Confessions & Correspondence: Upon the the Occasion of the Wickhams Departing Longbourn

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. 

Mr. Bennet writes to Mr. Gardiner

September 9, 1812

My Dear Sir,

I am pleased to report that my youngest daughter and her new husband are now gone from Longbourn, and some measure of peace has thereby been restored to my home. I know you are too charitable, old friend, to judge me harshly for expressing such an honest sentiment to you, for you of all people must understand what that foolish child has put me through of late – has put us all through, I should say.

While I am being frank, however, I must also admit to you that I feel a small measure of guilt in the case myself. Perhaps it has occurred to you – as indeed it briefly did to me – that had I been a more attentive parent, had I applied a firmer hand in the disciplining of my daughters (the younger two especially), Lydia’s character might have been more correctly formed and her judgement might not have erred to such a degree as the recent events have so clearly demonstrated. So to some extent, it may have been my own doing.

Having said this, however, I do beg that you would not worry about my conscience troubling me over much. That is an organ I have grown quite adept at silencing. How else can a man be expected to move on thinking tolerably well of himself? And if I should require assistance in this regard, I need only look to the example Lydia and Mr. Wickham set for me. With far more to be embarrassed about, they looked as if they felt no shame whatsoever. If you can imagine – and I am confident that you can, having so recent experience of it yourself – the whole time they were with us, they represented themselves with the confidence and perfect ease of persons who have nothing at all to blush about.

But now they are gone, far to the north, and not soon to trouble us again, one would hope. The only lingering alloy to my peace of mind, therefore, is the fact that I have four more daughters to dispose of with some degree of respectability. That, and the substantial debt I owe to one who is entirely deaf to my thanks and refuses to hear any promises of repayment. I know the office of prevailing on that worthless young man to marry Lydia ought to have been mine, had I acquitted myself better. Instead, I shudder to think where we should be were it not for your exertions on our behalf.

But fear not, my dear brother-in-law. I am far too considerate to distress you with gratitude that you have already told me you do not want. Instead, I shall pay you the compliment of taking your advice; I shall endeavor to forget the matter at once. In fact, I think I can safely promise that the next letter you receive from me will be more in line with my former habits, containing nothing serious whatever.

Regards, etc.

T. Bennet

PS – I find that the exercise of putting these things down on paper has already served to clear my feeble conscience, leaving me to question the necessity of actually sending this missive to you. Ah, well, I suppose the ashes may as well dirty your fireplace as mine. Do by all means burn these, my ramblings, at your earliest convenience.

Read all the letters from Confessions & Correspondence here!