A/N: This story is very different from my others. I consider it a writing experiment, and would appreciate feedback. I mostly disregard all my carefully crafted rules for writing (see Thoughts on Writing Fan Fiction), except for the most important one, Consult the Master, but remember the master wrote more than one book. You will see what I mean in a chapter or two.

This is totally experimental, and features a rather unsympathetic, pessimistic and stubborn Lizzy with the prejudice knob cranked up to 11. Throw in an unusual POV and… well, you'll see.

This is a Novella, complete in 30 short chapters organized as 3 books. Story line is canon until the Netherfield party decamps. Please let me know what you think.

Wade

Cheapside

8 January 1812
Gracechurch Street

My Dearest Jane,

As expected, things are quiet here on the Gracechurch Street after the pandemonium of Christmas season at Longbourn. Now we are reduced to simply myself and Aunt Gardiner's four children. I must confess I do not make as much noise as I once did, and the Gardiner children are somewhat less boisterous than some of our sisters, so things are quite peaceful.

Once again, I apologize for taking your turn in town, but we both know it was necessary. My idea of having you appear to chase after Mr. Bingley was obviously bad, or at least an idea that did not sit well with your nature. Of course, our mother's rampage over my refusal of Mr. Collins makes it all a moot point anyway. I must once again apologize that you should bear the brunt of it while I hide in town, but you know it is unavoidable. The past month thoroughly tested my fortitude, and I truly believe she would have literally banished me forever in another se'nnight. I would not even be surprised if she did yet.

Has she finally settled down to fewer than four screaming fits per hour? I should dearly hope so, and I would hope that removing the fuel from the fire would be useful in allowing it to eventually die down. I must confess my guilty secret. I am very happy to be separated from her by a four-hour carriage ride, but my conscience would not allow it if I did not truly believe things would be easier in Longbourn without my presence. I hate to complain, but if I hear the terms ill-used or starve in the hedgerows or duty one more time, I shall not be responsible for my actions, particularly if the militia are still sniffing around with their swords. I truly was desperate to exit the house, and am resolved not to return until Mother learns to be civil, which by all accounts will be some time, if ever.

I know you disapprove dearest, but I have written to Miss Bingley, and see if I can determine what exactly happened to the Netherfield party. Miss Bingley is such that were we stuck under the same umbrella, I would not trust her to accurately report the weather a foot away, but she is the only connection we have so I will see what I can do.

Elijah has fashioned a kite that actually flies, and we have been taking it to the park with Uncle Gardiner at every opportunity. Our uncle has also given permission for me to take him out alone for more of the same. Emily is working diligently at her letters, and we have begun her simple lessons in the pianoforte. Her needlework is coming along nicely, if you look at it from a far enough distance. Peter is obsessed with Robinson Crusoe, and neither Elijah's nor my encouragements are sufficient to get him to do some actual adventuring. He is obsessed with the written page, but not the experience. Robert is of course almost ready to go to school, and he mostly ignores his cousin with the advanced age of twenty. He is a charming boy though, and it will be interesting to see the man he becomes in a few years. Uncle is planning to send him to Oxford, and he seems like he will do well.

So, as you can see, all is well here at Gracechurch Street, and I look forward to news of our family.

Yours etc&
Elizabeth

Snowfall

13 January 1812
Gracechurch Street

My Dearest Mary,

I am so happy to have your letters to join with Jane's, and I hope you will be a diligent correspondent as I expect my stay here to be of some duration. Perhaps you and Jane might share our respective letters back and forth if the idea pleases you.

We had snowfall over the last few days which blanketed the world in white, just like a fairyland. The children and I went out to make snowmen, and a wonderful time was had by all. It reminded me so much of when we were children and succumbed to the infrequent snow in furious bout of joyfulness. Emily ended up covered from head to foot in snow and ice just like we once did. Elijah is quite the dead-eye with snowballs; or at least he fashioned himself as such until I showed him some true skill. I do hope he recovers from the mortification of being bested by a mere girl before his wedding day, but since that day is at least a decade hence, I believe he has a better than even chance. I did however refrain from letting him know that you are even better at it than I am.

Unfortunately, this is London and a day or two later the pristine promise of beauty and felicity promised by all the white had turned into sooty and dirty gray and black. Perhaps it is a suitable metaphor for our past three months. I have lately noticed I do not have quite the contented nature that has been my usual for most of my life. I am not morose, just not as contented as I once was.

I find myself with too much time on my hands, which I naturally employee in the worst possible manner; thinking and brooding. There is a small park near our uncle's house where I may walk, but Uncle insists that I be attended by one of his footmen always. This means I do not have the freedom to come and go as I please. John makes himself available at my convenience, but he also has many other duties and I feel guilty about taking him away from them. He should not go to bed late just because I wish for a longer walk.

I am so happy that you have allowed Papa to convince you to read Shakespeare's works, and I am even happier that you suggested we discuss your thoughts by post. I believe it may be the most diverting thing ever. Perhaps you might convince Jane to read the same volume, although I do realize that may be harder than it sounds.

Your very happy sister,
Elizabeth

Bingley

18 February 1812
Gracechurch Street

My Dearest Jane,

Though it will give neither you or myself pleasure, I must say this anyway. You were right, and I was wrong. Mr. Bingley does not and never did esteem you. It pains me to say it, but I must be as blunt, unambiguous and clear as possible; as removing all uncertainty must make healing your heart easier. He was just a rich man playing with the affections of a country miss, and rather than feel like you lost a most eligible suitor, you should thank the fates that you escaped a life shackled to the cretin. Although I certainly did not enjoy being driven from my own home by my own mother, I am quite happy that it is not you here in town, as it has been in every way a debacle. It was mortifying for me, and I suspect it would have been even more heartbreaking for you

As you already know, I wrote to Miss Bingley twice, before finally asking John to deliver another note personally and await a reply. She invited me to tea only after it was forced upon her. She had the nerve to claim the first two letters had been lost, even though we both know that to be preposterous. She put on a smiling face, much like a serpent, and claimed the bonds of friendship. Then I remained at our uncle's house every morning for two weeks, before she returned the call. Two Weeks!

When she finally arrived, she made it exceedingly clear that she found no pleasure in the visit. She looked around our uncle's fine home as if it were a warehouse or a pigsty, even though said home shows much more of refined taste and elegance than the Bingley townhouse, which tends toward the vulgar (to tell the truth it does not tend towards the vulgar, because it arrived quite some time ago). Miss Bingley's voice and manner delivered even more of the crystal-clear disapprobation we are both already familiar with. As to her sister Mrs. Hurst; Miss Bingley should acquire a parrot or a dog. They could echo every word she said at considerably less expense, and would stand some chance of accidentally adding to the conversation, or at the very least they could mark their territory with something other than pure disdain.

During the visit, Miss Bingley once again reiterated that her brother was extremely busy, etc&. She also repeated her assertion that the 'gentleman' was very much engaged with Miss Darcy. It seemed clear to me at first that she was simply trying to keep her brother separated from you, as you well know I believed when they left. Were it only for Miss Bingley's word, I would no doubt still believe that, because I do not have your basic goodness. Mr. Bingley had such the air of a man thoroughly in love that it could not be doubted by anyone with eyes in their head.

However, events subsequently have proven you correct. It now seems so obvious in retrospect, that I cannot believe I ever disagreed with you on the matter. I beat my fists on my head in mortification at my ignorance and misjudgment of the situation, and I shall never doubt your judgement nor trust mine again. If Mr. Bingley did esteem you, he would have simply come back to Hertfordshire, yet there you are and here he is.

As if that were not enough, I have more evidence of his inclinations and there can no longer be any doubt whatsoever. There is much more to tell you; so much more that will shock you.

Our uncle allowed me the use of his carriage to make my long-anticipated visit to Hatchards. That store will forever be burned in my memory as both the best and the worst of places. The shop itself was magical and I spent a full three hours perusing the shelves before selecting three volumes.

Afterwards, I went to Gunthers for one of the ices we have heard so much about. As I was leaving the carriage, I glanced over at the front of the shop, and was thoroughly dismayed, shocked and angry to see Mr. Bingley enter the establishment with a very young lady on his arm. I ask you; with all of London to separate us, what are the chances that I would encounter him at that particular time. It is incredible, and yet the tale gets even worse, as the young lady (very young) was in fact as Miss Bingley asserted.

You may wonder how I ascertained that it was Miss Darcy, but that was easily done since her brother was with her. Papa may think me missish, but I truly found the experience frightening, and I will tell you why. Mr. Darcy, whom you know dislikes me as much as I do him, and who stared at me with disapprobation many times in Hertfordshire, saw me at around the same time I saw him, and… I can hardly say this… but he stared at me with the most intense look of hatred I have ever been subjected to by any human. I have no idea whether he hates me in particular, our family in general, or some offense we made while he was in Hertfordshire; but his gaze frightened me to death with its intensity. I was so discomposed, I climbed back into the carriage as quickly as I could, and signaled the driver to ride on before the man had a chance to cross the lane to accost me. I have not the slightest idea what I have done to earn Mr. Darcy's disapprobation, but earn it I have. His look of intense hatred was the most frightening moment of my life. I know that is repetitious, but I cannot help it. I still find myself shaking from the experience.

As for his sister, apparently, the Darcys belong to the same school of thought as our mother. She could not possibly be any older than Lydia, yet there she was, on the arm of a man at least a decade her senior. I would have been terribly embarrassed and thoroughly mortified, if I were not so frightened out of my wits.

I relayed the incident to our uncle, as is proper, and he was prepared to march over and discuss the matter with Mr. Darcy straightaway. He was quite formidable in his rage, but I eventually convinced him that since the 'gentleman' did not even speak to me, and I will not be in their part of town any more during this visit, there was nothing that could or should be done. It is not as if it is against the law to stare at someone in hatred, or abandon a woman whom you have no understanding with. It is the poorest of manners, and terribly ungentlemanly, but I have it on the best authority that applying that standard of behavior would fill our transportation ships to the brim with gentry within a se'nnight.

I am so sorry Jane if your heart was still engaged by that cretin (I apologize, but I could neither think of a ladylike term to use nor one even worse that would fit), but now that we are both certain of his true colors, I believe your recovery should be rapid, since all doubt has been removed. I am afraid there is still a dearth of eligible gentlemen in Hertfordshire, but at least you have narrowly escaped one cad.

While on the subject of our mother, has she desisted from her screeching at all the gods, old and new, about how ill-used she has been by her least favorite daughter, and how she is surely just one step closer to the hedgerows. I hope the ordeal for all of you has not been too trying, but you know as well as I do it would be ten times worse if I were there for her to scream at. I believe my stay with our aunt and uncle will be of some duration.

All my love to our sisters, and tell them I will write them if they can be troubled to write to me. That rule will certainly prevent me from having to trouble myself with Kitty or Lydia, but as you know I have already exchanged letters with Mary and I believe she will be a reliable correspondent. I find a wry sense of humor and some acute observations in her writing, so perhaps we have all been misjudging our next youngest sister all these years. Please take the trouble to know her better. I would very much like to see the two of you with a closer bond.

Your loving sister
Elizabeth

Governess

1 March 1812
Gracechurch Street

My Dearest Jane,

I thank you for your letter. I was beside myself with either laughter or mortification (but mostly the latter) at your descriptions of our mother's latest escapades. I am quite relieved to learn that she now curses me only hourly. I understand she has not relented and invited me back to Longbourn, and I would not be inclined to accept anyway, but I am certain the reduction in noise must make your day much more pleasant. I suspect she is simply saving her venom for a later date, but that thought is uncharitable so I would ask you to disregard it.

Your call from Mr. Miller sounds somewhat promising, although since we have known him since our hair was down and he has never seemed like much of a suitor before; I caution you not to encourage him overly much. Perhaps he has grown and matured, but I fear you may be settling; and I would beg you not to do so. If you wish to meet with eligible suitors, come join me in town. I know you dislike he idea, but Aunt and Uncle extend the offer quite happily, and I do believe you could stand some time away from Longbourn.

I thank you for the reports of Charlotte's wedding. Added to Mary's letter, I almost feel like I was there. Did you ever imagine that Charlotte would wed in Meryton without me in attendance? I am certain she was quite satisfied to have you stand up with her, and whilst I am sorry I missed Charlotte's wedding, I must say I do not repine the loss of Mr. Collins' nuptials in the least. The very idea keeps me up at night sometimes. I must also state categorically that I am most happy to have escaped the debacle of Mrs. Bennet's comments on the matter, since Mary saw fit to give me a nearly verbatim version of some of the things she said. I must say I commended Mary on the wit of some of her comments, and I realize yours were nowhere near as bad as the actual words, but that is to be expected and applauded.

Since my last letter, I have decided on a course of action that you will not approve, but I am quite fixed on it and shall not be moved. Aunt Gardiner's governess, Mrs. Hews has asked for three month's leave. Her sister is apparently near to her confinement, and having a difficult time of it. Aunt Gardiner of course granted her request, and I have asked to take up the office of governess for the next three months. Aunt Gardiner will pay me the stipend Mrs. Hewes would receive, and it shall be the first money I have ever actually earned through my own labor.

I know this will come as a shock to you, but I do this not out of a desire to assist Aunt Gardiner, although you know I would do anything for her. I do it for the experience, as I am not at present very sanguine about my prospects for genteel marriage. Your outlook has always been promising, and I believe all you need do is come to town for a few months and the deed would be done. Your beauty, your wit and your charm will have suitors lining up, and I have no doubt of your success. Now that you have put the perfidious Mr. Bingley behind you, it can be easily done. Perhaps you should plan to visit over the summer or later in the year during the season.

I on the other hand also rely on my beauty, wit and charm and therein lies the problem. My beauty was not even sufficient to make the last new so-called gentleman to enter the neighborhood hold his silence and the idea of a dance with me practically gave him a case of the vapors. My wit and charm are as you well know not to the taste of most gentlemen. Add my well-earned reputation as a bluestocking, and I am quite the odd duck. If you then include my current thorough disenchantment with the male sex in general, and our tiny portions that will no doubt be entirely consumed by our mother if none of us marry well; it becomes obvious that I may need to prepare myself for employment. Should any of us marry well perhaps it will be unnecessary, but I feel the need to be prepared; as I have not the slightest intention of living with Mother when Father passes, or based on the previous several months, I probably will not want to live with her ever again.

With that in mind, Aunt Gardiner has graciously agreed to allow me to take up the office of Governess, and she will do her best with her admittedly busy days to teach me what I need to know in a professional capacity; but she will afford me no special treatment. I will be the governess, exactly as I would in another house. With four sisters, and having taken care of my nieces and nephews many times I doubt it will be all that difficult. Aunt Gardiner is the most sensible woman I know, and she has assured me that I must learn more to be effective at the trade.

So, the next time you meet another Caroline Bingley, you will be able to boast of yet one more relation in trade. I am certain she will be proud to know you.

Your devoted sister
Elizabeth

Museum

5 March 1812
Gracechurch Street

My Dearest Jane,

I am slightly distressed, but hardly surprised to learn that Mr. Miller is as he always was. I imagine our desire for him to have matured with age and schooling were optimistic. I am happy that he never touched your heart, although to be truthful I had a very difficult time believing he ever would. Charlotte always says it makes no difference if you know someone seven hours or seven years; but I think when you have known someone man and boy since childhood, there are unlikely to be any pleasant surprises. Perhaps I am well prepared for spinsterhood, as at the moment I find myself expecting the worst from any man; with the exception of our uncle who has shown himself to be all that a man ought to be. With the benefit of distance and time, I have even come to think poorly of our father. He has had many years to deal with his lack of a son and take steps to insure his daughters are well placed, but I find that his books and his privacy seem more important to him. It pains me to say this, but I do not depend on him for anything whatsoever; even something as simple as good advice. For that I am entirely dependent on our aunt and uncle. As for the other so-called gentlemen of our mutual acquaintance, the less thought or said about them the better. I realize this shows a more pessimistic view of the world than I have customarily possessed, but it is how I feel now. I am hoping it will not become a lifelong habit.

I have some more distressing news, although it was not as shocking this time as last. I am fully embracing my position, even though we all know it is not the same as actually being employed; but I now save my pin money and I only spend what I have earned as Aunt's governess. I also habitually wear a governess's dress, and have put all my own clothes away in trunks for the duration.

With that in mind, I have saved enough for an outing to the museum, so thither I went on Sunday afternoon, wearing my new tradeswoman's dress. The displays were most fascinating, and I can barely restrain myself from describing them in detail, but since I know you are not very interested, I shall spare you. I also found my interaction with the other people in the museum as a tradeswoman to be considerably different than it was as a lady. It is difficult to describe, but I found the experience more comfortable by myself in that dress, then I would with a well‑dressed gentleman on my arm. Of course, the chances of a gentleman on my arm are lower than that of being struck by lightning, so it is a bit of a moot point.

I had just finished with my tour, and decided to take a hack back to Gracechurch Street. My uncle strongly opposed the entire scheme, but I simply employed the time-tested Bennet female tactics, and wore with him down with endless repetition until he acquiesced. In the end, he allowed as the possibility of ending up as a governess was not the least likely outcome in the world (I believe he muttered something under his breath about my digging my own grave, but could not be certain), and in the end, he relented.

I was just about to step into the next hack in the queue, when around forty paces away, you will never guess in a dozen years of trying who I saw. Well, with that buildup I imagine you have figured out for yourself that it was the infamous Mr. Darcy; but without his sister or Mr. Bingley.

I thought to get in the cab before he saw me, but he did glance my way and appeared quite startled at my presence. I swear Jane, he looked at me with the same intense expression of disgust he gave me last time. It has not abated in the least. I say my courage always rises to any attempt to intimidate me, and this time I did not quake in fear and run away like a rabbit from a hound. You would be most proud of me. Not a rabbit at all. Naturally, I got into the cab as quickly as possible tripping over my unfamiliar skirts in the process, and left immediately without sparing him another glance; but I did not quake in fear. I simply found it would be convenient to be elsewhere. That was all. It did not take me hours to get to sleep after the experience.

Now that you have my news, let us discuss yours. I have heard from Charlotte that she would like some company to share the rapturous glories of Rosings and the Wondrous Condescension of the Great and Noble Lady Catherine de Bourgh. You of course can readily determine that I took employment as a governess for three months just to avoid such a request, so I am afraid that duty falls to you. I thought of asking Mary, but she very cleverly declined in advance in her last missive, which really puts Mary well on the way to a reputation as the most sensible of the Bennet sisters. I quite admire her for it.

In all due seriousness, I do know it will be a miserable chore, but Charlotte is our oldest and dearest friend; living in that parsonage with our cousin. I now fully understand why she did it, and I can even appreciate, understand and possibly even agree with her choice… from a distance. It pains me to say it, but her choices at this point of her life were even worse than ours. She is seven and twenty, and saw a chance for home and hearth, and she grasped it with both hands. In the end, I must grudgingly admit that I admire her. I will write a letter explaining my feelings once I work up the nerve.

Regardless of my sentiments though, I cannot stomach the idea of spending weeks with our cousin. You have the patience of a saint, so I am quite certain you are much better suited to the office. Forgive me if you find me a coward hiding behind my governess's duties like a child in a cupboard, but I am afraid I cannot go.

So, my dear Jane, I will expect a full report on the chimneys and fireplaces at Rosings. I expect you to check our cousin's work to insure he did not miscount or exaggerate.

Your Employed Sister
Elizabeth

Rosings

3 April 1812
Gracechurch Street

My Dearest Jane,

What a fascinating letter, and I am all agog at your fortune. To have dined at Rosings itself would be quite enough to satisfy anyone for a lifetime's entertainments, although as father says, perhaps a little goes a long way. Your descriptions of the inhabitants leave me insatiably curious.

For example, was Lady Catherine really as shocked as you say to learn all our sisters are out, or have you embellished for entertainment value? Or that we had five daughters without a governess? Does she have no idea of how society works in small market towns? You told me yourself Hunsford is like Meryton, and she advises everyone in the village how to live in the minutest detail, so can she expect the youngest to wait until the eldest are married? I would not even be out under that regime, and I must say attaining my majority still in pigtails would not suit at all. I hate to say it, but is Lady Catherine mad, or just an old busybody? Frankly, she sounds like she would enjoy our mother's company, since they appear to be two peas in a pod. Although come to think of it, after seeing Kitty and Lydia's behavior at that last infamous ball, perhaps a governess might not have been a such a bad idea after all. Who would have thought Lady Catherine could be so wise?

Your description of Miss de Bourgh must be the most uncharitable words you have ever written Miss Jane Bennet, and I am shocked. I do agree that a pale sickly creature seems an appropriate wife for Mr. Darcy; but did you really write that she has little conversation and no talent? Are you to be so hard on one of our own sex? Have you surreptitiously replaced Jane Bennet with a meaner sister? Actually, that question answers itself since I am still here. If you are to adopt your sister's ways, I really would recommend Mary over myself. It does my heart good to know Mr. Darcy is betrothed to such a creature, but I imagine they will be able to content themselves with the immense size of their combined estate. There, you can see that you are in no way qualified to take the mantle of the most unpleasant Bennet sister, so you must return to your normal serene countenance. I insist.

I must say that your description of the park does leave me with pangs of jealousy. I have explored every park within walking distance of Uncle Gardiner's house, and I am quite fatigued with them. You simply add insult to injury with your assertion that you do not care for walking the lanes any more than you did in Hertfordshire. For shame, I almost wish I was there. The only way I can still my heart from its pangs of jealousy is to picture the face of our cousin, and as our mother always says, 'that should do the trick'.

Your Jealous Sister
Elizabeth

Fitzwilliam

1 April 1812
Gracechurch Street

My Dearest Jane,

What a fascinating world you portray. I hate to sound like our mother, but 'A full colonel! A Red Coat! Son of an Earl! Oh, I will go distracted!'

Was that close enough? I must ask because as you well know our mother is an unreliable correspondent at best, and given that I was driven out of Longbourn practically at sword-point, I have not had a single line from her; a fact for which I am eternally grateful. Since Mary has reported in her own quiet way that she still remonstrates against me several times daily to any who will listen, I do not rue the lack of correspondence. I am however worried that her comments seem to be getting more vicious, and tending more towards the vulgar as time goes on, rather than receding as you would expect. Mary actually refused to repeat something she said in Lady Lucas' company, so shocking it was. But I digress, and this letter is not about our mother, but about you.

I must say I am quite relieved for your sake that your colonel's cousin Mr. Darcy did not make his usual Easter trip to Rosings. If I had any idea the place was such a snake-pit of intrigue, I would never have suggested you attend. Charlotte is quite safe, but I imagine any Bennet would be tarred with the same brush I got in London, and I am happy to find you will not have to put up with the insufferable man with no safe place to run. I still occasionally have trouble going to sleep, knowing full well that a man of his consequence could find me easily if he meant me real harm. He has thus far been content to stare daggers at me; which is quite bad enough, I assure you.

I had further word from Mary, and I am most concerned about something and I must depend on you and Mary to set it aright when you return to Longbourn. I am to understand Mary King's uncle has taken her away from Meryton, and Lieutenant Wickham is back to calling on Longbourn. I have written to Father, but I doubt he would listen to me if I planted myself in his book room for a fortnight and built a fire, let alone if I wrote to him. I am concerned about the handsome Lieutenant's effect on our younger and sillier sisters. Lydia and Kitty are just flighty enough to do something ridiculous with that man or one of the other officers, and you know their mother will only encourage it. You and I both know that marriage to a penniless lieutenant would in no way be suitable.

I have been thinking on Mr. Wickham and something puzzles me greatly. I do believe his living was denied by Mr. Darcy. That part of the story rings true and accords with what I know of Mr. Darcy based on the actions we could see with our own eyes, and the gentleman admitted to a resentful and implacable temper himself. However, I am most curious about what the gentleman has been doing these last several years. I would think he is near in age to Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley or your Colonel Fitzwilliam, and yet he is the lowliest Lieutenant in the King's militia. He may as well be a common foot soldier. Granted your colonel is the son of an Earl, but should not a man of his years have established a profession by now? If he were meant for the church, and his living was denied, why has he not procured another living, or even completed seminary? I must say I trusted the man implicitly while in his company, and I rationalized his nearly instant abandonment of any cordial feelings for myself when Mary King acquired her fortune; but his rapid return to Longbourn does not speak well of a solid and dependable man. It speaks more of a fortune hunter. Please urge Papa to caution in that regard.

Now back to your Colonel Fitzwilliam! I can hear you protesting that he's not your colonel, but your descriptions of him make him sound like a more intelligent and worldly version of Mr. Bingley, so do not give up if you truly esteem him. Guard your heart lest he become another unworthy, but I do believe Charlotte had a point. If we give the gentlemen no encouragement at all, as is expected of us by our upside-down society, perhaps not all men will have the courage to carry forward. If you like him, show him without being overt. If he esteems you, perhaps he will overlook our meager portions. You are welcome to mine if it would help. Perhaps he has entirely enough income from his profession or his family to be comfortable. I have no idea how these things work, so that is as good a theory as any.

Of course, if you do not esteem him, then be polite for another fortnight and you will be done with him forever.

Your Anxiously Awaiting Sister
Elizabeth

Betrayal

11 April 1812
Gracechurch Street

My Dearest Most Beloved Jane,

I am frustrated beyond measure that you will not be able to read this letter, but I have become accustomed to working out my frustrations with the pen, so a letter it is; even though you will be here in a few hours and I will simply hand it to you in person, or I could just say the words. I must apologize for the sorry state of the page, for my tears are doing considerable damage.

How could he? How could a man pretend to be a gentleman, yet say such a horrid thing? How can a man boast to someone he barely knows of how vicious his friends are, as if such would give you pleasure? Perhaps he confused you with Miss Bingley, as I am most certain she would have enjoyed the tale immensely; although since she was no doubt a principle in the thing, she would not need to be told.

I must congratulate you on the forbearance you showed in leaving the hateful man, and retiring to your room. You need not chastise yourself over your refusal to go to Rosings for tea, nor to come downstairs to talk to him when the insufferable man came to call without a chaperone, nor for refusing to take your leave of him when he came to call later. You in fact showed an admirable level of restraint, and it shows just how much your character is to be esteemed.

In my fondest wishes, I wonder what I would have done, were I talking to the scoundrel, and he bragged about how his cousin Darcy saved Bingley from an imprudent match. In my dreams, I would either give him a verbal setdown that would have him begging for his mother, or I might take his walking stick and beat him half to death. In practice thought, I believe my hated manners and even more despised timidity would have prevented both. I would have done just as you did, leave as quickly as possible, beg off visiting Rosings and spend the evening crying. Hateful Man! Hateful, Hateful Insufferable Man!

I now find myself in a quandary. I cannot think of which of the three 'gentlemen' I think most ill of.

Mr. Bingley is obviously either a rake just playing around with a country girl's affections, or he is such a weak-willed soul that he blows around as the wind carries him; and it apparently does not take all that strong of a wind. Should you have shackled yourself to him, would he have been resolute and dependable, or would you have had his sister constantly underfoot, sneering at you, looking down at how you keep your home, criticizing how you raise your children. She would be little better than Lady Catherine. What if you encountered some difficulties? Could you expect him to give your children the discipline necessary to grow up something better than our younger and sillier sisters, or worse yet, the Bingley sisters? You know as well as I do that you and I are only marginally tolerable because of the influence of our aunt and uncle. Would he abandon you if you were ill, or…? I will not go any farther. We must consider that you have narrowly escaped a man less worthy than our cousin Collins, rather than having a real lover snatched away from you. Yes, Mr. Bingley has certainly earned our disapproval.

What about the colonel himself? I am ashamed that a few days ago, I was encouraging your affections. What can a man say when he is proud of the fact that his cousin can lead a lamb to the slaughter. How much effort could it have taken, but I must say to take pride in that requires a certain kind of man that I wish to never have the displeasure to meet.

Most of my rage though is reserved for the worst of the lot, although I know not whether that is a rational assessment; or if I hate him so much just because he hates me. I am left with the most vicious quandary. What could I or we possibly have done to offend Mr. Darcy to such an extent that he not only quit the county, but dragged his friend away with him? All this time since I happened upon him those months ago, and received such a look of derision, I have wondered if I would ever have the courage to just ask him given the opportunity. In the end, though my courage has usually risen to overcome any obstacles; I do not believe that I would. He is without a doubt the worst man I know, and to the best of my ability I shall never speak another word to him. I only wish that I could never have another thought of him as well, but at the very least I have come to a level of understanding and agreement with the man. I now hate him as much as he hates me.

I hear the carriage outside and can only hope that it is you arriving, so I must close and go down to offer what consolation and affection a sister can provide.

Your Anxiously Awaiting Sister
Elizabeth

Holiday

10 May 1812
Gracechurch Street

Dearest Jane,

I am happy that to hear your report that Papa is now moderately satisfied with the level of sense being spoken at Longbourn. I know he would prefer even more, but I think he must be satisfied with what he gets from you and Mary. Speaking of Mary, she continues her correspondence and seems to have replaced me as a constant companion to the book room, to everybody's satisfaction. I have been resisting my father's desultory entreaties to return, and intend to continue with that course. With our mother still at odds over Mr. Collins, Mary's much more pessimistic reports of her behavior than yours, and my majority coming up in less than a month, I believe I shall remain here as long as I am welcome.

Mrs. Hewes returns on Tuesday, as her sister has been delivered of a fine stout and healthy baby boy. I am to understand mother and child are doing quite well.

I have yet to decide whether I will tell Papa or not, but I have taken a position with one of our uncle's business associates until the summer. Mr. Ellery has graciously offered me employment in his warehouse. I am to labor as a clerk, working on some of the ledgers, which he claims are the lifeblood of any business. If I do well before the summer, he may offer me a better position. The man is quite a radical, practically a heretic, as he pays women and men the same amount for the same work. All my hours studying with Papa appear as if they may be of some use. I can hear the protests when and if it becomes known in Longbourn, but I am not to be moved. Perhaps this step is unnecessary, and it is likely to diminish my own matrimonial prospects, poor as they may be; but I do not believe it will affect the rest of you; and I cannot but think that I need to prepare myself for a different life than we had imagined. The life we were seemingly born to is no longer a certainty or even a high probability, considering our history with the opposite sex.

I beg of you to neither tell anyone else in the family save Mary who already knows what I am about; nor offer me any censure. I am doing what I must to secure a future for myself, and to be prepared should I need to assist any of my sisters.

With that bit of news, I have yet more to relate. As you know we were planning to visit the Lakes District. Uncle's business has forced us to both delay and curtail the scheme; and to change the destination. I do not mind the delay as it will give me more time to settle into my new employment and see how well it suits me, and the break will be an opportune time to learn some more about business from our uncle. I am not even unhappy about having the six-week trip reduced to a month, as I am not so very much built for idleness any more. I am certain I will be ready for much idleness after being employed for months or years, but now I can hardly wait to start each day. The distressing news though is that we now do not have time to visit the Lakes District. Instead, we are to tour Derbyshire. As you know, Aunt Gardiner has been corresponding with friends from her original home in Lambton, and she wishes to visit them.

At first I was worried that I was going to the home county of a certain hated gentleman, but then I decided to be just a little bit sensible. Derbyshire is immense, and I should think I can manage to take a few spars away without being noticed. The chances of encountering the man are minuscule, and I will have Uncle with me in case of need. Therefore, I fully intend to embrace our holiday and make the most of it.

Yours etc&
Elizabeth