Mary

Mary

5 November 1812 Gracechurch Street

Dearest Mary,

Mary, you little minx! I must say that I am prodigiously proud of you, and so very happy that you have made a love match. The fact that you managed to meet a man, court him, and receive his address without Mrs Bennet even being aware of it is an accomplishment I shall brag to my grandchildren about, and you must also tell Jane I am ever so proud of her part as well. I am so happy, and I will not be satisfied until I drag every single detail of the courtship out of your lips, with tongs, if necessary, although I will obviously have to wait until you leave that household first.

I am so giddy with happiness, it is taking a bout of iron-willed discipline to refrain from carrying on in that vein for another page or two, but alas you have asked for my help and advice, so I shall endeavour to provide it.

You do know after all the correspondence of the last year that I am probably the last person in the world you should turn to for advice, as I seem to be wrong at least half the time. Be that as it may, you have asked, and I will deliver; so long as you promise to pay more attention to your own council and that of your intended than anything I say.

After all the things that Mrs Bennet has said to you and about you since you were a girl (it did not start when I turned down Mr Collins, it had been going on for some time), I can well understand your desire to have a dignified engagement and wedding, and I agree it would be impossible with Mrs Bennet’s involvement. It may sound mean spirited, but I think you can agree that it is a cold-hearted statement of fact. The woman is vulgar and crass, and anything she touches will adopt that vulgarity. I would not suggest such a thing if you had not already asked, but since you have, then I do believe we must get you married without her interference.

That brings up some practical difficulties, and I have thought of several schemes to accomplish the goal. Being wed from Longbourn is clearly impossible, so we must dismiss it out of hand. That leaves your intended’s parish or Uncle Gardiner’s to choose from. You must also obtain consent to both wed, and to travel thither for the ceremony.

That brings us to the tricky part. In my new life in the world of business, I have learned to predict others’ behaviours somewhat by inferring from previous actions to understand their motives, and then judging which perceived course of action will best match their motivations and habits. It works a surprisingly robust percentage of the time, so we can apply that to the principals in this drama. As Shakespeare says, past is prologue.

Let us begin with the easiest: Mr Bennet. He will do the thing that causes him the least inconvenience or expense, regardless of the outcome. Did he not give that as his reason for allowing Lydia to go to Brighton? Has he not refused to check his wife or daughters for years just because it requires industry? Has he failed spectacularly to provide his daughters with dowries? Is Longbourn’s income even less than it was under his father?

I can confidently assert that he is the most reliable and predictable father in England. All you need do is present him with a fait accompli—a paper to sign that requires no effort or expense. He will sign it and go back to his book. In the end, obtaining the only thing you truly require from your parents, your father’s consent, should be easily accomplished .

Now for Mrs Bennet, things are easier. The simplest way to prevent her from interfering with your wedding is to prevent her from knowing it is happening until the deed is done. This may impinge on your sense of honour or propriety, but really it is the only way, and it is not as if the woman has earned any consideration. If you follow my scheme, you can console yourself that you are not actually lying to her. You are simply failing to inform—a mere oversight.

Here is my scheme, of which I have already taken the liberty of consulting Aunt and Uncle, and they agree.

I understand that your intended has by necessity travelled to his parish, to return when you are prepared. I applaud his sense of duty. It is yet another thing that speaks well of him, as if courting you during Lydia’s debacle were not enough for ten men.

For a man such as yours, nothing will do but to ask your father directly, so I suggest you have him write his proposed settlement and bring it with him. I will ask Uncle Gardiner to write a simple document turning you over to my employer, Mr Ellery’s protection. It so happens that I am travelling with Mr Ellery and his wife to within twenty miles of your intended’s parish in early November, so you shall simply travel with me. Once you have permission, your beau can read the banns for three weeks before we arrive. On arrival, I will stand up with you, unless you have someone else in mind.

I also believe attempting to prevent Aunt Gardiner and Mrs Ellery from buying you a trousseau would be an exercise in futility, so you may as well accept it with good grace. You will be travelling first to town, and thence to Derbyshire with Mr and Mrs Ellery and myself, so all the proprieties will be observed. All will be well.

I do truly hope you will accept this plan, but I have one more perhaps distressing component you should comply with. Unless Mrs Bennet has changed habits considerably, she always takes the carriage to Lucas Lodge every Tuesday morning and stays all morning for gossip and chatter. If you truly wish to escape, you must have your beau at Longbourn right after breakfast, and once permission has been granted, you must quickly pack and leave before she returns. You may send her a letter when the deed is done.

I know the subterfuge will be distasteful to you, but it is either that or put up with her interference. You must decide which course is right for you.

Your inordinately proud and insufferably boastful sister, Lizzy