Welcome to our epistolary retelling of Pride & Prejudice! Jane Austen’s original version of the story, First Impression, was told entirely in letters, so it seemed like a great group project. We’ll be posting a new letter every Wednesday.
Anne writes in her journal…
March 18th, 1812
Dear Diary,
William Darcy is coming to Rosings, and I am a bundle of nerves. Mama told me the news this morning, and by her significant looks and her insistence that I make myself especially “agreeable” to him, I know she intends that this be no ordinary visit. She intends to make certain that the so-called “engagement” between my cousin and myself be made definite, once and for all.
I have long understood that I was intended for William, of course. Mama talked of it from the time when I was a little girl, and even Papa, before his death, said the match would be a “fine thing” for me. Being too young to comprehend such grownup subjects then, I had no reason to question their wisdom in the matter. I thought I should be as happy with William as with any other man. Had he not always been kind to me? But now that the time has come… Well, I am not quite so certain.
One would think I should be entirely comfortable with William, since I have known him all my life. And he is family besides. However, the truth is I have always stood in some considerable awe of him. Nearly a decade my senior, he was no close playfellow to me when I was a child. He treated me in much the same manner he did his sister Georgiana – benignly indulgent but largely disinterested in a young girl’s concerns.
My clearest childhood memories of him come from time spent out of doors. He was often assigned as guardian, guide, and escort to Georgiana and myself on our rambles throughout the park – whether at Rosings or Pemberley – seeing that we came to no harm and even occasionally contributing to our entertainment. Looking back, I honor his patience, considering how little he must have liked such a duty.
Although there was that degree of familial affection between us, as would be only natural in such a situation, my feelings were more complex than that. You see, the knowledge that he would be my husband one day made a distinct difference from the beginning, and the importance of that fact only increased as I grew older. Even had he been a very ordinary young man – plain and utterly undistinguished – I could hardly have banished our future connection from my mind. But this was Fitzwilliam Darcy! With his fine, tall person, good looks, and beautiful estate, was he not exactly the type of romantic hero to inspire a girl’s imagination?
I confess that, from the age of eleven or twelve, my daydreams were often populated with scenes of him proposing to me – usually beside the lake at Pemberley – he handsome as ever and eloquent in his love for me, I perfectly graceful and at ease in my acceptance. Such fanciful visions seem foolish to me now, but they still color my thoughts about my cousin and make my relations with him even more awkward than my natural timidity would do otherwise. In his presence, I cannot seem to speak a coherent sentence. If I dare to look in his face, vivid embarrassment instantly floods through me.
How I wish I were more like Elizabeth Bennet. Having become acquainted with her since she came to visit the Collinses at the parsonage, I cannot imagine that she would ever behave in such a way. She would be confident and witty, not overawed or intimidated. I say “she would be,” but the truth is, she will be. She will still be here when William comes, and no doubt I will witness for myself some of their interactions. She will shine; he will be dazzled; and I will be completely eclipsed.
However, it is not only this bleak picture that has me uneasy, dear Diary. It is the dread of what Mama is likely to do. I know she is losing patience, and she will undoubtedly go to great lengths to see that William proposes to me without further delay, whether he wants to or not. How mortified I shall be if my cousin should be compelled to take me against his will! It must never be! No, I must find a way to release him from any false feelings of obligation.
If I marry at all, I desire that it should be to a man who truly wants me. Is that too much to ask? I pray it is not.
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