Hoping this letter reaches you before I do,
George
Miss Lydia Bennet to Mrs Harriet Forster
Brighton, August 2
My dear Harriet,
You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help laughing myself at your surprise tomorrow morning, as soon as I am missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with who, I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world I love, and he is an angel. I should never be happy without him, so think it no harm to be off. You need not send them word at Longbourn of my going, if you do not like it, for it will make the surprise the greater, when I write to them, and sign my name Lydia Wickham. What a good joke it will be! I can hardly write for laughing. Pray make my excuses to Pratt for not keeping my engagement, and dancing with him tonight. Tell him I hope he will excuse me when he knows all, and tell him I will dance with him at the next ball we meet, with great pleasure. I shall send for my clothes when I get to Longbourn; but I wish you would tell Sally to mend a great slit in my worked muslin gown before they are packed up. Good-bye. Give my love to Colonel Forster. I hope you will drink to our good journey.
Your affectionate friend,
Lydia Bennet
Miss Jane Bennet to Miss Elizabeth Bennet
Longbourn, Hertfordshire,
August 3
Dearest Lizzy,
I knew you would enjoy yourself with my aunt and uncle and I am glad you are now having your share of the amusements. I would have liked to have you with me in London earlier in the year, but it would have been too cruel to deprive our father of both of us at once. He misses you sorely, and I believe he might even write to you in a few days’ time. In the meantime, you will want to know what we have been doing in Hertfordshire. We had a card party at my aunt Philips’s house the night before last and then yesterday we went to dinner with the Lucases. Lady Lucas could talk of nothing but Charlotte’s impending happy event and Mama could not help being disagreeable. I have started a bonnet for Charlotte’s baby. I could not decide whether to make it blue or pink and so I have settled on yellow.
My cousins keep me busy. In the morning I help them with their reading and in the afternoons we spend most of our time out of doors. Mary, too, helps with their education, although I do not think that Fordyce’s Sermons are of much use to the little ones, since they cannot understand one word in ten. Kitty plays with them sometimes but more often she is shut up in her room, writing to Lydia or reading letters from her. I must say that Lydia has surprised me. I did not think she would be such a regular correspondent. She still sends no more than a few short notes to Mama and Papa, but her letters to Kitty arrive with increasing frequency and Kitty laughs and giggles as she reads them. I am glad she is happy again.
I can write no more at present, my cousins need me, but I will finish my letter tomorrow. For now, adieu.
August 4
Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something has occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming you—be assured that we are all well. What I have to say relates to poor Lydia. An express came at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to bed, from Colonel Forster, to inform us that she was gone off to Scotland with one of his officers; to own the truth, with Wickham! Imagine our surprise. To Kitty, however, it does not seem so wholly unexpected. I am very, very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides! But I am willing to hope the best, and that his character has been misunderstood. Thoughtless and indiscreet I can easily believe him, but this step (and let us rejoice over it) marks nothing bad at heart. His choice is disinterested at least, for he must know my father can give her nothing. Our poor mother is sadly grieved. My father bears it better. How thankful am I that we never let them know what has been said against him! We must forget it ourselves. They were off Saturday night about twelve, as is conjectured, but were not missed till yesterday morning at eight. The express was sent off directly. My dear Lizzy, they must have passed within ten miles of us. Colonel Forster gives us reason to expect him here soon. Lydia left a few lines for his wife, informing her of their intention. I must conclude, for I cannot be long from my poor mother. I am afraid you will not be able to make it out, but I hardly know what I have written.
Jane
Miss Mary Bennet to Miss Lucy Sotherton
Longbourn, Hertfordshire,
August 4
Most noble Friend,
My sister Lydia is ruined. I am not surprised. If ever a girl was born to be ruined, it is Lydia. She has run away with an officer. Mama has spent the day bewailing her poor baby’s fate, though as I remarked to Mama, Lydia is not in point of fact a baby, but a young lady of sixteen summers. Mama ignored me, saying that if she had only had her way we would all have gone to Brighton. When I said that if she had carried the day, she might now have four daughters who had run away with officers instead of only one (since I would never have done anything so foolish), she told me that she wished I would run away and then I would not be able to plague her with my moralising. Poor Mama! She would never be accepted into the bluestockings, for she has far too many nerves.
My sister Jane has spent the morning writing to Elizabeth, whilst I have spent my time more profitably by searching for suitable extracts to sustain my family in their hour of need.
Your sister in moral rectitude,
Mary
Miss Jane Bennet to Miss Elizabeth Bennet
Longbourn, Hertfordshire,
August 5
By this time, my dearest sister, you have received my hurried letter; I wish this may be more intelligible, but though not confined for time, my head is so bewildered that I cannot answer for being coherent. Dearest Lizzy, I hardly know what I would write, but I have bad news for you, and it cannot be delayed. Imprudent as a marriage between Mr Wickham and our poor Lydia would be, we are now anxious to be assured it has taken place, for there is but too much reason to fear they are not gone to Scotland. Colonel Forster came yesterday, having left Brighton the day before, not many hours after the express. Though Lydia’s short letter to Mrs Forster gave them to understand that they were going to Gretna Green, something was dropped by Denny expressing his belief that Wickham never intended to go there, or to marry Lydia at all, which was repeated to Colonel Forster, who, instantly taking the alarm, set off from Brighton, intending to trace their route. He did trace them easily to Clapham, but no farther; for on entering that place they removed into a hackney coach, and dismissed the chaise that brought them from Epsom. All that is known after this is that they were seen to continue the London road. I know not what to think. After making every possible enquiry on that side of London, Colonel Forster came on into Hertfordshire, anxiously renewing them at all the turnpikes, and at the inns in Barnet and Hatfield, but without any success—no such people had been seen to pass through. With the kindest concern he came on to Longbourn, and broke his apprehensions to us in a manner most creditable to his heart. I am sincerely grieved for him and Mrs Forster, but no one can throw any blame on them. Our distress, my dear Lizzy, is very great. My father and mother believe the worst, but I cannot think so ill of him. Many circumstances might make it more eligible for them to be married privately in town than to pursue their first plan; and even if he could form such a design against a young woman of Lydia’s connections, which is not likely, can I suppose her so lost to everything? Impossible! I grieve to find, however, that Colonel Forster is not disposed to depend upon their marriage; he shook his head when I expressed my hopes, and said he feared Wickham was not a man to be trusted. My poor mother is really ill, and keeps her room. Could she exert herself, it would be better; but this is not to be expected. And as to my father, I never in my life saw him so affected. Poor Kitty has incurred their anger for having concealed the attachment; but as it was a matter of confidence, one cannot wonder.