisters not yet married, and all of them older than me. I will get a husband for you as soon as I return, never fear. There are officers aplenty in Brighton and we must go back there eventually, for Wickham's regiment is there. You might marry Denny or Pratt or Colonel Fitzwilliam, though he is not very handsome, but they cannot all be as handsome as my Wickham. Lord! What a lark! I thought I would die laughing when Wickham said we could run away together! How surprised Harriet will be. They will all be astonished. It will be the talk of Brighton and I dare say I will be the toast of the officers. Only tell no one of it. You know how Lizzy and Jane tried to stop me going to Brighton in the first place, they will only try to spoil my fun if they know. Mama would not do anything to spoil it, but she would tell everyone and I want to tell them myself, you know.

Your soon-to-be-married sister, Lydia Mr Wickham to Mrs Younge Brighton, August 2 Belle, I am in a fix. I thought I would have longer credit here but the shopkeepers in Brighton are used to being swindled and they have started demanding payment. I found a line of creditors at my door this evening and had to climb out of the window. Lydia Bennet saw me but thought it was all a lark. When I said I would have to leave Brighton, she said we should elope. You know me, Belle, I cannot say no to a woman, and the upshot is that I am on the point of escaping to London. I will need somewhere to stay until things blow over. Do you still have your boarding house? I hope so, for I have nowhere else to go. I will be there sometime tomorrow.

Hoping this letter reaches you before I do, George Miss Lydia Bennet to Mrs Harriet Forster Brighton, August 2 My dear Harriet, You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help laughing myself at your surprise tomorrow morning, as soon as I am missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with who, I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world I love, and he is an angel. I should never be happy without him, so think it no harm to be off. You need not send them word at Longbourn of my going, if you do not like it, for it will make the surprise the greater, when I write to them, and sign my name Lydia Wickham. What a good joke it will be! I can hardly write for laughing. Pray make my excuses to Pratt for not keeping my engagement, and dancing with him tonight. Tell him I hope he will excuse me when he knows all, and tell him I will dance with him at the next ball we meet, with great pleasure. I shall send for my clothes when I get to Longbourn; but I wish you would tell Sally to mend a great slit in my worked muslin gown before they are packed up. Good-bye. Give my love to Colonel Forster. I hope you will drink to our good journey.

Your affectionate friend, Lydia Bennet Miss Jane Bennet to Miss Elizabeth Bennet Longbourn, Hertfordshire, August 3 Dearest Lizzy, I knew you would enjoy yourself with my aunt and uncle and I am glad you are now having your share of the amus.e.m.e.nts. I would have liked to have you with me in London earlier in the year, but it would have been too cruel to deprive our father of both of us at once. He misses you sorely, and I believe he might even write to you in a few days' time. In the meantime, you will want to know what we have been doing in Hertfordshire. We had a card party at my aunt Philips's house the night before last and then yesterday we went to dinner with the Lucases. Lady Lucas could talk of nothing but Charlotte's impending happy event and Mama could not help being disagreeable. I have started a bonnet for Charlotte's baby. I could not decide whether to make it blue or pink and so I have settled on yellow.

My cousins keep me busy. In the morning I help them with their reading and in the afternoons we spend most of our time out of doors. Mary, too, helps with their education, although I do not think that Fordyce's Sermons are of much use to the little ones, since they cannot understand one word in ten. Kitty plays with them sometimes but more often she is shut up in her room, writing to Lydia or reading letters from her. I must say that Lydia has surprised me. I did not think she would be such a regular correspondent. She still sends no more than a few short notes to Mama and Papa, but her letters to Kitty arrive with increasing frequency and Kitty laughs and giggles as she reads them. I am glad she is happy again.

I can write no more at present, my cousins need me, but I will finish my letter tomorrow. For now, adieu.

August 4 Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something has occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming you-be a.s.sured that we are all well. What I have to say relates to poor Lydia. An express came at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to bed, from Colonel Forster, to inform us that she was gone off to Scotland with one of his officers; to own the truth, with Wickham! Imagine our surprise. To Kitty, however, it does not seem so wholly unexpected. I am very, very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides! But I am willing to hope the best, and that his character has been misunderstood. Thoughtless and indiscreet I can easily believe him, but this step (and let us rejoice over it) marks nothing bad at heart. His choice is disinterested at least, for he must know my father can give her nothing. Our poor mother is sadly grieved. My father bears it better. How thankful am I that we never let them know what has been said against him! We must forget it ourselves. They were off Sat.u.r.day night about twelve, as is conjectured, but were not missed till yesterday morning at eight. The express was sent off directly. My dear Lizzy, they must have pa.s.sed within ten miles of us. Colonel Forster gives us reason to expect him here soon. Lydia left a few lines for his wife, informing her of their intention. I must conclude, for I cannot be long from my poor mother. I am afraid you will not be able to make it out, but I hardly know what I have written.

Jane Miss Mary Bennet to Miss Lucy Sotherton Longbourn, Hertfordshire, August 4 Most n.o.ble Friend, My sister Lydia is ruined. I am not surprised. If ever a girl was born to be ruined, it is Lydia. She has run away with an officer. Mama has spent the day bewailing her poor baby's fate, though as I remarked to Mama, Lydia is not in point of fact a baby, but a young lady of sixteen summers. Mama ignored me, saying that if she had only had her way we would all have gone to Brighton. When I said that if she had carried the day, she might now have four daughters who had run away with officers instead of only one (since I would never have done anything so foolish), she told me that she wished I would run away and then I would not be able to plague her with my moralising. Poor Mama! She would never be accepted into the bluestockings, for she has far too many nerves.

My sister Jane has spent the morning writing to Elizabeth, whilst I have spent my time more profitably by searching for suitable extracts to sustain my family in their hour of need.

Your sister in moral rect.i.tude, Mary Miss Jane Bennet to Miss Elizabeth Bennet Longbourn, Hertfordshire, August 5 By this time, my dearest sister, you have received my hurried letter; I wish this may be more intelligible, but though not confined for time, my head is so bewildered that I cannot answer for being coherent. Dearest Lizzy, I hardly know what I would write, but I have bad news for you, and it cannot be delayed. Imprudent as a marriage between Mr Wickham and our poor Lydia would be, we are now anxious to be a.s.sured it has taken place, for there is but too much reason to fear they are not gone to Scotland. Colonel Forster came yesterday, having left Brighton the day before, not many hours after the express. Though Lydia's short letter to Mrs Forster gave them to understand that they were going to Gretna Green, something was dropped by Denny expressing his belief that Wickham never intended to go there, or to marry Lydia at all, which was repeated to Colonel Forster, who, instantly taking the alarm, set off from Brighton, intending to trace their route. He did trace them easily to Clapham, but no farther; for on entering that place they removed into a hackney coach, and dismissed the chaise that brought them from Epsom. All that is known after this is that they were seen to continue the London road. I know not what to think. After making every possible enquiry on that side of London, Colonel Forster came on into Hertfordshire, anxiously renewing them at all the turnpikes, and at the inns in Barnet and Hatfield, but without any success-no such people had been seen to pa.s.s through. With the kindest concern he came on to Longbourn, and broke his apprehensions to us in a manner most creditable to his heart. I am sincerely grieved for him and Mrs Forster, but no one can throw any blame on them. Our distress, my dear Lizzy, is very great. My father and mother believe the worst, but I cannot think so ill of him. Many circ.u.mstances might make it more eligible for them to be married privately in town than to pursue their first plan; and even if he could form such a design against a young woman of Lydia's connections, which is not likely, can I suppose her so lost to everything? Impossible! I grieve to find, however, that Colonel Forster is not disposed to depend upon their marriage; he shook his head when I expressed my hopes, and said he feared Wickham was not a man to be trusted. My poor mother is really ill, and keeps her room. Could she exert herself, it would be better; but this is not to be expected. And as to my father, I never in my life saw him so affected. Poor Kitty has incurred their anger for having concealed the attachment; but as it was a matter of confidence, one cannot wonder.

I am truly glad, dearest Lizzy, that you have been spared something of these distressing scenes; but now, as the first shock is over, shall I own that I long for your return? I am not so selfish, however, as to press for it, if inconvenient. Adieu!

I take up my pen again to do what I have just told you I would not; but circ.u.mstances are such that I cannot help earnestly begging you all to come here as soon as possible. I know my dear uncle and aunt so well that I am not afraid of requesting it, though I have still something more to ask of the former. My father is going to London with Colonel Forster instantly, to try to discover her. What he means to do I am sure I know not; but his excessive distress will not allow him to pursue any measure in the best and safest way, and Colonel Forster is obliged to be at Brighton again tomorrow evening. In such an exigence my uncle's advice and a.s.sistance would be everything in the world; he will immediately comprehend what I must feel, and I rely upon his goodness.

Jane Mr Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam Carriage, on the way to London, August 8 Something terrible has happened. Wickham! How I curse his name! Oh, do not fear, it is not Georgiana he has run away with this time, but another young woman. If you have not yet returned to your regiment, meet me in London at my club. If you cannot meet me, pray let me know Mrs Younge's address as soon as possible; I know you discovered it last year and I have urgent need of it.

But I must explain. I must go back, in fact, to make you understand my interest in the matter, nay my determination to put everything right.

I returned to Pemberley a few days ago and having occasion to ride on ahead of the rest of the party in order to attend to some business with my steward, I turned the corner of the stables to find myself looking into the eyes of Elizabeth Bennet! Never had they looked more beautiful, and never had I been more tempted to take her in my arms and kiss her, but I could do nothing except stand and stare. I thought for a moment it must be a dream, a hallucination, for the day was very hot, but when she blushed I knew it was not a dream. Recovering myself, I advanced and spoke to her, if not composedly, at least civilly. As I spoke I could not stop my eyes from roving over her, taking in every small detail of her face and hair. From the depth and beauty of her eyes to the remaining blush on her cheek, I was drinking her in.

She turned away, embarra.s.sed, but she turned towards me again when I spoke to her. I know not what I said; something about the weather, her journey, my surprise at seeing her, the date on which she left Longbourn, her stay in Derbyshire and the health of her family; in short, nothing, but simply words to hold her so that I would have more time to look at her and love her and wonder how I ever thought I would be able to conquer my feelings for her. And all the while she was as uncomfortable as I was, and yet she did not turn away; not after the first time, which, I am convinced, was only because of embarra.s.sment.

And when I could think of nothing further to say, I still remained rooted to the spot, unable to leave, unwilling to relinquish one second of her company, glad to be with her, wanting to be near her; wanting to look at her, and to hear the sound of her breathing and to feel my fingers shiver with the desire to reach out and touch her.

I still want her. I cannot disguise it from myself. No one else will ever do. Only Elizabeth.

I knew it as I stood there, unable to leave, whilst the gardener looked at me curiously and her aunt and uncle watched me from a distance and I knew I must depart, but could not.

At last I tore myself away and went indoors, making sure that the house was ready to receive my guests, as had been my original plan. But I could not remain long indoors. I wanted to be near her, and to show her that her reprovals had been attended to; that I was no longer insufferable or disdainful of the feelings of others; that I had changed.

And so I left the house. I found her at last as she walked by the river. She was at that part of the grounds where the path is open and I saw her long before I reached her. I could tell she saw me, too. The walk seemed endless. A turning in the path hid her from view and then I was suddenly in front of her. Mindful of her previous words about my incivility, I set out to please and to charm her. She seemed to sense it and to want to imitate my politeness. She remarked on the beauty of the place, then blushed and fell silent, as if remembering that, had she accepted my proposal, it could have been hers. Any other woman would have made it hers, even if she despised me. But not Elizabeth. Only love will do for her. And I have known, deep down, for many years, that only love will do for me.

Our conversation faltered and I asked if she would do me the honour of introducing me to her friends. Something of her mischievousness returned, for she smiled with a gleam in her eye as she introduced them as her aunt and uncle. I was surprised; I knew they lived in Cheapside and had therefore not expected them to be so fashionable. To please her, and to show her I was not the rude, arrogant and unfeeling man she thought me, I walked with them, all the time wondering how I could make sure I saw her again. Her party were on a travelling holiday and I did not want them to leave Derbyshire, and so I hit upon the happy notion of inviting her uncle to fish at Pemberley.

And so we continued, the two ladies in front and the two gentlemen behind. I was just wondering how I could alter things when luck played into my hands. Her aunt became tired and leant on her husband's arm, leaving me free to walk with Elizabeth. There was a silence, but I was not anxious. I was content to catch her scent and to watch the play of colour on her cheek. But she was not easy and soon made it clear that she had been told the family were away from home, and that she would not have taken the liberty of visiting Pemberley otherwise.

I blessed my good fortune. A day later and I would have been in residence, in which case she would not have come; a day earlier and I would have been in London and missed her. I acknowledged that I had arrived earlier than expected and told her that Bingley and his sisters would be joining me.

It was not a happy thought. She became withdrawn and I could tell that her thoughts had returned to her sister and my interference in the matter of Bingley's attentions. I sought to divert her and found a happy topic in my own sister, asking if I might introduce Georgiana to her during her stay at Lambton. She was surprised, but agreed, and I was content. I would very much like the two of them to come to know each other.

We walked on in silence, each deep in thought. My mind was wondering how I could have stayed away from her so long and wondering how soon I could offer her my hand again. Her mind I did not know, but I hoped it was not entirely set against me.