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.
Mrs Hill
Longbourn
26 August 1812
My dear Harriet,
I hope this letter finds you well, and that all remains quiet at Hartfield.
I have meant to write these three weeks past, but you will understand why I have not when I tell you that Longbourn has scarcely known a peaceful day since Miss Lydia went off with Mr Wickham. But we have had news at last.
Miss Lydia is to be married. (There is a sentence I scarcely expected to be able to write a fortnight ago.)
I shall not trouble you with every particular, though I beg you will keep what I write entirely to yourself. You and I have been too many years in service not to understand that there are things which may be spoken of between sisters that ought never to travel beyond them.
As you know from my last letter, brief though it was, Miss Lydia went away from Brighton with Mr Wickham, and the pair were presumed to be travelling to Scotland. It was not long, however, before the family had reason to believe that this was not the case, and, worse yet, that no marriage had taken place.
Oh, sister! I shall not soon forget those days! Mrs Bennet took to her bed directly and was certain she should die before the week was out. I scarcely left her room except to fetch what she required, though I believe smelling salts and hartshorn were of more use to her than anything Cook could provide. Poor Miss Jane bore everything with her usual good grace, though anyone with eyes could see how much she suffered. Miss Elizabeth, who was forced to curtail her travels and come hastily back to Longbourn, said less, but from the moment she returned there was a look about her which made me think she understood the business better than any of us. Between the two of them, they kept the house from falling entirely into confusion.
It was Mr Gardiner who at last sent word from London that the pair had been found and that arrangements could be made for a marriage. What passed between the gentlemen I would not pretend to know; but I have been long enough in the world to understand that a man who has lived with a young woman for weeks without marrying her does not generally discover his honour without some powerful encouragement. There was money required, I am certain of that much, though the sum, or whence it came, is certainly none of my affair.
But Harriet, now I will tell you something I have told no one here: I always knew that Mr Wickham was up to no good.
Everyone in Meryton thought him the most charming gentleman who had ever put on a red coat, and I grant you he has a handsome face and knows very well how to make himself agreeable. But there was always something about him I mistrusted. He was too ready with a smile, and always seemed to know precisely what manner would best please whichever person stood before him. The younger ladies thought it proof of his good nature. I thought it proof that he had had a great deal of practice. And there was talk below stairs, even then, of his attentions not being confined to the young ladies he met in company, if you take my meaning. I paid little heed at first, but when the same sort of tale comes from several different quarters, a sensible woman begins to wonder.
Perhaps I am uncharitable. But after what has happened, I cannot think I was very far wrong.
In any event, the newly married couple are to come to Longbourn before Mr Wickham joins his new regiment in the north. The master was at first determined that neither of them should set foot beneath his roof, but Miss Jane and Miss Elizabeth prevailed upon him at last. I believe they thought—and rightly so—that refusing to receive his own daughter after her marriage would only give the neighbourhood further reason to suppose there was something in the business which ought not to be examined too closely. There has been talk enough already.
Mrs Bennet, naturally, is beside herself with delight. You would suppose, to hear her now, that the whole affair had been conducted expressly for her satisfaction. She speaks of nothing but Mrs Wickham, and how gratifying it will be to have a daughter well married. All the misery of the preceding weeks appears to have vanished from her recollection as completely as if it had never happened. She has already ordered Cook to consider what dishes Mr Wickham might like and has asked me three times whether the guest chamber has been properly aired.
I confess I cannot enter into her joy quite so readily.
Poor Miss Kitty has borne no small share of her father’s displeasure, for it soon became apparent that Miss Lydia’s intentions had not been entirely unknown to her, though I do not believe she ever imagined how far matters would go. The master has consequently declared that she is not to stir from Longbourn for some time to come, which she appears to consider a punishment scarcely less severe than transportation. Miss Mary, meanwhile, has found in the whole affair a most fruitful subject for reflection, and has been very ready with observations upon the loss of female virtue and the evils of unchecked passions. I believe we have all been improved by them, whether we wished it or not.
Though I have known Miss Lydia since she was in leading strings, and have a great affection for all the young ladies of the house; she has always been a heedless girl, and marriage will not make her sensible merely by changing her name. I can only hope the consequences of her folly do not prove harder than she presently imagines them.
As for Miss Jane and Miss Elizabeth, they have borne the whole business with more sense and composure than anyone had a right to ask of them, and now they and the rest of the family must receive the pair kindly and behave as though nothing extraordinary has occurred. Miss Jane will manage it, for she can find something good to believe of anybody. Miss Elizabeth may find it harder. She has a way of seeing people rather too clearly for her own comfort.
For myself, I shall see that the rooms are ready and that no servant under my direction gives the slightest cause for complaint or gossip. Whatever I may think of her husband, Miss Lydia—or should I say Mrs Wickham—is the master’s daughter and must be received at Longbourn as such. I have made that very plain below stairs.
As for Mr Wickham, I shall give him all the civility my position requires, but nothing more.
I hope it will be enough.
There—I have written more than I intended, but after keeping so much to myself these past weeks, it is a comfort to tell it to someone who understands what it is to know everything that passes in a household and yet be expected to know nothing at all.
Write when you are able and tell me how matters go at Hartfield. I hope Mr Woodhouse has recovered from his latest cold, and that Miss Woodhouse has found no new schemes with which to occupy herself—and you. I shall write again when our visitors have departed, provided Longbourn is still standing.
Your affectionate sister,
Margaret Hill
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