To: Miss Agatha Fordyce
Cheapside, London

Dear Agatha,

I hope you are feeling better and your rheumatism is not troubling you as much as it had been in the spring. I also apologize for not writing back to you sooner. To say things have been hectic at Longbourn lately would be an understatement. My time is no longer my own since my sister Kitty is away for the summer, she went north with my two older sisters after the wedding last month. Most of my days have been spent keeping my mother company, and Mother insists on visiting my Aunt Philips in town nearly everyday, although I do not mind this trip nearly as much as I once did. I spend my evenings playing for my father as he has been very melancholy lately, and I know how much my music cheers him. With days and evenings so full, I have barely had time to finish the commentary on your father's book which I was working on for your brother. It required a number of late nights working in my room, but you may tell him I have finished it and he should be getting it in the post in a few days. If he finds it useful, he is free to use any part of the document to enhance his Sunday sermons. Also please give him and his family my kindest regards. I look forward to seeing you all in the fall when I visit my Aunt and Uncle Gardener, then perhaps we can resume our weekly teas.

In the meantime, let me bring you up to date on my family since we last met. We and the Gardeners were invited to spend Christmas at Pemberley, the home of my sister Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy, in Derbyshire. Although Father took us there on a visit last summer, this was the first time Mother and my Aunt Gardener were there at the same time. My aunt and her family had been to Pemberley the previous Christmas, so she was quite familiar with the house, however Mother insisted on pointing out to her the superiority of every feature of the estate over our own home. She went on and on about the large elegant rooms, the furniture, the linens, the crystal; cave or stable would have seemed more habitable than Longbourn after her effusions. I was so embarrassed for Father's sake, but he seemed rather amused by it all, almost proud of it; I saw him wink at Lizzy and her husband. Sometimes I just don't understand Father. Then Mother started ranting about how terrible it was that my youngest sister, Mrs. Lydia Wickham would not be able to make the journey down from New Castle with her awful husband. (I wish they would ship that man off to the continent, Australia, India, or the Americas somewhere. He makes me very uncomfortable, even if he is in another part of the country.) My uncle finally managed to draw my mother into calmer conversation, and she was remarkably less expressive for the duration of our stay. We even managed to have a relatively quiet holiday, quiet for us anyway, but I am sure that my brother-in-law was glad to see us go.

Things were fairly uneventful at Longbourn after our return, until Miss Caroline Bingley announced her engagement and sent Mother in a tizzy about how Kitty and I were still unattached. Miss Bingley's brother, you may recall, is married to my sister, Mrs. Jane Bingley. Anyway, my mother would still be on about our pitiable situation if it were not for the arrival of Mr. Neville Stewart to the neighborhood; Mr. Stewart is from Amesbury and recently took a position with my Uncle Phillips as one of his clerks. Shortly after he arrived in April my uncle brought him to dinner at Longbourn. Afterward my father, as is his custom with new acquaintances, asked him to read to us from Fordyce' Sermons. No offence to your late father, you know his work means the world to me, but my father enjoys using a person's encounter with that book as a window on their character. My poor cousin, Mr. Collins, failed this test miserably, as do most people. Mr. Stewart, however, actually brought your father's words to life. I have not heard such a passionate recitation since the Darcys' took me to the theater last year. Apparently Mr. Stewart hopes to become a barrister someday and practices his oratory ability by using the driest material he can lay his hands on. He even impressed my sister Kitty, although I think that had more to do with his green eyes and auburn hair than with his speaking ability.

Later that evening, while he and I were having a rather lengthy discussion regarding chapter 3, Kitty asked me to play on the pianoforte and hinted strongly that she would love to dance, however Mr. Stewart didn't or wouldn't pick up the hint and never asked her. He did, to my surprise, ask ME to dance when my Aunt Phillips succeeded me at the instrument. I tried to decline, but Mother accepted for me before I had the chance to refuse -- Kitty was so jealous. Even though I seldom dance, I thought I performed tolerably well that evening; I only stepped on his feet twice, whereas he stepped on mine at least four times. He asked me to dance with him again at the last assembly, and neither of us trod on each other's feet either time. I think we are improving. I was hoping he would attend the wedding with my Uncle and Aunt Phillips, but my uncle sent him to town on business a few days before the ceremony.

The wedding at Netherfield was a lovely affair and allowed the neighborhood a proper farewell to the Bingleys, as my sister Jane and her husband moved north shortly thereafter. Although I had never considered Mrs. Ryan, nee Bingley, a handsome woman, I must admit she looked absolutely stunning on her wedding day. I hope the newlyweds will be happy together, but I fear they will not. It was quite apparent to me that the affection in this union is one sided, and all on the part of the lady. That she adores him is quite obvious, but I was unfortunate enough to overhear some rather unpleasant remarks made by the gentleman not two hours after the wedding, which lead me to believe that love was not his main object in this marriage.

Mr. Ryan, you see, is in the business of shipping goods between England and Ireland. He is a distant cousin of my brother-in-law, Mr. Darcy (on his mother's side) and there is a striking resemblance between the two gentlemen, both in physical stature and features; few people see it, as one is fair and one is dark, but as you recall Agatha, I have excellent powers of observation and the two could be twins if coloring were not an issue. Mr. Ryan is just as tall as Mr. Darcy, but has blue eyes and light red hair; I should almost call it orange. He and Miss Bingley met at a ball that the Darcys hosted in London last February and they were engaged before a month had gone by -- an engagement that lasted barely five weeks! It was really quite scandalous!

Anyway, after the wedding breakfast I overheard one of Mr. Ryan's friends ask him about some financial difficulties that he had been having with his business. Mr. Ryan responded that he had recently married out of his financial difficulties, then raised his glass to his wife across the room and both men began laughing in a most ungentlemanly way. I felt very sad for Mrs. Ryan, but as the wedding had already taken place, thought there was little that could be done about her situation. I did venture to mention the conversation to my sister Jane, who assured me that I must have misunderstood. My other sister Lizzy, who was also in the room at the time, took me aside later and told me she would have her husband look into the matter. She seemed confident that if anything was amiss, her husband would be able to advise Mr. Bingley, and would also be in a position to put things right. I hope so, too, for Mrs. Ryan's sake.

Actually, I was very surprised that Lizzy listened to me at all; in the past when I spoke to her she tended to either humor me or ignore me completely. I remember one time I cautioned her about judging people too hastily when she had taken a rather ugly dislike to a newcomer to the neighborhood. It was obvious to me that the gentleman was attracted to her, but she dismissed my warning, as was her habit. She ended up eventually marrying that same man, so she may have learned to appreciate my observations.

Agatha, I blush to think of some of the observations I have been making lately, namely of Mr. Stewart. I paid them little mind when we first met, but his green eyes are quite becoming. The other evening at my Aunt Phillip's he told me he was raised in the same county as those enormous standing stones, which they call the Giant's Dance in his part of the country, and that they were supposedly raised by Merlin the magician long before the days of King Arthur. I know he was teasing me, but watching those green eyes of his while he told that story, I could almost believe he had been there with Merlin and had seen it all magically happen.

Sadly, I must end my letter now as Mother has invited the Phillips and Mr. Stewart for a family dinner and I must get ready. But in closing, Agatha, I must confess to you something I never thought possible. I have always assumed I would not have the opportunity to marry and would end up living with whichever brother-in-law I would inconvenience the least. Now, for the first time in my life, I can actually imagine a different future for myself, and I find the prospect quite exciting. Someday I may even be able to close with a name other than,

Your affectionate friend,

Miss Mary Bennet