Your loving daughter, Louisa Mr Wickham to Mr Parker London, August 27 Matthew, it is all up with me. I asked Darcy for the living but he refused me. He said the people of Kympton need someone who can save their souls and I cannot even save my own. D--n him! Kympton would have been perfect. The rectory is a large house and the income is generous. I could have left all the work to my curate and lived a life of ease. G.o.d knows what I will do now. You and I are both pockets to let. Did you have any luck with your family? Have they agreed to give you anything?

Wickham Mr Parker to Mr Wickham York, August 30 No luck here. You will have to write to Darcy again. It will not do to approach him at once. Wait long enough for it to seem reasonable that you have mended your ways, then write to him again. Thank him for his honesty and tell him that his words have made you look at yourself and realise what you have become. Tell him you have set your feet on the path of righteousness but tell him also how difficult it is for a man without connections to pick himself up. Play on his sympathy. Remind him of his father's love for you. Say anything and everything, but get him to give you some money.

Parker.

SEPTEMBER.

Mr Wickham to Mr Parker.

London, September 5.

I will do my best. I will wait until the New Year, a time of new beginnings when he might, perhaps, believe I have mended my ways. He will have filled the living of Kympton by then but he will have other livings in his gift, almost as valuable, and why should I not have one of them? A comfortable rectory, an annual stipend and the position of a gentleman are things worth playing for. I will just have to muddle through till then.

Wickham.

Mrs Bingley to Miss Louisa Bingley Yorkshire, September 6 My dear girl, come home at once. Mr Hurst is here! He got here this morning and called at the house when I was out. Your pa entertained him but never mind, I'm sure Mr Hurst will overlook the fact that your pa talked to him about his shops and then offered him a gla.s.s of ale instead of something more genteel. Mr Hurst asked about all the family and then asked about you particular like. Mr Darcy is all very well, but 'a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.' You see, your old ma knows Shakespeare, too. Come home soon; we'll have you married before the year is out.

Your doting Ma Miss Louisa Bingley to Mrs Bingley Pemberley, Derbyshire, September 8 Ma, I'm ready to come home straightaway but Caroline says there is no call for her to leave. Most of the other ladies have gone home and she is overjoyed that she has Mr Darcy all to herself. But it will look very odd if she stays, so tell her she must come with me. Charles has told her so already but she won't listen to him; she's too busy telling Mr Darcy that he does everything better than everyone else. She sings to him, she flatters him, she parades around in front of him, she does everything but ask him to marry her. Ma, tell her she's got to come, and get Pa to tell her, too. And whatever you do, don't tell Mr Hurst that 'a bird in the hand' is Shakespeare, dearest Ma, because it isn't, you know.

Your loving daughter, Louisa Mrs Bingley to Miss Caroline Bingley Yorkshire, September 10 Now, Caroline, you've got to come home with your sister. Mr Darcy won't run away. If he hasn't asked you to marry him yet, then he's not going to do it, leastways not when you're there. Let him see how empty that big house of his is without you, and let him see how much his sister misses you-that's the way to do it. You'll have him eating out of your hand in no time. If not, your pa's going to buy an estate and then we can have this Mr Darcy to stay and we'll see what another few weeks will do. Your pa's writing to Charles and telling him to bring you both home, so let's have no more nonsense.

Your doting Ma Miss Caroline Bingley to Miss Violet Cranmore London, September 15 My dear, sweet, most amiable friend, How good of you to write me such an estimable letter, setting my mind at ease about your family. I would have replied sooner, but Mr Darcy gave me no peace at Pemberley, wanting my opinion on this matter or that matter, until he quite wore me out. You will be relieved to know that your intelligence was altogether wrong, and that far from being an ill-favoured man he is very handsome, and as for his park being small, why, it is huge. We have but lately parted and he has invited Charles, Louisa and myself to spend Christmas with him.

Louisa thanks you for your kind defence of her and begs me to tell you that she is recently betrothed to Mr Hurst, a gentleman of fashion who adores her. As for myself, I will say nothing at this time, other than that I believe it is worth waiting for the right man, rather than jumping at the first man who offers. Pray do not go thinking I mean you and your sister, my dear Violet, for nothing could be further from my mind, but we both know that there are females for whom any husband is an object, no matter what he is like.

Your dear friend, Caroline

DECEMBER.

Mr Bingley to Mr Darcy Yorkshire, December 1 My dear Darcy, It is like your kindness to me to renew your Christmas invitation, and in other circ.u.mstances I would like nothing better than to spend Christmas at Pemberley. Caroline and Louisa feel the same as I do, but we have had a sad event here and so we must regretfully decline. My father died not six weeks ago and we are all cast down by his loss; upon my honour we find it very difficult to believe he has gone. He lived long enough to see Louisa married to Mr Hurst but no longer. My mama is downhearted but carries on. She grieves for him deeply but she has the little 'uns to look after and says she cannot afford to go into a decline. Besides, he was many years her senior and she knew it was likely that she would outlive him. As for the rest of us, we miss him deeply but we all must carry on. My brother Ned means to take over my father's trade and Caroline and Louisa will stay at home to help Mama for as long as they are needed. As for myself, once I have attended to all the matters arising from his death, I mean to carry out his plan of buying an estate sometime next year. Perhaps I can trespa.s.s on your kindness and ask for your help in the matter, since it is something I know nothing about. But for now I must remain in Yorkshire and tie up the rest of his affairs. I hope to be finished in time for Christmas, but it will be a sad affair without my father. We will celebrate in style for the sake of the little 'uns, but I think that otherwise we would all prefer a quieter affair.

Thank you again for your kind invitation.

Charles Mr Darcy to Mr Bingley Darcy House, London, December 3 My dear Charles, I know how difficult it is to lose a father. You have my sympathy. If there is any way in which I can help you, you have only to ask. Georgiana will be as sorry as I am that you are not to spend Christmas with us.

Of course I will give you my help with finding an estate, whenever you are ready to look for one. I think it an excellent idea. A man of your standing should have a family seat and I am sure your sisters would welcome it.

I will be going to my Fitzwilliam cousins for a few weeks in January and then to my cousin Philip's estate in Wiltshire in February but I hope to see you in town thereafter. You must spend the summer with us at Pemberley. Your sisters and your brother-in-law are welcome. Georgiana will be very glad to see you all again. She has been practising some new pieces on the pianoforte and I know she will be eager to play duets with Caroline and Louisa.

In the meantime, I hope that you and your family are able to make a tolerable Christmas.

Sincerely yours, Darcy Mrs Bennet to Mrs Gardiner Longbourn, Hertfordshire, December 4 Sister, you must come to us for Christmas as usual, we are all expecting it and the girls are looking forward to seeing their cousins.

We have need of you here, for the Lucases are getting above themselves now that Mr Lucas has been made a knight, though what he did to deserve it I cannot imagine, only made an address to the King, and I am sure that Mr Bennet could have done it just as well if only anyone had taken the trouble to ask him. And now we must call Mr Lucas 'Sir William' and see him give up his business and move out of town and call his new home Lucas Lodge, when it has been called Wayside Cottage ever since it was built. But there, they are putting a new veranda on, as if that made a difference, and think themselves very fine. Lydia laughed and said that we might as well call our house Bennet Palace, and I am sure she is right.

Ah! Lydia. She is a comfort to me, sister, and I do not know where I would be without her, for my other girls are a trial to me. You do not know what it is like to be a mother to five girls, and not one of them married, though Lydia is so spirited I swear she will marry before any of them. She is a little young to be going into company, to be sure, but she set up such a commotion when we left her behind the other day that we now take her with us wherever we go. She does not look out of place, for she is as tall as her sisters, and I believe she will soon overtop them all.

When you come to us, pray bring the latest fashion books. I will not have it said that my girls are behind the times.

There are rumours that the Sothertons are so heavily in debt they will have to leave Netherfield Park and then rent it out to strangers. I am sorry for them, I am sure, but if a family with five sons should happen to take the Park, it would be a very good thing for my girls.

Write soon and let us know if you will be joining us for Christmas.

Your fond sister, Janet Mrs Gardiner to Misses Elizabeth and Jane Bennet Gracechurch Street, London,

December 6

My dear Lizzy and Jane, Is it true, as your mama says, that the Sothertons might have to leave Netherfield Park? If so, I am sorry for it. Whatever your mama's hopes as to the possible tenants might be, old friends are never to be treated lightly, and any new people in the neighbourhood must be viewed with clear-sightedness-even if a family with five sons, all eligible, should take the house. Fortunately, you both have a great deal of sense, and I expect you to use it.

But perhaps things will not come to such a pa.s.s. There is yet a chance that Mr Sotherton will see the error of his ways and retrench before such a step becomes inevitable. I hope so, for it will be a blow to you both to lose Susan, and Mary will miss Lucy, just as Kitty and Lydia will miss Eleanor.

Speaking of your younger sisters, I do not like to think of Lydia being out so soon. She is not yet fifteen, and young for her age. She has always been giddy and p.r.o.ne to rashness, even if she is so very tall; in fact, I think her height is a danger, for it leads people to a.s.sume she is older than she is.

Your mother has been unwise to indulge her in this particular. I know that I can say as much to you, Jane and Lizzy, for you are sensible enough to have seen it for yourselves.

I hope to use what influence I might have to curtail your mother's indulgence of Lydia when I see you all in less than a fortnight. But in the meantime you must do what you can to lessen the evils of such folly, by reminding Lydia how she should behave and by dissuading your mama from including Lydia in the evening parties wherever possible.

It has been a long time since we have seen you. The children are already talking of nothing but coming to Longbourn and I am looking forward to seeing you all. You must tell me if there is anything you would like me to bring you from town. There will be some room in the carriage, although not very much, as the children are growing all the time. Your uncle complains that soon he will have to sit on the roof!

Give my love to your sisters, Your fond Aunt Gardiner Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Mrs Gardiner Longbourn, Hertfordshire,

December 8

Dear Aunt Gardiner, Nothing is certain with the Sothertons yet, but it seems likely that they will have to let Netherfield Park very soon as my mother says. Mr Morris-Mr Sotherton's man of business-is going to speak to him seriously in the New Year and try to persuade him of the necessity to economise, but Susan has little hope of him succeeding.

One thing is certain, however: they cannot remain at the Park unless there is a change in Mr Sotherton. And if every attempt to change him fails, then Mrs Sotherton is intending to go to Bath after Easter and look for some suitable property for them to rent.

It is hoped that the sober air of Bath might do something to cure Mr Sotherton of his propensities, and if not, at least the family will have the income from Netherfield Park to sustain them, for they hope it will be possible to live very cheaply in Bath.

I hope it does not come to that. I will miss Susan dreadfully if she goes, and Mary, I know, will find Lucy hard to replace. Jane will bear the loss of her friends as she bears everything, with goodness and grace, and I believe that Lydia will not mourn the loss of Ellie for very long. She has made a new friend since coming out, Miss Watson, and the two of them laugh and gossip whenever they get together, which is very often, since Miss Watson lives not far from my aunt Philips's house.

Papa has taken out a subscription to the library in Meryton and we are all now frequent visitors. Lydia goes there in the hope of meeting her friends, and with the desire of showing off her latest bonnet; Kitty is very much Lydia's shadow; Jane and I like to peruse the new books; and Mary is enthralled. She has borrowed a selection of improving books for young women and she reads to us over the breakfast table, then she copies her favourite extracts into a little book.

Did you know, aunt, that 'One of the chief beauties in a female character is that modest reserve, that retiring delicacy, which avoids the public eye'? Mary has taken this piece of advice so much to heart that yesterday she refused to take tea with my aunt Philips, since she would have to be seen by the public eye when she walked into Meryton, and would therefore lose one of her chief beauties.

Papa asked her whether the public eye were the left one or the right one, and he expressed his deep regret when she could not answer him. He recommended her to discover it, so that she could walk on either the right side or the left side of the road and therefore visit her aunt in safety.

'Or is it, perhaps, a Cyclopean eye, set in the middle of the forehead?' he asked. 'If so, it is something singularly lacking in all of our acquaintance and you might therefore go about as you please.'

It was very wrong of him to tease her, but we are all becoming tired of her moralising.

You ask if there is anything I would like from London. Apart from news of the latest fashions and yourselves, then no, there is nothing. I am eager to see you again.

Your affectionate niece, Lizzy

JANUARY.

Mr Darcy to Mr Philip Darcy Fitzwater Park, c.u.mbria, January 15 Philip, the weather here is dreadful; I hope it is better with you. I have never liked being cooped up indoors for any length of time and I confess myself bored, though I would not say so to my aunt. She has made me very welcome here and she has been kindness itself to Georgiana since we arrived. Georgiana will return to school by and by, but I want her to have some fun with people of her own age before returning to her studies.

We had a full house at Pemberley over Christmas but there were only a few young people and none at all under fifteen, which meant Georgiana was deprived of many of the games she would otherwise have enjoyed. I played chess and backgammon with her, but here she plays at charades and indulges in other childish pursuits; for although she is turning into a young lady there are still days when she wants nothing better than to dress Ullswater in a stole and bonnet and push the gaily attired animal along the corridors in an old perambulator. Ullswater takes it all in good part and wags her tail in enjoyment, and I confess I like nothing better than to see my sister happy.

We were expecting to find Henry here in c.u.mbria but his leave was cancelled and we do not know when he will next see England. We thought, after Admiral Nelson destroyed the French fleet at the Battle of the Nile last year, that the tide was turning in our favour and that we would see more of him than hitherto. With the French navy decimated and the expeditionary force unable to return to their homeland, it seemed there was some chance of the French suing for peace, but it is becoming increasingly obvious the French are bent on conquering Europe and they will not rest until they have achieved their goal or been thoroughly crushed. Needless to say, we can never consent to the former and so it must be the latter, though it means another five years of war. However, it is good for Henry's chances of promotion and so we will not complain.

My aunt has arranged another ball for this evening. She has been tireless in her efforts to find me a wife but I am growing increasingly irritated with the whole affair. I have always hated talking to strangers and yet I must do it day after day and it puts me out of temper. It is even worse for the women. They have to try and win my favour and yet as soon as they try to catch my attention, I lose interest in them, for I cannot bear to be courted for my position or my wealth. And yet what alternative is there? Women must have husbands and men must have wives, and so I keep making myself attend all the b.a.l.l.s and soirees to which I am invited; and of course I am invited to a great many of them. If not for the fact that I need an heir for Pemberley, I would be content to remain a bachelor. But I do need an heir and so I must do my duty and attempt to find a wife.

I have met any number of accomplished, beautiful and intelligent women from good families, with handsome dowries, but none of them tempt me. I am beginning to wonder if I am too hard to please. And yet I am convinced that the future Mrs Darcy must have something more: some indefinable quality which will make her not only a suitable mistress for Pemberley and a desirable sister for Georgiana, but a captivating and irresistible wife for me.

I remember my father's words very well. He told me that my wife will need to command the respect of the servants and the love of my family; she must reflect the greatness of the Darcys; she must be a gracious hostess and a model of feminine virtue; she must be a modest lady and she must be possessed of a refined taste and true decorum. And she must be a woman I can admire, respect and esteem, as well as love.

It is a great deal to ask. I fear he was spoilt by his own marriage, and I have been spoilt by it, too. I can still see the expression in my mother's eyes whenever she looked at him. There was a warm glow there, an unmistakable look of love and affection, and a certain lift to her mouth that I will never forget. If I must marry-and I must-I would like the same. But where am I to find it?

For advice on matters of this nature he referred me to you. We both bear the name of Darcy and we both have the responsibility of upholding the Darcy traditions and continuing the Darcy name. And so I ask you, Philip, have you ever met a woman who was necessary to you? A woman you would be glad to marry? Do you mean to marry when you are thirty, as you have always said, and if so, are you willing to marry without love? And how do you intend to choose your wife from the many caps that are set at you?

Yours, Darcy Mr Philip Darcy to Mr Darcy Wiltshire, January 17 Of course you are hard to please, and so you should be: you are a Darcy. There are very few women who are good enough for you. My mother drew up a list of suitable wives for me before she died, and the same ladies are naturally suitable for you, but of the eleven names on the list, four are already married, one has lost her fortune and two are personally unappealing to me. Of the remaining four, one is your cousin, Anne de Bourgh, and she is sickly and not likely to provide a living heir. The three remaining ladies are all acceptable and I mean to propose to one of them in due course, though I have not yet decided which one. I am sending you a copy of the list in case it is of use to you, and I would be glad of the names of the women deemed suitable by your aunt, as they might perhaps be of use to me.

I am holding a house party next month and you are welcome. I will invite all the young women; it might help us to decide which ones we should favour with our hands if we see them all together.

I do not pretend to be looking for love, for although you say your parents found it-and I bow to your superior knowledge of them-I confess it seems to me that happiness in marriage consists of a large house, so that a husband and wife might speak to each other occasionally if they have a mind to do so, but otherwise go their own separate ways. As Pemberley is one of the largest houses in the country, I do not despair of you finding happiness, even if it is of my sort and not yours.

I am sorry Henry could not get any leave, though I know he would not feel sorry for himself. Ever since we were children he has longed to be a soldier, and now that he is a colonel his happiness is complete-or, perhaps no, he has still something to hope for, as I am sure he would like to become a general. If the war goes on much longer, he might have his wish. For myself, I would like to see an end to the war. I want to go over to Paris but at the moment it is impossible. G.o.d knows when it will end.

Have you heard anything of George Wickham lately? I met a friend of his, a Matthew Parker, in town last week. I know nothing of Parker, other than that he comes from a good family, but he says that Wickham is quite changed. He let slip it was a letter from you that brought about the change. I gather you wrote some harsh truths, which have done him more good than all the help he has been given and made him see the error of his ways. I hope it may be so. His father was a good man and I have not forgotten him.

Yours, PD.

Mr Wickham to Mr Darcy London, January 20 My dear Darcy, I cannot let the New Year go by without writing to wish you well for the future and without thanking you for everything you have done for me in the past. But above all, I want to thank you for the letter you sent me last summer. I was very angry with you when I received it, for I thought it the most unjust thing I had ever read. But I could not forget it and your words gradually pierced my haze of resentment until at last I was forced to acknowledge the truth of them. I had squandered my chances as well as my resources and I was unfit for the church, as I was unfit for everything else. Your letter made me look at myself and I did not like what I saw. I began to mend my ways and I mean to continue in the same way. I want to make you glad to call me your friend, as you were once before.

Do you remember the January when the lake froze at Pemberley and your father bought us both new skates so that we might take advantage of it? And do you remember how Georgiana followed us onto the lake and how I took off my skates and gave them to her so that she might take her first few tottering steps across the ice? And how we were certain she would fall, but how she surprised us both by skating unaided before half an hour was out? If this cold weather goes on much longer, the lake will freeze again. We should go skating there! It would be good for me to forget my present worries for a few days, for G.o.d knows I am sorely pressed. I have done everything I can to mend my fortunes, but it is very hard to be alone in the world, with no one to help me to some kind of preferment. I did think of going into the army, but I do not think it would suit my temperament. The church, now...When I rejected the idea before, I was a fool who did not understand the value of such an inst.i.tution, but now my ideas have undergone a radical change. I have experienced sin and I know its temptations. I have seen, too, its darker side, and witnessed the effects on those who drink too deeply of forbidden fruits. I have drawn back from the edge, to find myself once more on solid ground and I hope to use my experiences to help my fellow man. Who better to understand the temptations of the sinner than a man who has himself been a sinner?

I know there was a time when you thought me unfit for the church, and you were right. I knew nothing then of the degradations awaiting me, but I know them now, as I know the healing power of redemption. I have seen the error of my ways, thanks to you, and I hope to use my life to help others see the error of such ways as well.

My G.o.dfather, and dear friend-your father-was always pleased to say that I had a good speaking voice and a good address, and that I could charm the birds from the trees if I so wished. He believed in me, and I know you believe in me, too. It was that thought which brought me back from the dark paths I walked in my folly and ignorance.

I know you will have given the living of Kympton elsewhere by now, but you still have other livings in your gift and I feel sure you would like to see me established in one of them. It will enable you to carry out your father's wish, and it will give you the satisfaction of seeing me, as I was meant to be, a good man guiding the souls of my parishioners as they walk the difficult path of righteousness through this world of sin.

Your friend, much humbled and chastened, George Wickham Mr Darcy to Mr Wickham c.u.mbria, January 25 Wickham, It will do you no good to importune me further-the living of Kympton is no longer vacant as you surmise and I have no other vacant livings in my gift. I am glad you have seen the error of your ways but you must help yourself now; I cannot help you any further. This letter ends the matter.

Darcy Mr Wickham to Mr Darcy London, January 27 By G.o.d, Darcy, how dare you write me such a letter? Do you think I am some beggar trying to sc.r.a.pe an acquaintance with you? Are you so puffed up in your own conceit that you forget we rode the same horses when we were children, swam in the same lake, climbed the same trees, worked together and played together as equals-nay, as brothers?

I thank G.o.d your father is not alive to see it. He would have been ashamed of you. He would have been disgusted and appalled that he had raised such a son, devoid of any kind of honour or loyalty or compa.s.sion. What gives you the right to say I cannot have the living, when your father expressly promised it to me? It is nothing to you, and nothing to the people of Kympton, either, who holds the living.

But think again. You surely do not mean to rob me of a livelihood. I have always known you to be proud and supercilious, but I never thought you would stoop to being a thief as well; in fact I am sure you will not sink so low. If I had half your riches, you know, and you were poor like me, I would not begrudge you a pittance of a living; quite the reverse, I would give you an allowance, and a handsome one at that, so that you could live as a gentleman. I cannot believe you mean to rob me of a livelihood without a second thought. How do you suggest I live? I must have something, and you have many livings in your gift.

In memory of all the times we played together as children and the love and affection your father showed me...but that is at the root of it, is it not? You are jealous because he loved me like a second son-in fact I believe he preferred me, and who can blame him? I, at least, took pains to entertain him, whereas you would never give yourself the trouble. By G.o.d, that is it. I have always suspected it and now I know, and this is how you mean to pay me out: by reducing me to nothing.

How could I help it if he preferred me? An old man will always like a handsome face and charming manners. Your face is handsome enough, I'll grant you, but your address is as stiff as a board. You have all the charm of a poker-is it any wonder that your father preferred me? He cannot be blamed for liking my cheerful manners or for being repulsed by your pride and your d--d self-righteous arrogance.

But you do blame him and now you are taking your revenge. What do you want? Do you want me to crawl? Then be d--d to you. I will not crawl to you or any man. If you do not mean to help me, then you can go hang.

I wish you every ill that you have inflicted on me.

Wickham Mr Wickham to Mr Parker London, January 30 Well, Matthew, you will be surprised to get this letter after so long a silence, but I had no wish to write to bore you with my troubles, and debtors' prison is the most boring of all ills. But now I am out and living with a wealthy widow, though not for long: I would sooner be the master than the lapdog.

I have a mind to look about me for an heiress. Now that there is no chance of my getting the living of Kympton-I tried Darcy again, d--n him, but to no avail-I must look to some other way of supporting myself. Do you know any heiresses? Are there any in York? I am not known in that area, and I may pa.s.s there for a respectable man.

Let me know if you can help me. If I catch someone by your introduction, you may be sure you will always be welcome in my home.

Wickham