I remain your humble servant,
John Caldicot
My Dear Maria,
I had hoped to hear from you before now as to how my daughters get on in London, especially how Kitty does. I have been waiting for all these weeks with no word from you or my brother. However, I never complain.
Kitty does send us letters, to be sure, but they are very short, and she says nothing of suitors, which is what I am most anxious about. I hope you have been keeping a watchful eye on Kitty. I do not mean to say that Lizzy and Mr. Darcy would let her run into any danger, but you know they must be very taken up with his sister, Georgiana, and her coming out, and may not notice what she is doing, as she may not herself, so unspoiled as she is.
It is very dull here with all of my daughters gone. Mary is here, of course, but she is always so very severe. Even if there were officers here now, I do not think they would come to visit us.
I hope if you see Kitty that you will tell her to write more often and tell me who she dances with, and which men are the most eligible. I do wish Mr. Bennet would take me to London so that I could help her to get a husband. I do not think the Darcys are doing all they can in that regard.
However, I never complain.
Your devoted sister,
Fanny
Dear Jane,
I am sorry for the long silence, but we have had such a busy time these two weeks past.
First of all, Mrs. Arnot called on us, and invited us to dine. I was in such a quake, not knowing what to wear and afraid I might say the wrong things. However, Lizzy said that as long as I conversed upon unexceptionable subjects, she had no fears that I would be taken in dislike by the Arnots. I wore my new pink dress, and Mr. Arnot said, when he greeted me, that I looked extremely well. Mrs. Arnot was gracious, but Mr. Arnot (the elder one) was very quiet. I believe, indeed, that he is quite a reserved gentleman.
The dinner was extremely elegant. We had white soup, roast lamb, ham, and cheese-cakes, and half a dozen other things I have forgotten. I was seated beside my friend, Mr. Arnot, and we conversed very amiably upon a number of subjects. I told him about little Annie, and he was very much surprised. He said he hoped we would not be taken in by some trick or a scheme plotted by her people. I told him that she had no people, and he said that he would not be astonished if some of them appeared now that she had a connection with the Darcy family. I assured him that no one would claim anything, as Mr. Darcy had made enquiries when she first came to stay. He did not look convinced, but I hope that he will be proven wrong in time.
When the ladies retired after dinner, Mrs. Arnot spoke very often to Lizzy and Georgiana, and not at all to me. I was inclined to be affronted, but perhaps Mr. Arnot has told his mother so much about me that she had no questions to ask, and instead wished to know Lizzy and Georgiana better. She talked to me a little when the gentlemen joined us again.
When we arrived home again, I asked Lizzy if I had behaved well, and she told me I had. I asked her if she thought Mrs. Arnot approved of me, and she said, “As well as any other girl from Hertfordshire with a thousand pounds in the four per cents.” I did not quite know what she meant by that, but after thinking it over I think she meant that Mrs. Arnot cares little for the wealth of any prospective daughter-in-law, which is a good deal in her favor, is it not?
I had thought to spend the next day resting, as my nerves were a little tried by the ordeal, but at two o’clock the knocker was heard, and it was Lady Hampshire, calling to see if I would ride in her carriage with her for a little while. I find that ladies sometimes do so with their intimate friends, and of course it was a great honor to have her ask me. So I ran to get my bonnet and pelisse and was taken up into her barouche-landau. We drove around Pall Mall and Green Park and some other places that I cannot remember the names of, and she asked me about my home in Hertfordshire and my sisters (only I did not say very much about Lydia). After a while she told me that we were going through Shoreditch and she pointed out the church that Mr. Caldicot is the vicar of.
Seeing his church made her say, “Oh, by the bye, I am giving a Christmas charity ball in aid of that Society of his. I was thinking only this morning that I will need someone to help me, and it occurs to me that you would be the perfect person to do so. Would you help me?” I told her I would be eager to do so. She said that she would call on me tomorrow and tell me exactly what I must do.
Will you think me very bad if I confess that my first thought was that Mrs. Arnot could not help but think well of me if she learns that I was selected by Lady Hampshire to help with her ball? I ought, of course, to have been grateful to contribute in any way to help children like Annie.
When I came home, I went to see Annie (as I usually do in the afternoon, when Sarah is assisting the upper house-maid to light the dressing-room fires and help in the laundry-room) and found that she was not well. She had become feverish, and Mrs. Morris, the housekeeper, did not want to give her any fever powders.
I found Lizzy and told her what Mrs. Morris had said, and she went to Mrs. Morris and told her that anyone under Mr. Darcy’s roof, whether they be family or servant or guest, ought to be given the same care as Mr. Darcy himself if he were ill. Lizzy is so very tactful; she managed to convey all of this without offending Mrs. Morris or making her resentful. I’m sure I could not have done it half so well.
By the next morning, in spite of our care, Annie was worse, and Lizzy sent for the medical man. Mr. Darcy even came to see her and looked very grave. We were in a flutter of apprehension of all day—for a little mite of a crippled orphan that we did not even know existed three weeks ago! I would not have thought it possible. Finally, at eight o’clock that night, her fever broke, and she was much easier. Today she has been much more lively. Sarah—the maid who has been tending to Annie most of the time—said that children usually recover very quickly from a fever. She has many younger brothers and sisters and knows more about children than I do.
My Aunt and Uncle Gardiner have invited us to dinner next week, and I shall be very glad to see them. I hope they do not think that we are neglecting them, only it has been so busy here since we came to London, and we have not seen them above three times.
I am very sleepy and must close this letter now and go to bed.
Your affectionate sister,
Kitty
Chapter 3
My Dear Margaret,
Plans are going forward for my Christmas ball. I received a list of suitable children from the schoolmaster of John’s charity school and have taken it upon myself to clothe them for the ball and give them a few lessons in deportment. I have had Kitty Bennet here this afternoon to discuss plans, and she suggested that the children learn to dance a little—simple steps could be learnt, and the children could be partnered with their possible patrons for one or two dances. I thought this an excellent plan, and I think we might ask John for the use of the vicarage parlor for the lessons, as it is close to where the children live.
I shall not attempt to bring the whole lot of them here: I tremble at the thought of several coaches filled with street urchins arriving on my doorstep, to the dismay of the neighborhood and giving rise to rumors about the decline of my intellect. The school might be used for such a purpose, I suppose, but perhaps Miss Bennet would not feel as comfortable in those surroundings. More to the point, she might not encounter John if we only go to the school. I will see if I may contrive to supervise the proceedings. I will have to do something, at any rate … I have no notion about teaching anything, and I daresay Miss Bennet does not, either. I shall have to look up Miss Stephens, the girls’ old governess, and ask her advice.