Another Friday morning respite as Mr. Collins enjoys turning over the soil in his dear garden. I am afraid after reading his appalling epistle to our benefactress that I can no longer bear the sight of her “whipping boy.” But today, I shall be more happily engaged. For last week as Miss Anne de Bourgh demanded my attentions, out of doors no less, a letter flew from the carriage. After being cruelly kept outside in such wind and chill, I saw no harm and delaying this missive’s return to its writer.
To the most endearing, darling Mr. Collins,
Photo courtesy of Muffet and Flickr CC
My sincerest apologies for the haste of this small epistle, but as your dear Lady Catherine and my mother must always have her share in all the after dinner matters, I have but a few moments to pen these words. And only a small once of courage supplied by the after dinner sherry (please do not divulge this lapse in judgment to Mother Dearest for she would surely never allow me another moment of peace to write to you). Even so, dearest curate, most generous of all our parish ministers, I write to lay before you how you have endeared yourself to Rosings and my own admirable person.
Upon your application to our parish, I recall Mother’s disdain for your trifling sycophantic nature, but I was caught up in the rapturous vein of your sermon on David and Bathsheba. Our eyes met when you proclaimed David’s indiscretion, and I felt our souls joining together, but of course, discreetly and appropriately. Forthwith, I applied myself to Mother Dearest on your behalf so that you should and did come to have to living and not the more odious applicants.
And so my darling, it was I who brought you to your dear Rosings, and it was I who encouraged Mother Dearest to extend so many dinner invitations to you. I watched as you gloriously slurped your squash bisque and chewed the mutton while complimenting the cook or servants or praising my Mother’s generosity. I basked in your attentions, no matter how few, and I observed your graciousness from my corner chair. Oh to have you pull your chair towards mine, what gloriousness of this dream.
But I fear that you have gone to Longbourn to mend those breached relations, and I can only surmise that your mind is fixed upon matrimony. I beg for my heart, for my eternal soul that you will return and offer your hand and heart to me. We shall be happily established in your darling cottage until we make our rightful claim to Rosings Park. Your wants and desires shall not go unheeded for I am the most attentive and quiet and submissive woman of your acquaintance. Please for the sake of my heart and love, come back to me unattached and ready to unite our two families.
Your dearest, Anne de Bourgh
Upon reading this letter, I understand Anne’s disdain for my person, her haughty stares and prideful looks. But it is of no matter for I hold the position that she so desires and the advantage is all mine. Of course her visit last week, to deliver Lady Catherine’s sermon and revisions, did find another curiousity tucked within its pages. A letter from her noble personage to her nephew, Mr. Darcy, but I hear Mr. Collins coming into the front rooms. This bit of pleasure shall have to wait until Friday next.