Sarah made a wry face when Lizzy said that Annie would be staying a little longer, but she is too good a servant to be impertinent and she said nothing. Lizzy ordered a bed to be made up in one of the unoccupied servants’ rooms, and the little waif looked utterly bewildered at having a bed to sleep in.
This is the longest letter of my life, but I wanted you to know all about our adventure.
Your affectionate sister,
Kitty
Dear Mr. Caldicot,
I fear you may think it very forward of me to write to you, but my sister Mrs. Darcy says it is not improper for even a single female to write to a clergyman about the welfare of a child when it is a case of charity. I write, of course, about Annie. I know you said that the indigent children who come under the care of the Society are often trained for domestic service, or the boys apprenticed to respectable trades. I cannot help but wonder what Annie might do. She hobbles about so painfully that I do not think she could be a maidservant. Do you think she might become a needlewoman? They do not have to move about so much as a maid would.
I am glad we came across Annie that day in our carriage. I did not know how many poor children suffer in the great city of London, but now my eyes are opened indeed. Whenever I go out, I see them, sweeping the streets or selling flowers or apples. I think at one time I might not have noticed them, but now I do, and wish I could do more to help them.
I remain, respectfully,
Catherine Bennet
Dear Miss Bennet,
Of course it is entirely proper that we should correspond about little Annie. I honor you for the sentiments expressed in your letter, and if there is anything you might do to help the children who have been brought to the Society’s attention, I will inform you.
As to your particular enquiry, I do think perhaps Annie might learn to be a seamstress, and if she shows an inclination for the work and is taught well, there is no reason why she might not be able to support herself satisfactorily. Indeed, if she were to be patronized by the Darcys and other members of the gentry, she would no doubt be in great demand. In a few years, perhaps, we shall look out for someone who could instruct her.
I thank you for your note; it was a refreshing change from the letters I usually get: it is heartening to have someone write and offer help instead of asking for it.
I remain, etc.,
John Caldicot
My Dear Margaret,
You asked me to apprise you of any further developments with Miss Bennet and your son. Beyond asking Mrs. Darcy—Miss Bennet’s sister—to do whatever she could to further the match, I have not had any occasion to bring the two young people together. However, Fate (or perhaps I should say Providence) has arranged matters better than I could have.
Mrs. Darcy called on me yesterday to tell me that she and her sister rescued a crippled little creature named Annie from being tortured by a pack of wild urchins when they passed the melee in their carriage a week ago. Miss Bennet said she wished she could ask Mr. Caldicot what they ought to do with the little girl, and Mrs. Darcy told her to write him a note asking him to call. Clever creature! The little waif is temporarily installed at the Darcys’ home under the care of one of the servants while John finds a more suitable permanent place for her.
Mrs. Darcy told me that Kitty has been much involved in the care of the little girl. (Much to the disgust of the servants, I think, who feel that anyone connected with the great name of Darcy should confine their charity to more aloof actions. You know what some servants are—more anxious that their masters be thought great than that their fellow-creatures be cared for!) There have been one or two letters written between John and Kitty, I take it—all very formal and confined to information about the child and her future. Mrs. Darcy will do what she can to have Kitty be the principal correspondent in the matter.
I am going to propose to John that I give a charity Christmas ball in aid of his Society. I believe I will ask for Miss Bennet’s help in the endeavor, and if nothing comes of it, you may call me a pigeon.
Faithfully,Isabel
Dear Jane,
I have been so busy with little Annie that I quite forgot that we were to attend a ball last night and was surprised to have Georgiana ask me at breakfast if I was to wear my new pink gown or the green one again. The ball was a good one, except not so grand as Lady Hampshire’s. Mr. Arnot was there, and we danced again. He took me in to supper and we had a very agreeable talk about London. However, as we were eating, I began to feel a trifle guilty to think of the poor people in London who, at that moment, might be cold and hungry while I was dancing and eating fine foods.
Lizzy said much the same thing as we drove home in the carriage, but Mr. Darcy said that it was just as much an act of kindness for me to talk to that very homely Miss Linnet who was only asked to dance once all evening as it was to give a hungry person some food. It did give me hope that I am beginning to be a kind and unselfish person, although of course I am not very good just yet.
I met Mr. Arnot’s mother at the ball. She appeared to be rather arrogant, but perhaps she is only shy, like Georgiana. She said she would invite us to dinner one day, and I hope she will. I wish you could see Mr. Arnot! He is very handsome and agreeable, and he smiled at me in a way that makes me venture to hope that he likes me a little bit.
Your loving sister,
Kitty
My Dear Lady Hampshire,
I take my pen to thank you once again for the dinner to which I was invited last evening, and the opportunity to explain the Society’s work to your guests. As to the idea about which you spoke to me briefly, that is, to give a charity Christmas ball in aid of the Society, I think it a very fine idea. I am not (you will doubtless remember) the sole authority in charge of the Society, but I will write to the head of the committee immediately and I may say that I expect the committee will approve of it. I will attend the ball, of course. Further, I think your idea of having some of the children at the charity school attend as well, to be a good one.
I do entreat you not to trick them out in expensive fashions as if they were the children of a duke—you have not the slightest idea what difficulties that would engender after the ball was finished! Of course you will not let them attend in rags, either. Perhaps some simple, good garments would be best. I will leave it to you. Perhaps you will write to Mr. Alfred White, as he is the schoolmaster and would know which children ought to be invited.
I beg you will excuse the brevity of this missive, but I must finish writing my sermon for tomorrow’s service.