Page 26 of May I Have the Pleasure
I presently find myself expecting the worst from any man, except for our uncle, who has shown himself to be just what 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 ensure his daughters are well placed, but his books and his privacy seem more important to him than our comfort, or even survival. It pains me to say this, but I do not depend on him for anything whatsoever—even something as simple as 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, the better. I realise this shows a more sceptical view of the world than I customarilypossessed, but it is how I feel. I hope it will not become a lifelong habit, as I have always believed myself made for happiness.
I have 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. For example, there is no chance whatsoever that I will be importuned in any way, but that is a significant risk for a real governess.
I now save my pin money for a rainy day, and I only spend part of what I have earned. I also habitually dress as a governess and have put all my own clothes away in trunks for the duration. Oddly enough, simply changing clothes makes it safer for me to wander the streets, though Uncle has only slightly reduced his restrictions.
With that in mind, I 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. Since I know you are not especially interested, I shall spare you.
I also found my interaction with the other people in the museum as a governess 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 attire, then I would with a well-dressed gentleman on my arm. Of course, the chances of a gentleman on my arm seem lower than being struck by lightning, so that one seems a moot point.
I had just finished with my tour and decided to take a hack back to Gracechurch Street. Uncle Gardiner opposed the scheme, but I simply employed the time-honoured Bennet tactic and wore him down with endless repetition until he acquiesced to save his peace (sound familiar?).
In the end, he allowed as the possibility of ending up as a governess was not the least likely outcome in the world (Ibelieve he muttered something under his breath about digging my own grave), and he eventually 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 preamble I imagine you have figured out for yourself that it was the infamousMr Darcy,sans 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 didnotquake 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, then left immediately without sparing him another glance—but I didnotquake in fear. I simply found it convenient to be elsewhere. That was all. It didnottake 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!
In all due seriousness, I know it will be a miserable chore, but Charlotte is our oldest and dearest friend, living in that parsonage withour cousin. I now fully understand why she did it, and I can even appreciate, understand, and possibly even agree with herchoice—from a distance.
It pains me to say it, but her options at this point in her life were even worse than ours. She is seven and twenty, she saw a chance for home and hearth, and she grasped it with both hands. In the end, I must grudgingly admire her—not that I wish to emulate her, obviously. I will write a letter explaining my feelings once I work up the nerve.
Regardless of my sentiments, 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 correct our cousin’s work to ensure he did not miscount or exaggerate.
Your employed sister,
Elizabeth
Rosings
3 April 1812
Gracechurch Street
My Dearest Jane,
What a fascinating letter. 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 Catherinereallyas 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 regimen, and I must say attaining my majority still with my hair down would not suit at all.
I hate to say it, but is Lady Catherine mad, or just a nosy 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 behaviour at that infamous ball, perhaps a governess might not have been such a terrible idea after all. Who would have thought Lady Catherinecould 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 indeed. I agree that apale sickly creatureseems an appropriate wife for Mr Darcy; but did you really write that she haslittle 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 engaged to such a creature, but I imagine they will content themselves with the immense size of their combined estates. 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 were 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 moderately jealous sister,
Elizabeth
