We go to Astley’s tomorrow, and Kitty is all anticipation. I hope she may sleep tonight. Oh, tell Charles that Fitzwilliam called on his friend Caldicot today and invited him to dinner on Tuesday next. He said that Caldicot seems a serious, sensible gentleman, which I am afraid will disappoint Kitty. She has said nothing about it, but I am sure she hopes to meet a handsome earl (or at least a baronet) and be swept off her feet and married within half a year. A sober clergyman will not excite her interest. At least she will not be rude to him; you would hardly credit how she has improved! You saw some reformation of her manners, I know, when she was staying with you last spring, but now you would not know her for the same girl who used to go with Lydia into Meryton every day in hopes of meeting officers!
She has expressed an interest in improving her mind (I think Georgiana’s education has put her to the blush several times), and I told her that both reading and writing would help her. I suggested that she write to you every week; it will amuse you while you are confined at home, and the practice in writing will be good for her mind.
I must go. Write soon, if you feel well enough.
Lizzy
Dear Jane,
Lizzy says that writing to you will help me improve my mind, so I am determined to write to you every week. Not very much has happened, yet, except that we went to Astley’s Amphitheater last week. We saw a trained pig and a horse that could make tea, and there was a man who rode a horse while standing on its back! I cannot tell you everything I saw for I cannot remember the half of it.
Our first ball is tomorrow night! Mr. Darcy is hosting it to present Georgiana. It will not be a very large one, because he said he would not distress Georgiana with so many strangers, but there will still be a hundred guests! My dress is all ready—a satin slip with an over-dress of green sarsenet. Georgiana says that it enhances the hazel color of my eyes. Lizzy is lending me a string of pearls to wear with it, and I daresay I shall have a famous time. Georgiana keeps telling me how glad she is that I will be there, too. It does make one feel happy to be useful, does it not? It is splendid that I can be useful while doing something I am longing to do anyway!
I probably should have waited to write until after the ball so I would have something to tell you. Oh! We had a visitor at dinner last night, a Mr. Caldicot. He is the vicar at a church in some unsavory district in London. He said it was not far from Cheapside, but he does not know the Gardiners. He was very dull, I must say, but also very courteous. Lizzy said he comes from a very good family, so no doubt that accounts for it. Mr. Darcy asked him many questions about some charitable society he is part of for poor children who work as crossing boys or chimney sweeps. It was all very sad and there were tears in Georgiana’s eyes when he described some of the scenes he has been called to. I hope our next dinner guest will be more lively! It is a shame that his good looks and youth should be combined with such a dreary personality. I wonder if his oldest brother is not yet married? That is no doubt an unworthy thought.
I will write you again after the ball.
I am yours, fondly,
Kitty
Dear Mama,
Thank you for the gift you sent for the Society for Ill-Used Children. I know you said it is a small gift, but a small gift goes a long way here. The charity school goes on. You asked about Jemmy, whom I told you about in my last letter. Alas, he is no longer on earth. He was knocked down by a carriage and lived only a few hours. You will not wonder, with such sad events as this, that I am loathe to go into society much.
I was invited to the home of the Darcys for dinner last night—a friend of Mr. Bingley, whom I knew at Cambridge. He is a very worthy man, in Town for the season with his wife, sister, and sister-in-law. I have some hopes that he will contribute to the Society—he asked a great many questions about it. But the two young ladies no doubt thought I was a very dreary fellow. One of them, a Miss Bennet, was quite pretty, but I could see her eyes travel to the clock frequently during dinner, and especially while I was speaking! I had a sudden, unaccountable wish that she could have seen me before I took orders, and how I was sought after by all the young ladies of the county, even as a third son! Proof of my vanity, no doubt.
I must close this letter—someone has come to enquire about placing a new child at the school. We shall have to rent another, larger room soon.
Your loving son,
John
Dear Jane,
We have had our ball. Lizzy said it could not have been a greater success. Georgiana looked very pretty, and I think I did, too. I was asked to dance every dance! Lizzy told me that this probably had more to do with me being Mr. Darcy’s sister in law than my own beauty. I think she is afraid I will be puffed up. I am determined not to be, however. Now that Georgiana is out, we shall be attending balls very often. Lady Hampshire is to give one next week, and we will be there.
I hope Mr. Arnot will be there, too. He was the best of all the men I danced with, and from what Lizzy said, he is very eligible. I did not have supper with him, however. Mr. Darcy arranged that I should have the last two dances before the supper with Mr. Fontaine, who was perfectly civil and respectable, but not exciting in the least. I was afraid that Georgiana would have to converse all through supper with some stranger, which would make her wretched, but her cousin, Col. Fitzwilliam, took her in and sat with her. She did very well all evening; I think if I did not know her and saw her for the first time at the ball, I would only think her a sweet, quiet girl and not a proud one. Lizzy is very happy it went off so well, and Mr. Darcy is pleased, too. He does not say much about it, but he smiles very often. At one time I could not imagine why Lizzy would want to marry him, but if a man ever smiled at me the way Mr. Darcy does at Lizzy (and the way Mr. Bingley looks at you), I would be lost.
Your slightly envious sister,
Kitty
Dear Mama,
Yes, I did receive an invitation to Lady Hampshire’s ball. I was not inclined to attend, but if you wish me to, I will. As you say, there is no profit in secluding myself from all society except those in my parish, and you are further correct in saying that my urchins (and their elders) are not the only miserable people in London, and that I might be of some use to those outside Shoreditch. I do think, however, that a ball is an awkward place to attempt give spiritual comfort. On the other hand, if I am known among good and wealthy people, they may become interested on the Society. I do not mean that it would only be good for the Society to have some of their surplus wealth, but that it would do the rich good to give to charity and have an interest in the welfare of the masses of poor children in their city.
At any rate, you have convinced me to attend the ball. I will spend the evening in the card room, no doubt, as dancing is not something I desire to do just yet.
Your loving son,
John