Museum

Museum

5 March 1812 Gracechurch Street

My Dearest Jane,

I am slightly distressed, but hardly surprised to learn that Mr Miller is as he always was. I imagine our desire for him to have matured with age and schooling were optimistic. I am happy he never touched your heart, though truth be told, I had a difficult time believing he ever would. Charlotte always says it makes no difference if you know someone seven hours or seven years; but when you have known someone man and boy, there are unlikely to be any pleasant surprises. Perhaps I am well prepared for spinsterhood. I have certainly mastered the fine art of cynicism.

I presently find myself expecting the worst from any man, except for our uncle, who has shown himself to be just what a man ought to be. With the benefit of distance and time, I have even come to think poorly of our father. He has had many years to deal with his lack of a son and take steps to ensure his daughters are well placed, but his books and his privacy seem more important to him than our comfort, or even survival. It pains me to say this, but I do not depend on him for anything whatsoever—even something as simple as advice. For that I am entirely dependent on our aunt and uncle.

As for the other so-called gentlemen of our mutual acquaintance, the less thought or said, the better. I realise this shows a more sceptical view of the world than I customarily possessed, but it is how I feel. I hope it will not become a lifelong habit, as I have always believed myself made for happiness.

I have more distressing news, although it was not as shocking this time as last. I am fully embracing my position, even though we all know it is not the same as actually being employed. For example, there is no chance whatsoever that I will be importuned in any way, but that is a significant risk for a real governess.

I now save my pin money for a rainy day, and I only spend part of what I have earned. I also habitually dress as a governess and have put all my own clothes away in trunks for the duration. Oddly enough, simply changing clothes makes it safer for me to wander the streets, though Uncle has only slightly reduced his restrictions.

With that in mind, I saved enough for an outing to the museum, so thither I went on Sunday afternoon, wearing my new tradeswoman’s dress. The displays were most fascinating, and I can barely restrain myself from describing them in detail. Since I know you are not especially interested, I shall spare you.

I also found my interaction with the other people in the museum as a governess to be considerably different than it was as a lady. It is difficult to describe, but I found the experience more comfortable by myself in that attire, then I would with a well-dressed gentleman on my arm. Of course, the chances of a gentleman on my arm seem lower than being struck by lightning, so that one seems a moot point.

I had just finished with my tour and decided to take a hack back to Gracechurch Street. Uncle Gardiner opposed the scheme, but I simply employed the time-honoured Bennet tactic and wore him down with endless repetition until he acquiesced to save his peace (sound familiar?).

In the end, he allowed as the possibility of ending up as a governess was not the least likely outcome in the world (I believe he muttered something under his breath about digging my own grave), and he eventually relented.

I was just about to step into the next hack in the queue, when around forty paces away, you will never guess in a dozen years of trying who I saw!

Well, with that preamble I imagine you have figured out for yourself that it was the infamous Mr Darcy, sans his sister or Mr Bingley.

I thought to get in the cab before he saw me, but he did glance my way and appeared quite startled at my presence. I swear Jane, he looked at me with the same intense expression of disgust he gave me last time. It has not abated in the least. I say my courage always rises to any attempt to intimidate me, and this time I did not quake in fear and run away like a rabbit from a hound. You would be most proud of me. Not a rabbit at all! Naturally, I got into the cab as quickly as possible, tripping over my unfamiliar skirts in the process, then left immediately without sparing him another glance—but I did not quake in fear. I simply found it convenient to be elsewhere. That was all. It did not take me hours to get to sleep after the experience.

Now that you have my news, let us discuss yours. I have heard from Charlotte that she would like some company to share the rapturous glories of Rosings and the wondrous condescension of the Great and Noble Lady Catherine de Bourgh. You of course can readily determine that I took employment as a governess for three months just to avoid such a request, so I am afraid that duty falls to you. I thought of asking Mary, but she very cleverly declined in advance in her last missive, which really puts Mary well on the way to a reputation as the most sensible of the Bennet sisters. I quite admire her!

In all due seriousness, I know it will be a miserable chore, but Charlotte is our oldest and dearest friend, living in that parsonage with our cousin . I now fully understand why she did it, and I can even appreciate, understand, and possibly even agree with her choice—from a distance.

It pains me to say it, but her options at this point in her life were even worse than ours. She is seven and twenty, she saw a chance for home and hearth, and she grasped it with both hands. In the end, I must grudgingly admire her—not that I wish to emulate her, obviously. I will write a letter explaining my feelings once I work up the nerve.

Regardless of my sentiments, I cannot stomach the idea of spending weeks with our cousin. You have the patience of a saint, so I am quite certain you are much better suited to the office. Forgive me if you find me a coward hiding behind my governess’s duties like a child in a cupboard, but I am afraid I cannot go.

So, my dear Jane, I will expect a full report on the chimneys and fireplaces at Rosings. I expect you to correct our cousin’s work to ensure he did not miscount or exaggerate.

Your employed sister, Elizabeth