Yours in conspiratorial friendship,
Isabel
Dear Mama,
I have just ushered out the last of the little charity school pupils who are preparing for the Christmas ball. The quiet that has descended on the vicarage is remarkable. I must find a better name for this little group of persons—I used to call them my urchins or the poor little wretches, but since you bid me see them first as souls for which I will give an account, I find I cannot name them thus. Perhaps you will have an idea what I should call them.
I daresay Lady Hampshire has told you of her Christmas charity ball; I have never known her to be zealous for any charity before. I venture to think this shows your influence on her, Mama, for which you may be commended. She is full of plans; she is not only giving the ball at her own house and inviting all those she think may have open pockets, but she has thought of inviting, clothing, and giving dancing and etiquette lessons to some twenty of my
She has recruited the help of Miss Kitty Bennet, who seems to appear wherever I go. I would be tempted to suspect the young lady of setting her cap at me except that she takes no pains to talk to me, and her civility is that of a kind young woman to a sober parson who is but doing his duty. I suppose it is only natural. I overheard her asking Lady Hampshire if a certain family was invited to the ball, and I did not miss the smile on her face when the answer was given in the affirmative. No doubt there is a young man of that family with whom she wishes to dance. She did not smile similarly when she learned that I would also be of the party!
It is a scant month before the ball, and the ladies have undertaken (with the help of an old governess) to teach the children some lessons in polite behavior as well as dancing. I fear it may be beyond their powers. I had lent them my parlor for the endeavor but was soon called to lend my assistance as well, as a fight broke out between two of the boys, and they would not listen to the entreaties of the three women to desist. The old governess was the firmest of the three, but as she did not threaten any violence to the little fellows, and used proper English to rebuke them, they had no idea what she was saying and paid not the slightest heed to her. I was able to stop the brawl by using such terms as the boys understood, although I fear Miss Bennet looked rather shocked (lest you also be shocked, let me hasten to add that my words were not profane but only ungenteel). I took the precaution of carrying my cane into the room with me, and although I would not have beat any child with it, the
I could not but admire the patience of Miss Bennet, who surely has not been accustomed to teaching children, unlike the governess and Lady Hampshire (who has never been a teacher, but is, at least, a mother). She asked me, after the children were bundled out, how I was getting on in finding a home for little Annie (who has been ill but is now recovered). I had to tell her that I was as yet unsuccessful. She looked at the governess and said it was a pity we could not persuade Miss Conrad to undertake the work, as Annie would grow up to have manners equal to any lady in the kingdom. She meant it in jest, but it has started an idea in my mind. Think of all the retired governesses in the land! Many are not very old, but they have been set aside for younger women and are lucky if they have any kind of annuity from the last family they served. Could I not find two or three of these worthy ladies and give them a monthly sum to care for such children as Annie? I entreat you to let me know your thoughts on the subject.
And now, dear Mother, I must go and preside over a funeral. I have performed the service so often in the last twelvemonth that I could say the words in my sleep. “In the midst of life we are in death: of whom may we seek for succor, but of thee, O Lord, who for our sins art justly displeased?” I do hope that those gathered may be reminded to look to the Almighty for help, instead of relying only on the weak and fallible one who stands before them as their vicar.
Your loving son,
John
My Dear John,
Your letter rebuked me, although I know you did not mean it so. I had told you not to forget that your poor children were souls and not bodies merely, but I fear I myself would have called them waifs or wretches without any compunction whatever. I was going to suggest you call them little darlings, but I fear some might take it as mockery. I will turn my mind to the problem.
The idea about governesses is a good one. I suppose you would wish them to be in London, so that you may more easily give them their allowances and you can keep watch over how the children get on. I should ask the governess who is helping you if she knows of any others who might be willing to do such a thing.
Miss Bennet seems to be a young woman of substance. I have not said anything to you, my dear, about matters of the heart, after your disappointment, and I do not mean to importune you on the subject now. I only wish to say that I beg you will not let yourself be soured on the idea of love. You would make an excellent husband, and a wife would lighten your cares—if you choose wisely.
Your loving
Mama
Dear Margaret,
I think I must set up as a matchmaker, for I am having great success. Yesterday we were having a dancing lesson with the children, and I conceived the idea of making John and Kitty demonstrate the steps for the children. John might have rebelled, but Miss Bennet was willing, and he knew he would appear churlish if he refused—he was trapped by his own civility. Once they were dancing, he enjoyed himself, and when he made a mistake, he laughed with her (and the children) at himself with very good grace. I noticed that he looked at her very often afterward.
I cannot say what she is thinking—she is too much a gentlewoman to betray what she feels by coy glances. I may need to do a little judicious promotion of his good qualities to her. If she could see him on the hunting-field, mounted on that fiery steed of his, she would no doubt fall swooning at his feet in a trice. A pity that I cannot contrive that!
Yours, etc.,
Isabel
Dear Jane,
It is only two weeks until the Christmas charity ball. Mr. Arnot is to be there. I saw him at the concert we attended two days ago. We heard a famous soprano who sang in Italian. Georgiana understood what the words meant, and I was ashamed that I did not. Of course, Lizzy did not either, but she can read French, which I cannot. I fear I have not improved my time as I ought.
I have had to remind Lizzy that she needs to issue a dinner invitation to the Arnots, as they invited us to their house. It seems she had forgotten. So very unlike her, especially when she knows that Mr. Arnot might be a very good match for me! Did I tell you that they will be at the Christmas ball? I wonder if he will make me an offer at the ball. Would it not be romantic? Perhaps after we dance, he will take me aside, or outside the house altogether, and declare his love while the moon shines on us and the sounds of music from the ball come through the windows.