February 20th, 18--
Meryton

My dear Joscelyn,

As I sit down to write the wondrous events of last evening’s ball, my thoughts are still in such a whirl that if I am rather incoherent, pray forgive me. I can hardly believe my good fortune!

What is the cause of all my excitement, you ask? You may recall my writing recently about a young officer here in the ---shire militia by the name of George Wickham who many of the ladies have gone quite wild after. Well, at the time of that letter, I did not yet know my own feelings towards him, but after several more balls and gatherings, I realized that I had indeed also lost my heart to him. At the time, however, it did not make much difference, as the young man was playing rather marked court to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. (perhaps you recall my mention of the Bennet family? All five daughters are out, with the eldest being the kindest and most beautiful creature I ever beheld; Elizabeth, a saucy, extremely friendly, and intelligent girl; Mary the scholar of the family; and Kitty and Lydia who were the most obvious and determined chased of Mr. Wickham.) I observed that she enjoyed his company, which rather dampened my partiality for the man, but recently he has been conversing less with her and more with the other young ladies of Meryton. But it was TONIGHT, that he showed a marked preference for my company, actually dancing two dances with me and taking me in to dinner!

I do not have much more room (or time as Papa will be posting this in 10 minutes) but let me quickly describe my dress: first, it was new! Papa has recently been named heir of some uncle or other who has passed away, and being my father’s sole remaining child (I still cannot think of my dear brother without a sigh of sadness), I will inherit a sum of £10,000 upon my marriage! But lest you think I’m a cold-hearted creature, I should hasten to inform you that I was unaware of this uncle’s existence until this news brought him to my attention, when it was unfortunately too late. Since this sad/joyous event, my father has been more indulgent with me and consequently, the new dress! It was white, of course, with tiny blue rosebuds (yes, I do know that blue roses do not exist, but alas, it could not be pink—my favorite—for my red hair!) embroidered all over, had a short train and a light blue lace layer for the bodice. I had my hair dressed in the latest style (thank you so much for your excellent description in your last letter!), and I was quite pretty, I fancy.

Upon arriving at ball, I was immediately approached by Mr. Wickham himself! who proceed to ask me for the first dance! I admit (but only to you, my dear friend) that I was so flattered and surprised that I stood with my mouth open for what felt like ages! but then remembered I had not yet answered and so blurted a “yes,” blushing terribly afterwards—I sounded so forward! The dance was heavenly, of course—Mr. Wickham has a very good sense of rhythm and talked away so pleasantly and lightly that I soon forgot my embarrassment and was able to reply with good sense, and I hope, witty remarks. I noticed both Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia were glaring at me for most of the dance (we were in the same set with them dancing with some other officers), but I feel that they lack a propriety that must alienate someone as gentlemanly as Mr. Wickham and so was not so very sorry for them.

Oh dear…Papa’s coming for my letter now and I have not yet written one question to you or answered any of your questions in your last letter! I promise I will finish up all in my next letter.

Adieu, my good friend,

&c.

March 5th, 18--
Meryton

To be read by MISS Joscelyn Morton:

Joscelyn, it has only been two weeks since I last wrote, but such a great deal has happened! But lest I repeat the unpardonable (and yet I thank you for pardoning!) rudeness of inquiring after your health, I shall do so at once: are you in good health ma’am? And, pray, how is your family? Are they all in good health? Please send them all my best love and affection!

My thoughts have been quite full of Mr. Wickham of late, and you would think me a sad conversationalist if you were here in person. But in letter, of course, I can organize my thoughts to at least sound reasonable. To resume where my last letter left off, after the first dance, Mr. Wickham escorted me back to my parents, whereupon he was introduced and stood for several minutes making himself extremely agreeable to both my parents. But recollecting another dance was starting, and stating with a twinkle in his eye that it would be very fast to dance twice in a row with the same partner, he bowed over my hand and asked if he might have the pleasure of escorting me to dinner and to dance the country dance after dinner with me. Amazed that he would pick me (who you must admit, am not the most beautiful girl in Hertfordshire—the Bennet girls are all the beauties), I rather dazedly agreed, and then he kissed my hand! and walked away. My poor next partner found me rather absent-minded as my thoughts were full of what just happened!

Dinner was wonderful—I felt more comfortable with him as the dinner progressed—and by the last dance, I was beginning to believe in the bliss that was mine! He very properly called on me the day after the ball to assure that my health had not been injured in any way by the exertions of the previous night. And since then, he has visited at least twice a week, bringing small gifts or compliments for Mama and making himself so agreeable that I can only sigh with happiness when I think over our conversations. Our topics of conversation have varied widely—balls in London, the education of females (as well as males), and professions for young gentlemen. Indeed, I discovered that he had originally intended on the church but was denied a living by Mr. Darcy—the proud man with £10,000 a year who is visiting the new tenant in Netherfield! As no one in town likes Mr. Darcy, public opinion has always been on Mr. Wickham’s side, and I do hope that when we are married, he might be able to leave the militia and take up a curacy somewhere. I expect I would like living in a small rectory and comforting the neighboring tenants.

first Papa had grumbled some nonsense of which I only caught “fortune-hunter,” but upon inquiries with Sir William Lucas (a man of some consequence here as I believe I once told you), he has not said anything against Wickham, except perhaps that he visits too often. But that is just how I like it. Mr. Wickham is correct in his attentions to me and even brought me a gift for my birthday (which, as you know was 1st)—a miniature of Oxford, where he attended school. Next to your beautiful drawing of London, (which I appreciate so much, my friend!), this is my most treasured gift of turning eighteen.

My drawings have been coming along quite well—thank you for the inquiry. I believe I shall have Mama’s portrait done by Michaelmas, so I shall try to persuade Papa to bring it with us (assuming we can come to London which I hope we may to see you!) But here are the Bennet sisters to visit, so I must fly!

Yours, as always,

&c.

March 15th, 18--
Liverpool

My friend,

Pray forgive my indifferent correspondence these past few weeks. I have suffered a heartbreak, but do not fear, I will not allow myself to go into a decline. I think such behavior very poor-spirited. I can hardly believe it was less than a month ago that I was in such raptures over a certain Mr. W, but at last my eyes have been opened to his real character.

I recall your concern in your last letter over Mr. Wickham’s rather sudden attentions to me, but as you realize, I did not heed it. Indeed, even my papa’s grumblings did not alert me, and certainly Sir William Lucas’s affirmation of Mr. Wickham’s character assuaged any unnamed fears I did not care to dwell on. But indeed, it was all a sham. Here are the facts (and pardon the waterstains that are already forming on this sheet—my eyes have been swimming every time I sit down to write to you): Mr. Wickham is a gamester and has generated substantial debts with most of the merchants in Meryton. The information was not generally known when I left for here, but I believe that was simply because they believe he will repay shortly. And, of course, Joscelyn, that was why he was chasing after me—not for any worthy motives or for any aspect of my character—but for the £10,000 I would receive upon marriage. My uncle has heard of him from the school he attended, and when Papa told him that Mr. W was courting me, he immediately came down to “rescue me from disaster,” as he put it. Apparently Mr. W has a record of generating all kinds of debt and then fleeing the scene when the situation becomes intolerable. I was also informed that his morals are extremely loose; I blush now when I recall what details my uncle told me.

Joscelyn, the anguish and sorrow I feel cannot be expressed; I almost wish my uncle had not told me, as I was so very happy these past few weeks! And to have been so completely betrayed, and just for money! It quite disillusions me. Why did it have to occur to me? Why did Mr. Wickham have to be such a man?

Yours in bewilderment and a daze,

&c.

April 1st, 18--
Meryton

Dear Joscelyn,

How good it was to spend Michaelmas AND Easter with you! You cheer my heart like no other friend that I have. I will be devouring all the books you have lent me, will work on the new piano pieces you have recommended, and hope you will enjoy my recommendations!

As for my “disappointment,” as I am privately calling it, I am nearly recovered—with only occasional spells of heavy sighing that several stern looks and a rare scold from my mother complete stops. And I trust my heart has not been worn on my sleeve so that I am not an object of speculation for the gossip-mongers here in Meryton. I have been to several balls where he also attended, but I held my head proudly aloft and ignored any advances he made.

But enough of me—please send me all the news of your family and the concerts you have attended, the balls (all of which you have shone at!) and of course, the latest fashion trends.

Love,