Beginning, Section II, Section III

Jump to new as of July 8, 2001

Posted on Friday, 16 July 1999

January 3, 18--

Dearest Jane,

I wish you the most joyous of New Year's. Fitzwilliam, Georgiana, and I arrived in Town on the evening of the first. We shall be here at least another two months, so please direct correspondence to our Mayfair address. You will have to see our house at the nearest opportunity; I cannot begin to describe how stunned I was to discover its size. However, it is most elegantly furnished, and Fitzwilliam acts as though my being mistress of it were the most natural thing in the world, so I am every day becoming more at home.

In answer to your question: yes, our rescue mission for Anne de Bourgh worked splendidly, although I should really say Colonel Fitzwilliam's rescue mission, since the effort was mostly his. His friends Edgar and Christina Sheffield are hosting Anne de Bourgh at the home of Edgar's father, Lord Sheffield. We were going to bring her to our home, but she is not supposed to be in contact with us yet (you and Bingley ARE still keeping this matter a secret, are you not?), and she seems to have grown so comfortable at Hayward House that it was decided she should remain there for the present.

I must say that though I have a distrust of London, I like Colonel Fitzwilliam's friends a good deal. Their manners are clearly of the Town, for they have a grasp of society and politics that is beyond my reach as yet, but their understanding and friendliness put me quite at ease. Mrs. Sheffield is a young lady of unreserved, lively manner and open heart, as you might expect from someone who agreed to go and retrieve Lady Catherine's daughter sight unseen. She is strikingly beautiful and most elegantly dressed, with less of showiness and more of taste than many ladies of fashion. Her performance on the pianoforte is astonishing; she could play on the concert stage. Mr. Sheffield is not a bit handsome, except for the sparkling expression of his gray eyes, and he began life in the most unintelligent way possible by being born the younger son. Yet he converses in a most dazzling manner and diverts me exceedingly.

As for Anne, she is still Anne, and a greater contrast to Christina Sheffield you shall never find. She is less sickly than when I saw her last, but still dreadfully thin and a bit yellow in complexion. Her features are neither handsome nor plain, though she has pretty brown eyes; I think she could be quite nice looking if she would make an effort to smile a bit. Her style of dress, like that of her mother's, is perfectly horrid; black and brown with no end in sight, and one bonnet that is a riot of dead animals.

Anne does not play piano, sing, draw, dance, or read very much. She dislikes sewing and plays cards indifferently. She does seem to enjoy listening to other people perform music. I have yet to hear her express an opinion on any subject, so I cannot say whether she has any serious education. The longest sentences I have heard her complete are, "It is nice to see you again," and "Please pass the carrots." Mrs. Sheffield, who along with Colonel Fitzwilliam has been shepherding Anne about Town for a few weeks, says that she has displayed exactly two talents: their crotchety spaniel adores her, and she knows the name of every flower in the house. I must say the second talent took me by surprise, though what she is to make of it I cannot guess.

In Anne's favor, I will say that she is unfailingly polite, she apparently writes good letters, and she is incapable of harm, for she does not seem to know what malice is. At every small gathering she has attended thus far, she has been quiet and agreeable. There are worse places to begin afresh. Mrs. Sheffield and I are attempting to give her some gentle instruction to make up for the social education which Lady Catherine has failed to impart, and if she could but feel comfortable in a larger sphere of society I shall be very well pleased.

The good Colonel certainly possesses quite the sense of family obligation, but he seems to be enjoying it immensely. He has a mischievous smile about him like a naughty schoolboy delighted to play a trick on his stuffy Aunt Catherine. I wondered how he finds time for his military duties, but apparently he has an efficient and long-suffering secretary upon whom he has foisted most of his administrative work. The Colonel has been laughing and chatting ever since we arrived, and even spent a few hours showing the ladies his military rapier and trying to give us fencing lessons. He claims to have no talent for swordsmanship -- he says he swings his arm like a baboon -- but my husband says he is just being modest.

Caroline Bingley's Twelfth Night Ball takes place in three days. It will be the first London ball for myself, Georgiana, and Anne, so the ladies of our party are meeting a dressmaker this afternoon at Hayward House for the rapid preparation of gowns. We also must teach Anne a few simple dances. I shall write very soon to let you know how matters progress. I must go now, pray write speedily to your loving sister

Lizzy

My dear Charles,

Stop fretting. I know exactly what I am doing. The Twelfth Night Ball may be somewhat more elaborate than my previous entertainments, but it should be all to my credit. The presence of a few new faces can only be of benefit to our social standing. In fact, I have just received an RSVP from the Prince Regent's cousin Lord Dawes; aren't I clever? Surely relations of the Earl of Matlock can hardly object.

I daresay Mr. and Mrs. Darcy and the dear Colonel shall be quite pleased with the evening: the Beaux Arts Orchestra, Mr. Jeremy Conrad's decor -- costs a pretty penny, but he is so very au fait -- and, of course, Master Chef Diderot preparing the dinner. I am simply trying to provide my guests with a memorable evening, and why you should think I am attempting to prove anything is utterly beyond reason.

But fear not, dear brother, you are safe in Hertfordshire and therefore free of the corruption of decadent London. And how are your dear in-laws? Did you have a nice Christmas together? I shall miss you and lovely Jane and be thinking of you as our glittering company dances into the wee hours. And if anything scandalous should occur -- ha ha! -- I shall take Lady Gavelton's advice: if your party makes the Times, take all the credit; if it makes the Post, shed all the blame. Your sister,

Caroline

Dearest Jane,

I promised to write and let you know how our ball preparations were coming along, even though I shall simply have to write again once it is over and pass you all the good gossip. Good heavens, is this how matrimony sinks one's character? I am beginning to sound like (horrors!) Aunt Phillips.

Immediately after I posted my last letter, our party traveled to Hayward House, where the ladies banished the men from the main parlor and told them we were engaged in secret matters of fashion. Mr. Sheffield and Colonel Fitzwilliam groaned and nearly tripped over each other in their haste to reach the billiard table, but my husband's eyes twinkled at me. He drew me into the hall and asked if I was certain I must have a new gown for the Twelfth Night Ball. I owned that I was not, whereupon he put his arms around my waist and whispered in my ear, "Wear the dress you wore at the Netherfield Ball, when we first danced together." I asked if it were too simple a style for such an evening, but he replied, "Not at all; the neckline was particularly becoming," and began to trace it with his fingertips.

Following an unanticipated delay, I returned to the main parlor where the other ladies waited. The dressmaker, Mrs. Shelby, had arrived with her assistants and they were laying out swaths of material. Georgiana shall have a new white satin gown for the occasion, Mrs. Sheffield shall wear palest pink, and I ordered a dress in light blue for future use. Anne was a puzzle, for her skin is so sallow that all the light shades made her disappear, but she could hardly make an appearance in those dreadful mourning colors.

It was then that Christina glanced at the Christmas boughs and suggested, "Why not green? A rich, deep green, like the leaves of a forest." And she found a small sample near the bottom of the fabric pile. A very unusual choice, but it set off Anne's pale skin and brown eyes superbly, so instantly the decision was made. Her hair is a rather nondescript mousy brown, but Christina's maid will brush it out and redo it completely. She seems to have quite a talent.

After the dressmaker departed, we began to instruct Anne in dancing. Difficult as I find Lady Catherine, I was willing to forgive her overbearing manner until I discovered that Anne had never learned to dance, whereupon all of my old disgust returned. Christina and I went after our husbands, who were engaged in useless political talk, and threatened them with billiard cues until they graciously volunteered to help. The Colonel had no choice but to join in.

It made for an entertaining evening, what with Mrs. Sheffield on the piano and five other people all calling different instructions at once. "That way," "No, circle left," "Cast around," "I say, Fitzwilliam, isn't there another turn there?" "No, Anne, your corner is Darcy, Georgiana is your opposite lady." Edgar and Colonel Fitzwilliam managed to hit each other straight on during one moment of confusion, and Anne stepped on everyone's feet. I hate to think what would have happened had we tried the hard ones.

She is not accustomed to moving around, so she dances in an unadorned, almost matronly manner, with no gestures of hands or tilts of her head. For a long time she kept staring down at the floor; the only way we could get her to look up was to tell her to look her partner square in the eye at all times. A bit forward, but it works. She still doesn't smile, exactly, but we managed to get her to lift the corners of her mouth a little so at least she doesn't look as though her favorite pet just died.

Conversation presents yet another problem. Anne makes Georgiana look like a chatterbox. Of course, Mrs. Sheffield and I are hardly the ladies to advise her in conversational skills -- Christina is brilliant and I verge on uncivil -- but Georgiana passed on an excellent bit of advice from her former tutor. She said not to worry about saying anything remarkable because it is only necessary to be polite. Let us hope it works.

Georgiana has just rushed all excitement into my room to tell me that the dressmaker has arrived. I must go, for we have little time to do alterations before tomorrow evening. I will write you immediately after the ball to let you know the results of our preparations. Much love from your devoted

Lizzy

MORNING POST, the seventh of January

Uproar At a Fashionable Ball, by Our Society Correspondents

As the battle against foreign tyranny mercifully appears to be drawing to a close, we must not forget to raise a toast to our nation's social hostesses. For not only do our brave Generals and Admirals outmatch the enemy in firepower, but even our ladies refuse to be outdone by their Continental counterparts. The fireworks at last night's Twelfth Night Ball were ample proof.

The much-anticipated Ball, held at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Hurst but hosted in the main by their sister, Miss Caroline Bingley, drew the wealthy and fashionable from every corner of Town, and with what spectacular results! Let us all hope that the Earl of Matlock, whose young relations were at the center of the uproar, lives up to his generous and good-spirited reputation, for no one who attended shall ever forget the sight of his nephew Mr. Darcy being shielded from certain death by his lovely and protective bride, nor his younger son, Colonel Fitzwilliam, nobly doing battle to defend the honor of the outstanding lady of the evening, his fascinating cousin Miss Anne de Bourgh.

Miss de Bourgh, who is new to society, has been dubbed "The Mona Lisa" due to her dark eyes and close-lipped, enigmatic smile...the leader of fashion for the evening, daringly dressed in dark green silk cut in the latest style...hair elaborately adorned with slender ribbons...terse repartee of stunning sophistication...rises above every possible innuendo...dances in slow and stately manner...gives away nothing with her expressions...head high like a princess...courageous, unique, and mysterious...the most stellar debut of the season....

Express Post: to the Earl of Matlock, Rosings Park, Kent

Most Honorable Father,

Throw away all the papers from Town. Trust me. Before you get your account from the scandalsheets, I simply must tell you the truth of what happened at the Twelfth Night Ball...

Express Post: to Mr. Charles Bingley, Netherfield Hall, Hertfordshire

Dear Charles,

Ask Carter to prepare my suite; I am coming to Netherfield immediately. My dear brother, I could absolutely DIE!! My ball has made the front pages of all the wrong papers in Town. What is even worse, Colonel Fitzwilliam appears to be more interested in...

Express Post:: to Mrs. Charles Bingley, Netherfield Hall, Hertfordshire

Dearest Jane,

You shall never believe this. I cannot believe it myself, and am posting the news express so you hear the real version before it runs through Meryton like wildfire. Caroline Bingley's Twelfth Night Ball proved to be an astonishing introduction to London Society...

Express Post: to Mr. Bennet, Longbourn House, near Meryton, Hertfordshire

My Dear Sir,

Before you give credence to any other accounts of our activities in London, read this one first. I realize that I promised most faithfully that I would avoid involving your daughter Elizabeth in any scandalous activity while in London, but unfortunately...

...keep in mind that I never wanted to attend at all, but Darcy insisted that it would be a perfectly safe occasion where he would know all the other guests, and he practically dragged me along feet first. From the very outset I kept saying that it would be better to stay home, with primary consideration for our ladies' reputations, of course.

It started out decently enough. Our ladies certainly did themselves up for the occasion. Christina Sheffield looked like a goddess as usual, and Elizabeth Darcy was stunning; Darcy could barely contain his pride. Georgiana looked sweet and pretty in her white gown, like a shy angel, but I must say Anne quite surprised me. Her appearance was rather astonishingly better. Not pretty, exactly, but interesting. She wore a new dark green gown -- unusual color but looks remarkably well on her -- and her hair was elaborately braided in gold and green ribbons. Brought out her eyes quite nicely, I thought.

When we arrived we all went through the receiving line, and after some brief pleasantries with the hostess, Caroline Bingley, we moved on to the main ballroom...

...I was simply delighted to see them all, of course. The Colonel looked so becoming in his regimental formals, and how his eyes sparkled! Although I could not spend much time conversing in the receiving line, he took me by surprise by most kindly asking the honor of my hand for the first dance...

...Caroline Bingley was wearing the most astoundingly sheer gown and was all attention to poor Colonel Fitzwilliam at once, holding his hand a little too long in the receiving line and then, "What a pleasure to see you, dear Colonel. I do hope my little party won't bore you too greatly, so I selected 'The General's Lass' as our opening dance with you in mind." Of course he was forced to express gratitude and offer to dance it with her, and you know the significance of opening the ball as the partner of the hostess.

But after professing all agreement to this plan, the Colonel managed to place Anne de Bourgh and Georgiana on either side of him, clearly to prevent Miss Bingley from stationing herself on his arm for the ballroom introductions, and I must say I could barely keep my countenance. A thirty-year-old colonel using two young ladies for protection! We should have given them muskets.

My husband and I entered the ballroom first, followed by the rest of our party. The room was rather grander than I expected, but beautifully arranged. I immediately began looking around to assess the company. It seemed a bit loud but...

...instant sounds of commentary as soon as "Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy" were announced, and every face turned towards us. Several people told me later that I was positively beaming with pride, and I warrant it could scarcely be better placed. All those who had not attended our nuptials were eager to see my lady, and you will be as happy as I was, sir, to hear that there was not a disapproving face in the room.

I was surprised to see many people I did not recognize, for I usually know everyone at a Bingley party. Evidently Caroline had truly outdone herself with the invitation list. But this was scarcely a concern to me since her behavior is always usually so proper and social position so well established that I knew she would never invite guests of dubious repute.

Many people were eager to greet Elizabeth and myself with congratulations, which we warmly received. However, I was aware that the numbers of guests might be overwhelming to the ladies who were making their first appearance, so I had planned to introduce them to those with whom they would be most comfortable. The obvious first choice was John and Fiona Markham, a most pleasant and respectable couple who have a daughter about Georgiana's age. From there I had decided upon the Hardwicks, Lord Channing, Mr. Louis Davidson and his sister Patricia, and so on; I had the whole thing planned out.

You may recall what they say about the best laid plans...

....so while Darcy introduced the ladies to the Markhams, I took my place opposite Caroline Bingley for "The General's Lass," one of my least favorite pieces, although I smiled and carried on politely, of course. When we were finished I led Miss Bingley back towards my party. She seemed quite interested in Anne and, evidently with a design towards impressing me, offered to...

...he was so happy to have gained my hands for the first one, and danced charmingly. So vigorous, so tall, and the warm touch of his fingers upon mine! Other ladies had quite the expression of envy upon their faces, if I dare say so. Unfortunately he was recovering from a bad cold and could not dance the next one with me due to his excessive fatigue, so he escorted me back to where his relations were standing. One of them, his cousin Anne de Bourgh, is making her debut in society this season. Naturally it was incumbent upon me to assist in introducing her to a few friends of mine and choose some dance pieces that she would like so that she might feel at ease...

...she was practically clinging to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but remarkably civil to me. She introduced us all to several friends of hers, who were overdressed but at least tolerably polite. Georgiana, Anne, and I spent a good hour getting acquainted with everyone. Then Miss Bingley asked, in the most gracious possible voice, what piece we would like to hear for our first dance! I can only assume it was an effort to make amends and impress the Colonel, but it would have been rude to pass up such an opportunity. Of course, my husband and I glanced at each other thinking exactly the same thing...

...could have done without Miss Bingley's insistence on introducing all her friends, which slightly threw off my plans, but at least they were all people I knew. Elizabeth was witty and delightful as always, and everyone was most favorably inclined towards her. Miss Bingley did us the honor of a dance request, so we asked for "Mr. Beveridge's Maggot," the only dance I enjoyed with your daughter before our marriage (well, perhaps "enjoyed" is not the correct word, but it was certainly memorable). My cousins William and Anne lined up next to us. I only tell you this to begin explaining why they were at the center of the confusion which followed.

As I mentioned earlier, my cousin Anne was making her first appearance in London society, and this was her first dance ever; she has suffered from health problems and, well, various personal difficulties. But I rarely looked at her while we danced, for I could scarcely keep my eyes off my wife, especially when her beautiful eyes twinkled at me and she said, "I believe we must have some conversation, Mr. Darcy. A very little will suffice..."

...I have NEVER seen Darcy laugh like that while he dances -- in fact, I have never seen him laugh like that at all -- so it was only near the end of the set that I realized what a splendid impression Anne was making opposite me. She really did look quite unusual, beribboned head held high, marching in that stately manner, her dark green gown swirling around her. I noticed several people staring at her, and I could see their expressions were not at all disapproving. I believe Miss Bingley even looked jealous! Then we returned to our friends and Georgiana, who all congratulated her most sincerely on the success of her first dance, and she blushed. She looks lovely with some color in her face.

At that moment the band struck up "The Touchstone," that energetic one that is everyone's favorite. Anne hadn't learned this one yet, so we left her safely with the Markhams while the rest of us paired off: the Darcys, the Sheffields, and Georgiana opposite me. The evening was going splendidly so far, so I had no reason to suspect that we would be invaded by...

...of course it did not bother me in the slightest that the Colonel was dancing with his cousin, but I was concerned that he would become bored. Imagine spending an entire evening in such brilliant company having to employ yourself with escort duties to your -- I must be blunt, Charles -- rather plain cousin. And her style! Unusual, even daring in a sort of gauche way, but it did nothing for her features, which are positively dreary.

I was certain the dear Colonel was going to invite me to dance the next one since his energy seemed to have returned, but at that critical moment Louisa called me away to greet my most important guest: Lord Dawes, the first cousin of the Prince Regent. I was surprised to see that he was escorting Mrs. Rachel Ashton; she and her husband suffered the most terrible separation, you know, and he is living in Naples. Alas, they had brought along her brother, Mr. Roger Talbot. I know his reputation as well as you do, but I could hardly throw him out without causing a scene, could I? It was, after all, MY ball, so I had no reason to believe that he would behave badly, especially as he is known to be striving for a reintroduction to London society. (Social climbers; I ask you.)

Unfortunately we could not announce them since a dance was in progress, but Mrs. Ashton spied Colonel Fitzwilliam and commented to me that she had not seen him for a few years, although she declined to say how they had met. It suddenly occurred to me that I should point out that Anne de Bourgh is his cousin. Naturally I was thinking of Mrs. Ashton's gift for repartee, and realized that she would make an excellent conversational partner for the young lady. After all, this is London, and it would not do to shelter Miss de Bourgh under the wings of her relations all evening, would it?

So I brought Lord Dawes and his party over to where Anne was standing with the Markhams and some friends of theirs, then glanced over at the Colonel to see how his dance with dear Georgiana was progressing. Oddly, at every turn he seemed to be gaping at us...

...the most amazing expression on his face, it looked as though he had been struck by lightning. On the next pass he hissed to my husband, "Darcy! Over there talking to Anne! It's RACHEL ASHTON!" As soon as Fitzwilliam looked over, he wore the same expression. They could barely keep from bolting the dance, and even the self-possessed Sheffields seemed upset...

...absolutely horror-struck to see he was right. There was Mrs. Ashton on the arm of Lord Dawes, that conceited popinjay, and they were brazenly talking to Anne! Not only that, but they were even introducing Mrs. Ashton's brother Roger Talbot, the one who blacked my eye at our last meeting. Of course we could not possibly break out of the set without calling attention to the problem -- what were we supposed to do, feign sprained ankles simultaneously? -- so we had to continue, and there were still several rounds to go. Not since my second proposal to your daughter have I been in such a sweat ...

...my mind was reeling. Obviously they had learned that Anne was our inexperienced cousin and decided to make her ridiculous in revenge for our last meeting. Anne does not understand malice; she could not possibly be a match for the viciousness of Rachel Ashton. I almost trod on poor Georgiana's dress, I was so desperate to finish up the set. She looked at me a bit strangely but I forswore telling her anything about those corrupt people.

Father, the most extraordinary thing happened. Since none of us were standing nearby, we have our accounts secondhand, but I went over and over it with Lord Channing and the Markhams afterwards, as well as with Anne this morning, and they all swear to me that the following conversation took place:

After the initial introductions, Mrs. Ashton looked down at Anne and said, "So Miss de Bourgh, I understand that you are first cousin to Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Why have I not seen you in Town before?"

"I have been ill, madam."

"Yes, I can see your complexion is sallow."

The Markhams flinched, but Anne replied with perfect calm, "That is an unfortunate consequence of being ill."

Mrs. Ashton tried again with, "Is this your debut? A green gown. What an intriguing idea."

Anne smiled as though she thought it were a compliment and answered, "Thank you. Your gown is very nice. Many ladies are wearing that color tonight." (John swears he did not prompt her.)

Mrs. Ashton glanced at her cream silk, then looked smugly at Anne's green dress and replied, "I always say that ladies should never be mistaken for mantelpiece decorations."

Without removing her eyes, Anne replied in a puzzled voice, "But the mantelpiece decorations are white: winter rose, gardenia, and baby's breath." Fiona's eyes instantly strayed towards the mantel. Anne was correct. Lord Channing, who had overheard the entire exchange, excused himself from his conversation and drew closer.

Mrs. Ashton looked vexed and, turning her eyes towards the dancers, pointed with her fan at Elizabeth Darcy. "That would be Mr. Darcy's bride, I suppose. I have heard of her. She is that brilliantly scheming minx from Hertfordshire, is she not?"

"She is from Hertfordshire, yes." At this point the onlookers had to restrain their mouths from dropping. Fiona decided not to interfere.

"My dear," Mrs. Ashton smiled, in her most insinuating tone, "you need conceal no family secrets from me. We all have our little peccadilloes. Now tell me, how did she ever manage to catch Mr. Darcy?"

Directly Anne replied, "He proposed to her and she accepted."

Everyone standing nearby suddenly drew in their breath. Mrs. Ashton looked affronted, drew herself up, and said, "Miss de Bourgh, I know the truth of his engagement. There was more to it than that. Was it not something involving a disreputable younger sister of hers? What do you say?"

Anne looked confused and responded, "I do not know what to say, ma'am. No one has ever called me a liar before." In the most innocent possible tone!

Mrs. Ashton was struck dumb. But Lord Dawes jumped in, smiled at Anne in that unbearably condescending manner of his, and said, "I hear you are from the country, Miss de Bourgh. How ever do you entertain yourself in such closed society? You must play games very well."

"Indifferently, your Lordship. I am certain you are my superior at every kind of game." There were several low whistles. Lord Channing says he and the other onlookers were ready to burst at any moment.

Lord Dawes started, but recovered quickly and sneered, "Then you must be fond of music. Tell me, what is your favorite piece? The Wild Boar's Maggot, perhaps? Or The Dying Swan?" He and Mrs. Ashton tittered.

Fiona began to say something. But she needn't have worried. Anne replied in complete seriousness, "I love to hear 'The Royal Fireworks.' Except at the end, when they make all that irksome noise." It was Lord Dawes' turn to be dumbstruck.

The spectators were a thick, wide-eyed crowd by now, and murmuring to one another as though they were watching a tennis match. Anne never noticed, but Fiona heard the exclamations, "Stunning!" and "Touché!" Things were getting to be a bit much. She took Anne's arm and suggested, "My dear, let us go outside for a moment; the night air on the balcony is deliciously cool."

But before they had a chance to depart, Mrs. Ashton arched her brows and said coldly, "I am certain I shall cross your path again, Miss de Bourgh."

Anne remained friendly and polite as ever. "I would be happy to make your acquaintance further, Mrs. Ashton. Thank you for your conversation. You remind me of my mother." Even more gasps. Mrs. Ashton looked absolutely horrified. Fanning her face affectedly, she and her small entourage turned for the drawing room and fled with what little dignity they could muster, but not before Roger Talbot looked at her strangely and bowed with what appeared to be respect.

With all the surrounding guests suddenly abuzz about Anne, she turned to Fiona and asked with a frown, "Mrs. Markham, I must ask -- they seem like rather odd people. Did I behave badly? Was I not polite? I hope I did not say anything wrong." Fiona could scarcely think of a reply, but at that moment our set mercifully came to an end. We bowed much too quickly and raced over to Anne (with decorum, Father, with decorum).

Lord Channing came up to us, grinning. It was clear that Anne had been in the center of some commotion. Darcy asked, "Channing, what the devil happened? What are those people doing here?"

His Lordship exclaimed, "My God, Darcy, your cousin; why have you been hiding her from us all this time? She's brilliant, absolutely brilliant! Lord Dawes and Mrs. Ashton tried to embarrass her in front of everyone, but she simply rose above everything -- sent them running in full retreat! You should have seen it, the way she slyly pretended not to understand them, just stared back blankly, and then BANG! Destroyed them with perfect ripostes! Genius, man! What a tactician!"

Darcy and I were speechless. But you can hardly blame us. What was there to say?...

...had I known that she would attempt to insult Miss de Bourgh, and on her first evening in society no less, I would never have introduced them, but there was no turning back. I could not cause a scandal by putting anyone out the door, even when Mr. Darcy quietly requested it. I know that the best way to deal with poor behavior is to rise above it and not pay a jot of attention, of course, so I turned away to attend to my other guests...

...apparently this Mrs. Ashton has caused trouble for my husband and the Colonel in years past, for she approached intending some sort of revenge, but Anne actually bested her. The fact that it was completely unintentional made no difference. I still cannot believe it. The winner of a repartee contest, and with the Prince Regent's cousin and his mistress, no less -- ANNE DE BOURGH?

You can imagine what happened next. Fitzwilliam and the Colonel were immediately surrounded by young gentlemen begging for the honor of Anne's hand. Cards flew into their hands, friends they hadn't seen since University came out of the woodwork; it was overwhelming. Fortunately Fitzwilliam's respectable friend Lord Channing had been there during the actual conversation and Anne kept glancing at him.

So Lord Channing led her to the floor for "Belles of the Town" and they were at the head of the line. We were a little unnerved, but she handled it beautifully. She danced exactly as we had practiced at Hayward House, except she did not step on anyone's feet. Absolutely everyone in the room was staring at her with respectful smiles and great attentiveness, and only then did I realized that something else was happening. The other ladies in the set were making lively, flirtatious gestures, batting their eyes coquettishly. Anne stood straight, held her head high, looked her partner in the eye, and never removed her gaze the entire time, just as we had instructed her. It gave an impression of regal confidence. Unlike all the other dancers, she never made any flirtatious movements because she doesn't know how!

Open-mouthed shock is hardly a polite facial expression, and yet someone mentioned that our entire party, including Georgiana and the Sheffields, did precisely that as we watched her...

...you cannot imagine my astonishment when it finally dawned on me. Scores of sophisticated guests, and here was my cousin Anne, the mouse, decidedly brilliant! The belle of the ball! And all due to everyone making exactly the same extraordinary mistake. Anne's innocent conversation was taken for genius, her unsophisticated dancing taken for majestic dignity, her timid smile taken for mysterious.

While everyone watched her dance with Lord Channing, and I watched everyone watching her dance with Lord Channing, the Marquis Newbury approached me. He is the eldest son of the Duke of Hampshire. "Mr. Darcy, I must have a dance with your bewitching cousin. I must. I beg you for an introduction. A refusal would crush me."

A Duke's eldest son! I hope I did not stammer too much. "Well, Anne is not, I mean she is..."

"Her manners! Her hair! Her style of dress, so bold and stunning! Surpasses every other lady in the room. She looks simply ravishing. And her smile, that enigmatic Mona Lisa smile! That is what everyone is calling her, you know; the Mona Lisa!"

I was completely tongue-tied and hoping Elizabeth would rescue me. She managed to come up with, "Yes, Miss de Bourgh certainly does appear to have a few secrets."

"Look at her regal presence, she is a Da Vinci portrait come to life! Or a Botticelli! A Venus!"

"What an interesting comparison," I remarked. The Marquis Newbury always does imbibe overmuch, and too early in the evening. Elizabeth covered her face with her handkerchief in a brave attempt not to laugh. I glanced over at William hoping he had taken Georgiana somewhere else, but he was surrounded by gentlemen proffering cards...

...I can hardly blame you if you have passed out from shock while reading this missive, Father, because I thought I would drop dead right there on the spot. But there was still more to come.

We decided that despite the degrading presence of Mrs. Ashton and Roger Talbot, we should maintain our dignity and stay at the ball. After all, Anne was a tremendous success, the troublemakers had been put in their place, and there were at least two hundred other guests, so we could hardly think that there would be any further problems.

'Belles of the Town' finished and there was polite applause for Anne and Lord Channing (yes, applause; you read correctly). Elizabeth, aiding in our joint conspiracy, took the lead in retiring with the ladies to refresh themselves, while Darcy and I seized Edgar's arms, hurried him into a corner, and ordered, "Sir, we realize you prefer to leave strategy sessions at the Foreign Office, but this is an emergency. Apply your social genius to sorting out these." And we thrust into his hands the two dozen or so calling cards that had been foisted upon us by gentlemen pleading for the honor of an introduction to "The Mona Lisa."

Edgar, who could barely restrain his glee, made short work of the cards. He asked, "Shall I sort them by title, reputation, fortune, or..." Darcy answered, "Reputation;" I said, "Prefers easy dances." He tore up two cards and threw them in a wastebasket, pulled out six others, arranged them in some mysterious order known only to him, and said, "Here. The one on top first; his father is Chair of the Royal Botanical Society."

So with our completely altered game plan in place, we waited for Anne to reappear and then introduced her to The Honorable Godfrey Bledsoe...

...cousins introduced her to several young gentlemen so that they could enjoy the remainder of the evening unencumbered by escort duties. The Colonel would have asked me for another dance except that he was fatigued from the vigors of "The Touchstone" and preferred to spend the next hour in conversation with the numerous wealthy and titled faces gathered about. He looked quite stunned, obviously because he had no idea that I could attract such quality to my ball, and I was so pleased to see that he approved of my small social talents.

Lord Dawes and his party gathered a few friends and formed a dance set of their own, so with that little problem smoothed over, I spent the next hour chatting amiably with my guests and tastefully rearranging the place cards for dinner. Originally I had planned for the Darcys and the Colonel to sit at the head table with the Prince's cousin and myself, but now one of those parties had to go, so after an agony of indecision I moved Lord Dawes to another table.

Master Chef Diderot's preparations were flawless...*

...never had oysters before. They are not quite my thing, but my husband seems to like them. There was also an excellent leg of lamb and new veal -- in winter, Jane, and what it may have cost her I cringe to think. As if all that were not enough, the meal finally ended with petit fours, chocolate torte, cheese, fruit, and ice cream. I had to be careful lest I overindulge and fall asleep shortly after dinner; I would not wish to usurp Mr. Hurst's job.

During dinner we drank a toast to the poor King's health, and a toast to the Prince Regent, and a toast to the defeat of the French, and a toast to the Twelfth Night of Christmas, and then -- this took me by surprise -- a toast to the newlywed Darcys! I was rather grateful to be able to skip one, for you know I cannot take more than one glass of wine in an evening and was forced to take very small sips so that I would not disgrace myself.

It seems that the after-dinner custom in Town is that the ladies gather for music and coffee, while the gentlemen gather for billiards and an adjacent room set-aside for political talk and cigars. If they wish to converse with each other, they meet in the ballroom. The gentlemen may also go to hear music, but the ladies may not play billiards, which vexes me as my husband was just beginning to teach me the game. However, I cannot say that I am anything but relieved to skip the politics and tobacco.

Miss Bingley insisted that Georgiana and I open the musical entertainment -- "it is your first evening, my dears, my guests long to hear you play" -- so we had no choice but to comply. Fortunately Georgiana and I have developed a partnership whereby she plays and I sing, so we performed a brief rendition of "Batti, Batti, O Bel Masetto"** which is one of our favorites at home. (Pemberley is HOME, Jane!) My husband looked on smiling all this time, gazing at me with those indescribably deep brown eyes while I sang. I should have liked him to remain by my side all evening, but after we completed our piece, he was drawn away by some gentleman friend of his to the billiard table...

...would rather have heard more music, especially since Christina Sheffield was present, but some gentlemen from my club wished to speak to me about an urgent problem. This was rather the last thing I needed, as it has been something of a busy winter, but I racked up a billiard game and listened while they explained.

It seems that Mr. Roger Talbot, who served a brief jail term for contraband possession after that infamous party, spent the intervening years on the Continent and is now attempting to work his way back into society via my London club. Several other members pressed me to add my voice to theirs in pushing for his acceptance. Of course I declined without hesitation. Indeed, I could not understand what they were thinking until I perceived the panic underlying their features. Then I recalled his family's fortune, and the cards-and-horses habits of numerous members. When I hinted at this connection in an undertone, my suspicions proved correct. Many of the club members were greatly indebted to him and he was exerting this leverage to push his acceptance.

I could hardly think which was more disgusting to me: Talbot's blackmail, or the folly of wealthy gentlemen unable to hold onto the gifts God had given them at birth. But I held back the temptation for a fruitless moral lecture, stood fast in my refusal, and excused myself from the billiards table as soon as my game was done. I found the Colonel in the men's drawing room and quietly apprised him of the situation, then departed for a much more agreeable atmosphere near the piano forte, where Mrs. Sheffield was favoring the guests with a beautiful rendition of Beethoven's Third Piano Sonata...

...Edgar was in his element, leading the political conversation with his usual combination of wit and insight, which is one of the reasons I enjoy attending events with him; it spares me the necessity of saying anything memorable.

I was listening to him hold forth on the reasons that Napoleon still poses a serious threat despite the Russia fiasco***, when suddenly I smelled breath which stood out even in that crowd, and looked to my left to see Roger Talbot clutching my sleeve. His family has a habit of grabbing me in the most detestable manner. Through slurred speech, he said, "So, Colonel, I understand you are the guardian of the lovely Mona Lisa."

"Her name is Miss de Bourgh, and I am not her real guardian," I replied stiffly, detaching my arm, "only her cousin, and escort while she visits Town."

"Suppose I desire an introduction to the lady who has made so formidable an impression upon London society? It would do a power of good for my morale, and might incline me towards generosity in my dealings with your club friends. I might even be persuaded to forgive some of them. What do you say?"

I could not conceal my disgust. Like every other man in the room, Talbot had figured out that Anne was the shining star of the evening, and he was determined to exploit her success. So I told him firmly that a delicate lady like Anne de Bourgh was only just beginning to come out, that she was certainly not to be trusted to the likes of him, and that her only suitors would have to be respectable gentlemen who had never been held in jail for possession of contraband.

Talbot's face turned black as thunder. I forget every loathsome word he used, but he roared that he was sick of the d--- way that I constantly insult his family, added something about teaching me a lesson, and suddenly turned to the corner of the room, where he grabbed a rapier. My rapier, I was shocked to see. It is part of my formal dress uniform, and for ease of movement I had entrusted it upon arrival to Miss Bingley's steward, who assured me it would be kept safely on a nearby weapons rack. Somehow Talbot had got hold of it, whether by design or chance theft I know not.

In desperate self-defense, I picked up a chair. Talbot lunged; I was lucky to parry in time. He was cursing at me and I was, well, not too pleased myself. Other men were scurrying out of the way and yelling for him to stop. In that closed room I did not have enough space to defend myself effectively, so holding the chair in front of me, I retreated into the ball room.

People shouted and made way. Talbot lunged too short and I parried; he lunged at me again in closer distance and I kicked the blade with my boot, then hit him square in the face with the chair. I thought I had broken his nose, but he got up a few seconds later. At that moment I heard Darcy yell, "Watch your back, Colonel!" Lord Dawes, the dishonorable villain, had been sneaking up on me, sword in hand, if you please; he was very drunk. But my cousin had already rushed to block him. I yelled, "Back to me, Darcy!" and there the two of us stood in the center of the room, back to back, armed with a chair and fists against two swords...

...I have never heard the Colonel swearing like that, so I hurried over, and there in the middle of the commotion were the two handsomest gentlemen in Town, covering each other's tall, strong backs, glaring with manly fortitude and standing in brave solidarity against their attackers. The sight nearly made me faint (from horror, mind you, at the thought they might have been injured) and instantly recognizing my duty, I risked my own safety to rush forward and put a stop to the fight at once...

...followed my husband when he raced out of the music room. When I saw the fight, I started crying, "Stop, stop!" Georgiana and I ran and stood between my husband and Lord Dawes, and Anne rushed in to cover the Colonel. Not to be outdone, Miss Bingley followed her a few moments later. Lord Dawes was staring in drunken disbelief at our interference when Edgar Sheffield calmly walked up from his blind side and hit him over the head with a potted plant, which dropped him on the spot. "Just like old schooldays, eh, Colonel?" he quipped, receiving, "Shut up, Edgar," for his pains.

Upon seeing Lord Dawes lying stunned on the floor, Mrs. Ashton began screaming hysterically, and to bring her to her senses Mrs. Sheffield grabbed a punch bowl and dumped the contents over her head. (It seemed to me water would have done just as well, but she said she would explain later.)

Just then we were all silenced by a furiously loud voice: "Mr. Talbot, this is NOT POLITE!" Jane, it was Anne! I would never have expected it from that meek little thing. She sounded as imperious as her mother! "Mr. Talbot," she repeated, "you are not being polite. Stop attacking my cousin. Isn't that Fitzwilliam's sword? Give it to me at once." And she stepped forward and stretched out her hand.

Mr. Talbot looked astonished. Slowly he straightened up, stared at her for several seconds, and then handed her the weapon without a word. She picked it up very stiffly with both hands on the grip, said, "Thank you," turned carefully, and held it out to the Colonel point down.

While all the guests stood watching in amazement, she whirled back around and cried, "Mr. Talbot! I thought you were a gentleman. I was having a nice evening and now you've ruined everything!" She started to rush out, turned back and added, "And you don't know how to lunge! You swing like a baboon!" Then she burst into a flood of tears and fled for the door, leaving a shocked room behind her. A minute later Colonel Fitzwilliam composed himself and went after her, while Georgiana and I hugged my husband in relief...

...I did NOT ask Elizabeth to cover me, sir; on my honor, I swear I did not. You know your daughter's fearless nature. She and Georgiana only intervened to prevent me from being run through, and the drunken Lord Dawes obviously meant them no harm, for he stopped as soon as he saw them. I would have moved them out of the way had Edgar Sheffield not appeared with the philodendron. (He tore off a leaf and asked Anne about it later, and she identified it as...oh, never mind. My thoughts are still a bit rattled.)

At that point we were all unnerved and done in for the evening, so I gathered my family and the Sheffields...

...Darcy spent a few minutes holding Elizabeth and Georgiana and reassuring them that he was unharmed, while I went after Anne. She was sobbing out in the front hall, so I took her in my arms and comforted her. No one had been harmed, she had been magnificent, everyone said so, she was the belle of the evening. But of course she needed to return home at once, so we all pulled ourselves together and departed.

I wish to make several things clear, Father. First, Anne seemed to be just fine this morning. Very cheerful, in fact. Secondly, the newspaper coverage has showered her with praise, and London society is nearly prostrate at her feet. Third, when Lady Catherine hears about this entire affair, especially Anne's contact with the Disgraceful Darcys, please do anything in your power to prevent her from coming to Town to retrieve her daughter. If you can manage this trick I will be forever in your debt. Actually, I am already forever in your debt, but you understand my meaning.

And finally, I have never known a situation in which so many carefully laid plans have gone every which way and backwards. Well, possibly the Frog's invasion of Moscow, but definitely nothing else. I beg and grovel to remain, sir, your most respectful and mortified son,

Colonel Fitzwilliam

...I apologized over and over most profusely, but how could I possibly have foreseen such a disaster? I ordered brandy for the entire party and offered to let them stay the night, for they seemed terribly shaken and I thought perhaps a decent night's sleep and a good hot breakfast would help, but it was to no avail; they would go. And shortly after they left, all the rest of my guests departed as well. Louisa is no help; she says I should consider myself fortunate that there were no police required!

Dearest brother, I simply MUST get away. Hudson has just brought me yet another morning paper with...oh, it is too much. Why cannot my life go as I plan it for just ONE NIGHT? I shall see you at Netherfield at once. Your sister,

Caroline

...invited us to stay the night, despite the fact that we live less than a mile away. She is single-minded and persistent, I will give her credit. And knowing how handsome my husband looks at breakfast, I can't say I blame her for trying to get a similar glimpse of his cousin.

Georgiana, who is only 16, still seemed a bit distressed this morning, so we shall probably take her riding in the park today, but Anne is perfectly calm. She has been receiving floral arrangements since ten o'clock. As for the scandalsheet coverage, it is both irksome, since it exists at all, and entertaining, since it is largely in our favor. I enclose a clipping to illustrate my meaning.

You have permission to share this news with our parents; my husband is writing to Father even as I write to you. I was not expecting Lady Catherine to hear the news of our subterfuge in such a spectacular manner, but I own that it had to happen some time, and I would like to attempt a reconciliation so that I may honor Charlotte Collins' request to be at her side for her firstborn in March.

But I am learning not to make plans too carefully, as Fate seems to have its own unique course for my life. When I think of where I stood a year ago, and where I stand now, so much has happened that I can scarcely believe it. Upon reflection, and if our parish priest will forgive a hint of blasphemy, I think God must have quite a sense of humor. I remain your "lovely and protective" sister,

Elizabeth Darcy

...the Colonel and I downed a couple of quick shots of brandy (somehow our social events keep ending that way) and we all returned home.

I enclose a couple of newspaper clippings so you can see the worst for yourself. The coverage has been oddly in our favor, but of course we would all prefer to stay as far out of the public eye as possible. I have told Elizabeth that if she wishes to return to Pemberley we can leave at any time, but she seems to be taking the whole thing with more grace than I.

I cannot begin to tell you how terribly sorry I am to have involved your daughter in such an outrageous ruckus, and beg to remain, sir, your most apologetic son-in-law,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Dearest Mother,

My visit to Town proceeds splendidly. It is a very interesting place. I have met a large number of wealthy, titled, and reputable gentlemen. Lord Sheffield is conducting proper introductions on my behalf, and we shall meet some of them again at the Opera next week.

I am cultivating a sudden interest in Continental painting, and Mrs. Sheffield will accompany me to the British Museum to see the Da Vinci drawings. I especially want to view reproductions of his most famous works to see if I resemble...that is, I have an interest in the subject in a general way. The Marchioness Eastbrook sends her regards. Love from your daughter,

Anne

My Dear Parents,

Christina and I have received your missive. By all means take your time returning from Lancashire. We would not wish to tear you away from your first grandchild. So sorry to hear that Penny is still unwell. We hope that Richard is holding up.

Town is indescribably dull this season. Nothing interesting is happening and we are all simply falling asleep with boredom. Even the London scandalsheets are as empty as a dry well. Thanks to your head of staff, Hayward House practically runs itself, so there is no need for you to hurry back. In fact, why not stay a few months and have the baby christened at Easter? You may not get a chance to see him again for a while, and it would be such an auspicious start to his life. We are both in good health and send our love to everyone. Your devoted son,

Edgar

To the McGann Bros. Millinery:

Immediately and at any cost, I must have eight bolts of dark green silk, four bolts of dark green muslin, and two bolts of dark green satin. I do not care how you obtain them, it must be done, and quickly!

Mrs. Shelby, Dressmaker
Tottenham Court Road

Dear Miss De Bourgh,

I hope your guardians will forgive the impropriety of sending you a bouquet without their permission, but I feared they might be too angry at me to accept my apologies. I watched with fascination your triumph throughout the evening of the Twelfth Night Ball and do apologize if you took offense at the comments of my sister, Mrs. Ashton. I remember how you noticed the white mantelpiece flowers but was unable to obtain anything similar. I hope you like baby violets.

I am terribly sorry that my overindulgence led me to attack your cousin. I meant him no harm, in truth, but you were quite right to disarm me. I shall never forget the sight of you standing there in your beautiful gown, all a-quiver in indignation. You will be happy to hear that I paid for my crimes with a swollen nose, an upset stomach, and an atrocious headache, which forced me to remain in bed with cold cloths on my forehead all the next day.

And my fencing master, sadly, says you were quite correct. I do swing my arm like a baboon.

Sincerest regrets from the repentant

Mr. Roger Talbot

* An upper class meal in Regency England consisted of soup, several animal dishes, wines, and desserts, and could run three hours or more. It was typical afterwards for men and women to separate into different drawing rooms for conversation.

** "Batti, Batti, O Bel Masetto": Zerlina's gorgeous, seductive aria from Mozart's "Don Giovanni"

*** Napoleon entered Russia from the Niemen River on June 26, 1812, with an army of 400,000 soldiers, and returned to the same spot on December 13 with a mere 30,000 survivors.

Posted on Wednesday, 4 July 2001

Friday, January 8, 18--

To Colonel Fitzwilliam, c/o Hayward House, Mayfair

Dear Son,

For a military man, you evidently have problems understanding direct orders, so I shall write in simple terms.

What did I ask you to do? One thing. Keep Anne out of trouble.

Did you do it? You did not.

And how long did it take you to disobey this single, eminently reasonable request? Two weeks.

I am glad I overruled your mother when she suggested you were suited to the diplomatic corps.

Lady Catherine is apoplectic. She has been raving like -- I don't know, like a mad raving thing, even the poodle was ducking -- and she is determined to journey to Town to retrieve her daughter from the clutches of "grossly inadequate supervision." She is also determined to meet with the Marchioness Eastbrook and with Lord Sheffield, who were supposed to prevent this sort of thing. Obviously she has not yet discerned that it was really Anne's cousins who invited her to Town. However, if she does not meet with the Marchioness and the Earl, even my sister will gradually perceive that a trick that has been practiced upon her and poor Anne will bear the brunt of her wrath.

I know full well that Anne will feel honour-bound to comply with her mother's wishes. Therefore you, son, bear full responsibility for working out a solution and saving my niece's health and happiness. How you will ever manage it I cannot begin to speculate, but you have until Tuesday evening to figure out your next move. Our little party here at Rosings has managed to delay Lady Catherine's arrival until then. You owe your life to Mrs. Collins.

I do not want to hear that you have ducked out of town for the relative safety of the artillery corps. Be a man and face your Aunt Catherine with hat in hand. And for God's sake, can't you stick to harmless afternoon teas?

Your father,

Henry, Earl of Matlock

Dearest William,

Do not ever, ever leave your rapier where drunken louts can get at it again! Whatever were you thinking? You could have been killed and broken my poor heart! Why not write the words "I am determined to worry my mother to an early grave" on your uniform? And what about Anne? If she had been run through, however would we have explained things to Lady Catherine? Her only surviving child, murdered in a drunken brawl! I am all aghast!

There, that feels better. Now on to the real substance of my correspondence.

Your father is writing you a separate letter from mine, and I fear he may sound a bit more put out than is normally his wont. Forgive him, please; he is distressed at the condition of his hearing after spending the morning in his sister's company. The news left us rather startled. Not about the mayhem, of course, since that is only to be expected in the life of a still-single gentleman, even if he is no longer in the first flush of youth. But our niece Anne, gorgeous and brilliant? How extraordinary! We are delighted she has been such a success, despite the unfortunate attendant circumstances.

Lady Catherine seemed more upset about the contact with the Darcys than about the scandalsheet coverage, for I have spied her in the sitting room going over the paragraphs about the sparkling debut of the "Mona Lisa." She is, of course, planning to come to London to supervise Anne, but shall not be departing until Tuesday next. Your father happened to be grumbling about the situation to dear Mrs. Collins (her husband is a very fortunate man), who instantly thought of a suitable sermon topic and passed it along to Mr. Collins, who presented the idea to your Aunt at tea, which is why Sunday's sermon will be on the parable of the prodigal son, dedicated to fortifying Catherine for her journey.

Mrs. Collins further requested her company for a visit to the village on Monday, as she required Lady Catherine's advice on suitable patterns and materials for baby clothes. I shall reiterate. An entire day in the village with Lady Catherine taking advice on baby clothes. Either Topper's or Beauchamp's in Oxford Street would be suitable for purchasing the Reverend's wife a nice, expensive present.

On that subject, what did Henry and Eleanor send you for Christmas? They had made for us the most darling engravings of our two sweet grandchildren. You should have seen the letter which accompanied the gifts; simply filled with their joy in watching little Harry learn to read and Abby speaking her first words! It is such a comfort to have one son so well settled, and to know that his dear, lovely wife has made him the happiest of men. And while you are in Town, do take the time to call upon Mrs. Fields in Clifford Street and convey your parents' respects, for we neglected to send her our best wishes upon the recent birthday of her beautiful and witty daughter, Teresa.

But I digress. Go back to tearing up the Town, and rest assured that I have every confidence in your ability to resolve this little problem. I am certain that a young gentleman of your resourcefulness will manage the situation in a dignified and prudent manner. Fondest wishes from your devoted mother,

Abigail, Countess of Matlock

Nephew,

How DARE you! You may think I live in ignorance here in Kent, but all the news reaches me from Town within two days. I know all about the infamous ball you attended with my darling daughter Anne. You know perfectly well that she is not to be in contact with Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy and his upstart wife, yet when you saw them you failed to depart immediately! How must she have felt standing in the same room all evening with the man who snubbed her hand and ruined all her mother's hopes? Is such an insult to be borne?

But just one disaster was not enough for you, was it, nephew? You had to involve her in a fight! Heavens above, have you no sense of dignity or honor? Using my fragile, delicate flower as a human shield! She could have been stabbed, or fainted, or shown her calves, or...any number of things! And the scandalsheet coverage! I am at a loss for words! I am flabbergasted, disgusted, shocked, and appalled! Now what will happen to her St. James presentation?

I was aware that you have been in contact with Anne while she is under the protection of Lord Sheffield and the Marchioness Eastbrook, but I had no idea that their supervision of her has been so lax! I am certain there has been some terrible misunderstanding and am coming directly to Matlock House on Tuesday evening to take Anne's social supervision into my own competent hands, and to interview her potential husbands personally so that I may select the most appropriate choice for my son-in-law.

And I am not surprised that a De Bourgh is the most ravishing debutante of the season, but did you have to allow her to be given a nickname -- and after one of those immoral Italians, too!

Lady Catherine

My dear Anne,

Have no fear, my darling, I am coming to rescue you. I have read all about the traumas and horrors you have suffered in London and am coming to protect you from any further contact with your shameful cousin Fitzwilliam Darcy and his upstart country wife. How Marchioness Eastbrook and Lord Sheffield can have been so inattentive to your supervision I know not, for people of proper breeding are usually much more cautious about these things. After I ascertain how such a dreadful mistake occurred, I will take your London season in hand myself, be at your side for your court presentation, and decide which of your suitors is appropriate to be your husband.

Take naps several times daily to preserve your strength, and use your face creams. Avoid any fatiguing activities that would endanger your constitution, such as dancing, music, walking, riding, or conversing on national affairs. Do remember to dress in a way which preserves your distinction of rank, and eschew these lurid modern styles which display allurements that God meant to be properly hidden. And if for reasons heaven only knows, you are still fascinated by plant life, do be certain not to discuss this topic with anyone. For a young lady to appear excessively knowledgeable is highly improper and forward. It makes one seem domineering, which will never do until after you are married.

I will be at Matlock House on Tuesday evening and expect to see you and Colonel Fitzwilliam awaiting my arrival. Yours affectionately,

Mama

Dear Mr. Darcy,

I am delighted that we are beginning to strike up such a regular correspondence, sir. It seems that every time you attend a social event, I receive a fascinating letter of apology. Mrs. Bennet enjoyed a brief half-hour of fainting and hysterics before running out to share the news with the rest of the village, providing me with the additional benefit of a nice quiet day at home.

Your apology is accepted. I am delighted for you to continue escorting my little Lizzy to all the events you please, as long as you understand that if any harm comes to her, I will be forced to kill you.

Congratulations on the spectacular debut of your cousin Anne. When can I send Kitty to you? She is doing nothing interesting at present, as she informs me several times daily. But as you all seem rather preoccupied, you do not by any chance need someone to look after the Pemberley library while you are in Town? Yours etc.,

Bennet

Saturday, January 9

Dearest Lizzy,

Thank you for your explanation of the ball, which arrived, alas, a bit belatedly. Shortly after waking today we received an express from Caroline announcing her imminent arrival. Scarcely an hour later she appeared at the front door, furious and dripping wet. The coach's rear wheels had become stuck in the mire within sight of the house, and she insisted on slogging through the snowfall to reach our door rather than permit the coachman to find a cart for her. Before we even had time to show her to a warm bath, Mama arrived, shrieking that you had been run through. Papa had received a letter from Mr. Darcy about the ball and she took the news with her usual restraint.

Caroline then turned on Mama in a fury, calling her a silly woman without an ounce of sense, and Mama retaliated by charging her with being a negligent hostess who had placed you in harm's way on purpose, and Caroline said that her energies would have been wasted on you and it would have been better to place Mama in harm's way, and Mama accused her of being a proud overdressed parakeet, and Caroline accused Mama of being a fat vulgar social schemer, and just when it looked as though they would lay hands on each other, I heard an outraged voice bellow, "LADIES! DESIST!" and had to look around the room before realizing it came from my husband.

Eventually, however, they saw reason -- pursuant to a good breakfast and a few hot toddies in separate dining rooms. They offered mutual apologies, not in especially good grace, but with some gentle persuasion that they had both been under too much strain of late and ought not to give relief to their feelings by abusing one another.

A few hours later we received your letter about the ball, which explained a good deal. Poor Caroline. Charles attempted to sooth her wounded feelings by pointing out that HER name was never mentioned in the papers except briefly, but for some reason that seemed to make her more upset.

On another subject, Lydia has decided not to visit us at Netherfield after all because she and Wickham are going to London. It seems that Wickham has risen to become personal assistant to the Colonel of his Newcastle regiment, and Lydia is a great friend of the Colonel's wife, so they are accompanying them while the Colonel is on military business in Town. It is an excellent excuse for the change of scene they wanted. I am very happy for both of them and would have sent the money they requested to cover their travel expenses except that you wished me to do nothing of the kind. I know this news may concern you, but have no fear of encountering them by chance. They are staying in the Westminster quarters for military officers and wives, and move in quite different circles from you.

Dearest Charles has just kissed the back of my neck and asked me to rub his aching head, so I must close. I remain your loving sister,

Jane

Charles wishes to add a note for your husband...

Darcy -- Please consider assisting me by scouting out estates near Pemberley when you are next in Derbyshire, as I begin to have a nostalgic longing for that beautiful part of the country and Jane would be delighted to live near her favourite sister. -- Bingley

Dear Parents,

I apologize for the return address on this notice as being from Henry and Eleanor, but Lady Catherine would open it if I signed my name.

You are correct that Anne is ill-prepared to face her mother's wrath. When informed that Lady Catherine intended to take control of her London season, she was immediately seized with a fit of coughing and sniffling, and Mrs. Sheffield says she is beginning to be feverish.

However, I believe I have figured out a solution. Suppose Lady Catherine were to meet the Marchioness Eastbrook, who presented a plausible excuse for the scandal and persuaded her to let Anne stay with the Sheffields? Lady Catherine has been overruled by a Marchioness's title in a letter, so surely she can be subdued in person.

The Marchioness Eastbrook is, of course, a stranger to our family, but there is no law saying her place may not be taken by an impostor under such extraordinary circumstances - someone of generous and kind spirit, someone who has a way with imperious and demanding sorts; someone whose manners and breeding could easily be mistaken for those of a Marchioness. Darcy and I have put our heads together, and we think we know of someone who will do.

Think proudly on the family gift of resourcefulness which appears so abundantly in

Your Son,

Colonel Fitzwilliam

Dear Aunt Gardiner,

....

My Dear Mrs. Annesley,

You can have no idea how pleased I was to receive your missive. We are all very well, thank you, although still recovering from the events you read about. Please rest assured that I do not take any offense at your contacting me. You were correct in assuming that our current arrangement for Georgiana's supervision could stand some improvement.

I am sorry, for your sake, to hear that your present position is not amenable to you, but for my sake I am delighted. I only regret not contacting you earlier to inform you how long we planned to remain in Town. It would be my pleasure to employ you as Miss Darcy's tutor for the remainder of the London season. I am certain that we can work out an arrangement which will allow you ample time to care for your ailing father.

My sister misses you greatly and has often spoken of you to her cousin, Anne de Bourgh, the one you read about. If anything, Miss Darcy is better prepared for London than Miss de Bourgh, so we have you to thank for the excellent training my sister received in one short year.

My wife and I, together with Miss Darcy, would not wish to inconvenience you while you are occupied with filial duties, and would be happy to call upon you at your home. Would Wednesday afternoon at four be acceptable? If not, please do notify us; otherwise, we shall see you then.

Yours most gratefully,

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy

Colonel Fitzwilliam,

I am aware of your fine work carrying out your duties via post. Your secretary Lieutenant Hawkinson has been efficient and hard working, but he says he owes a great deal to the clarity of your instructions. Let me tell you what a pleasant surprise it is to have a Colonel who can actually design and carry out plans without a hitch. Therefore, since you already happen to be in Town, I have an assignment for you.

As you are aware, it looks as though the Continental troubles are coming to a head. Since the Frog's troops have been decimated by the Moscow disaster, we must seize the chance to reinforce our numbers. A few weeks ago General Wellesley put in an order that all Northern regiments, even the militia, be completely reorganized to accommodate what we hope shall be a final push to crush the d--- Frogs once and for all.

The Northern regiments' Commanding Officers have been meeting in Town for the last week to organize this effort, and you are ordered to present yourself at our staff meeting at the War Rooms tomorrow at nine in the morning. I know I gave my officers leave to have a restful holiday for a change, but our plans are suffering from the usual glitch -- Colonel Baxter of the Newcastle Regulars -- and we need you to talk some sense into him. I give up.

By the by, my wife has shown me some scandalsheet stories -- don't know what she sees in such nonsense, but women, you know -- and they claim you were involved in a fight at some frivolous society ball and needed a lady to protect you. I realize the papers are full of balderdash and not to be trusted, but do try to keep a lower profile; the regiment has its reputation to consider.

Monday morning at the War Rooms, Westminster, nine sharp. Cancel your schedule and confirm by local mail runner. Your Commander and His Majesty's Loyal And Obedient Servant,

General Gaynor

General Gaynor,

Message received. I shall appear as ordered Monday morning, nine sharp. Fortunately, I don't have much else to do right about now.

Yours and His Majesty's Loyal and Obedient Servant,

Colonel Fitzwilliam

My dear Darcy,

I was very glad to see you again at the Twelfth Night Ball. It had indeed been too long since we last met. You have my sympathies for the newspaper attention, since I have always known how carefully you guard your privacy. However, rest assured that it will die down eventually. And may I reiterate my congratulations upon your choice of wife; Mrs. Darcy is perfectly delightful.

By now a man of your astuteness has perceived that I write in order to beg further acquaintance with your bewitching cousin, Miss de Bourgh. I hope you will not think me presumptuous in wishing for more association with that charming lady, but she is so very different from other young ladies in Town -- indeed, all that is kind, gentle, and sincere -- that my one too-brief dance with her was a true joy.

Before too many other gentlemen jump in ahead of me, may I beg for the honor of inviting you and your relations to dinner? If you have no fixed engagements on Monday and do not disapprove of my seeking to know her better, I would be delighted to see you all at seven o'clock. Yours most sincerely,

Albert, Lord Channing

...my private box at the Opera, the perfect place to see and be seen, where we may enjoy the enchanting music of "The Magic Flute" on Tuesday evening...

James, Marquis Newbury

...to my father's home on Thursday to see our family's collection of rare tropical flowers, with utmost propriety, of course...

The Honorable Godfrey Bledsoe

...my beagles would love to be introduced to her, and so would my mother...

Sir Ralph Wittleman

For darling Miss de Bourgh, the true "Mona Lisa" --

When I hear women's laughter, see the color green, or smell gardenias, I am consumed with thoughts of you. To have you so near, yet so far away, is torture. I cannot eat. I get no rest. My heart is aflame, my soul quakes. I must see you again.

I am aware that your relations disapprove of me, but how can I resist you? Your soul calls to me as a kindred spirit from afar. I must, I will find some way of placing this letter in your hands, for what are obstacles to a desperate man? To gaze upon your beautiful eyes, to hear your dulcet voice, to hold your graceful figure in my arms, I would brave all the devils of hell. Please have mercy upon my suffering and agree to a clandestine meeting. In your tiny hands you hold the only hope of happiness for your most ardent and faithful admirer,

Mr. Roger Talbot

Monday, January 11

Dear Colonel Fitzwilliam,

My wife and I joined Mr. Darcy and Lizzy today for luncheon to discuss the problem of Miss de Bourgh and her overbearing mother. I regret that you were, at the last moment, unable to join us, but realize that duty often calls at inconvenient moments. However, I feel it necessary to make our position clear.

As I understand the situation, you and Mr. Sheffield removed Miss de Bourgh from her mother's dominance by falsifying an invitation from a Marchioness that you do not know. Anne was then involved in a fight, her social life has been exposed in all the papers, and you need someone to impersonate a Marchioness to overrule Lady Catherine before she ruins Anne's London season or takes her back to Kent.

Well. And I thought Lizzy's engagement was complicated.

My wife and I have a difference of opinion on this subject. It seems to me that an impersonation would be unlikely to succeed, and that the best solution is for Miss de Bourgh simply to say "no" to her mother and ask to remain in London with her new friends. Though this viewpoint may be legally dubious, I truly believe that where a parent's taste and judgment are wanting, a judicious application of tactful assertion is called for. Lizzy, for example, has never had any difficulty in standing up to her mother, and it has been all to the good, or she would have been the wife of Mr. Collins by now.

Theresa, on the other hand, points out that whereas Lizzy has always enjoyed the support and encouragement of her father, Miss de Bourgh is obligated to obey her one surviving parent. She notes that Miss de Bourgh has been away from her mother scarcely five weeks, hardly enough time to develop a newfound sense of courage. And Theresa is very well accustomed to dealing with short and demanding temperaments - our children, I mean, not me.

After taking into consideration Lady Catherine's behavior towards the Darcys, I will consent to loan you my wife on Wednesday evening as long as everyone understands that, if anything goes wrong, you have never heard of me. Yours in stealth,

Mr. E. Gardiner

General Gaynor,

Per your orders, here is my report of the incident at today's staff meeting at the War Rooms and some suggestions to prevent such incidents in the future.

As ordered, I presented myself at Westminster this morning to spend the day translating the Northern Generals' orders in terms understandable to Colonel Baxter of the Newcastle Regulars. Upon arrival I received your briefing and was glad to find that you had set aside a separate room for us to hold our meeting. However, I was shocked to discover that Baxter was accompanied by his personal assistant, Lieutenant George Wickham.

In confidence, General, and I trust this matter will not carry beyond your eyes, Lieutenant Wickham is my family's evil genius. He grew up on my uncle's estate in Derbyshire, and since attaining his majority has caused us no end of trouble. He is grossly unprincipled and financially extravagant, and we have bailed him out of trouble several times.

Wickham's face showed that he was as shocked as I by this unexpected meeting, but there was nothing for it but to greet each other with cold civility and carry on the conference as best we could. Unfortunately, his mental capacities are a perfect match for Colonel Baxter's, so you can imagine what a morning I suffered. After three hours, they still could not fathom the answer to the question, "If you have two hundred troops and the War Office transfers forty of them, how many do you have left for regular duty?" My sympathies on spending an entire week dealing with them.

At twelve o'clock we mercifully broke for luncheon and you requested that I spend the hour with them, chatting on non-military subjects to clear the air. There was no possible way you could have realized, General, that Wickham is the last man on earth I ever want to see again, much less sit next to at luncheon, but that was hardly the time and place to bring up the issue. We were all supposed to share a table with General Crane, General Chesterton, and Colonel West.

So I took my seat, and what did Wickham do first but brazenly drop my name and that of my family as though we were old friends. He then carried on telling the most outrageous lies about his close friendship with the Earl of Matlock's family and how he hopes to see us again often while he is in Town. He knew full well that I would not call him a liar to his face in front of the Commanding Officers, so I was forced to suffer in silence. After our table had consumed two bottles of wine and was well into its third, Wickham asked me where I was staying.

I was about to prevaricate when General Crane broke in, "Hayward House, Mayfair, isn't it, Fitzwilliam? I seem to recall my wife telling me something of the sort, from some gossip column or another. Why aren't you at Matlock House?"

"With all my relations out of Town this season, I find the society of Hayward House more pleasing than an empty set of rooms, sir," I mumbled.

"All your relations? Did I not just read that you attended a ball with your cousins? What were their names...Darcy, wasn't it?"

"Mr. Darcy!" said Wickham. "Is he here? What a pleasant surprise! Do you know, General, that Darcy is my brother-in-law?" (This happens to be true, owing to an unfortunate twist of fate which would take too long to relate here.)

"Indeed, I did not. Well, Fitzwilliam, with such a family connection, perhaps you can get Mrs. Wickham to protect you at your next function."

Wickham looked surprised. "Protect him? How so, sir?"

"Why, didn't you know, man? I thought with your close acquaintance you'd have picked up everything. All over the 'Morning Post.' The Colonel here attended a ball last week and allowed some sottish puppy to get hold of his rapier and lunge at him, if you please. He was saved by a few ladies who clung to him like cheap trousers!"

There was uproarious laughter, and I must have turned as red as my jacket. "The papers are full of balderdash and not to be trusted," I muttered.

At that General Chesterton broke in, "Ah, Fitzwilliam, you're not getting off that easily. My sister Camilla was there. She came to tea the next day and divulged the whole story."

"Really!" Wickham's face lit up like St. Paul's at Christmas. He grinned at me. "Well, well, Fitzwilliam, just can't stay out of trouble, can you? Who were the ladies? Anyone I know, or just a bit of show for the evening?"

"Some female relations," I hedged.

A sensible man would have noticed that I wished to change the subject. Colonel Baxter is not a sensible man. "Which ones?" he asked.

Forced to reply, I answered, "My cousins, Miss Darcy and Miss de Bourgh. Although the hostess, Miss Bingley, was also involved."

Here again, General, I must beg your indulgence for complete discretion. Wickham attempted to elope with Miss Darcy eighteen months ago in order to secure her inheritance. Fortunately, her brother discovered the plan and put a stop to it at once. He and I share guardianship of Miss Darcy, and if only I had been present when the plan was discovered, the undertakers would have had to comb several counties to find Wickham's remains. Miss Darcy was crushed by Wickham's perfidy and is only just now beginning to come to herself.

Now Wickham is married, and his wife and Darcy's wife are sisters. Throughout the conversation at table, it became obvious to me that Wickham is still scheming for Darcy or myself to assist him in society and in making his fortune. Apparently he hopes that we shall forgive and forget the incident with Miss Darcy and support him in the name of "family connections."

At all odds, the discourse became more and more unbearable, with the senior officers plotting ways to place a female guard of honor around me and pay Wickham to escort me everywhere in case of further swordfights. They even suggested that I invite the Wickhams to the next ball! I would sooner kiss a pig.

After lunch we broke away from our tables and Wickham retired to the men's room. I followed just in time to see him primping in the mirror. But then he saw me in the reflection and said, "You see, Fitzwilliam, things have turned out for the best all around. Your London circle sounds like perfectly charming company. You've heard the other officers; let us put the past behind us. In the interests of my wife's connection to your cousin Darcy, I see no reason why our circles should not meet."

That was the last straw. I grabbed Wickham by his jacket collar, backed him up against the wall, and made him understand, in no uncertain terms, that his interference in my affairs was unwelcome. You demanded to know exactly what I said that started the scuffle. Expletives removed, it was:

"By God, Wickham, you filthy b------, stay away from my family. And I don't care if your wife is a b----- duchess; if you so much as glance at any of my cousins again, she'll have to sew you trousers with the hole in back so you can take a p---."

And that, General, is how Wickham got a few minor bruises, I lost a button off my sleeve, and six-sergeants-at-arms were called to intervene - and, I would add, there would have been no need for such intervention if General Crane hadn't happened to step in at precisely that moment and assume the worst.

Yes, I realize that I embarrassed you and behaved in a manner unbecoming to an officer and gentleman, but please understand that I have ladies to protect. Demote me if you must.

Suggestions for avoiding such incidents in the future:

1) Execute Lieutenant Wickham. If unfeasible, post him to the artillery front.
2) Send troops to shut down the "Morning Post."
3) Never make me sit with Colonel Baxter or General Crane again.
4) Do not serve spirits at luncheon.

Yours and His Majesty's Loyal and Obedient Servant,

Colonel Fitzwilliam

Tuesday, January 12

Dear Mr. Darcy,

I have received your kind offer, and would be delighted to receive you, Mrs. Darcy, and Miss Darcy at my home on Wednesday at four for tea. I am most grateful that you understand my situation.

I was very flattered to hear that Miss Darcy speaks so highly of me. I assure you that I have performed no miracles, but simple advised her to behave as though her mother is always looking over her shoulder. Might I be so bold as to suggest that, if Miss de Bourgh suffers any social awkwardness, you might tell her the same thing. Please do bring her along as well, if you like. I remain your humble and obedient servant,

Mrs. Annesley

Dear Kitty,

You will laugh when you hear the news: I have succeeded in returning to Town to disport myself! Is it not a fine joke, when all my relations think me to be freezing in Newcastle all winter? And here I find myself in time for a Season. It is too droll!

As I wrote before, my dear Wickham has been named assistant to Colonel Baxter, and must accompany him to Town on all matters of business. We are now staying in the Westminster Officers' Quarters; our space is rather small and lacks somewhat for style, but I daresay I shall add some pink lace curtains and make something of it.

While Wickham is on business, Martha, the Colonel's wife, has been taking me about to visit all her friends, and we have such a splendid time chatting that I learn all the good gossip in Town. Yesterday we went to take tea with her cousin Agatha Plimpton, the one who told us all about how Mr. Darcy had really conducted himself before marrying Lizzy. Mrs. Plimpton goes everywhere and hears everything, so already I am very well connected, and before long I should know all the best tidbits about everyone!

The latest is that Mr. Darcy's unwed cousin Anne de Bourgh is all the talk of Town, even though she must be over 20, and has been dubbed some silly French name. All the gentlemen treat her like she's made of gold, and the press have written her up as though she is quite the beauty, which is very silly, for Mrs. Plimpton says she's horribly plain. Mrs. Plimpton met her at a party in Mayfair not three days ago and says there is nothing in her, and she grants that Miss de Bourgh may be dressed like royalty, but that's no reason to treat her as such, even though she is of so much property, for anyone with money can dress well, and that's very far from being beautiful.

Anyway, she's drawing the attention of everyone else's beaus, which is so dreadfully unfair, for Mrs. Plimpton's sister Margaret, who is also unwed, had been introduced to some rich man of whom they had very high hopes, and he spent the whole afternoon talking to Miss de Bourgh instead! So Margaret told Mrs. Plimpton that it's a case of Emperor's New Clothes, and just as they were saying this, Miss de Bourgh passed by and looked at them oddly, and they both giggled and laughed like anything, which ought to put her in her place. Fancy her thinking herself so very above all the other ladies just because she has an inheritance!

So I write to tell you, Kitty, that you must join us soon, for whatever Miss de Bourgh can do, you can certainly do better. Tell father to give you a good sum of pocket money, for you must have new clothes, and I know just what would suit you best - or even better, you could wear some of my old things which I used when I caught Wickham (as they've been proven to work), and I will get new ones. There will be parties and balls every night, and if I have not got you a husband by the end of the Season, think me no longer your affectionate sister,

Lydia

Colonel Fitzwilliam,

I have read your report. While I understand your aggravation with Lieutenant Wickham and sympathize with your dilemma, I cannot tolerate infighting between officers, even those of different regiments. The military cannot survive its present challenges if it suffers breakdowns in internal discipline. I am aware that Wickham is not one of the brightest lights in the service and that he has taken advantage of your family and your patience, but I must insist that you rise above his disagreeable presence and learn to withstand his taunts.

In recompense for this incident, Wickham's Commanding General Ffolkes and I have decided that you and Wickham must spend tomorrow in each other's company from 9 o'clock in the morning until 5 o'clock in the evening. Do as you wish - hear a concert, go riding, what you will - but absolutely no fighting. You will either learn to tolerate Wickham's existence, or punish yourself far better than ever I could.

You will jointly write and sign a report on how you spent the day, to be placed on my desk Thursday morning.

Your Commander and His Majesty's Loyal and Obedient Servant,

General Gaynor

Dear Mum,

Here's a little something extra to help out with the rent. I hope you and Pa and Sally and Hugh and Davey are well. I also hope you notice how my writing is improving. Mrs. Tylsdale says my grammar needs work but that I already spell quite nicely, so I have you to thank for all those sacrifices you made so I could learn to read.

I've only been here four months, but Mrs. Tylsdale was right about the Earl and Countess of Matlock being good folk to work for. I know you were worried about me going the way of poor Lucy Smith or Hetty Barrows, so I'll tell you again that you needn't worry about His Lordship or his sons taking an undue interest in me; it is not that kind of house. A couple of young footmen, Peter and Jamie, have been flirting, but Mr. Tylsdale has warned them off and his word is law downstairs. I'll be certain to keep my nose clean and out of trouble so I don't lose this position, as there's plenty of others who would want it.

It was sweet of you to knit me a warm scarf for Christmas. I think of you whenever I wear it. Matlock House was empty as it has been for most of the season, what with the family mostly in the North this year, but their younger son the Colonel is in Town staying with friends and drops by most days to pick up the post and check on things.

Well, just yesterday afternoon we got word that the Earl's sister is coming for a stay, and we were all aflutter since most of the maids are away visiting their parents on account of the slow season. Such short notice, too! If it were the Earl I daresay he would have been more considerate, and I know it's not my place to comment, but still...anyway, we're at half staff and had to take our hands to every possible thing to get ready in time. Mrs. Tylsdale assigned me to mend the curtains in the small drawing room due to my delicate touch with a needle, but I couldn't get around to it until today since I had to attend to the main parlor and two washrooms first.

So at five o'clock this evening I was measuring the curtains and sewing and rehanging to see if I'd got it right (and quite a job it was by myself, let me tell you), when what do I hear but the Colonel's voice telling Mr. Tylsdale he doesn't want supper yet, he's going to spend a little time in the main drawing room before his Aunt arrives. And I hear him shut himself up in the room next door. He is a rather nice looking young man so I could not help but take a quick peek through the door crack, and by heaven, Mum, I thought he had taken leave of his senses.

First he pours a large glass of whiskey and drains it, and he's not supposed to be a drinking sort. Then he paces up and down the drawing room, rubbing his hands over his face and taking deep breaths like he's going to declare war or propose marriage or something. Then he starts talking to himself! Either he stares at the floor, then suddenly looks up with a strange smile and says, "How lovely to see you!" or he shakes his head somberly with, "I can quite understand your feelings, so let me explain..." Then he throws up his hands and kicks his feet and mutters something I can't hear. And then he starts again. I thought perhaps he was rehearsing amateur theatricals because he pulled out a sword from over the fireplace and pretended to fight someone, right there in the drawing room.

This goes on for half an hour and it was all I could do to keep sewing, I tell you, when Mr. Tylsdale enters the drawing room and announces, "Lady Catherine's carriage has arrived, sir," at which the Colonel straightens up, takes a breath, brushes his coattails, and marches out like he's making an Entrance, if you understand my meaning. So I go back to my curtains. Not five minutes later I hear footsteps and "Thank you, that will be all," in the haughtiest woman's voice you can imagine, and a moment later, "So, nephew, what have you to say for yourself? And where is Anne? I insist on seeing her this instant! I shall brook no opposition!"

Of course I couldn't resist taking just a quick peek. Oh, Mum! She's like an overweight mongoose! Those squinty eyes and sharp ears, looking at her nephew like she was ready to eat him to the bone, and clutching that brown fur muff like it was fresh kill...sorry, I suppose I've been listening overmuch to Mr. McAfee's tales of India. Anyway, the poor Colonel was hard put to keep looking her in the eye, you could see as much, and when she finally stopped squawking about showing no respect for his elders (and he a man of nearly thirty-one!), he had to stammer something about seeing her daughter tomorrow evening because she is attending the Opera with a Duke's eldest son tonight, and has engagements throughout the next day.

Well, then she goes off something dreadful about how he's been using her daughter to shield himself from a fight, which was terribly unfair, for the Colonel was set upon by some drunken fop at a ball, Mum, and it wasn't his fault, either; it was all the talk of the house. So the Colonel begs to differ, but Lady Mongoose jumps in with something I don't understand about "contact with that disgraceful couple," and "our good family name" and I don't know what until I wonder he can keep his countenance straight.

And she says, "Very well, I shall meet with her and the Marchioness tomorrow evening, though I am appalled at your lack of planning. Now I shall go and change for dinner." But she makes a mistake and walks towards the small drawing room door instead of the hallway! Understand, there's no place to hide and no other door, and I was certain I was about to get the sack. Sure enough, she opens the door and shrieks, "Good HEAVENS! How long have you been here? Nephew! Who is this girl? She has been spying on us! Dismiss her immediately! Insolent girl, how DARE you!"

I was so terrified I was about to cry and I couldn't think of a word to say, but just then the Colonel walks in and sees me. And you'll never guess what he says next! "Oh, never fear, Aunt Catherine, that's poor Maggie, the new housemaid. We took her in out of Christian charity, you know. She's quite deaf." Then he stares at me with a look of such desperation that I don't know how I managed not to burst out laughing, must have been the shock, I suppose. Deaf ! But I play along and say nothing, just curtsy my best. Lady Mongoose looks suspicious and who can blame her, but finally she says, "Oh, very well, but do not let such a thing happen again. Servants next door to a private family conversation. It is quite irregular!" Private conversation? If it had happened at three in the morning she'd have woken the whole block!

So all is well, but I hope she heads back to Kent soon, as she tends to stare me in the face and shout at the top of her lungs as though that would make me understand her better, and if I wasn't deaf before, Mum, I may very well be by the time her stay is over. It was quite the scare but it looks as though I still have my job, and a good thing too, for Mrs. Tylsdale says if my math improve I may make a good head of house some day. I love you all and miss you dreadfully, and you will always have the gratitude of your loving daughter,

Maggie

Wednesday, January 13

MORNING POST, the thirteenth of January

Society Gossip

Seen at the Opera House on Tuesday evening: Miss Anne de Bourgh - the "Mona Lisa," whose gentle, yet mysterious, manner has already captured the hearts of many admirers. Accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Edgar Sheffield, she glided gracefully through the crowd in a remarkable royal blue gown. Her regal presence upon the arm of James, Marquis Newbury, sent tongues wagging. Could it be that an attachment is developing, and the Marquis, who has heretofore proven impervious to Cupid's arrows, may be struck to the heart at last?

Excitement surrounds the lady wherever she goes, for an unknown gentleman was seen throwing a note to her outside the Opera House before exiting, pursued by a bear (actually the Marquis). No word yet on how Lady de Bourgh of Kent views these developments, though they have no effect upon the pale, serene countenance of her daughter.

Expect royal blue and dark green to be the colors of choice for ladies of fashion this season...

Obituaries

Emilia, Marchioness Eastbrook, subsequent to a prolonged illness, on Monday evening at her home in Belgrave Square. The Marchioness, known to her friends as "Emmy," was a longtime patroness of the Council for the Improvement of Fallen Women, the Anglican Ladies' League Benevolent Fund, and the English Porcelain Appreciation Society. She is survived by....

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Sheffield,

Thank you so very much for your hospitality. You were exceedingly kind to take me into your home at a moment's notice, and to aid me in obtaining a holiday from my mother. However, I have decided to gather my courage and take a bold step forward alone.

I have always known that I am not very pretty, nor as clever or witty as Mrs. Sheffield and Mrs. Darcy, but while surrounded by such welcoming and generous company, these disadvantages did not seem to matter overmuch. On Sunday at tea, however, I could not help but overhear the conversation of some ladies who seemed to see through me. That event made me worry that I cannot possibly hope to sustain this deception - that I am not the beautiful and brilliant figure everyone thinks I am. I have decided that I would rather be seen for myself, even plain and untalented, than risk further humiliation.

I know that, with Mama coming to Town to take control of my Season, my cousins have undertaken an elaborate plan to send her back to Kent alone. I cannot believe that this plan will succeed, yet I have not quite the courage to face her out, either. Yesterday, though, I saw a glimmer of hope, and realized that I know someone who holds the key to my future.

I know that I am departing quite early in the day, but I must have some time to reflect before I go to meet the person upon whom all my hopes of future happiness depend. Thank you again for everything you have done and for all your attempts to assist me.

Yours in grateful sincerity,

Miss Anne de Bourgh

Mrs. Darcy,

You and your husband need to come to our home at once. There is not a second to lose. I am very sorry to tell you this, but Anne de Bourgh has disappeared, and there is too much reason to fear she has eloped. We have no idea where she may be. I have discovered a shaky two-page note which says - never mind. Get in a coach and speed here immediately. Yours,

Mrs. Sheffield