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            <title type="main">Lady Susan</title>
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               <persName type="lcnaf" key="n79032879">
                  <!-- The name authority and key here are important; they allow the application to pull information directly from that record. The key should be the unique identifier for the element currently being described. -->
                  <name>
                     <!-- If we use a separate file for author information, we reference it here, using the editors.xml model. -->
                     <forename>Jane</forename>
                     <surname>Austen</surname>
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               <persName type="orcid" key="0000-0002-7400-4093">
                  <!-- This is the ORCID and key for the general editor of this text, usually the faculty member overseeing its production. -->
                  <name ref="editors.xml#TH">
                     <!-- Here, we reference basic identification information in the editors.xml page. This information is also aggregated and visible in the project contributors.  -->
                     <surname>Howe</surname>
                     <forename>Tonya</forename>
                  </name>
               </persName>
            </editor>
            <respStmt>
               <resp>Transcription, correction, editorial commentary, and markup</resp>
               <!-- If the responsibilities of the named student editors below are different, please indicate that here. -->
               <name ref="editors.xml#MUstudstaff">Students and Staff of Marymount University</name>
               <name ref="editors.xml#HSA">Haider Adhoob</name>
               <name ref="editors.xml#KIA">Kiashu Akter</name>
               <name ref="editors.xml#JKB">Jabari Bryant</name>
               <name ref="editors.xml#FC">Felipe Caceres</name>
               <name ref="editors.xml#DMC">Destiny Clark</name>
               <name ref="editors.xml#ND">Naiya Dalce</name>
               <name ref="editors.xml#AHM">Anna Moon</name>
               <name ref="editors.xml#STM">Sibeso Mubonda</name>
               <name ref="editors.xml#ATJ">Alexis Johnson</name>
               <name ref="editors.xml#JML">John Lillis</name>
               <name ref="editors.xml#DJM">Derek Manzanares</name>
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               <name ref="editors.xml#TH">Tonya Howe</name>


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            <sponsor/>
            <funder>National Endowment for the Humanities</funder>
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         <publicationStmt>
            <!-- This element expresses the publication details of this particular etext. -->
            <publisher>Literature in Context</publisher>
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            <address>
               <!-- Use the address information for your university. -->
               <addrLine>Marymount University Department of Literature and Languages</addrLine>
               <addrLine>2807 N. Glebe Road</addrLine>
               <addrLine>Arlington, VA </addrLine>
               <addrLine>22207</addrLine>
               <addrLine>thowe@marymount.edu</addrLine>
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            <availability status="free">
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                  License </licence>
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         <sourceDesc>
            <!-- This element expresses the source information and "witnesses" used in the construction of this etext, and to which this etext refers. -->

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               <analytic>
                  <!-- If the text you're encoding is part of a larger whole (a poem from a larger book, for instance), indicate the title of the part in this analytic/title element, in quotation marks. If you are encoding a whole stand-alone publication, please cut the analytic element. -->
                  <title>"Lady Susan"</title>
               </analytic>
               <monogr>
                  <!-- This element expresses source information for the larger whole (a novel, or the larger book from which your poem was drawn).  -->
                  <author>
                     <forename>Jane</forename>
                     <surname>Austen</surname>
                  </author>
                  <title>A Memoir of Jane Austen</title>
                  <imprint>
                     <!-- IMPORTANT: place the earliest/first edition, and ideally your source, in the first imprint "witness" element. -->
                     <pubPlace>
                        <placeName type="tgn" key="7011781">London</placeName>
                     </pubPlace>
                     <publisher>Richard Bentley and Son</publisher>
                     <date when="1871">1871</date>
                     <note>This text was written around 1795, but not published until 1871, in this,
                        the second edition of <person>
                                    <persName type="lcnaf" key="no97053860">James
                              Edward Austen-Leigh's</persName>
                                </person>
                        <hi rend="italic">A Memoir of Jane Austen</hi>.</note>
                     <!-- Add as many or as few note elements here as necessary. If the note has been drawn from a particular source, as here, indicate that as modeled. -->
                     <note>Page images are drawn from the text held by Oxford Libraries, digitized
                        by Google, and available at Internet Archive. View the complete <hi rend="italic">Memoir</hi> online at <ref target="https://archive.org/details/amemoirjaneaust00leiggoog/page/n12/mode/2up">https://archive.org/details/amemoirjaneaust00leiggoog/page/n12/mode/2up</ref>.</note>
                     <!-- Always add a note clarifying where your page images are drawn from, and be sure to indicate permissions. -->
                     <note>Item information available via WorldCat at <ref target="https://www.worldcat.org/title/memoir-of-jane-austen/oclc/358319">https://www.worldcat.org/title/memoir-of-jane-austen/oclc/358319</ref>.</note>
                     <!-- If links are available, indicate them using this model. -->
                  </imprint>
                  <imprint>
                     <!-- Indicate any other imprint "witnesses" used in the construction of this digital edition, including any existing XML, plaintext, or other documents used directly. -->
                     <publisher>Project Gutenberg</publisher>
                     <date>n.d.</date>
                     <note>Base text for this digital edition has been drawn from Project Gutenberg
                           <ref target="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/946/946-h/946-h.htm">http://www.gutenberg.org/files/946/946-h/946-h.htm</ref>
                     </note>
                  </imprint>
                  <extent>364 pages ; 20 cm</extent>
                  <!-- Indicate the physical size and shape of the earliest/first edition. Often, this information is available in the catalog record for that item. -->
                  <biblScope>pp 203-291</biblScope>
                  <!-- Indicate any information about the location of the analytic/contained text in the larger container here; multiple biblScope elements are permissible. Delete unused. -->

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         <!--BEGINS Profile Description. This element expresses somewhat interpretive aspects of the text, which will be used to help limit searches, generate timelines and maps, and so on.   -->
         <langUsage>
            <language ident="en">English</language>
         </langUsage>

         <creation/>
         <!-- This element indicates when the text was composed, if known. For more information on the profileDesc, see TEI P5 guidelines.  -->

         <textDesc n="novella">
            <!-- Acceptable values include novel, novella, poem, essay. -->
            <channel mode="w">print</channel>
            <!-- This element and attribute expresses that this text was WRITTEN, and the enclosed text "print" provides further information that this was printed. A written text might also be a manuscript. If you are working with a manuscript, see the TEI P5 guidelines on msDesc. The msDesc element must occur within the sourceDesc element. At this time, however, LiC is set up to privilege print. -->
            <constitution type="single"/>
            <!-- See the textDesc guidelines for valid values. Usually, constitution will be single; however, there may be cases where you are excerpting and combining parts of a longer text, as one often finds in print anthologies. In that case, use FRAGS. -->
            <derivation type="original"/>
            <!-- See the textDesc guidelines for sample values. Usually, derivation will be original; however, in the event of an adaptation of an earlier source, you might use another value, like ABRIDGEMENT, REVISION, or TRANSLATION. -->
            <domain/>
            <!-- Typically unecessary for this project; however, the empty domain element must be retained for validation. -->
            <factuality type="fiction"/>
            <!-- See the textDesc guidelines for more information. -->
            <interaction/>
            <!-- Typically unecessary for this project; however, the empty domain element must be retained for validation. -->
            <preparedness/>
            <!-- Typically unecessary for this project; however, the empty domain element must be retained for validation. -->
            <purpose type="entertain" degree="high"/>
            <!-- See the TEI guidelines for more information. -->
            <purpose type="inform" degree="low"/>
            <!-- Multiple purpose types may or may not be appropriate. -->
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            <setting>
               <name type="tgn" key="7002445">England</name>
               <!-- The name authority and key here are important; they allow the application to pull information directly from that record; in this context, the application could draw GIS data from the TGN key to create a map. The key should be the unique identifier for the element currently being described. -->
               <time from="1775" to="1800">Late 18th Century</time>
               <!-- The time setting may be somewhat interpretive, though research should tell you more. -->
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         <!-- BEGINS Encoding Description. This is a description of the encoding practices of LiC. Please adhere to these editorial directives regarding interpretation, normalization, hyphenation, segmentation, and correction. -->
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            <p>This text is prepared as part of the <hi rend="italic">Literature in Context</hi>
               project, which provides an accessible, curated, and marked-up selection of primary
               sources relevant to the study and the teaching of British and American literature of
               the 18th century. This project is funded by the National Endowment for the Humanities
               and developed by faculty at The University of Virginia and Marymount University. </p>
         </projectDesc>
         <editorialDecl>
            <interpretation>
               <p>Research informing these annotations draws on publicly-accessible resources, with
                  links provided where possible. Annotations have also included common knowledge,
                  defined as information that can be found in multiple reliable sources. If you
                  notice an error in these annotations, please contact lic.open.anthology@gmail.com.
               </p>
            </interpretation>
            <normalization>
               <p>Original spelling and capitalization is retained, though the long s has been
                  silently modernized and ligatured forms are not encoded.</p>
            </normalization>
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               <p>Hyphenation has not been retained, except where necessary for the sense of the
                  word.</p>
            </hyphenation>
            <segmentation>
               <p>Page breaks have been retained. Catchwords, signatures, and running headers have
                  not. Where pages break in the middle of a word, the complete word has been
                  indicated prior to the page beginning.</p>
            </segmentation>
            <correction>
               <p>Materials have been transcribed from and checked against first editions, where
                  possible. See the Sources section.</p>
            </correction>
         </editorialDecl>
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               <bibl>Library of Congress Classification</bibl>
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               <bibl>Getty Thesaurus of Geographic Names</bibl>
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               <bibl>Open Researcher and Contributor ID</bibl>
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         <!-- Indicate all substantive changes to the document using the model here. -->
         <change when="2020-03-11" who="editors.xml#TH">Created base XML in template.</change>
         <change when="2020-04-15" who="editors.xml#TH">Added base text for Lady Susan and student
            markup</change>
         <change when="2020-05-04" who="editors.xml#JML">Corrected XML</change>
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         <div>
            <pb n="[203]" facs="pageImages/203.jpg"/>
            <head>LADY SUSAN.<lb/>
                </head>
            <!-- Note use of head here. -->
            <div type="letter" n="1">
               <head type="sub">I.<lb/>
                  <hi rend="italic">Lady Susan Vernon to Mr. Vernon.</hi>
                    </head>
               <opener>
                  <dateline>
                     <placeName>Langford</placeName>, <date>Dec.<lb/>
                            </date>
                  </dateline>
                  <salute>MY DEAR BROTHER,--</salute>
               </opener>
               <p>I can no longer refuse myself the pleasure of profiting by your kind invitation
                  when we last parted of spending some weeks with you at
                     <placeName>Churchhill</placeName>, and, therefore, if quite convenient to you
                  and <persName>Mrs. Vernon</persName> to receive me at present, I shall hope within
                  a few days to be introduced to <ref target="_Sister" corresp="Sister">a
                     sister</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Sister" target="_Sister" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">Lady Susan Vernon's deceased husband is Charles Vernon,
                     whom she calls her brother here. His wife, Catherine, is therefore her
                     sister-in-law. Lady Susan is trying to ingratiate herself through family
                     feeling, though as we will see she has not ever met Catherine and in fact
                     attempted to keep Charles and Catherine from marrying.</note> whom I have so
                  long desired to be acquainted with. My <ref target="_KindFriend" corresp="KindFriend">kind friends</ref>
                        <note xml:id="KindFriend" target="_KindFriend" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">
                            <ref target="https://www-oed-com.proxymu.wrlc.org/view/Entry/103445">Sense 8 for
                        the word "kind"</ref> in the Oxford English Dictionary, as well as <ref target="https://www-oed-com.proxymu.wrlc.org/view/Entry/74646">sense 6 for
                        "friend"</ref>,both indicate potentially sexual or amorous meanings in use
                     during Austen’s time; given what we know of Lady Susan’s relationship to Mr.
                     Mainwaring, and the fact that she is writing to her confidante Alicia Johnson,
                     suggest that "kind friends" may also have these sexual connotations.</note>
                  here are most affectionately urgent with me to prolong my stay, but their
                  hospitable and cheerful dispositions lead them too much <ref target="_IntoSociety" corresp="IntoSociety">into society</ref>
                        <note xml:id="IntoSociety" target="_IntoSociety" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">
                            <graphic url="notes/N10000-65.jpg"/>According to the OED, this phrase, which is now
                     obsolete and only used historically, means going out and "mix[ing] in society
                     (as opposed to remaining in one's own home or domestic circle); to appear
                     regularly at private or public entertainments, parties, etc." (<ref target="https://www-oed-com.proxymu.wrlc.org/view/Entry/183776?redirectedFrom=society">"Society" 7.d</ref>). The image included here, <ref target="https://www.bl.uk/romantics-and-victorians/articles/the-ball-in-the-novels-of-jane-austen">from the British Library</ref>, is an illustration from <hi rend="italic">A
                        Description of the Correct Method of Waltzing</hi> (1816) showing deportment
                     at a dance, one of the main social gatherings of the period. </note> for my
                  present situation and state of mind; and I impatiently look forward to the hour
                  when I shall be admitted into your delightful retirement. </p>
               <p>I long to be made known to your dear little children, in whose hearts I shall be
                  very eager to secure an interest I shall soon have need for all my fortitude, <pb n="204" facs="pageImages/204.jpg"/>as I am on the point of separation from my
                  own daughter. The long illness of her dear father prevented my paying her that
                  attention which duty and affection equally dictated, and I have too much reason to
                  fear that the <ref target="_Governess" corresp="Governess">governess</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Governess" target="_Governess">While governesses were more frequently
                     depicted in the later Victorian period, this early reference to the profession
                     suggests something of the ambiguous positions these women held in the
                     households that employed them to teach and care for children. According to <ref target="https://www.bl.uk/romantics-and-victorians/articles/the-figure-of-the-governess">Kathryn Hughes’ article for the British Library</ref>, the governess "was a
                     surrogate mother who had no children of her own, a family member who was
                     sometimes mistaken for a servant."</note> to whose care I consigned her was
                  unequal to the charge. I have therefore resolved on placing her at one of the best
                     <ref target="_PrivateSchools" corresp="PrivateSchools">private schools in
                     town</ref>
                        <note xml:id="PrivateSchools" target="_PrivateSchools" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">According to Deborah Simonton's article
                     on "Women and Education" in <hi rend="italic">Women's History, Britain
                        1700-1850</hi>, in the Enlightenment period, the education of girls was
                     increasing in importance. Schools prepared girls for the lives they would lead
                     within their socioeconomic class, while also seeking to teach "good morals and
                     behavior" (35). Boarding or day schools for girls were often used for
                     "finishing" in the genteel arts needed to secure a successful marriage (43). A
                     typical curriculum consisted of "needlecraft skills, the art of polite
                     conversation, dancing, music, drawing, painting, French, perhaps Italian, and
                     subjects...with which to make polite conversation" (44-45). Only girls from
                     plebeian or working class families would be taught more practical trades, but
                     the education of women in the 18th century differed greatly from that offered
                     to young men (<ref target="https://www.google.com/books/edition/Women_s_History_Britain_1700_1850/INmcMCRqtzwC?hl=en&amp;gbpv=1&amp;bsq=needlecraft">Simonton, "Women and Education"</ref>)</note>, where I shall have an
                  opportunity of leaving her myself in my way to you. I am determined, you see, not
                  to be denied admittance at <placeName>Churchhill</placeName>. It would indeed give
                  me most painful sensations to know that it were not in your power to receive me. </p>
               <closer>
                  <salute>Your most obliged and affectionate sister,<lb/>
                        </salute>
                  <signed>S. VERNON.</signed>
               </closer>
            </div>

            <div type="letter" n="2">
               <head type="sub">II.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Lady Susan Vernon to Mrs.
                  Johnson.</hi>
                    </head>
               <opener>
                  <dateline>
                     <placeName>Langford.</placeName>
                  </dateline>
               </opener>
               <p>You were mistaken, my dear Alicia, in supposing me fixed at this place for the
                  rest of the winter: it grieves me to say how greatly you were mistaken, for I have
                  seldom spent three months more agreeably than those which have just flown away. At
                  present, nothing goes smoothly; the females of the family are united against me.
                  You foretold how it would be when I first came to <placeName>Langford</placeName>,
                  and <persName>Mainwaring</persName> is so uncommonly pleasing that I was not
                  without apprehensions for myself. I remember saying to myself, as I drove to the
                  house, <said aloud="true">"I like this man, pray <pb n="205" facs="pageImages/205.jpg"/>Heaven no harm come of it!"</said> But I was
                  determined to be discreet, to bear in mind my being only <ref target="_FourMonths" corresp="FourMonths">four months a widow</ref>
                        <note xml:id="FourMonths" target="_FourMonths" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">
                            <graphic url="notes/SC116480.jpg"/>In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, when a
                     woman's husband died, the widow was usually negatively economically impacted.
                     Widows, unlike wives, had a higher degree of authority and power over their own
                     economic lives and that of their children because they became legal heads of
                     household. This empowerment, however, threatened patriarchal order, which
                     depended on the economic subordination of women. In addition, widows in the
                     eighteenth century were often depicted as dangerously sexual because they were
                     not legally owned by a husband. Women were expected to mourn publicly and for
                     prolonged periods of time for their husbands, by "withdrawing from social life"
                     and wearing particular kinds of clothing (<ref target="https://www.encyclopedia.com/international/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/widows-and-widowers">Klassen, "Widows and Widowers"</ref>). The image included here, <ref target="https://collections.mfa.org/objects/351616">a 1781 fashion plate
                        from the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston</ref>, shows aristocratic mourning wear
                     in a French context, which would likely have been particularly attractive to a
                     character like Lady Susan.</note>, and to be as quiet as possible: and I have
                  been so, my dear creature; I have admitted no one's attentions but
                     <persName>Mainwaring</persName>'s. I have avoided all general flirtation
                  whatever; I have distinguished no creature besides, of all the numbers resorting
                  hither, except <persName>Sir James Martin</persName>, on whom I bestowed a little
                  notice, in order to detach him from <persName>Miss Mainwaring</persName>; but, if
                  the world could know my motive <hi rend="italic">there</hi> they would honour me.
                  I have been called an unkind mother, but it was the sacred impulse of maternal
                  affection, it was the <ref target="_Advantage" corresp="Advantage">advantage of my
                     daughter</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Advantage" target="_Advantage" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#TH">Lady Susan here claims out that she seeks financial and
                     other benefits for her daughter as a result of the marriage she is trying to
                     arrange between Frederica and Sir James. See the OED definitions of
                     "advantage," especially phrase 1.b.</note> that led me on; and if that daughter
                  were not the greatest simpleton on earth, I might have been rewarded for my
                  exertions as I ought.</p>
               <p>
                        <persName>Sir James</persName> did <ref target="_MakeProposals" corresp="MakeProposals">make proposals to me for</ref>
                        <note xml:id="MakeProposals" target="_MakeProposals" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">Over the course of the eighteenth century, marriages were
                     increasingly less "arranged," but financial arrangements were always made and
                     agreed upon before the marriage took place. Typically, this included agreements
                     about dowry and, especially, jointure. Frederica, poor after the death of her
                     father, would bring little to no dowry to her future husband, but Lady Susan
                     would hope to negotiate a large jointure. A jointure was the amount a husband
                     agrees to settle on his wife to support her after his death. In addition,
                     marriage settlements would include agreements for things like pin money. See H.
                     J. Habakuk, <ref target="https://www-jstor-org.proxymu.wrlc.org/stable/3678475">"Marriage Settlements in the Eighteenth Century"</ref> and Susan Staves,
                        <ref target="https://www.google.com/books/edition/_/uVYOAQAAMAAJ">
                                <hi rend="italic">Married Women's Separate Property in England,
                           1660-1833</hi>, especially "Pin-Money and Other Separate
                     Property."</ref>
                        </note>
                  <persName>Frederica</persName>; but <persName>Frederica</persName>, who was born
                  to be the torment of my life, chose to set herself so violently against the match
                  that I thought it better to lay aside the scheme for the present. I have more than
                  once repented that I did not marry him myself; and were he but one degree less
                  contemptibly weak I certainly should: but I must own myself rather romantic in
                  that respect, and that riches only will not satisfy me. The event of all this is
                  very provoking: <persName>Sir James</persName> is gone, <persName>Maria</persName>
                  highly incensed, and <persName>Mrs. Mainwaring</persName> insupportably jealous;
                  so jealous, in short, and so enraged against me, that, in the fury of her temper,
                  I should not be surprized at her appealing to <ref target="_Guardian" corresp="Guardian">her guardian</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Guardian" target="_Guardian" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">Guardianship in the eighteenth century
                     was a legal mechanism for fathers to extend their power over their children
                     after death by appointing what was called a "testamentary guardian" in their
                     wills. Both paternal authority and guardianship ceased bearing legal weight
                     after a child's twenty-first birthday (<ref target="https://www-jstor-org.proxymu.wrlc.org/stable/1123459">Abramowicz,
                        "English Child Custody Law, 1660-1839," 1344</ref>). In marriage, daughters
                     were subsumed into the legal identity of their husbands under the law of
                     coverture (<ref target="https://www.library.hbs.edu/hc/wes/collections/women_law/">"Women
                        and the Law"</ref>). In <hi rend="italic">Lady Susan</hi>, Mr. Johnson had
                     presumably been appointed guardian to the young woman who is now Mrs.
                     Mainwaring, upon her father's death. After she married her husband, Mrs.
                     Mainwaring would no longer have a legal guardian other than her, though we can
                     see in this novella that the personal relationship and dependency continues.
                  </note>, if she had the liberty of addressing him: but there <pb n="206" facs="pageImages/206.jpg"/>your husband stands my friend; and the kindest, most
                  amiable action of his life was his throwing her off for ever on her marriage. Keep
                  up his resentment, therefore, I charge you. We are now in a sad state; no house
                  was ever more altered; the whole party are at war, and
                     <persName>Mainwaring</persName> scarcely dares speak to me. It is time for me
                  to be gone; I have therefore determined on leaving them, and shall spend, I hope,
                  a comfortable day with you in town within this week. If I am as little in favour
                  with <persName>Mr. Johnson</persName> as ever, you must come to me at <placeName type="tgn" key="1005503">10 Wigmore street</placeName>; but I hope this may not
                  be the case, for as <persName>Mr. Johnson</persName>, with all his faults, is a
                  man to whom that great word "respectable" is always given, and I am known to be so
                  intimate with his wife, his slighting me has an awkward look.</p>
               <p>I take <placeName>London</placeName> in my way to that insupportable spot, a
                  country village; for I am really going to <placeName>Churchhill</placeName>.
                  Forgive me, my dear friend, it is my last resource. Were there another place in
                     <placeName type="tgn" key="7002445">England</placeName> open to me I would
                  prefer it. <persName>Charles Vernon</persName> is my aversion; and I am afraid of
                  his wife. At <placeName>Churchhill</placeName>, however, I must remain till I have
                  something better in view. My young lady accompanies me to town, where I shall
                  deposit her under the care of <persName>Miss Summers</persName>, in <placeName type="tgn" key="1005503">Wigmore street</placeName>, till she becomes a little
                  more reasonable. She will make good connections there, as the girls are all of the
                  best families. The price is immense, and much beyond what I can ever attempt to
                  pay.</p>
               <pb n="207" facs="pageImages/207.jpg"/>
               <p>Adieu, I will send you a line as soon as I arrive in town.</p>
               <closer>
                  <salute>Yours ever,</salute>
                        <lb/>
                  <signed>S. VERNON.</signed>
               </closer>
            </div>


            <div n="3" type="letter">
               <head>III.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Mrs. Vernon to Lady de Courcy.</hi>
               </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Churchhill.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                  <salute>My dear Mother,—</salute>
                    </opener>
               <p>I am very sorry to tell you that it will not be in our power to keep our promise
                  of spending our Christmas with you; and we are prevented that happiness by a
                  circumstance which is not likely to make us any amends. <persName>Lady
                     Susan</persName>, in a letter to her brother-in-law, has declared her intention
                  of visiting us almost immediately; and as such a visit is in all probability
                  merely an affair of convenience, it is impossible to conjecture its length. I was
                  by no means prepared for such an event, nor can I now account for her ladyship's
                  conduct; <placeName>Langford</placeName> appeared so exactly the place for her in
                  every respect, as well from the elegant and expensive style of living there, as
                  from her particular attachment to <persName>Mr. Mainwaring</persName>, that I was
                  very far from expecting so speedy a distinction, though I always imagined from her
                  increasing friendship for us since her husband's death that we should, at some
                  future period, be obliged to receive her. Mr. Vernon, I think, was a great deal
                  too kind to her when he was in <placeName type="tgn" key="7008174">Staffordshire</placeName>; her behaviour to him, independent of her general
                  character, has been so inexcusably <ref target="_Artful" corresp="Artful">artful</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Artful" target="_Artful" resp="editors.xml#MUStudStaff">This is an important description of Lady Susan;
                     Catherine Vernon is criticizing her sister-in-law as "artful," suggesting much
                     about Lady Susan’s character. An artful person is a person "skilful in adapting
                     means to ends, so as to secure the accomplishment of a purpose" (<ref target="www.oed.com/view/Entry/11161">"Artful," adj.2b</ref>).</note> and
                  ungenerous since our marriage <pb n="208" facs="pageImages/208.jpg"/>was first in
                  agitation that no one less amiable and mild than himself could have overlooked it
                  all; and though, as his brother's widow, and in narrow circumstances, it was
                  proper to render her <ref target="_Pecuniary" corresp="Pecuniary">pecuniary
                     assistance</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Pecuniary" target="_Pecuniary" resp="editors.xml#MUStudStaff">Pecuniary means having to with money--Catherine
                     Vernon is stating that as a close family member, it was right for her husband
                     to offer Lady Susan financial assistance at the death of her husband.</note>, I
                  cannot help thinking his pressing invitation to her to visit us at
                     <placeName>Churchhill</placeName> perfectly unnecessary. Disposed, however, as
                  he always is to think the best of everyone, her display of grief, and professions
                  of regret, and general resolutions of prudence, were sufficient to soften his
                  heart and make him really confide in her sincerity; but, as for myself, I am still
                  unconvinced, and plausibly as her ladyship has now written, I cannot make up my
                  mind till I better understand her real meaning in coming to us. You may guess,
                  therefore, my dear madam, with what feelings I look forward to her arrival. She
                  will have occasion for all those attractive powers for which she is celebrated to
                  gain any share of my regard; and I shall certainly endeavour to guard myself
                  against their influence, if not accompanied by something more substantial. She
                  expresses a most eager desire of being acquainted with me, and makes very gracious
                  mention of my children but I am not quite weak enough to suppose a woman who has
                  behaved with inattention, if not with unkindness, to her own child, should be
                  attached to any of mine. <persName>Miss Vernon</persName> is to be placed at a
                  school in <placeName>London</placeName> before her mother comes to us which I am
                  glad of, for her sake and my own. It must be to her advantage to be separated from
                  her mother, and a girl of sixteen who has received so wretched an education, could
                  not be a very desirable <pb n="209" facs="pageImages/209.jpg"/>companion here.
                     <persName>Reginald</persName> has long wished, I know, to see the captivating
                     <persName>Lady Susan</persName>, and we shall depend on his joining our party
                  soon. I am glad to hear that my father continues so well; and am, with best love,
                  &amp;, </p>
               <closer>
                        <signed>CATHERINE VERNON.</signed>
                    </closer>
            </div>


            <div n="4" type="letter">
               <head>IV.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Mr. de Courcy to Mrs. Vernon. </hi>
               </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Parklands.</placeName>
                  </dateline>
                  <salute> My dear Sister,—</salute>
                    </opener>
               <p>I congratulate you and Mr. Vernon on being about to receive into your family the
                  most accomplished <ref target="_Coquette" corresp="Coquette">coquette</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Coquette" target="_Coquette" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#ND">A
                     coquette is a flirt, or, according to the OED, one who uses "arts intended to
                     excite the admiration or love of the opposite sex, without any intention of
                     responding to the feelings awakened." </note> in
                  <placeName>England</placeName>. As a very distinguished flirt I have always been
                  taught to consider her, but it has lately fallen in my way to hear some
                  particulars of her conduct at <placeName>Langford</placeName>: which prove that
                  she does not confine herself to that sort of honest flirtation which satisfies
                  most people, but aspires to the more delicious gratification of making a whole
                  family miserable. By her behaviour to <persName>Mr. Mainwaring</persName> she gave
                  jealousy and wretchedness to his wife, and by her attentions to a young man
                  previously attached to Mr. Mainwaring's sister deprived an amiable girl of her
                  lover. </p>
               <p>I learnt all this from <persName>Mr. Smith</persName>, now in this neighbourhood
                  (I have dined with him, at <placeName>Hurst and Wilford</placeName>), who is just
                  come from <placeName>Langford</placeName> where he was a fortnight with her
                  ladyship, and who is therefore well qualified to make the communication. </p>
               <p>What a woman she must be! I long to see her, and <pb n="210" facs="pageImages/210.jpg"/>shall certainly accept your kind invitation, that I
                  may form some idea of those bewitching powers which can do so much—engaging at the
                  same time, and in the same house, the affections of two men, who were neither of
                  them at liberty to bestow them—and all this without the charm of youth! I am glad
                  to find <persName>Miss Vernon</persName> does not accompany her mother to
                     <placeName>Churchhill</placeName>, as she has not even manners to recommend
                  her; and, according to <persName>Mr. Smith's</persName> account, is equally dull
                  and proud. Where pride and stupidity unite there can be no <ref target="_Dissimulation" corresp="Dissimulation">dissimulation</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Dissimulation" target="_Dissimulation" resp="editors.xml#MUStudStaff">To dissimulate is to conceal or feign; as an abstract noun, it refers to a
                     concealment. </note> worthy notice, and <persName>Miss Vernon</persName> shall
                  be consigned to unrelenting contempt; but by all that I can gather <persName>Lady
                     Susan</persName> possesses a degree of captivating deceit which it must be
                  pleasing to witness and detect. I shall be with you very soon, and am ever, </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>Your affectionate brother,</salute>
                        <lb/>
                  <signed>R. DE COURCY.</signed>
                    </closer>

            </div>


            <div n="5" type="letter">
               <head>V. <lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Lady Susan Vernon to Mrs. Johnson.</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Churchhill.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                    </opener>
               <p>I received your note, my dear <persName>Alicia</persName>, just before I left
                  town, and rejoice to be assured that <persName>Mr. Johnson</persName> suspected
                  nothing of <ref target="_Engagement" corresp="Engagement">your
                     engagement</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Engagement" target="_Engagement" resp="editors.xml#MUStudStaff">Lady Susan is commenting on Alicia's
                     "engagement" or meeting the night before with someone unnamed, likely a lover.
                        <ref target="https://www-oed-com.proxymu.wrlc.org/view/Entry/62197">According to the OED</ref>, the modern meaning of commitment to marry was
                     only just coming into use at the beginning of the nineteenth century. One
                     eighteenth-century sense might suggest something of the sub-text here--an
                     engagement can also refer to a battle or conflict, which is often used in love
                     poetry as a metaphor for sexual encounter.</note> the evening before. It is
                  undoubtedly better to deceive him entirely, and since he will be stubborn he must
                  be tricked. I arrived here in safety, and have no reason to complain of my
                  reception from <persName>Mr. Vernon</persName>; but I confess myself not equally
                  satisfied with the behaviour <pb n="211" facs="pageImages/211.jpg"/>of his lady.
                  She is perfectly well-bred, indeed, and has the air of <ref target="_WomanFashion" corresp="WomanFashion">a woman of fashion</ref>
                        <note xml:id="WomanFashion" target="_WomanFashion" resp="editors.xml#MUStudStaff">A woman of fashion is
                     more than just a fashionable woman--she is typically a woman of independent
                     spirit and taste, who exerts her own power in the public sphere through
                     fashionable consumption, display, and behavior. For more on this controversial
                     figure in the eighteenth century, see <ref target="https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.7722/j.ctt81gd7.6">Ingrid Tague’s
                           <hi rend="italic">Women of Quality: Accepting and Contesting Ideals of
                           Femininity in England, 1690-1760</hi>
                            </ref>.</note>, but her manners are
                  not such as can persuade me of her being prepossessed in my favour. I wanted her
                  to be delighted at seeing me. I was as amiable as possible on the occasion, but
                  all in vain. She does not like me. To be sure when we consider that I <hi rend="italic">did</hi> take some pains to prevent my brother-in-law's marrying
                  her, this want of cordiality is not very surprizing, and yet it shows an illiberal
                  and vindictive spirit to resent a project which influenced me six years ago, and
                  which never succeeded at last. </p>
               <p>I am sometimes disposed to repent that I did not let <persName>Charles</persName>
                  buy <placeName>Vernon Castle</placeName>, when we were obliged to sell it; but it
                  was a trying circumstance, especially as the sale took place exactly at the time
                  of his marriage; and everybody ought to respect the delicacy of those feelings
                  which could not endure that my husband's <ref target="_Dignity" corresp="Dignity">dignity</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Dignity" target="_Dignity" resp="editors.xml#MUStudStaff">The word "dignity" has many uses, including
                     simply worthiness or nobility, but in the eighteenth century often refers to a
                     person’s rank or status. In this context, Lady Susan is talking about her
                     husband’s rank and status, as it derives from his estate. <ref target="http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/52653">See the OED</ref>.</note>
                  should be lessened by his younger brother's having possession of the family
                  estate. Could matters have been so arranged as to prevent the necessity of our
                  leaving the castle, could we have lived with <persName>Charles</persName> and kept
                  him single, I should have been very far from persuading my husband to dispose of
                  it elsewhere; but <persName>Charles</persName> was on the point of marrying
                     <persName>Miss De Courcy</persName>, and the event has justified me. Here are
                  children in abundance, and what benefit could have accrued to me from his
                  purchasing <placeName>Vernon</placeName>? My having prevented it may perhaps have
                  given his wife an unfavourable impression, but where there is a disposition to
                  dislike, a motive will never be <pb n="212" facs="pageImages/212.jpg"/>wanting;
                  and as to money matters it has not withheld him from being very useful to me. I
                  really have a regard for him, he is <ref target="_ImposedOn" corresp="ImposedOn">so easily imposed upon</ref>
                        <note xml:id="ImposedOn" target="_ImposedOn" resp="editors.xml#MUStudStaff">In this case, Lady Susan is talking about how
                     easily she is able to deceive her brother. <ref target="http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/92591">According to the OED</ref>,
                     this meaning of the phrase "imposed on" means "To obtrude or ‘put’ (a thing)
                     upon (a person) by false representations; to palm or pass off."</note>! The
                  house is a good one, the furniture fashionable, and everything announces plenty
                  and elegance. Charles is very rich I am sure; when a man has once got his name in
                     <ref target="_BankingHousue" corresp="BankingHouse">a banking-house</ref>
                        <note xml:id="BankingHouse" target="_BankingHouse" resp="editors.xml#MUStudStaff">A
                     banking house is a bank that was able to extend credit to its members. Unlike
                     today, not everyone could have an account with a banking house in the
                     eighteenth century. For more information, see <ref target="https://www-jstor-org.proxymu.wrlc.org/stable/2591620">D. M.
                        Joslin’s article, "London Private Bankers, 1720-1785"</ref>.</note> he rolls
                  in money; but they do not know what to do with it, keep very little company, and
                  never go to <placeName>London</placeName> but on business. We shall be as stupid
                  as possible. I mean to win my sister-in-law's heart through the children; I know
                  all their names already, and am going to attach myself with the greatest
                  sensibility to one in particular, a young <persName>Frederic</persName>, whom I
                  take on my lap and sigh over for his dear uncle's sake. </p>
               <p>Poor <persName>Mainwaring</persName>! I need not tell you how much I miss him, how
                  perpetually he is in my thoughts. I found a dismal letter from him on my arrival
                  here, full of complaints of his wife and sister, and lamentations on the cruelty
                  of his fate. I passed off the letter as his wife's, to <persName>the
                     Vernons</persName>, and when I write to him it must be <ref target="_UnderCover" corresp="UnderCover">under cover to you</ref>
                        <note xml:id="UnderCover" target="_UnderCover" resp="editors.xml#MUStudStaff">Lady
                     Susan is essentially using her friendship with Alicia Johnson to continue
                     corresponding with her lover, Mr. Mainwaring. She writes to him "under cover"
                     to Mrs. Johnson. A "cover" in the eighteenth-century letter-writing context
                     means, as the OED sense I.2d indicates, is the wrapper of a letter. Lady Susan
                     has put a private letter for Mr. Mainwaring inside a letter that is sent to
                     Mrs. Johnson.</note>. </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>Ever yours,</salute>
                        <lb/>
                  <signed>S. VERNON.</signed>
               </closer>

            </div>


            <div n="6" type="letter">
               <head>VI.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Mrs. Vernon to Mr. de Courcy</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Churchhill.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                    </opener>

               <p>Well, my dear Reginald, I have seen this dangerous creature, and must give you
                  some description of her, though I hope you will soon be able to form your own
                  judgment. She is really excessively pretty; <pb n="213" facs="pageImages/213.jpg"/>however you may choose to question the allurements of <ref target="_Youth" corresp="Youth">a lady no longer young</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Youth" target="_Youth" resp="editors.xml#MUStudStaff">Lady Susan is 35 years
                     old.</note>, I must, for my own part, declare that I have seldom seen so lovely
                  a woman as Lady Susan. She is delicately fair, with fine grey eyes and dark
                  eyelashes; and from her appearance one would not suppose her more than five and
                  twenty, though she must in fact be ten years older, I was certainly not disposed
                  to admire her, though always hearing she was beautiful; but I cannot help feeling
                  that she possesses an uncommon union of symmetry, brilliancy, and grace. Her <ref target="_Address" corresp="Address">address</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Address" target="_Address" resp="editors.xml#MUstudstaff">In this context, "address"
                     refers not to a physical location, but rather the style of speaking--how one
                     addresses herself to others.</note> to me was so gentle, frank, and even
                  affectionate, that, if I had not known how much she has always disliked me for
                  marrying <persName>Mr. Vernon</persName>, and that we had never met before, I
                  should have imagined her an attached friend. One is apt, I believe, to connect
                  assurance of manner with coquetry, and to expect that an impudent address will
                  naturally attend an impudent mind; at least I was myself prepared for an improper
                  degree of <ref target="_Confidence" corresp="Confidence">confidence</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Confidence" target="_Conficence" resp="editors.xml#MUStudStaff">A
                     "confident" woman was not a good thing in the eighteenth century; according to
                     the OED, it means "Assurance, boldness, fearlessness." Women were to be
                     anything but confident in their behavior, in this sense.</note> in Lady Susan;
                  but her countenance is absolutely sweet, and her voice and <ref target="_Manner" corresp="Manner">manner</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Manner" target="_Manner" resp="editors.xml#MUStudStaff">"Manner" is a fascinating concept as it relates
                     to eighteenth-century culture, and it has many senses and meanings, as seen in
                     the OED. In general, it refers to an individual’s habitual actions or
                     behavior.</note> winningly mild. I am sorry it is so, for what is this but
                  deceit? Unfortunately, one knows her too well. She is clever and agreeable, has
                  all that knowledge of the world which makes conversation easy, and talks very
                  well, with a happy command of language, which is too often used, I believe, to
                  make black appear white. She has already almost persuaded me of her being warmly
                  attached to her daughter, though I have been so long convinced to the contrary.
                  She speaks of her with so much tenderness and anxiety, lamenting so <pb n="214" facs="pageImages/214.jpg"/>bitterly the neglect of her education, which she
                  represents however as wholly unavoidable, that I am forced to recollect how many
                  successive springs her ladyship spent in town, while her daughter was left in
                     <placeName>Staffordshire</placeName> to the care of servants, or a governess
                  very little better, to prevent my believing what she says. </p>
               <p>If her manners have so great an influence on my resentful heart, you may judge how
                  much more strongly they operate on <persName>Mr. Vernon's</persName> generous
                  temper. I wish I could be as well satisfied as he is, that it was really her
                  choice to leave <placeName>Langford</placeName> for
                     <placeName>Churchhill</placeName>; and if she had not stayed there for months
                  before she discovered that her friend's manner of living did not suit her
                  situation or feelings, I might have believed that concern for the loss of such a
                  husband as <persName>Mr. Vernon</persName>, to whom her own behaviour was far from
                     <ref target="_Unexceptionable" corresp="Unexceptionable">unexceptionable</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Unexceptionable" target="_Unexceptionable" resp="editors.xml#MUStudStaff">Something that is "unexceptionable" is something
                     that one cannot "take exception to" or criticize. Here, the use of the double
                     negative tells us that Catherine Vernon does find something wrong in Lady
                     Susan’s behavior, but she is too polite to come out and say it in this
                     letter.</note>, might for a time make her wish for retirement. But I cannot
                  forget the length of her visit to <persName>the Mainwarings</persName>, and when I
                  reflect on the different mode of life which she led with them from that to which
                  she must now submit, I can only suppose that the wish of establishing her
                  reputation by following though late the path of propriety, occasioned her removal
                  from a family where she must in reality have been particularly happy. Your friend
                     <persName>Mr. Smith's</persName> story, however, cannot be quite correct, as
                  she corresponds regularly with <persName>Mrs. Mainwaring</persName>. At any rate
                  it must be exaggerated. It is scarcely possible that two men should be so grossly
                  deceived by her at once. </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>Yours, &amp;,</salute>
                        <signed>CATHERINE VERNON.</signed>
                    </closer>

            </div>


            <pb n="215" facs="pageImages/215.jpg"/>
            <div n="7" type="letter">
               <head>VII.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Lady Susan Vernon to Mrs. Johnson</hi>
                    </head>
               <opener>
                  <dateline>
                            <placeName>Churchhill.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                  <salute>My dear Alicia,—</salute>
                    </opener>
               <p>You are very good in taking notice of <persName>Frederica</persName>, and I am
                  grateful for it as a mark of your friendship; but as I cannot have any doubt of
                  the warmth of your affection, I am far from exacting so heavy a sacrifice. She is
                  a stupid girl, and has nothing to recommend her. I would not, therefore, on my
                  account, have you encumber one moment of your precious time by sending for her to
                     <placeName>Edward Street</placeName>, especially as every visit is so much
                  deducted from the grand affair of education, which I really wish to have attended
                  to while she remains at Miss Summers's. I want her to play and sing with some
                  portion of taste and a good deal of assurance, as she has my hand and arm and a
                  tolerable voice. I was so much indulged in my infant years that I was never
                  obliged to attend to anything, and consequently am without the<ref target="_Accomplishments" corresp="Accomplishments">accomplishments</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Accomplishments" target="_Accomplishments" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#HSA">An accomplished woman would be someone who could dance,
                     draw, play music and sing (<ref target="http://jasna.org/publications/persuasions-online/volume-38-no-3/doolley-moffat-wiltshire/">" "Music and Class in Jane Austen"</ref>).</note> which are now necessary
                  to finish a pretty woman. Not that I am an advocate for the prevailing fashion of
                  acquiring a perfect knowledge of all languages, arts, and sciences. It is throwing
                  time away to be mistress of French, Italian, and German: music, singing, and
                  drawing, &amp;, will gain a woman some applause, but will not add one lover to her
                  list—grace and manner, after all, are of the greatest importance. I do not mean,
                  therefore, that <persName>Frederica's</persName> acquirements should be more than
                  superficial, <pb n="216" facs="pageImages/216.jpg"/>and I flatter myself that she
                  will not remain long enough at school to understand anything thoroughly. I hope to
                  see her the wife of <persName>Sir James</persName> within a twelvemonth. You know
                  on what I ground my hope, and it is certainly a good foundation, for <ref target="_Humiliating" corresp="Humiliating">school must be very humiliating to
                     a girl of <persName>Frederica's</persName> age</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Humiliating" target="_Humiliating" type="editorial" resp="MUstudstaff">Lady Susan is
                     pointing out that, at 16--marriagable age--a finishing school would be
                     inapproopriate and hence humiliating for her daughter. Schools for girls were
                     meant to prepare them for future marriage.</note>. And, by-the-by, you had
                  better not invite her any more on that account, as I wish her to find her
                  situation as unpleasant as possible. I am sure of <persName>Sir James</persName>
                  at any time, and could make him renew his application by a line. I shall trouble
                  you meanwhile to prevent his forming any other attachment when he comes to town.
                  Ask him to your house occasionally, and talk to him of
                     <persName>Frederica</persName>, that he may not forget her. Upon the whole, I
                  commend my own conduct in this affair extremely, and regard it as a very happy
                  instance of circumspection and tenderness. Some mothers would have insisted on
                  their daughter's accepting so good an offer on the first overture; but I could not
                  reconcile it to myself to force <persName>Frederica</persName> into a marriage
                  from which her heart revolted, and instead of adopting so harsh a measure merely
                  propose to make it her own choice, by rendering her thoroughly uncomfortable till
                  she does accept him—but enough of this tiresome girl. You may well wonder how I
                  contrive to pass my time here, and for the first week it was insufferably dull.
                  Now, however, we begin to mend, our party is enlarged by Mrs. Vernon's brother, a
                  handsome young man, who promises me some amusement. There is something about him
                  which rather interests me, a sort of sauciness and familiarity <pb n="217" facs="pageImages/217.jpg"/>which I shall teach him to correct. He is lively,
                  and seems clever, and when I have inspired him with greater respect for me than
                  his sister's kind offices have implanted, he may be an agreeable flirt. There is
                  exquisite pleasure in subduing an insolent spirit, in making a person
                  predetermined to dislike acknowledge one's superiority. I have disconcerted him
                  already by my calm <ref target="_Reserve" corresp="Reserve">reserve</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Reserve" target="_Reserve" resp="editors.xml#TH">Here, Lady Susan draws
                     attention to her performance of reserve--"reserve" means "coolness or distance
                     of manner; formality; aloofness; undemonstrativeness" (OED, n.6c). Reserve was
                     expected of women, especially women of marriagable age. See the annotation on
                     conduct, below.</note>, and it shall be my endeavour to humble the pride of
                  these self important <persName>De Courcys</persName> still lower, to convince
                     <persName>Mrs. Vernon</persName> that her sisterly cautions have been bestowed
                  in vain, and to persuade <persName>Reginald</persName> that she has scandalously
                  belied me. This project will serve at least to amuse me, and prevent my feeling so
                  acutely this dreadful separation from you and all whom I love. </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>Yours ever,</salute>
                        <lb/>
                        <signed>S. VERNON.</signed>
               </closer>
            </div>


            <div n="8" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">VIII<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Mrs. Vernon to Lady de
                  Courcy.</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Churchhill</placeName>
                        </dateline>. <salute>My dear
                     Mother,—</salute>
                    </opener>
               <p>You must not expect Reginald back again for some time. He desires me to tell you
                  that the present open weather induces him to accept Mr. Vernon's invitation to
                  prolong his stay <ref target="_InSussex" corresp="InSussex">in Sussex.</ref>
                        <note xml:id="InSussex" target="_InSussex" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#ND">
                            <graphic url="notes/castle.jpg"/>Sussex is a county in the south of
                     England. in the 18<hi rend="sup">th</hi> century it was an area witnessing an
                     agricultural revolution. There was a transition period between rural ways and
                     more modern farming (<ref target=" https://sussexpast.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/Georgian-Conference-delegate-handbook.pdf%20">"Sussex Past"</ref>). The image included here is <ref target=" https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artists/t-moore-2551">a sketch of
                        Amberley castle in Sussex. </ref>
                        </note> , that they may have some hunting
                  together. He means to <ref target="_Horses" corresp="Horses">Send for his
                     horses</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Horses" target="_Horses" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#FC">
                            <graphic url="notes/foxhunting.jpg"/>Sussex was a rural
                     location, and the Vernon estate of Churchhill is wealthy. In this letter,
                     Reginald is having his horses sent from Kent, where his parents live, so he can
                     hunt during his stay at Churchhill. Hunting in Sussex and Kent was very
                     different (<ref target="https://www.horseandhound.co.uk/hunting/hunting-counties-of-britain-kent-87241"> Hunting counties of Britain: Kent</ref>). The image included here <ref target="https://www.janeausten.co.uk/in-the-pink-dressing-for-a-fox-hunt/">
                        shows what fox hunting was like during the period; it was an activity
                        reserved for wealthy people.</ref>
                        </note> immediately, and it is impossible
                  to say when you may see him in Kent. I will not disguise my sentiments on this
                  change from you, my dear mother, though I think you had better <pb n="218" facs="pageImages/218.jpg"/>not communicate them to my father, whose excessive
                  anxiety about Reginald would subject him to an alarm which might seriously affect
                  his health and spirits. Lady Susan has certainly contrived, in the space of a
                  fortnight, to make my brother like her. In short, I am persuaded that his
                  continuing here beyond the time originally fixed for his return is occasioned as
                  much by a degree of fascination towards her, as by the wish of hunting with Mr.
                  Vernon, and of course I cannot receive that pleasure from the length of his visit
                  which my brother's company would otherwise give me. I am, indeed, provoked at the
                  artifice of this unprincipled woman; what stronger proof of her dangerous
                  abilities can be given than this perversion of Reginald's judgment, which when he
                  entered the house was so decidedly against her! In his last letter he actually
                  gave me some particulars of her behaviour at Langford, such as he received from a
                  gentleman who knew her perfectly well, which, if true, must raise abhorrence
                  against her, and which Reginald himself was entirely disposed to credit. His
                  opinion of her, I am sure, was as low as of any woman in England; and when he
                  first came it was evident that he considered her as one entitled neither to
                  delicacy nor respect, and that he felt she would be delighted with the attentions
                  of any man inclined to flirt with her. Her behaviour, I confess, has been
                  calculated to do away with such an idea; I have not detected the smallest
                  impropriety in it—nothing of vanity, of pretension, of levity; and she is
                  altogether so attractive that I should not wonder at his being delighted with <pb n="219" facs="pageImages/219.jpg"/>her, had he known nothing of her previous to
                  this personal acquaintance; but, against reason, against conviction, to be so well
                  pleased with her, as I am sure he is, does really astonish me. His admiration was
                  at first very strong, but no more than was natural, and I did not wonder at his
                  being much struck by the gentleness and delicacy of her manners; but when he has
                  mentioned her of late it has been in terms of more extraordinary praise; and
                  yesterday he actually said that he could not be surprised at any effect produced
                  on the heart of man by such loveliness and such abilities; and when I lamented, in
                  reply, the badness of her disposition, he observed that whatever might have been
                  her errors they were to be imputed to her neglected education and early marriage,
                  and that she was altogether a wonderful woman. This tendency to excuse her conduct
                  or to forget it, in the warmth of admiration, vexes me; and if I did not know that
                  Reginald is too much at home at Churchhill to need an invitation for lengthening
                  his visit, I should regret Mr. Vernon's giving him any. Lady Susan's intentions
                  are of course those of absolute coquetry, or a desire of universal admiration; I
                  cannot for a moment imagine that she has anything more serious in view; but it
                  mortifies me to see a young man of Reginald's sense duped by her at all. </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>I am, &amp;, </salute>
                        <signed>CATHERINE VERNON.</signed>
                    </closer>
            </div>

            <pb n="220" facs="pageImages/220.jpg"/>
            <div n="9" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">IX<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Mrs. Johnson to Lady S. Vernon.</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Edward Street.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                        <salute> My dearest
                     Friend,—</salute>
                    </opener>
               <p>I congratulate you on Mr. De Courcy's arrival, and <ref target="_MarryHim" corresp="MarryHim">I advise you by all means to marry him; his father's estate
                     is, we know, considerable, and I believe certainly entailed</ref>
                        <note xml:id="MarryHim" target="_MarryHim" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#FC"> A
                     man's status in the 18<hi rend="sup">th</hi> century was often based on the
                     land he owned, and from which he drew income. The land owned had to pass down
                     through generations; therefore, it was not just influence but affluence. An
                     entail was a legal maneuver that settled the deed to an estate on a particular
                     person, usually to ensure an estate stayed in the family. Here, Alicia Johnson
                     is advising Lady Susan to marry Reginald because he will likely inherit his
                     father’s wealthy estate--and probably soon, since his father is ill (<ref target="https://www.britannica.com/topic/entail">"entail"</ref>).</note> Sir
                  Reginald is very infirm, and not likely to stand in your way long. I hear the
                  young man well spoken of; and though no one can really deserve you, my dearest
                  Susan, Mr. De Courcy may be worth having. Mainwaring will storm of course, but you
                  easily pacify him; besides, the most scrupulous point of honour could not require
                  you to wait for <ref target="_Emancipation" corresp="Emancipation">
                            <hi rend="italic">his</hi> emancipation</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Emancipation" target="_Emancipation" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#MUstudstaff">Alicia
                     Johnson is pointing out that it is very unlikely Mainwaring will ever be
                     "emancipated" or divorced from his wife.</note>. I have seen Sir James; he came
                  to town for a few days last week, and called several times in Edward Street. I
                  talked to him about you and your daughter, and he is so far from having forgotten
                  you, that I am sure he would marry either of you with pleasure. I gave him hopes
                  of Frederica's relenting, and told him a great deal of her improvements. I scolded
                  him for making love to Maria Mainwaring; he protested that he had been only in
                  joke, and we both laughed heartily at her disappointment; and, in short, were very
                  agreeable. He is as silly as ever. </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute> Yours faithfully, </salute>
                        <signed>ALICIA.</signed>
                    </closer>

            </div>
            <pb n="221" facs="pageImages/221.jpg"/>
            <div n="10" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">X<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Lady Susan Vernon to Mrs.
                  Johnson.</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Churchhill.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                    </opener>

               <p>I am much obliged to you, my dear Friend, for your advice respecting Mr. De
                  Courcy, which I know was given with the full conviction of its expediency, though
                  I am not quite determined on following it. I cannot easily resolve on anything so
                  serious as marriage; especially as I am not at present in want of money, and might
                  perhaps, till the old gentleman's death, be very little benefited by the match. It
                  is true that I am vain enough to believe it within my reach. I have made him
                  sensible of my power, and can now enjoy the pleasure of triumphing over a mind
                  prepared to dislike me, and prejudiced against all my past actions. His sister,
                  too, is, I hope, convinced how little the ungenerous representations of anyone to
                  the disadvantage of another will avail when opposed by the immediate influence of
                  intellect and manner. I see plainly that she is uneasy at my progress in the good
                  opinion of her brother, and conclude that nothing will be wanting on her part to
                  counteract me; but having once made him doubt the justice of her opinion of me, I
                  think I may defy her. It has been delightful to me to watch his advances towards
                  intimacy, especially to observe his altered manner in consequence of my repressing
                  by the cool dignity of my deportment his insolent approach to direct familiarity.
                     <ref target="_MyConduct" corresp="MyConduct">My conduct has been equally
                     guarded from the first.</ref>
                        <note xml:id="MyConduct" target="_MyConduct" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#ND"> Conduct for women in the 18th century
                     was different from men. Women’s conduct was particularly to be "reserved" and
                     "guarded." In one conduct manual for women, <hi rend="italic">A Father’s Legacy
                        to his Daughters</hi>, Dr. Gregory states that "‘one of the chief beauties
                     in a female character is that modest reserve, that retiring delicacy, which
                     avoids the public eye, and is disconcerted even at the gaze of
                        admiration’"(<ref target="https://www-jstor-org.proxymu.wrlc.org/stable/4174727">(26, qtd in
                        Morrison, "Conduct (Un)Becoming to Ladies," 222-223)</ref>. Read Gregory’s
                     1774 conduct book <ref target="https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/evans/N23083.0001.001?view=toc">here</ref>.</note> has been <pb n="222" facs="pageImages/222.jpg"/>equally
                  guarded from the first, and I never behaved less like a coquette in the whole
                  course of my life, though perhaps my desire of dominion was never more decided. I
                  have subdued him entirely by sentiment and serious conversation, and made him, I
                  may venture to say, at least half in love with me, without the semblance of the
                  most commonplace flirtation. Mrs. Vernon's consciousness of deserving every sort
                  of revenge that it can be in my power to inflict for her ill-offices could alone
                  enable her to perceive that I am actuated by any design in behaviour so gentle and
                  unpretending. Let her think and act as she chooses, however. I have never yet
                  found that the advice of a sister could prevent a young man's being in love if he
                  chose. We are advancing now to some kind of confidence, and in short are likely to
                  be engaged in a sort of platonic friendship. On my side you may be sure of its
                  never being more, for if I were not attached to another person as much as I can be
                  to anyone, I should make a point of not bestowing my affection on a man who had
                  dared to think so meanly of me. Reginald has a good figure and is not unworthy the
                  praise you have heard given him, but is still greatly inferior to our friend at
                  Langford. He is less polished, less insinuating than Mainwaring, and is
                  comparatively deficient in the power of saying those delightful things which put
                  one in good humour with oneself and all the world. He is quite agreeable enough,
                  however, to afford me amusement, and to make many of those hours pass very
                  pleasantly <pb n="223" facs="pageImages/223.jpg"/>which would otherwise be spent
                  in endeavouring to overcome my sister-in-law's reserve, and listening to the
                  insipid talk of her husband. Your account of Sir James is most satisfactory, and I
                  mean to give Miss Frederica a hint of my intentions very soon. </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>Yours, &amp;,</salute>
                  <signed>S. VERNON.</signed>
                    </closer>
            </div>

            <div n="11" type="letter">

               <head type="sub">XI<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Mrs. Vernon to Lady de Courcy.</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Churchhill.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
               </opener>
               <p>I really grow quite uneasy, my dearest mother, about Reginald, from witnessing the
                  very rapid increase of Lady Susan's influence. They are now on terms of the most
                  particular friendship, frequently engaged in long conversations together; and she
                  has contrived by the most artful coquetry to subdue his judgment to her own
                  purposes. It is impossible to see the intimacy between them so very soon
                  established without some alarm, though I can hardly suppose that Lady Susan's
                  plans extend to marriage. I wish you could get Reginald home again on any
                  plausible pretence; he is not at all disposed to leave us, and I have given him as
                  many hints of my father's precarious state of health as common decency will allow
                  me to do in my own house. Her power over him must now be boundless, as she has
                  entirely effaced all his former ill-opinion, and persuaded him not merely to
                  forget but to justify her conduct. Mr. Smith's account of her proceedings at
                  Langford, where he <pb n="224" facs="pageImages/224.jpg"/>accused her of having
                  made Mr. Mainwaring and a young man engaged to Miss Mainwaring distractedly in
                  love with her, which Reginald firmly believed when he came here, is now, he is
                  persuaded, only a scandalous invention. He has told me so with a warmth of manner
                  which spoke his regret at having believed the contrary himself. How sincerely do I
                  grieve that she ever entered this house! I always looked forward to her coming
                  with uneasiness; but very far was it from originating in anxiety for Reginald.
                     <ref target="_SmallestDanger" corresp="SmallestDanger">I expected a most
                     disagreeable companion for myself, but could not imagine that my brother would
                     be in the smallest danger of being captivated by a woman with whose principles
                     he was so well acquainted</ref>
                        <note xml:id="SmallestDanger" target="_SmallestDanger" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#FC">During the
                     beginning of the 18th century most marriages were about money and financial
                     arrangements, which created alliances and trades of land and property. For
                     people in higher classes, many marriages were arranged by parents while members
                     of the working class had the chance to marry out of love. Much of the problems
                     of marriages in the 18th century were amplified by the fact that leaving a
                     marriage and getting a divorce was a difficult thing; divorce courts were not
                     introduced until the 19<hi rend="sup">th</hi> century. (<ref target="https://muse.jhu.edu/article/268731">Moore, "Love and Marriage in
                        18th-Century Britain"</ref>)</note>, and whose character he so heartily
                  despised. <ref target="_GetHimAway" corresp="GetHimAway">if you can get him away
                     it will be a good thing.</ref>
                        <note xml:id="GetHimAway" target="_GetHimAway" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#ND"> Catherine Vernon insists on not letting
                     her brother, Reginald, fall in love with Lady Susan. She asks her mother to
                     talk to Reginald, and later on the reader’s see that the father, Sir Reginald,
                     speaks to the son instead. Men had all of the power, because they had the land
                     and the inheritance. They provided for the family. Women did not have enough
                     power to be able to speak to men about a lot of things. They had to simply mind
                     their business and stay in a woman’s place. Yet, while it wouldn’t have been
                     appropriate for Lady de Courcy to chastise her son, she was within her duty to
                     ask her husband to do so. That is why the mother did not speak to Reginald, but
                     the father did. <ref target="https://www.britannica.com/topic/entail">("entail")</ref>
                        </note>
               </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>Yours, &amp;,</salute>
                  <signed>CATHERINE VERNON.</signed>
                    </closer>

            </div>


            <div n="12" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XII<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Sir Reginald de Courcy to his
                  Son.</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Parklands.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                    </opener>

               <p>I know that young men in general do not admit of any enquiry even from their
                  nearest relations into affairs of the heart, but I hope, my dear Reginald, that
                  you will be superior to such as allow nothing for a father's anxiety, and think
                  themselves privileged to refuse him their confidence and slight his advice. You
                  must be sensible that as an only son, and the representative of an ancient family,
                  your <ref target="_ConductInLife" corresp="ConductInLife">Your conduct in life is
                     most interesting to your connections.</ref>
                        <note xml:id="ConductInLife" target="_ConductInLife" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#ND">he is wealthy,
                     so the way he acts (his conduct) shouldn’t embarrass his family or legacy. He
                     has to think about these things when it comes to Lady Susan, because of her
                     reputation. Women in the 18th century were to never marry in the lower class.
                     So, he could technically marry anyone he wanted as long as the woman was a good
                     person. His name, legacy, and family could be tarnished if he doesn’t choose
                     wisely. (<ref target=" https://sites.udel.edu/britlitwiki/social-and-family-life-in-the-late17th-early-18th-centuries/%20">)18th century</ref>
                        </note> is most interesting to your connections; and in
                  the very important concern of marriage especially, there is everything at
                  stake—your own happiness, that of your parents, and the credit of your name. I do
                  not suppose that you would deliberately form an absolute engagement of that nature
                  without acquainting your mother and myself, or at least, without being convinced
                  that we should approve of your choice; but I cannot help fearing that you may be
                  drawn in, by the lady who has lately attached you, to a <ref target=" aMarriage" corresp="Marriage">marriage</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Marriage" target="_Marriage" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#KIA">
                            <graphic url="notes/N03575_10.jpg"/>Marriage in the 18<hi rend="sup">th</hi> century was based on age, money, and
                     social life, and it was taken very seriously. People typically married within
                     their own social class, such as low income to low income homes. Also men and
                     women had different sets of roles in a marriage such as women were to stay home
                     and take care of the family and do cooking. While men, where to go out and find
                     them a job to earn money to help provide food for the family. These marriages
                     were arranged marriages given by their parents.(<ref target=" https://sites.udel.edu/britlitwiki/social-and-family-life-in-the-late17th-early-18th-centuries/">"Social and Family Life in the Late 17th &amp; Early 18th
                     Centuries"</ref>). This image, <ref target="https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/highmore-ix-pamela-is-married-n03575">a 1744 painting by Joseph Highmore illustrating a scene from a novel</ref>,
                     shows a marriage ceremony.</note> which the whole of your family, far and near,
                  must highly reprobate. Lady Susan's age is itself a material objection, but her
                  want of character is one so much more serious, that the <ref target="_TwelveYears" corresp="TwelveYears">difference of even twelve years</ref>
                        <note xml:id="TwelveYears" target="_TwelveYears" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#FC">Towards the end of the 18<hi rend="sup">th</hi> century,
                     the average age of marriage was twenty-eight years old for men and twenty-six
                     years old for women. In the 19<hi rend="sup">th</hi> century, the average age
                     fell for English women, but never went below twenty-two. The decision to get
                     married during this time was based much on the social and economic class(<ref target="https://www.history.com/news/5-things-victorian-women-didnt-do-much">"5 Things Victorian Women Didn't Do (Much)" </ref>)</note> becomes in
                  comparison of small amount. Were you not blinded by a sort of fascination, it
                  would be ridiculous in me to repeat the instances of great misconduct on her side
                  so very generally known. </p>
               <p>Her neglect of her husband, her encouragement of other men, her extravagance and
                  dissipation, were so gross and notorious that no one could be ignorant of them at
                  the time, nor can now have forgotten them. To our family she has always been
                  represented in softened colours by the benevolence of Mr. Charles Vernon, and yet,
                  in spite of his generous endeavours to excuse her, we know that she did, from the
                  most selfish motives, take all possible pains to prevent his marriage with
                  Catherine. </p>
               <p>My years and increasing <ref target="_Infirmities" corresp="Infirmities">
                     infirmities</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Infirmities" target=" _Infirmities" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#KIA">According to the OED, an infirmity was a "weakness" or a
                     "feebleness," especially associated with old age (n2a).</note>make me very
                  desirous of seeing you settled in the world. To the <pb n="226" facs="pageImages/226.jpg"/>fortune of a wife, the goodness of my own will make
                  me indifferent, but her family and character must be equally unexceptionable. When
                  your choice is fixed so that no objection can be made to it, then I can promise
                  you a ready and cheerful consent; but it is my duty to oppose a match which deep
                  art only could render possible, and must in the end make wretched. It is possible
                  her behaviour may arise only from vanity, or the wish of gaining the admiration of
                  a man whom she must imagine to be particularly <ref target="_Prejudiced" corresp="Prejudiced">prejudiced</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Prejudiced" target="_Prejudiced" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#KIA">While today we think
                     of racism when we hear this word, in this context, Sir Reginald is not talking
                     about race but using the word in its original sense, a "[p]reconceived opinion
                     not based on reason or actual experience" (I1a).</note> against her; but it is
                  more likely that she should aim at something further. She is poor, and may
                  naturally seek an <ref target="_Alliance" corresp="Alliance">alliance</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Alliance" target="_Alliance" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#KIA">According to the OED, an alliance as used in this sense refers to a "[u]nion,
                     bond, or connection through consanguinity or...marriage" (n1). Here, Sir
                     Reginald is pointing out that Lady Susan would naturally seek a marriage
                     alliance with a wealthier family. </note> which must be advantageous to
                  herself; you know your own rights, and that it is out of my power to prevent your
                  inheriting the family estate. My ability of distressing you during my life would
                  be a species of revenge to which I could hardly stoop under any circumstances. </p>
               <p>I honestly tell you my sentiments and intentions: I do not wish to work on your
                  fears, but on your sense and affection. It would destroy every comfort of my life
                  to know that you were married to Lady Susan Vernon; it would be the death of that
                  honest pride with which I have hitherto considered my son; I should blush to see
                  him, to hear of him, to think of him. I may perhaps do no good but that of
                  relieving my own mind by this letter, but I felt it my duty to tell you that your
                  partiality for Lady Susan is no secret to your friends, and to warn you against
                  her. I should be glad to hear your reasons for disbelieving <pb n="227" facs="pageImages/227.jpg"/>Mr. Smith's intelligence; you had no doubt of its
                  authenticity a month ago. If you can give me your assurance of having no design
                  beyond enjoying the conversation of a clever woman for a short period, and of
                  yielding admiration only to her beauty and abilities, without being blinded by
                  them to her faults, you will restore me to happiness; but, if you cannot do this,
                  explain to me, at least, what has occasioned so great an alteration in your
                  opinion of her. </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>I am, &amp;, &amp;, </salute>
                        <signed>REGINALD DE
                  COURCY</signed>
                    </closer>

            </div>

            <div n="13" type="letter">


               <head type="sub">XIII<lb/>
                  <hi rend="italic">Lady de Courcy to Mrs. Vernon.</hi>
                    </head>
               <opener>
                  <dateline>
                     <placeName>Parklands.</placeName>
                            <lb/>
                  </dateline>
                  <salute>My dear Catherine,—</salute>
               </opener>
               <p>Unluckily I was confined to my room when your last letter came, by a cold which
                  affected my eyes so much as to prevent my reading it myself, so I could not refuse
                  your father when he offered to read it to me, by which means he became acquainted,
                  to my great <ref target="_Vexation" corresp="Vexation">vexation</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Vexation" target="_Vexation" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#BS">
                     According to the OED, vexation means "A source or cause of mental trouble or
                     distress; a grief or affliction; an annoyance" (n4). Here, the vexation is that
                     Catherine's father now knows of her fears.</note> , with all your fears about
                  your brother. I had intended to write to Reginald myself as soon as my eyes would
                  let me, to point out, as well as I could, the danger of an intimate acquaintance,
                  with so artful a woman as Lady Susan, to a young man of his age, and high
                  expectations. I meant, moreover, to have reminded him of our being quite alone
                  now, and very much in need of him to keep up our spirits these long winter
                  evenings. Whether it would have done any good <pb n="228" facs="pageImages/228.jpg"/>can never be settled now, but I am excessively vexed
                  that Sir Reginald should know anything of a matter which we foresaw would make him
                  so uneasy. He caught all your fears the moment he had read your letter, and I am
                  sure he has not had the business out of his head since. He wrote by the same post
                  to Reginald a long letter full of it all, and particularly asking an explanation
                  of what he may have heard from Lady Susan to contradict the late shocking reports.
                  His answer came this morning, which I shall enclose to you, as I think you will
                  like to see it. I wish it was more satisfactory; but it seems written with such a
                  determination to think well of Lady Susan, that his assurances as to marriage,
                  &amp;, do not set my heart at ease. I say all I can, however, to satisfy your
                  father, and he is certainly less uneasy since Reginald's letter. How provoking it
                  is, my dear Catherine, that this unwelcome guest of yours should not only prevent
                  our meeting this Christmas, but be the occasion of so much vexation and trouble!
                  Kiss the dear children for me. </p>
               <closer>
                  <salute>Your affectionate mother,<lb/>
                        </salute>
                  <signed>C. DE COURCY.</signed>
               </closer>

            </div>


            <div n="14" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XIV<lb/>
                  <hi rend="italic">Mr. de Coourcy to Sir Reginald.</hi>
                    </head>
               <opener>
                  <dateline>
                     <placeName>Churchhill.</placeName>
                            <lb/>
                  </dateline>
                  <salute>My dear Sir,—</salute>
               </opener>
               <p> I have this moment received your letter, which has given me more astonishment
                  than I <pb n="229" facs="pageImages/229.jpg"/>ever felt before. I am to thank my
                  sister, I suppose, for having represented me in such a light as to injure me in
                  your opinion, and give you all this alarm. I know not why she should choose to
                  make herself and her family uneasy by apprehending an event which no one but
                  herself, I can affirm, would ever have thought possible. To impute such a design
                  to Lady Susan would be taking from her every claim to that excellent understanding
                  which her bitterest enemies have never denied her; and equally low must sink my
                  pretensions to common sense if I am suspected of matrimonial views in my behaviour
                  to her. <ref target="_AgeDifference" corresp="AgeDifference">Our difference of age
                     must be an insuperable objection,</ref>
                        <note xml:id="AgeDifference" target="_AgeDifference" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#WR">
                            <graphic url="notes/Marriage-A-la-Mode.jpg"/>Lady Susan, who is 35 years old, would
                     have been considered too old for Reginald De Courcy, who is 23, in the
                     eighteenth century. Because "women were extremely reliant on men for any legal
                     status, a property claim, or access to their wealth...pushed many women to
                     marry young" (Elsasser), especially so that children could be born to inherit.
                     Most women at the time were married between the average ages of 16 and 20 years
                     of age; however, the legal consent of marriage started as low as 12 years of
                     age. (<ref target="https://marriageinprideandprejudice.wordpress.com/2016/06/19/legal-aspects-of-marriage-in-18th-century-england/">Emily Elsasser, "Legal Aspects of Marriage in 18th Century England").</ref>
                     The image included here is <ref target="https://www.bl.uk/collection-items/marriage-a-la-mode-the-settlement-by-william-hogarth">"The Settlement," by William Hogarth and provided by The British
                        Library</ref>. This painting is one of many satirical paintings from
                     Hogarth's <hi rend="italic">Marriage a la Mode</hi>, a series responding to the
                     mercenary nature of marriage.</note>and I entreat you, my dear father, to quiet
                  your mind, and no longer harbour a suspicion which cannot be more injurious to
                  your own peace than to our understandings. I can have no other view in remaining
                  with Lady Susan, than to enjoy for a short time (as you have yourself expressed
                  it) the conversation of a woman of high intellectual powers. If Mrs. Vernon would
                  allow something to my affection for herself and her husband in the length of my
                  visit, she would do more justice to us all; but my sister is unhappily prejudiced
                  beyond the hope of conviction against Lady Susan. From an attachment to her
                  husband, which in itself does honour to both, she cannot forgive the endeavours at
                  preventing their union, which have been attributed to selfishness in Lady Susan;
                  but in this case, as well as in many others, the world has most grossly injured
                  that lady, by supposing the worst where the motives of her <pb n="230" facs="pageImages/230.jpg"/>conduct have been doubtful. Lady Susan had heard
                  something so materially to the disadvantage of my sister as to persuade her that
                  the happiness of Mr. Vernon, to whom she was always much attached, would be wholly
                  destroyed by the marriage. And this circumstance, while it explains the true
                  motives of Lady Susan's conduct, and removes all the blame which has been so
                  lavished on her, may also convince us how little the general report of anyone
                  ought to be credited; since no character, however upright, can escape the
                  malevolence of slander. If my sister, in the security of retirement, with as
                  little opportunity as inclination to do evil, could not avoid censure, we must not
                  rashly condemn those who, living in the world and surrounded with temptations,
                  should be accused of errors which they are known to have the power of committing. </p>
               <p> I blame myself severely for having so easily believed the slanderous tales
                  invented by Charles Smith to the prejudice of Lady Susan, as I am now convinced
                  how greatly they have <ref target="_Traduced" corresp="Traduced">traduced</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Traduced" target="_Traduced" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#WR">According to the Oxford English Dictionary, traduced
                     means "to defame, slander, or speak ill of" ("Traduced" 4.a).</note> her. As to
                  Mrs. Mainwaring's jealousy it was totally his own invention, and his account of
                  her attaching Miss Mainwaring's lover was scarcely better founded. Sir James
                  Martin had been drawn in by that young lady to pay her some attention; and as he
                  is a man of <ref target="_ManOfFortune" corresp="ManOfFortune">fortune</ref>
                        <note xml:id="ManOfFortune" target="_ManOfFortune" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#BS">According to the OED, a "man of fortune" is a man
                     "possessing great (usually inherited) wealth" (Fortune" n.6). During the 18th
                     century, social status was a part of everyday society, with many asserting
                     status through monetary gain. <ref target="https://www.bl.uk/romantics-and-victorians/articles/status-rank-and-class-in-jane-austens-novels">(Mullan, "Status, rank, and class in Jane Austen's novels"")</ref>
                        </note> ,
                  it was easy to see <hi rend="italic">her</hi> views extended to marriage. It is
                  well known that Miss M. is absolutely on the catch for a husband, and no one
                  therefore can pity her for losing, by the superior attractions of another woman,
                  the chance of being able to make a <pb n="231" facs="pageImages/231.jpg"/>worthy
                  man completely wretched. Lady Susan was far from intending such a conquest, and on
                  finding how warmly Miss Mainwaring resented her lover's defection, determined, in
                  spite of Mr. and Mrs. Mainwaring's most urgent entreaties, to leave the family. I
                  have reason to imagine she did receive serious proposals from Sir James, but her
                  removing to Langford immediately on the discovery of his attachment, must acquit
                  her on that article with any mind of common candour. You will, I am sure, my dear
                  Sir, feel the truth of this, and will hereby learn to do justice to the <ref target="_Character" corresp="Character">character</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Character" target="_Character" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#MUstudstaff">During the
                     18th century, the word "character" had multiple meanings, most deriving from
                     the first literal sense noted in the OED: "A distinctive mark impressed,
                     engraved, or otherwise made on a surface" (I.1) or a "feature, trait" (II.2) In
                     this case, it refers more figuratively to the distinctive characteristics of a
                     "very injured woman."</note> of a very injured woman. I know that Lady Susan in
                  coming to Churchhill was governed only by the most honourable and amiable
                  intentions; her prudence and economy are exemplary, her regard for Mr. Vernon
                  equal even to HIS deserts; and her wish of obtaining my sister's good opinion
                  merits a better return than it has received. As a mother she is unexceptionable;
                  her solid affection for her child is shown by placing her in hands where her
                  education will be properly attended to; but because she has not the blind and weak
                  partiality of most mothers, she is accused of wanting maternal tenderness. Every
                  person of sense, however, will know how to value and commend her well-directed
                  affection, and will join me in wishing that Frederica Vernon may prove more worthy
                  than she has yet done of her mother's tender care. I have now, my dear father,
                  written my real sentiments of Lady Susan; you will know from this letter how
                  highly I admire her abilities, and esteem her character; but if you are not
                  equally <pb n="232" facs="pageImages/232.jpg"/>convinced by my full and solemn
                  assurance that your fears have been most idly created, you will deeply mortify and
                  distress me. </p>
               <closer>
                  <salute>I am, &amp;c., &amp;c.,<lb/>
                        </salute>
                  <signed>R. DE COURCY.</signed>
               </closer>

            </div>


            <div n="15" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XV<lb/>
                  <hi rend="italic">Mrs. Vernoon to Lady de Courcy.</hi>
                    </head>
               <opener>
                  <dateline>
                     <placeName>Churchhill</placeName>
                  </dateline>
                  <salute>My dear Mother,—</salute>
               </opener>
               <p> I return you Reginald's letter, and rejoice with all my heart that my father is
                  made easy by it: tell him so, with my congratulations; but, between ourselves, I
                  must own it has only convinced ME of my brother's having no PRESENT intention of
                  marrying Lady Susan, not that he is in no danger of doing so three months hence.
                  He gives a very plausible account of her behaviour at Langford; I wish it may be
                  true, but his intelligence must come from herself, and I am less disposed to
                  believe it than to lament the degree of intimacy subsisting between them, implied
                  by the discussion of such a subject. I am sorry to have incurred his displeasure,
                  but can expect nothing better while he is so very eager in Lady Susan's
                  justification. He is very severe against me indeed, and yet I hope I have not been
                  hasty in my <ref target="_Judgement" corresp="Judgement">judgment</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Judgement" target="_Judgement" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#BS">
                     Judgement is considered going beyond empirical evidence to draw a conclusion.
                     In the eighteenth century, the period of the Enlightenment, questions about the
                     nature of judgement permeated intellectual conversation. Read more about
                     judgement in <ref target="https://uknowledge.uky.edu/upk_english_language_and_literature_british_isles/82/">
                                <hi rend="italic">Criteria Of Certainty: Truth and Judgment in the
                           English Enlightenment</hi>, by Kevin Cope</ref>.</note> of her. Poor
                  woman! though I have reasons enough for my dislike, I cannot help pitying her at
                  present, as she is in real distress, and with too much cause. She had this morning
                  a letter from the lady with whom she has <pb n="233" facs="pageImages/233.jpg"/>placed her daughter, to request that Miss Vernon might be immediately removed,
                  as she had been detected in an attempt to run away. Why, or whither she intended
                  to go, does not appear; but, as her situation seems to have been unexceptionable,
                  it is a sad thing, and of course highly distressing to Lady Susan. Frederica must
                  be as much as sixteen, and ought to know better; but from what her mother
                  insinuates, I am afraid she is a perverse girl. She has been sadly neglected,
                  however, and her mother ought to remember it. Mr. Vernon set off for London as
                  soon as she had determined what should be done. He is, if possible, to prevail on
                  Miss Summers to let Frederica continue with her; and if he cannot succeed, to
                  bring her to Churchhill for the present, till some other situation can be found
                  for her. Her ladyship is comforting herself meanwhile by strolling along the
                  shrubbery with Reginald, calling forth all his tender feelings, I suppose, on this
                  distressing occasion. She has been talking a great deal about it to me. She talks
                  vastly well; I am afraid of being ungenerous, or I should say, TOO well to feel so
                  very deeply; but I will not look for her faults; she may be Reginald's wife!
                  Heaven forbid it! but why should I be quicker-sighted than anyone else? Mr. Vernon
                  declares that he never saw deeper distress than hers, on the receipt of the
                  letter; and is his judgment inferior to mine? She was very unwilling that
                  Frederica should be allowed to come to Churchhill, and justly enough, as it seems
                  a sort of reward to behaviour deserving very differently; but it was impossible to
                  take her anywhere <pb n="234" facs="pageImages/234.jpg"/>else, and she is not to
                  remain here long. "It will be absolutely necessary," said she, "as you, my dear
                  sister, must be sensible, to treat my daughter with some severity while she is
                  here; a most painful necessity, but I will ENDEAVOUR to submit to it. I am afraid
                  I have often been too indulgent, but my poor Frederica's temper could never bear
                  opposition well: you must support and encourage me; you must urge the necessity of
                  reproof if you see me too lenient." All this sounds very reasonable. Reginald is
                  so incensed against the poor silly girl. Surely it is not to Lady Susan's credit
                  that he should be so bitter against her daughter; his idea of her must be drawn
                  from the mother's description. Well, whatever may be his fate, we have the comfort
                  of knowing that we have done our utmost to save him. We must commit the event to a
                  higher power. </p>
               <closer>
                  <salute>Yours ever,&amp;c.,<lb/>
                        </salute>
                  <signed>CATHERINE VERNON.</signed>
               </closer>

            </div>


            <div n="16" type="letter">

               <head type="sub">XVI<lb/>
                  <hi rend="italic">Lady Susan to Mrs. Johnson.</hi>
                    </head>
               <opener>
                  <dateline>
                     <placeName>Churchhill.</placeName>
                            <lb/>
                  </dateline>
               </opener>
               <p>Never, my dearest Alicia, was I so provoked in my life as by a letter this morning
                  from Miss Summers. That horrid girl of mine has been trying to run away. I had not
                  a notion of her being such a little devil before, she seemed to have all the
                  Vernon milkiness; but on receiving the letter in which I declared my intention
                  about Sir James, she actually attempted to <pb n="235" facs="pageImages/235.jpg"/>elope; at least, I cannot otherwise account for her doing it. She meant, I
                  suppose, to go to the Clarkes in Staffordshire, for she has no other
                  acquaintances. <ref target="_Punished" corresp="Punished">But she shall be
                     punished, she shall have him.</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Punished" target="_Punished" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#MUstudstaff">Lady Susan’s desire for
                     Frederica to marry comes from her need of money to sustain her way of life and
                     social status. Marriage in the eighteenth century was most commonly done for
                     other needs, rather than love. "Couples wed to make political alliances, to
                     raise capital, to expand the workforce and for a whole array of practical
                     purpose" (Salt Lake Tribune). (<ref target="https://www.huffpost.com/entry/love-marriage-history_n_4774740">"Love And Marriage"</ref>).</note> I have sent Charles to town to make
                  matters up if he can, for I do not by any means want her here. If Miss Summers
                  will not keep her, you must find me out another school, unless we can get her
                  married immediately. Miss S. writes word that she could not get the young lady to
                  assign any cause for her extraordinary conduct, which confirms me in my own
                  previous explanation of it. Frederica is too shy, I think, and too much in awe of
                  me to tell tales, but if the mildness of her uncle should get anything out of her,
                  I am not afraid. I trust I shall be able to make my story as good as hers. If I am
                  vain of anything, it is of my eloquence. Consideration and esteem as surely follow
                  command of language as admiration waits on beauty, and here I have opportunity
                  enough for the exercise of my talent, as the chief of my time is spent in
                  conversation. </p>
               <p>Reginald is never easy unless we are by ourselves, and when the weather is
                  tolerable, we pace the <ref target="_Shrubbery" corresp="Shrubbery">shrubbery</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Shrubbery" target="_Shrubbery" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#WR">
                            <graphic url="notes/Vauxhall-Gardens.jpg"/>According to
                     Robert Clark, shrubberies and wilderness gardens were open stretches of land
                     that were usually filled with bordering rows of bushes and trees, which could
                     also be accompanied with lakes or installations. These large gardens were a
                     type of status symbol and were also made for the garden owner's pleasure. These
                     gardens or shrubberies allowed for parties to communicate with each other and
                     partake in walks observing the garden with the garden installations also
                     encouraging conversation (<ref target="http://www.jasna.org/publications/persuasions-online/vol36no1/clark/">Robert Clark, "Wilderness and Shrubbery in Austen’s Works"</ref>). The
                     image included here, <ref target="https://blog.oup.com/2013/07/pleasure-gardens-of-18th-century-london-music/">A 17th-century painting of the "Vauxhall Garden"</ref>, a public pleasure
                     garden, from the Oxford University Press sheet music department. Other than
                     wilderness gardens, pleasure gardens were gardens for anyone who could pay to
                     enter, and often featured a variety of entertainments like fireworks and
                     music.</note> for hours together. I like him on the whole very well; he is
                  clever and has a good deal to say, but he is sometimes impertinent and
                  troublesome. There is a sort of ridiculous delicacy about him which requires the
                  fullest explanation of whatever he may have heard to my disadvantage, and is never
                  satisfied till he thinks he has ascertained the beginning and end of everything.
                  This is one sort of love, <pb n="236" facs="pageImages/236.jpg"/>but I confess it
                  does not particularly recommend itself to me. I infinitely prefer the tender and
                  liberal spirit of Mainwaring, which, impressed with the deepest conviction of my
                  merit, is satisfied that whatever I do must be right; and look with a degree of
                  contempt on the inquisitive and doubtful fancies of that heart which seems always
                  debating on the reasonableness of its emotions. Mainwaring is indeed, beyond all
                  compare, superior to Reginald—superior in everything but the power of being with
                  me! Poor fellow! he is much distracted by jealousy, which I am not sorry for, as I
                  know no better support of love. He has been teazing me to allow of his coming into
                  this country, and <ref target="_INCOG" corresp="INCOG">lodging somewhere near
                     INCOG.</ref>
                        <note xml:id="INCOG" target="_INCOG" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#MUstudstaff">This is short for "incognito"--Mainwaring is
                     suggesting he will rent an apartment nearby as someone else, incognito.</note>;
                  but I forbade everything of the kind. Those women are inexcusable who forget what
                  is due to themselves, and the opinion of the world. </p>
               <closer>
                  <salute>Yours ever,</salute>
                  <signed>S. VERNON.</signed>
               </closer>

            </div>


            <div n="17" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XVII<lb/>
                  <hi rend="italic">Mrs. Vernon to Lady de Courcy.</hi>
                    </head>
               <opener>
                  <dateline>
                     <placeName>Churchhill.</placeName>
                            <lb/>
                  </dateline>
                  <salute>My dear Mother,—</salute>
               </opener>
               <p> Mr. Vernon returned on Thursday night, bringing his niece with him. Lady Susan
                  had received a line from him by that day's <ref target="_Post" corresp="Post">post</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Post" target="_Post" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#BS">The post, or mail service, was introduced in the
                     seventeenth century. Carriers brought letters from one post or station to
                     another on foot or horseback. "Post" refers both to the letters themselves, and
                     to the mail system more broadly(<ref target=" https://www.thesocialhistorian.com/royal-mail-history/">"Royal Mail
                        History"</ref>).</note>, informing her that Miss Summers had absolutely
                  refused to allow of Miss Vernon's continuance in her academy; we were therefore
                  prepared for her arrival, and expected them impatiently the whole evening. <pb n="237" facs="pageImages/237.jpg"/>They came while we were at tea, and I never
                  saw any creature look so frightened as Frederica when she entered the room. Lady
                  Susan, who had been shedding tears before, and showing great agitation at the idea
                  of the meeting, received her with perfect self-command, and without betraying the
                  least tenderness of spirit. She hardly spoke to her, and on Frederica's bursting
                  into tears as soon as we were seated, took her out of the room, and did not return
                  for some time. When she did, her eyes looked very red and she was as much agitated
                  as before. We saw no more of her daughter. Poor Reginald was beyond measure
                  concerned to see his fair friend in such distress, and watched her with so much
                  tender solicitude, that I, who occasionally caught her observing his countenance
                  with exultation, was quite out of patience. This pathetic representation lasted
                  the whole evening, and so ostentatious and artful a display has entirely convinced
                  me that she did in fact feel nothing. I am more angry with her than ever since I
                  have seen her daughter; the poor girl looks so unhappy that my heart aches for
                  her. Lady Susan is surely too severe, for Frederica does not seem to have the sort
                  of temper to make severity necessary. She looks perfectly timid, dejected, and
                  penitent. She is very pretty, though not so handsome as her mother, nor at all
                  like her. Her complexion is delicate, but neither so fair nor so blooming as Lady
                  Susan's, and she has quite the Vernon cast of countenance, the oval face and mild
                  dark eyes, and there is peculiar sweetness in her look when she speaks either to
                  her uncle or <pb n="238" facs="pageImages/238.jpg"/>me, for as we behave kindly to
                  her we have of course engaged her gratitude. </p>
               <p>Her mother has insinuated that her temper is intractable, but I never saw a face
                  less indicative of any evil disposition than hers; and from what I can see of the
                  behaviour of each to the other, the invariable severity of Lady Susan and the
                  silent dejection of Frederica, I am led to believe as heretofore that the former
                  has no real love for her daughter, and has never done her justice or treated her
                  affectionately. I have not been able to have any conversation with my niece; she
                  is shy, and I think I can see that some pains are taken to prevent her being much
                  with me. Nothing satisfactory transpires as to her reason for running away. Her
                  kind-hearted uncle, you may be sure, was too fearful of distressing her to ask
                  many questions as they travelled. I wish it had been possible for me to fetch her
                  instead of him. I think I should have discovered the truth in the course of a
                  thirty-mile journey. The small pianoforte has been removed within these few days,
                  at Lady Susan's request, into her dressing-room, and Frederica spends great part
                  of the day there, practising as it is called; but I seldom hear any noise when I
                  pass that way; what she does with herself there I do not know. There are plenty of
                  books, but it is not every girl who has been running wild the first fifteen years
                  of her life, that can or will read. Poor creature! the prospect from her window is
                  not very instructive, for that room overlooks the lawn, you know, with the
                  shrubbery on one side, where she may see her mother <pb n="239" facs="pageImages/239.jpg"/>walking for an hour together in earnest conversation
                  with Reginald. A girl of Frederica's age must be childish indeed, if such things
                  do not strike her. Is it not inexcusable to give such an example to a daughter?
                  Yet Reginald still thinks Lady Susan the best of mothers, and still condemns
                  Frederica as a worthless girl! He is convinced that her attempt to run away
                  proceeded from no, justifiable cause, and had no provocation. I am sure I cannot
                  say that it HAD, but while Miss Summers declares that Miss Vernon showed no signs
                  of obstinacy or perverseness during her whole stay in Wigmore Street, till she was
                  detected in this scheme, I cannot so readily credit what Lady Susan has made him,
                  and wants to make me believe, that it was merely an impatience of restraint and a
                  desire of escaping from the tuition of masters which brought on the plan of an
                  elopement. <ref target="_Enslaved" corresp="Enslaved">O Reginald, how is your
                     judgment enslaved!</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Enslaved" target="_Enslaved" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#WR">Reginald's belief that Frederica
                     attempted to run away for no reason and that Lady Susan is not to blame may be
                     a result of blind love and unwillingness to face the truth--Reginald's judgment
                     is not free but "enslaved" by his love of Lady Susan. As one psychologist
                     notes, "In light of the complexity typical of love and the fact that lovers are
                     often unwilling to face reality, self-deception and mistakes are likely to
                     occur." When one is in love with another it is easy to forgive or ignore
                     negative aspects of their partner (<ref target="https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/in-the-name-love/201003/is-love-blind">Ben-Zeév, "Is Love Blind?"</ref>).</note>He scarcely dares even allow her
                  to be handsome, and when I speak of her beauty, replies only that her eyes have no
                  brilliancy! Sometimes he is sure she is deficient in understanding, and at others
                  that her temper only is in fault. In short, when a person is always to deceive, it
                  is impossible to be consistent. Lady Susan finds it necessary that Frederica
                  should be to blame, and probably has sometimes judged it expedient to excuse her
                  of ill-nature and sometimes to lament her want of sense. Reginald is only
                  repeating after her ladyship.</p>
               <closer>
                  <salute>I remain, &amp;c., &amp;c.,</salute>
                  <signed>CATHERINE VERNON.</signed>
               </closer>
            </div>

            <pb n="240" facs="pageImages/240.jpg"/>
            <div type="letter" n="18">
               <head type="sub">XVIII<lb/>
                  <hi rend="italic">FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME</hi>
               </head>
               <opener>
                  <dateline>
                            <placeName>Churchhill.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                  <salute>My dear Mother,—</salute>
               </opener>
               <p>I am very glad to find that my description of <persName>Frederica
                     Vernon</persName> has interested you, for I do believe her truly deserving of
                  your regard; and when I have communicated a notion which has recently struck me,
                  your kind impressions in her favour will, I am sure, be heightened. I cannot help
                  fancying that she is growing partial to my brother. I so very often see her eyes
                  fixed on his face with a remarkable expression of pensive admiration. He is
                  certainly very handsome; and yet more, there is an openness in his manner that
                  must be highly prepossessing, and I am sure she feels it so. Thoughtful and
                  pensive in general, her countenance always brightens into a smile when
                     <persName>Reginald</persName> says anything amusing; and, let the subject be
                  ever so serious that he may be conversing on, I am much mistaken if a syllable of
                  his uttering escapes her. I want to make him sensible of all this, for we know the
                  power of gratitude on such a heart as his; and could
                     <persName>Frederica's</persName> artless affection detach him from her mother,
                  we might bless the day which brought her to <placeName>Churchhill</placeName>. I
                  think, my dear mother, you would not disapprove of her as a daughter. She is
                  extremely young, to be sure, has had a <ref target="_WretchedEducation" corresp="WretchedEducation">wretched education</ref>
                        <note xml:id="WretchedEducation" target="_WretchEdeducation" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#HSA">Although women's education was bad during the 18th
                     century, generally, in this letter, Ms. Veron refers to Lady Susan's poor
                     example for her daughter Frederica. In "Lady Susan: The Wicked Mother in Jane
                     Austen’s Novels," Barbara Horwitz points out that Lady Susan uses the language
                     of conduct books on female education, but does not follow their spirit. She
                     "not only brings up her daughter improperly and cruelly, obviously ignoring the
                     spirit of the conduct books; she uses their precepts, and even their very own
                     language, to justify her misconduct. Lady Susan is an immoral woman who uses
                     her daughter for her own ends."(<ref target="jasna.org/persuasions/printed/number9/horwitz.htm">/"&gt;"Lady Susan:
                        The Wicked Mother in Jane Austen’s Novels"</ref>).</note>,and a dreadful
                  example of levity in her mother; but yet I can pronounce her disposition to be
                  excellent, and her natural abilities very good. Though totally without
                     accomplishments,<pb n="241 [page breaks after accom-]" facs="pageImages/241.jpg"/> she is by no means so ignorant as one might expect
                  to find her, being fond of books and spending the chief of her time in reading.
                  Her mother leaves her more to herself than she did, and I have her with me as much
                  as possible, and have taken great pains to overcome her timidity. We are very good
                  friends, and though she never opens her lips before her mother, she talks enough
                  when alone with me to make it clear that, if properly treated by <persName>Lady
                     Susan</persName>, she would always appear to much greater advantage. There
                  cannot be a more gentle, affectionate heart; or more obliging manners, when acting
                  without restraint; and her little cousins are all very fond of her. </p>
               <closer>
                  <salute>Your affectionate daughter,<lb/>
                        </salute>
                  <signed>
                            <persName>C. VERNON</persName>
                        </signed>
               </closer>
            </div>

            <div type="letter" n="19">
               <head type="sub">XIX<lb/>
                  <hi rend="italic">From <persName>Lady Susan</persName> to <persName>Mrs.
                        Johnson</persName>.</hi>
               </head>
               <opener>
                  <dateline>
                            <placeName>Churchhill.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
               </opener>
               <p> You will be eager, I know, to hear something further of
                     <persName>Frederica</persName>, and perhaps may think me negligent for not
                  writing before. She arrived with her uncle last Thursday fortnight, when, of
                  course, I lost no time in demanding the cause of her behaviour; and soon found
                  myself to have been perfectly right in attributing it to my own letter. The
                  prospect of it frightened her so thoroughly, that, with a mixture of true girlish
                  perverseness and folly, she resolved on getting out of the house and proceeding
                  directly by the <ref target="_TheStage" corresp="TheStage"> the stage </ref>
                  <note xml:id="TheStage" target="_TheStage" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#JKB">
                     <graphic url="notes/BBO_OXATC_33-001.jpg"/>Frederica has escaped from her
                     school by "stage," which was a method of public transportation--a stagecoach.
                     According to <ref target="https://www.historic-uk.com/CultureUK/The-Stagecoach/">Historic
                        UK</ref>, an online history magazine focused on British history, the
                     stagecoach was initially established in the 13th century. It would have been
                     very tedious and treacherous to take a journey by stage, as the roads were not
                     well-maintained, and there was a constant threat of highwaymen or robbers. It
                     was also more dangerous for single women, as a result. Passengers could sleep
                     inside while someone else drove the horses. It was a very slow and inferior way
                     to travel. Additionally, this was how mail moved from town to town. The image
                     included here, an anonymous 1767 painting by the British School, shows a
                     stagecoach full of people traveling between Abington and London (<ref target="https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/francis-blewitts-coach-the-abingdon-machine-on-its-first-journey-from-london-108315/search/category:road-and-rail-transport-and-industry/page/2/sort_by/date_earliest/order/asc/view_as/grid">Art UK</ref>). </note> to her friends, the Clarkes; and had really <pb n="242" facs="pageImages/242.jpg"/>got as far as the length of two streets in
                  her journey when she was fortunately missed, pursued, and overtaken. Such was the
                  first distinguished exploit of <persName>Miss Frederica Vernon</persName>; and, if
                  we consider that it was achieved at the tender age of sixteen, we shall have room
                  for the most flattering <ref target="_Prognostics" corresp="Prognostics">prognostics</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Prognostics" target="_Prognostics" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#JML"> Per the OED, prognostics (2.a) in this context means
                     "something which forewarns of events to come; an omen, a portent." Here Lady
                     Susan is saying that she is hopeful (or skeptical) or Frederica’s
                     future.</note> of her future renown. I am excessively provoked, however, at the
                  parade of propriety which prevented <persName>Miss Summers</persName> from keeping
                  the girl; and it seems so extraordinary a piece of nicety, considering my
                  daughter's family connections, that I can only suppose the lady to be governed by
                  the fear of never getting her money. Be that as it may, however,
                     <persName>Frederica</persName> is returned on my hands; and, having nothing
                  else to employ her, is busy in pursuing the plan of romance begun at
                     <placeName>Langford</placeName>. She is actually falling in love with
                     <persName>Reginald De Courcy</persName>! <ref target="_DisobeyHerMother" corresp="DisobeyHerMother">To disobey her mother</ref>
                  <note xml:id="DisobeyHerMother" target="_DisobeyHerMother" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#JML">In this context, "to disobey her Mother" means to go
                     against her mother’s wishes regarding who she wants to pursue romance with. As
                     John Mullan notes, in an essay for the British Library, marriage in Austen’s
                     time was often arranged and involved an elaborate process of courtship (<ref target="https://www.bl.uk/romantics-and-victorians/articles/courtship-love-and-marriage-in-jane-austens-novels">"Courtship, love, and marriage in Jane Austen's novels"</ref>).</note> by
                  refusing an unexceptionable offer is not enough; her affections must also be given
                  without her mother's <ref target="_Approbation" corresp="Approbation">approbation</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Approbation" target="_Approbation" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#JML"> Per the OED, approbation (2) in this context means "the
                     action of formally or authoritatively declaring good or true; sanction." This
                     means that Mrs. Vernon is asking Lady De Courcy to sanction their marriage.
                  </note>. I never saw a girl of her age bid fairer to be the sport of mankind. Her
                  feelings are tolerably acute, and she is so charmingly artless in their display as
                  to afford the most reasonable hope of her being ridiculous, and despised by every
                  man who sees her. Artlessness will never do in love matters; and that girl is born
                  a simpleton who has it either by nature or affectation. I am not yet certain that
                     <persName>Reginald</persName> sees what she is about, nor is it of much
                  consequence. She is now an object of indifference to him, and she would be one of
                  contempt were he to understand <pb n="242 [page breaks after under-]" facs="pageImages/242.jpg"/>her emotions. Her beauty is much admired by the
                  Vernons, but it has no effect on him. She is in high favour with her aunt
                  altogether, because she is so little like myself, of course. She is exactly the
                  companion for <persName>Mrs. Vernon</persName>, who dearly loves to be firm, and
                  to have all the sense and all the wit of the conversation to herself:
                     <persName>Frederica</persName> will never eclipse her. When she first came I
                  was at some pains to prevent her seeing much of her aunt; but I have relaxed, as I
                  believe I may depend on her observing the rules I have laid down for their
                  discourse. But do not imagine that with all this lenity I have for a moment given
                  up my plan of her marriage. No; I am unalterably fixed on this point, though I
                  have not yet quite decided on the manner of bringing it about. I should not chuse
                  to have the business brought on here, and canvassed by the wise heads of Mr. and
                     <persName>Mrs. Vernon</persName>; and I cannot just now afford to go to town.
                     <persName>Miss Frederica</persName> must therefore wait a little. </p>
               <closer>
                  <salute>Yours ever,<lb/>
                        </salute>
                  <signed>
                            <persName>S. VERNON.</persName>
                        </signed>
               </closer>
            </div>

            <div type="letter" n="20">
               <head type="sub">XX.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">
                            <persName>Mrs. Vernon</persName> to
                        <persName>Lady de Courcy.</persName>
                        </hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Churchhill.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
               </opener>
               <p>We have a very unexpected guest with us at present, my dear Mother: he arrived
                  yesterday. I heard a carriage at the door, as I was sitting with my children while
                  they dined; and supposing I should be wanted, left the <ref target="_Nursery" corresp="Nursery">nursery</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Nursery" target="_Nursery" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#HSA">
                     <graphic url="notes/TheNursery.jpg"/>According to the OED the nursery is a room
                     or an area in the house made for babies and young children to live in while
                     they were being cared for and nursed. Often, early education occurred in the
                     nursery. The image here, from <ref target="http://www.nationaltrustimages.org.uk/filming-locations/properties/yorkshire-north-east/wallington">the National Trust UK</ref>, shows the nursery at Wallington estate, a
                     house much like we could imagine Churchhill to be. </note>soon afterwards, and
                  was half-way downstairs, when <persName>Frederica</persName>, as pale as ashes,
                     <pb n="244" facs="pageImages/244.jpg"/>came running up, and rushed by me into
                  her own room. I instantly followed, and asked her what was the matter. <said aloud="true">"Oh!"</said> said she, <said aloud="true">"he is
                        come—<persName>Sir James</persName> is come, and what shall I do?"</said>
                  This was no explanation; I begged her to tell me what she meant. At that moment we
                  were interrupted by a knock at the door: it was <persName>Reginald</persName>, who
                  came, by <persName>Lady Susan</persName>'s direction, to call
                     <persName>Frederica</persName> down. <said aloud="true">"It is Mr. De
                     Courcy!"</said> said she, colouring violently. <said aloud="true">"Mamma has
                     sent for me; I must go."</said> We all three went down together; and I saw my
                  brother examining the terrified face of <persName>Frederica</persName> with
                  surprize. In the <ref target="_BreakfastRoom" corresp="BreakfastRoom">breakfast-room</ref>
                  <note xml:id="BreakfastRoom" target="_BreakfastRoom" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#JML">
                     <ref target="http://www.jasna.org/persuasions/printed/number12/sutherland2.htm">Per this article by Eileen Sutherland of the Jane Austen Society of North
                        America,</ref> the breakfast room was a room where families ate most of
                     their meals. They are different in that "dining rooms were most often used only
                     for formal dinners". This is common with the a new trend in Austen’s time where
                     "instead of the multi-purpose hall, rooms were being used for specific
                     purposes: there was a billiard room, a music room, a library." </note> we found
                     <persName>Lady Susan</persName>, and a young man of gentlemanlike appearance,
                  whom she introduced by the name of <persName>Sir James Martin</persName>—the very
                  person, as you may remember, whom it was said she had been at pains to detach from
                     <persName>Miss Mainwaring</persName>; but the conquest, it seems, was not
                  designed for herself, or she has since transferred it to her daughter; for
                     <persName>Sir James</persName> is now desperately in love with
                     <persName>Frederica</persName>, and with full encouragement from mamma. The
                  poor girl, however, I am sure, dislikes him; and though his person and address are
                  very well, he appears, both to <persName>Mr. Vernon</persName> and me, a very weak
                  young man. <persName>Frederica</persName> looked so shy, so confused, when we
                  entered the room, that I felt for her exceedingly. <persName>Lady Susan</persName>
                  behaved with great attention to her visitor; and yet I thought I could perceive
                  that she had no particular pleasure in seeing him. <persName>Sir James</persName>
                  talked a great deal, and made many civil excuses to me for the liberty he had
                  taken in coming to <placeName>Churchhill</placeName>—mixing <pb n="245" facs="pageImages/245.jpg"/>more frequent laughter with his discourse than the
                  subject required—said many things over and over again, and told <persName>Lady
                     Susan</persName> three times that he had seen <persName>Mrs. Johnson</persName>
                  a few evenings before. He now and then addressed <persName>Frederica</persName>,
                  but more frequently her mother. The poor girl sat all this time without opening
                  her lips—her eyes cast down, and her colour varying every instant; while
                     <persName>Reginald</persName> observed all that passed in perfect silence. At
                  length <persName>Lady Susan</persName>, weary, I believe, of her situation,
                  proposed walking; and we left the two gentlemen together, to put on our <ref target="_Pelisses" corresp="Pelisses">pellisses</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Pelisses" target="_Pelisses" resp="editors.xml#AHM" type="gloss">
                            <graphic url="notes/Pelisse.jpeg"/>A pelisse is a woman’s long dress-like coat. This
                     picture, from the <ref target="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/82141">Metropolitan
                        Museum of Art</ref>, shows a silk pelisse from the late eighteenth
                     century.</note>. As we went upstairs <persName>Lady Susan</persName> begged
                  permission to attend me for a few moments in my dressing-room, as she was anxious
                  to speak with me in private. I led her thither accordingly, and as soon as the
                  door was closed, she said: <said aloud="true">"I was never more surprized in my
                     life than by <persName>Sir James</persName>'s arrival, and the suddenness of it
                     requires some apology to you, my dear sister; though to ME, as a mother, it is
                     highly flattering. He is so extremely attached to my daughter that he could not
                     exist longer without seeing her. <persName>Sir James</persName> is a young man
                     of an amiable disposition and excellent character; a little too much of the
                        <ref target="_Rattle" corresp="Rattle">rattle</ref>
                            <note xml:id="Rattle" target="_Rattle" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#HSA">According to the OED,
                        to rattle is to "talk rapidly in a noisy, lively, or inane manner; to
                        chatter, to prattle." Here, Sir James is being called a rattle, or someone
                        who talks inanely (OED, 3a).</note>, perhaps, but a year or two will rectify
                     THAT: and he is in other respects so very eligible a match for
                        <persName>Frederica</persName>, that I have always observed his attachment
                     with the greatest pleasure; and am persuaded that you and my brother will give
                     the alliance your hearty approbation. I have never before mentioned the
                     likelihood of its taking place to anyone, because I thought that whilst
                        <persName>Frederica</persName> continued at <pb n="246" facs="pageImages/246.jpg"/>school it had better not be known to exist; but
                     now, as I am convinced that <persName>Frederica</persName> is too old ever to
                     submit to school confinement, and have, therefore, begun to consider her union
                     with <persName>Sir James</persName> as not very distant, I had intended within
                     a few days to acquaint yourself and <persName>Mr. Vernon</persName> with the
                     whole business. I am sure, my dear sister, you will excuse my remaining silent
                     so long, and agree with me that such circumstances, while they continue from
                     any cause in suspense, cannot be too cautiously concealed. When you have the
                     happiness of bestowing your sweet little <persName>Catherine</persName>, some
                     years hence, on a man who in connection and character is alike unexceptionable,
                     you will know what I feel now; though, thank Heaven, you cannot have all my
                     reasons for rejoicing in such an event. <persName>Catherine</persName> will be
                     amply provided for, and not, like my <persName>Frederica</persName>, indebted
                     to a fortunate establishment for the comforts of life."</said> She concluded by
                  demanding my congratulations. I gave them somewhat awkwardly, I believe; for, in
                  fact, the sudden disclosure of so important a matter took from me the power of
                  speaking with any clearness. She thanked me, however, most affectionately, for my
                  kind concern in the welfare of herself and daughter; and then said: <said aloud="true">"I am not apt to deal in professions, my dear <persName>Mrs.
                        Vernon</persName>, and I never had the convenient talent of affecting
                     sensations foreign to my heart; and therefore I trust you will believe me when
                     I declare, that much as I had heard in your praise before I knew you, I had no
                     idea that I should ever love you as I now do; and I must further say that your
                     friendship towards <pb n="247" facs="pageImages/247.jpg"/>me is more
                     particularly gratifying because I have reason to believe that some attempts
                     were made to prejudice you against me. I only wish that they, whoever they are,
                     to whom I am indebted for such kind intentions, could see the terms on which we
                     now are together, and understand the real affection we feel for each other; but
                     I will not detain you any longer. God bless you, for your goodness to me and my
                     girl, and continue to you all your present happiness."</said> What can one say
                  of such a woman, my dear mother? Such earnestness such solemnity of expression!
                  and yet I cannot help suspecting the truth of everything she says. As for
                     <persName>Reginald</persName>, I believe he does not know what to make of the
                  matter. When <persName>Sir James</persName> came, he appeared all astonishment and
                  perplexity; the folly of the young man and the confusion of
                     <persName>Frederica</persName> entirely engrossed him; and though a little
                  private discourse with <persName>Lady Susan</persName> has since had its effect,
                  he is still hurt, I am sure, at her allowing of such a man's attentions to her
                  daughter. <persName>Sir James</persName> invited himself with great composure to
                  remain here a few days—hoped we would not think it odd, was aware of its being
                  very impertinent, but he took the liberty of a relation; and concluded by wishing,
                  with a laugh, that he might be really one very soon. Even <persName>Lady
                     Susan</persName> seemed a little disconcerted by this forwardness; in her heart
                  I am persuaded she sincerely wished him gone. But something must be done for this
                  poor girl, if her feelings are such as both I and her uncle believe them to be.
                  She must not be sacrificed to policy or ambition, and she <pb n="248" facs="pageImages/248.jpg"/>must not be left to suffer from the dread of it. The
                  girl whose heart can distinguish <persName>Reginald De Courcy</persName>,
                  deserves, however he may slight her, a better fate than to be <persName>Sir James
                     Martin</persName>'s wife. As soon as I can get her alone, I will discover the
                  real truth; but she seems to wish to avoid me. I hope this does not proceed from
                  anything wrong, and that I shall not find out I have thought too well of her. Her
                  behaviour to <persName>Sir James</persName> certainly speaks the greatest
                  consciousness and embarrassment, but I see nothing in it more like encouragement.
                  Adieu, my dear mother. </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>Yours, &amp;,</salute>
                  <signed>
                            <persName>C. VERNON.</persName>
                        </signed>
                    </closer>
            </div>



            <div n="21" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XXI.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">
                            <persName>Miss Vernon</persName> to
                        <persName>Mr. de Courcy.</persName>
                        </hi>
                    </head>
               <opener>
                        <salute>Sir,—</salute>
                    </opener>
               <p>I hope you will excuse <ref target="_ThisLiberty" corresp="ThisLiberty">this
                     liberty</ref>
                  <note xml:id="ThisLiberty" target="_ThisLiberty" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#JML">Here, "this liberty" is referring to Miss Vernon’s
                     decision to write to Mr. De Courcy. In this period, Miss Vernon’s actions are
                     considered controversial as single women were not meant to write to other men.
                        <ref target="https://www.bl.uk/romantics-and-victorians/articles/gender-roles-in-the-19th-century">Per this article in the British Library by Kathryn Hughes</ref>--which is
                     about the later Victorian period--men and women "inhabited what Victorians
                     thought of as ‘separate spheres’, only coming together at breakfast and again
                     at dinner." Single women "were not even allowed to speak to men unless there
                     was a married woman present as a chaperone." Frederica is being very forward
                     and ignoring the rules of decorum. </note>; I am forced upon it by the greatest
                  distress, or I should be ashamed to trouble you. I am very miserable about
                     <persName>Sir James Martin</persName>, and have no other way in the world of
                  helping myself but by writing to you, for I am forbidden even speaking to my uncle
                  and aunt on the subject; and this being the case, I am afraid my applying to you
                  will appear no better than equivocation, and as if I attended to <ref target="_LetterSpirit" corresp="LetterSpirit">the letter and not the spirit of
                     mamma's commands</ref>
                        <note xml:id="LetterSpirit" target="_LetterSpirit" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">Frederica alludes to the Bible here. In
                     2 Corinthians 3:6, God has "made us able ministers of the new testament; not of
                     the letter, but of the spirit: for the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth
                     life" (King James Version). In other words, Frederica is worried that she is
                     being disobedient to her mother’s injunction not to speak to Mr. or Catherine
                     Vernon in writing to Reginald.</note>. But if you do not take my part and
                  persuade her to break it off, I shall be half distracted, for I cannot bear him.
                  No human being but YOU could have any chance of prevailing with her. <pb n="249" facs="pageImages/249.jpg"/>If you will, therefore, have the unspeakably great
                  kindness of taking my part with her, and persuading her to send <persName>Sir
                     James</persName> away, I shall be more obliged to you than it is possible for
                  me to express. I always disliked him from the first: it is not a sudden fancy, I
                  assure you, sir; I always thought him silly and impertinent and disagreeable, and
                  now he is grown worse than ever. I would rather work for my bread than marry him.
                  I do not know how to apologize enough for this letter; I know it is taking so
                  great a liberty. I am aware how dreadfully angry it will make mamma, but I
                  remember the risk. </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>I am, Sir, your most humble servant,</salute>
                  <signed>F. S. V.</signed>
                    </closer>
            </div>



            <div n="22" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XXII.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">
                            <persName>Lady Susan</persName> to
                        <persName>Mrs. Johnson.</persName>
                        </hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Churchhill.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                    </opener>

               <p>This is insufferable! My dearest friend, I was never so enraged before, and must
                  relieve myself by writing to you, who I know will enter into all my feelings. Who
                  should come on Tuesday but <persName>Sir James Martin</persName>! Guess my
                  astonishment, and vexation—for, as you well know, I never wished him to be seen at
                     <placeName>Churchhill</placeName>. What a pity that you should not have known
                  his intentions! Not content with coming, he actually invited himself to remain
                  here a few days. I could have poisoned him! I made the best of it, however, and
                  told my story with great success to <persName>Mrs. Vernon</persName>, who,
                  whatever might be her real sentiments, said <pb n="250" facs="pageImages/250.jpg"/>nothing in opposition to mine. I made a point also of
                     <persName>Frederica</persName>'s behaving civilly to <persName>Sir
                     James</persName>, and gave her to understand that I was absolutely determined
                  on her marrying him. She said something of her misery, but that was all. I have
                  for some time been more particularly resolved on the match from seeing the rapid
                  increase of her affection for <persName>Reginald</persName>, and from not feeling
                  secure that a knowledge of such affection might not in the end awaken a return.
                  Contemptible as a regard founded only on compassion must make them both in my
                  eyes, I felt by no means assured that such might not be the consequence. It is
                  true that <persName>Reginald</persName> had not in any degree grown cool towards
                  me; but yet he has lately mentioned <persName>Frederica</persName> spontaneously
                  and unnecessarily, and once said something in praise of her person. HE was all
                  astonishment at the appearance of my visitor, and at first observed <persName>Sir
                     James</persName> with an attention which I was pleased to see not unmixed with
                  jealousy; but unluckily it was impossible for me really to torment him, as
                     <persName>Sir James</persName>, though extremely gallant to me, very soon made
                  the whole party understand that his heart was devoted to my daughter. I had no
                  great difficulty in convincing <persName>De Courcy</persName>, when we were alone,
                  that I was perfectly justified, all things considered, in desiring the match; and
                  the whole business seemed most comfortably arranged. They could none of them help
                  perceiving that <persName>Sir James</persName>
                  <ref target="_NoSolomon" corresp="NoSolomon">was no Solomon</ref>
                        <note xml:id="NoSolomon" target="_NoSolomon" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#TH">Lady Susan references the biblical story of of Solomon, King of Israel (1
                     Kings 3:16–28). However, she provides a superficial allusion only to Solomon's
                     wisdom. Her chief intention here seems to be to show how well-read she is in
                     the Bible. In the story of the Judgment of King Solomon, two new mothers live
                     in the same house; one infant dies, and both mothers claim the other as their
                     own. To determine who the true mother is, Solomon suggests cutting the baby in
                     two and giving each mother a piece. The true mother renounces her claim, and so
                     Solomon's wisdom was known.</note>; but I had positively forbidden
                     <persName>Frederica</persName> complaining to <persName>Charles
                     Vernon</persName> or his wife, and they had therefore no pretence for
                  interference; though my impertinent <pb n="251" facs="pageImages/251.jpg"/>sister,
                  I believe, wanted only opportunity for doing so. Everything, however, was going on
                  calmly and quietly; and, though I counted the hours of <persName>Sir
                     James</persName>'s stay, my mind was entirely satisfied with the posture of
                  affairs. Guess, then, what I must feel at the sudden disturbance of all my
                  schemes; and that, too, from a quarter where I had least reason to expect it.
                     <persName>Reginald</persName> came this morning into my dressing-room with a
                  very unusual solemnity of countenance, and after some preface informed me in so
                  many words that he wished to reason with me on the impropriety and unkindness of
                  allowing <persName>Sir James Martin</persName> to address my daughter contrary to
                  her inclinations. I was all amazement. When I found that he was not to be laughed
                  out of his design, I calmly begged an explanation, and desired to know by what he
                  was impelled, and by whom commissioned, to reprimand me. He then <said direct="false">told me, mixing in his speech a few insolent compliments and
                     ill-timed expressions of tenderness, to which I listened with perfect
                     indifference, that my daughter had acquainted him with some circumstances
                     concerning herself, <persName>Sir James</persName>, and me which had given him
                     great uneasiness</said>. In short, I found that she had in the first place
                  actually written to him to request his interference, and that, on receiving her
                  letter, he had conversed with her on the subject of it, in order to understand the
                  particulars, and to assure himself of her real wishes. I have not a doubt but that
                  the girl took this opportunity of making downright love to him. I am convinced of
                  it by the manner in which he spoke of her. Much good may such love do him! I shall
                     <pb n="252" facs="pageImages/252.jpg"/>ever despise the man who can be
                  gratified by the passion which he never wished to inspire, nor solicited the
                  avowal of. I shall always detest them both. He can have no true regard for me, or
                  he would not have listened to her; and SHE, with her little rebellious heart and
                  indelicate feelings, to throw herself into the protection of a young man with whom
                  she has scarcely ever exchanged two words before! I am equally confounded at HER
                  impudence and HIS credulity. How dared he believe what she told him in my
                  disfavour! Ought he not to have felt assured that I must have unanswerable motives
                  for all that I had done? Where was his reliance on my sense and goodness then?
                  Where the resentment which true love would have dictated against the person
                  defaming me—that person, too, a <ref target="_Chit" corresp="Chit">chit</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Chit" target="_Chit" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#AHM">A chit is
                     someone "considered as no better than a child. Generally used of young persons
                     in contempt" (Johnson); now, mostly of a girl or young woman" ("Chit"
                     2b).</note> , a child, without talent or education, whom he had been always
                  taught to despise? I was calm for some time; but the greatest degree of
                  forbearance may be overcome, and I hope I was afterwards sufficiently keen. He
                  endeavoured, long endeavoured, to soften my resentment; but that woman is a fool
                  indeed who, while insulted by accusation, can be worked on by compliments. At
                  length he left me, as deeply provoked as myself; and he showed his anger more. I
                  was quite cool, but he gave way to the most violent indignation; I may therefore
                  expect it will the sooner subside, and perhaps his may be vanished for ever, while
                  mine will be found still fresh and implacable. He is now shut up in his apartment,
                  whither I heard him go on leaving mine. How unpleasant, one would think, must be
                  his reflections! <pb n="253 [page breaks after reflec-]" facs="pageImages/253.jpg"/>but some people's feelings are incomprehensible. I have not yet tranquillised
                  myself enough to see <persName>Frederica</persName>. SHE shall not soon forget the
                  occurrences of this day; she shall find that she has poured forth her tender tale
                  of love in vain, and exposed herself for ever to the contempt of the whole world,
                  and the severest resentment of her injured mother. </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>Your affectionate</salute>
                  <signed>
                            <persName>S. VERNON.</persName>
                        </signed>
                    </closer>
            </div>


            <div n="23" type="letter">

               <head type="sub">XXIII.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Mrs. Vernon to Lady de
                  Courcy.</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Churchhill. </placeName>
                        </dateline>
                    </opener>
               <p>Let me congratulate you, my dearest Mother! The affair which has given us so much
                  anxiety is drawing to a happy conclusion. Our prospect is most delightful, and
                  since matters have now taken so favourable a turn, I am quite sorry that I ever
                  imparted my apprehensions to you; for the pleasure of learning that the danger is
                  over is perhaps dearly purchased by all that you have previously suffered. I am so
                  much agitated by delight that <ref target="_Pen" corresp="Pen">I can scarcely hold
                     a pen</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Pen" target="_Pen" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#DMC"> In the 18th century, the writing utensil was the quill
                     pen. The quality of the pen depended on the animal that the feather belonged
                     to. Discarded peacock and swan feathers were some of the high quality
                     ingredients for the pens (<ref target="https://georgianera.wordpress.com/2015/12/17/18th-century-quill-pens-and-postage/">"18th Century Quill Pens and Postage"</ref>). </note> ; but am determined
                  to send you a <ref target="_FewShortLines" corresp="FewShortLines">Few short
                     lines</ref>
                        <note xml:id="FewShortLines" target="_FewShortLines" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#STM">
                            <graphic url="notes/Postboysandhorses.jpg"/>A "few short lines" refers to the length
                     of the letter that will be carried by James who in this case is the messenger
                     or servant who will deliver the letter to Lady De Courcy. In other words, a few
                     short lines in this context is a brief letter. According to a review by Tracy
                     Kiely, in the 18th century people entrusted their friends, family members or
                     others traveling to deliver their letters and serve as messengers. Only the
                     wealthy could afford postal services. (<ref target="https://janeaustensworld.wordpress.com/2009/09/09/the-postal-service-in-18th-century-britain-letters-and-the-penny-post/">Vic, "The Postal Service in 18th Century Britain: Letters and the
                        Penny-Post"</ref>). The image included here,<ref target="https://janeaustensworld.wordpress.com/2009/09/12/the-postal-service-in-18th-century-britain-post-roads-and-post-boys/"> an 18th century painting by George Morland</ref>, shows post-boys and
                     horses, and illustrates the mode of letter delivery in the 18th century and
                     possibly shows how James carried the letter sent by Catherine Vernon to Lady De
                     Courcy.</note> by James, that you may have some explanation of what must so
                  greatly astonish you, as that Reginald should be returning to Parklands. I was
                  sitting about half an hour ago with Sir James in the <ref target="_BreakfastParlour" corresp="BreakfastParlour">breakfast
                     parlour</ref>
                        <note xml:id="BreakfastParlour" target="_BreakfastParlour" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#STM">In the 18th century, dining rooms were
                     only used for formal dinners most of the time. It has always been a custom to
                     have breakfast together throughout England. Families often had their breakfast
                     in a room called the breakfast parlour, and it is where they would meet in the
                     early mornings (<ref target="http://www.jasna.org/persuasions/printed/number12/sutherland2.htm">Sunderland, "Dining at the Great House: Food and Drink in the Time of Jane
                        Austen"</ref>).</note>, when my brother called me out of the room. I
                  instantly saw that something was the matter; his complexion was raised, and he
                  spoke with great emotion; you know his eager manner, my dear mother, when <pb n="254" facs="pageImages/254.jpg"/>his mind is interested. "Catherine," said
                  he, "I am going home to-day; I am sorry to leave you, but I must go: it is a great
                  while since I have seen my father and mother. I am going to send James forward
                  with my hunters immediately; if you have any letter, therefore, he can take it. I
                  shall not be at home myself till Wednesday or Thursday, as I shall go through
                  London, where I have business; but before I leave you," he continued, speaking in
                  a lower tone, and with still greater energy, "I must warn you of one thing—do not
                  let Frederica Vernon be made unhappy by that Martin. He wants to marry her; her
                  mother promotes the match, but she cannot endure the idea of it. Be assured that I
                  speak from the fullest conviction of the truth of what I say; I know that
                  Frederica is made wretched by Sir James's continuing here. She is a sweet girl,
                  and deserves a better fate. Send him away immediately; he is only a fool: but what
                  her mother can mean, Heaven only knows! Good bye," he added, shaking my hand with
                  earnestness; "I do not know when you will see me again; but remember what I tell
                  you of Frederica; you MUST make it your business to see justice done her. She is
                  an <ref target="_Amiable" corresp="Amiable">amiable</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Amiable" target="_Amiable" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#STM">According to the OED,
                     being amiable means to be "lovable, worthy to be loved, and/or lovely"
                     ("Amiable", adj.2.a).</note> girl, and has a very superior mind to what we have
                  given her credit for." He then left me, and ran upstairs. I would not try to stop
                  him, for I know what his feelings must be. The nature of mine, as I listened to
                  him, I need not attempt to describe; for a minute or two I remained in the same
                  spot, overpowered by wonder of a most agreeable sort indeed; yet it required some
                  consideration to be tranquilly <pb n="255" facs="pageImages/255.jpg"/>happy. In
                  about ten minutes after my return to the parlour Lady Susan entered the room. I
                  concluded, of course, that she and Reginald had been quarrelling; and looked with
                  anxious curiosity for a confirmation of my belief in her face. Mistress of deceit,
                  however, she appeared perfectly unconcerned, and after chatting on indifferent
                  subjects for a short time, said to me, "I find from Wilson that we are going to
                  lose Mr. De Courcy—is it true that he leaves Churchhill this morning?" I replied
                  that it was. "He told us nothing of all this last night," said she, laughing, "or
                  even this morning at breakfast; but perhaps he did not know it himself. Young men
                  are often hasty in their resolutions, and not more sudden in forming than unsteady
                  in keeping them. I should not be surprised if he were to change his mind at last,
                  and not go." She soon afterwards left the room. I trust, however, my dear mother,
                  that we have no reason to fear an alteration of his present plan; things have gone
                  too far. They must have quarrelled, and about Frederica, too. Her calmness
                  astonishes me. What delight will be yours in seeing him again; in seeing him still
                  worthy your esteem, still capable of forming your happiness! When I next write I
                  shall be able to tell you that Sir James is gone, Lady Susan vanquished, and
                  Frederica at peace. We have much to do, but it shall be done. I am all impatience
                  to hear how this astonishing change was effected. I finish as I began, with the
                  warmest congratulations. </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>Yours ever, &amp;,</salute>
                  <signed>CATH. VERNON.</signed>
                    </closer>

            </div>

            <pb n="256" facs="pageImages/256.jpg"/>
            <div n="24" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XXIV.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Frrom the Same to the Same.</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Churchhill.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                    </opener>

               <p>Little did I imagine, my dear Mother, when I sent off my last letter, that the
                  delightful perturbation of spirits I was then in would undergo so speedy, so
                  melancholy a reverse. I never can sufficiently regret that I wrote to you at all.
                  Yet who could have foreseen what has happened? My dear mother, every hope which
                  made me so happy only two hours ago has vanished. The quarrel between Lady Susan
                  and Reginald is made up, and we are all as we were before. One point only is
                  gained. Sir James Martin is dismissed. What are we now to look forward to? I am
                  indeed disappointed; Reginald was all but gone,<ref target="_Stablehand" corresp="Stablehand">his horse was ordered and all but brought to the
                     door</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Stablehand" target="_Stablehand" type=" gloss" resp="editors.xml#DMC">Stable hands take care of a horse's daily needs,
                     including feeding, grooming, and cleaning. This job required dedication since
                     it lasts all day. Stable hands take out and saddle the horses if any one in the
                     house they worked for wanted to ride, and they collect the horses when a rider
                     returns (<ref target="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Groom_(profession)"> "Groom
                        (profession)"</ref>). The coachman would have been in charge of directing
                     horses and grooms.</note>; who would not have felt safe? For half an hour I was
                  in momentary expectation of his departure. After I had sent off my letter to you,
                  I went to Mr. Vernon, and sat with him in his room talking over the whole matter,
                  and then determined to look for Frederica, whom I had not seen since breakfast. I
                  met her on the stairs, and saw that she was crying. "My dear aunt," said she, "he
                  is going—Mr. De Courcy is going, and it is all my fault. I am afraid you will be
                  very angry with me, but indeed I had no idea it would end so." "My love," I
                  replied, "do not think it necessary to apologize to me on that account. I shall
                  feel myself under an obligation to anyone who is the means of sending my brother
                  home, because," recollecting <pb n="257 [page breaks after recol-]" facs="pageImages/257.jpg"/> myself, "I know my father wants very much to see
                  him. But what is it you have done to occasion all this?" She blushed deeply as she
                  answered: "I was so unhappy about Sir James that I could not help—I have done
                  something very wrong, I know; but you have not an idea of the misery I have been
                  in: and mamma had ordered me never to speak to you or my uncle about it, and—"
                  "You therefore spoke to my brother to engage his interference," said I, to save
                  her the explanation. "No, but I wrote to him—I did indeed, I got up this morning
                     <ref target="_Light" corresp="Light">before it was light</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Light" target="_Light" type=" gloss" resp="editors.xml#DMC"> During the
                     18th century, while the sun was the primary source of light, candles and oil
                     lamps were used to light up one's house. These sources were used when the sun
                     could not be depended on. Gas lighting was used during the later Victorian
                     period, but would have been rare in homes due to the daily set up needed for
                     the gaslight (<ref target="http://victorian-era.org/victorian-era-lighting.html"> "Victorian
                        Era Lighting: Electricity, Candles, Oil lamps, Chandeliers, Gas"</ref>)
                  </note>, and was two hours about it; and when my letter was done I thought I never
                  should have courage to give it. After breakfast however, as I was going to my
                  room, I met him in the passage, and then, as I knew that everything must depend on
                  that moment, I forced myself to give it. He was so good as to take it immediately.
                  I dared not look at him, and ran away directly. I was in such a fright I could
                  hardly breathe. My dear aunt, you do not know how miserable I have been."
                  "Frederica" said I, "you ought to have told me all your distresses. You would have
                  found in me a friend always ready to assist you. Do you think that your uncle or I
                  should not have espoused your cause as warmly as my brother?" "Indeed, I did not
                  doubt your kindness," said she, colouring again, "but I thought Mr. De Courcy
                  could do anything with my mother; but I was mistaken: they have had a dreadful
                  quarrel about it, and he is going away. Mamma will never forgive me, and I shall
                  be worse off than ever." "No, you shall not," I replied; "in such a point as this
                  your <pb n="258" facs="pageImages/258.jpg"/>mother's prohibition ought not to have
                  prevented your speaking to me on the subject. She has no right to make you
                  unhappy, and she shall NOT do it. Your applying, however, to Reginald can be
                  productive only of good to all parties. I believe it is best as it is. Depend upon
                  it that you shall not be made unhappy any longer." At that moment how great was my
                  astonishment at seeing Reginald come out of Lady Susan's dressing-room. My heart
                  misgave me instantly. His confusion at seeing me was very evident. Frederica
                  immediately disappeared. "Are you going?" I said; "you will find Mr. Vernon in his
                  own room." "No, Catherine," he replied, "I am not going. Will you let me speak to
                  you a moment?" We went into my room. "I find," he continued, his confusion
                  increasing as he spoke, "that I have been acting with my usual foolish
                  impetuosity. I have entirely misunderstood Lady Susan, and was on the point of
                  leaving the house under a false impression of her conduct. There has been some
                  very great mistake; we have been all mistaken, I fancy. Frederica does not know
                  her mother. Lady Susan means nothing but her good, but she will not make a friend
                  of her. Lady Susan does not always know, therefore, what will make her daughter
                  happy. Besides, I could have no right to interfere. Miss Vernon was mistaken in
                  applying to me. In short, Catherine, everything has gone wrong, but it is now all
                  happily settled. Lady Susan, I believe, wishes to speak to you about it, if you
                  are at leisure." "Certainly," I replied, deeply sighing at the recital of so lame
                  a story. I <pb n="259" facs="pageImages/259.jpg"/>made no comments, however, for
                  words would have been vain. </p>
               <p>Reginald was glad to get away, and I went to Lady Susan, curious, indeed, to hear
                  her account of it. "Did I not tell you," said she with a smile, "that your brother
                  would not leave us after all?" "You did, indeed," replied I very gravely; "but I
                  flattered myself you would be mistaken." "I should not have hazarded such an
                  opinion," returned she, "if it had not at that moment occurred to me that his
                  resolution of going might be occasioned by a conversation in which we had been
                  this morning engaged, and which had ended very much to his dissatisfaction, from
                  our not rightly understanding each other's meaning. This idea struck me at the
                  moment, and I instantly determined that an accidental dispute, in which I might
                  probably be as much to blame as himself, should not deprive you of your brother.
                  If you remember, I left the room almost immediately. I was resolved to lose no
                  time in clearing up those mistakes as far as I could. The case was this—Frederica
                  had set herself violently against marrying Sir James." "And can your ladyship
                  wonder that she should?" cried I with some warmth; "Frederica has an excellent
                  understanding, and Sir James has none." "I am at least very far from regretting
                  it, my dear sister," said she; "on the contrary, I am grateful for so favourable a
                  sign of my daughter's sense. Sir James is certainly below par (his boyish manners
                  make him appear worse); and had Frederica possessed the penetration and the
                  abilities which I could have wished in my daughter, <pb n="260" facs="pageImages/260.jpg"/>or had I even known her to possess as much as she
                  does, I should not have been anxious for the match." "It is odd that you should
                  alone be ignorant of your daughter's sense!" "Frederica never does justice to
                  herself; her manners are shy and childish, and besides she is afraid of me. During
                  her poor father's life she was a spoilt child; the severity which it has since
                  been necessary for me to show has alienated her affection; neither has she any of
                  that brilliancy of intellect, that genius or vigour of mind which will force
                  itself forward." "Say rather that she has been <ref target="_Unfortunate" corresp="Unfortunate">she has been unfortunate in her education</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Unfortunate" target="_Unfortunate" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#STM">In the 18th century, many girls stayed home to help out
                     in the household and were educated by their mothers. It was said that the main
                     purpose of educating girls was to prepare them for marriage (<ref target="https://www.grin.com/document/180532">Hübner, "Female Education in
                        18th and 19th Century Britain"</ref>).</note> !" "Heaven knows, my dearest
                  Mrs. Vernon, how fully I am aware of that; but I would wish to forget every
                  circumstance that might throw blame on the memory of one whose name is sacred with
                  me." Here she pretended to cry; I was out of patience with her. "But what," said
                  I, "was your ladyship going to tell me about your disagreement with my brother?"
                  "It originated in an action of my daughter's, which equally marks her want of
                  judgment and the unfortunate dread of me I have been mentioning—she wrote to Mr.
                  De Courcy." "I know she did; you had forbidden her speaking to Mr. Vernon or to me
                  on the cause of her distress; what could she do, therefore, but apply to my
                  brother?" "Good God!" she exclaimed, "what an opinion you must have of me! Can you
                  possibly suppose that I was aware of her unhappiness! that it was my object to
                  make my own child miserable, and that I had forbidden her speaking to you on the
                  subject from a fear of your interrupting the diabolical scheme? Do you <pb n="261" facs="pageImages/261.jpg"/>think me destitute of every honest, every natural
                  feeling? Am I capable of consigning HER to everlasting misery whose welfare it is
                  my first earthly duty to promote? The idea is horrible!" "What, then, was your
                  intention when you insisted on her silence?" "Of what use, my dear sister, could
                  be any application to you, however the affair might stand? Why should I subject
                  you to entreaties which I refused to attend to myself? Neither for your sake nor
                  for hers, nor for my own, could such a thing be desirable. When my own resolution
                  was taken I could not wish for the interference, however friendly, of another
                  person. I was mistaken, it is true, but I believed myself right." "But what was
                  this mistake to which <pb n="262" facs="pageImages/262.jpg"/>your ladyship so
                  often alludes! from whence arose so astonishing a misconception of your daughter's
                  feelings! Did you not know that she disliked Sir James?" "I knew that he was not
                  absolutely the man she would have chosen, but I was persuaded that her objections
                  to him did not arise from any perception of his deficiency. You must not question
                  me, however, my dear sister, too minutely on this point," continued she, taking me
                  affectionately by the hand; "I honestly own that there is something to conceal.
                  Frederica makes me very unhappy! Her applying to Mr. De Courcy hurt me
                  particularly." "What is it you mean to infer," said I, "by this appearance of
                  mystery? If you think your daughter at all attached to Reginald, her objecting to
                  Sir James could not less deserve to be attended to than if the cause of her
                  objecting had been a consciousness of his folly; and why should your ladyship, at
                  any rate, quarrel with my brother for an interference which, you must know, it is
                  not in his nature to refuse when urged in such a manner?" </p>
               <p>"His disposition, you know, is warm, and he came to expostulate with me; his
                  compassion all alive for this <ref target="_IllUsed" corresp="IllUsed">ill-used
                     girl</ref>
                        <note xml:id="IllUsed" target="_IllUsed" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#MUstudstaff">According to the OED, to be "ill-used" was to be
                     treated poorly.</note> girl, this heroine in distress! We misunderstood each
                  other: he believed me more to blame than I really was; I considered his
                  interference less excusable than I now find it. I have a real regard for him, and
                  was beyond expression mortified to find it, as I thought, so ill bestowed. We were
                  both warm, and of course both to blame. His resolution of leaving Churchhill is
                  consistent with his general eagerness. When I understood his intention, however,
                  and at the same time began to think that we had been perhaps equally mistaken in
                  each other's meaning, I resolved to have an explanation before it was too late.
                  For any member of your family I must always feel a degree of affection, and I own
                  it would have sensibly hurt me if my acquaintance with Mr. De Courcy had ended so
                  gloomily. I have now only to say further, that as I am convinced of Frederica's
                  having a reasonable dislike to Sir James, I shall instantly inform him that he
                  must give up all hope of her. I reproach myself for having, even though
                  innocently, made her unhappy on that score. She shall have all the retribution in
                  my power to make; if she value her own happiness as much as I do, if she judge
                  wisely, and command herself as she ought, she may now be easy. Excuse me, my
                  dearest sister, for thus trespassing on your time, but I owe it <pb n="263" facs="pageImages/263.jpg"/>to my own character; and after this explanation I
                  trust I am in no danger of sinking in your opinion." I could have said, "Not much,
                  indeed!" but I left her almost in silence. It was the greatest stretch of
                  forbearance I could practise. I could not have stopped myself had I begun. Her
                  assurance! her deceit! but I will not allow myself to dwell on them; they will
                  strike you sufficiently. My heart sickens within me. As soon as I was tolerably
                  composed I returned to the parlour. Sir James's carriage was at the door, and he,
                  merry as usual, soon afterwards took his leave. How easily does her ladyship
                  encourage or dismiss a lover! In spite of this release, Frederica still looks
                  unhappy: still fearful, perhaps, of her mother's anger; and though dreading my
                  brother's departure, jealous, it may be, of his staying. I see how closely she
                  observes him and Lady Susan, poor girl! I have now no hope for her. There is not a
                  chance of her affection being returned. He thinks very differently of her from
                  what he used to do; he does her some justice, but his reconciliation with her
                  mother precludes every dearer hope. Prepare, my dear mother, for the worst! The
                  probability of their marrying is surely heightened! He is more securely hers than
                  ever. When that wretched event takes place, Frederica must belong wholly to us. I
                  am thankful that <ref target="_LastLetter" corresp="LastLetter">my last letter
                     will precede this by so little</ref>
                        <note xml:id="LastLetter" target="_LastLetter" type=" gloss" resp=" editors.xml#DMC">By the 18th century,
                     mail was delivered by coach. This was proven to be much faster than the
                     previous horse and rider system. The coaches could travel up to eight miles an
                     hour, and had protection to insure that the mail won't be easily stolen. Mail
                     still took a couple of days to be delivered and the amount of time only
                     increased the farther the distance of the sender and receiver (<ref target="https://www.royalmailgroup.com/en/about-us/our-story/">"Royal Mail
                        History".</ref>)</note>, as every moment that you can be saved from feeling
                  a joy which leads only to disappointment is of consequence. </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>Yours ever, &amp;,</salute>
                  <signed>CATHERINE VERNON.</signed>
                    </closer>
            </div>

            <pb n="264" facs="pageImages/264.jpg"/>
            <div n="25" type="letter">

               <head type="sub">XXV.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Lady Susan to Mrs. Johnson.</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Churchhill.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                    </opener>

               <p>I call on you, dear Alicia, for congratulations: I am my own self, <ref target="_Gay" corresp="Gay">gay </ref>
                        <note xml:id="Gay" target="_Gay" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#JKB">According to <ref target="https://hornet.com/stories/the-word-gay-sexuality-two/">Hornet.com</ref>the word "gay" has a variety of uses that date back as far
                     as the 13th to the 18th century. These range from brightly colored clothing to
                     a joyous person. The current meaning of homosexual does not apply here. In this
                     context, Lady Susan is describing herself as joyous or very happy.</note> and
                  triumphant! When I wrote to you the other day I was, in truth, in high irritation,
                  and with ample cause. Nay, I know not whether I ought to be quite tranquil now,
                  for I have had more trouble in restoring peace than I ever intended to submit to—a
                  spirit, too, resulting from a fancied sense of superior integrity, which is
                  peculiarly insolent! I shall not easily forgive him, I assure you. He was actually
                  on the point of leaving Churchhill! I had scarcely concluded my last, when Wilson
                  brought me word of it. I found, therefore, that something must be done; for I did
                  not choose to leave my character at the mercy of a man whose passions are so
                  violent and so revengeful. It would have been trifling with my reputation to allow
                  of his departing with such an impression in my disfavour; in this light,
                  condescension was necessary. I sent Wilson to say that I desired to speak with him
                  before he went; he came immediately. The angry emotions which had marked every
                  feature when we last parted were partially subdued. He seemed astonished at the
                  summons, and looked as if half wishing and half fearing to be softened by what I
                  might say. If my countenance expressed what I aimed at, it was <ref target="_Composed" corresp="Composed">composed</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Composed" target="_Composed" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#JKB">According to the OED,
                     the word "composed" means "calm or tranquil," or someone whose face is
                     "undisturbed by emotion" ("composed, adj." 4.a).</note> and dignified; and yet,
                  with a degree of pensiveness which might convince him that I was not <pb n="265" facs="pageImages/265.jpg"/>quite happy. "I beg your pardon, sir, for the
                  liberty I have taken in sending for you," said I; "but as I have just learnt your
                  intention of leaving this place to-day, I feel it my duty to entreat that you will
                  not on my account shorten your visit here even an hour. I am perfectly aware that
                  after what has passed between us it would ill suit the feelings of either to
                  remain longer in the same house: so very great, so total a change from the
                  intimacy of friendship must render any future intercourse the severest punishment;
                  and your resolution of quitting Churchhill is undoubtedly in unison with our
                  situation, and with those lively feelings which I know you to possess. But, at the
                  same time, it is not for me to suffer such a sacrifice as it must be to leave
                  relations to whom you are so much attached, and are so dear. My remaining here
                  cannot give that pleasure to Mr. and Mrs. Vernon which your society must; and my
                  visit has already perhaps been too long. My removal, therefore, which must, at any
                  rate, take place soon, may, with perfect convenience, be hastened; and I make it
                  my particular request that I may not in any way be instrumental in separating a
                  family so affectionately attached to each other. Where I go is of no consequence
                  to anyone; of very little to myself; but you are of importance to all your
                  connections." Here I concluded, and I hope you will be satisfied with my speech.
                  Its effect on Reginald justifies some portion of vanity, for it was no less
                  favourable than instantaneous. Oh, how delightful it was to watch the variations
                  of his countenance while I spoke! to see the struggle between <pb n="266 [page breaks after be-]" facs="pageImages/266.jpg"/>returning tenderness
                  and the remains of displeasure. There is something agreeable in feelings so easily
                  worked on; not that I envy him their possession, nor would, for the world, have
                  such myself; but they are very convenient when one wishes to influence the
                  passions of another. And yet this Reginald, whom a very few words from me softened
                  at once into the utmost submission, and rendered more tractable, more attached,
                  more devoted than ever, would have left me in the first angry swelling of his
                  proud heart without deigning to seek an explanation. Humbled as he now is, I
                  cannot forgive him such an instance of pride, and am doubtful whether I ought not
                  to punish him by dismissing him at once after this reconciliation, or by marrying
                  and teazing him for ever. But these measures are each too violent to be adopted
                  without some deliberation; at present my thoughts are fluctuating between various
                  schemes. I have many things to compass: I must punish Frederica, and pretty
                  severely too, for her application to Reginald; I must punish him for receiving it
                  so favourably, and for the rest of his conduct. I must torment my sister-in-law
                  for the insolent triumph of her look and manner since Sir James has been
                  dismissed; for, in reconciling Reginald to me, I was not able to save that
                  ill-fated young man; and I must make myself amends for the humiliation to which I
                  have stooped within these few days. To effect all this I have various plans. I
                  have also an idea of being soon in <ref target="_Town" corresp="Town">town </ref>
                  <note xml:id="Town" target="_Town" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#JKB"> According
                     to the OED, "town" in this sense refers to a specific town, here, London, as
                     distinct from the country areas where Churchhill, Parklands, and Langford are
                     located. Essentially, the booming capital of England during Lady Susan’s time
                     ("town, n" 4.b).</note>; and whatever may be my determination as to the rest, I
                  shall probably put THAT <pb n="267" facs="pageImages/267.jpg"/>project in
                  execution; for London will be always the fairest field of action, however my views
                  may be directed; and at any rate I shall there be rewarded by your society, and a
                  little dissipation, for a ten weeks' penance at Churchhill. I believe I owe it to
                  my character to complete the match between my daughter and Sir James after having
                  so long intended it. Let me know your opinion on this point. Flexibility of mind,
                  a disposition easily biassed by others, is an attribute which you know I am not
                  very desirous of obtaining; nor has Frederica any claim to the indulgence of her
                  notions at the expense of her mother's inclinations. Her idle love for Reginald,
                  too! It is surely my duty to discourage such romantic nonsense. All things
                  considered, therefore, it seems incumbent on me to take her to town and marry her
                  immediately to Sir James. When my own will is effected contrary to his, I shall
                  have some credit in being on good terms with Reginald, which at present, in fact,
                  I have not; for though he is still in my power, I have given up the very article
                  by which our quarrel was produced, and at best the honour of victory is doubtful.
                  Send me your opinion on all these matters, my dear Alicia, and let me know whether
                  you can get lodgings to suit me within a short distance of you. </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>Your most attached</salute>
                  <signed>S. VERNON.</signed>
               </closer>

            </div>
            <pb n="268" facs="pageImages/268.jpg"/>
            <div n="26" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XXVI.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Mrs. Johnson to Lady Susan.</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Edward Street.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                    </opener>

               <p>I am gratified by your reference, and this is my advice: that you come to town
                  yourself, without loss of time, but that you leave Frederica behind. It would
                  surely be much more to the purpose to get yourself well established by marrying
                  Mr. De Courcy, than to irritate him and the rest of his family by making her marry
                  Sir James. You should think more of yourself and less of your daughter. She is not
                  of a disposition to do you credit in the world, and seems precisely in her proper
                  place at Churchhill, with the Vernons. But you are fitted for society, and it is
                  shameful to have you exiled from it. Leave Frederica, therefore, to punish herself
                  for the plague she has given you, by indulging that romantic<ref target="_Tender" corresp="Tender"> tender-heartedness</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Tender" target="_Tender" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#DJM">According to the OED,
                     tender-heartedness is "the ability to be easily moved by fear, pity, sorrow, or
                     love.("Tender-hearted," adj.). </note> which will always ensure her misery
                  enough, and come to London as soon as you can. I have another reason for urging
                  this: Mainwaring came to town last week, and has contrived, in spite of Mr.
                  Johnson, to make opportunities of seeing me. He is absolutely miserable about you,
                  and jealous to such a degree of De Courcy that it would be highly unadvisable for
                  them to meet at present. And yet, if you do not allow him to see you here, I
                  cannot answer for his not committing some great imprudence—such as going to
                  Churchhill, for instance, which would be dreadful! Besides, if you take my advice,
                  and resolve to marry <pb n="269" facs="pageImages/269.jpg"/>De Courcy, it will be
                  indispensably necessary to you to get Mainwaring out of the way; and you only can
                  have influence enough to send him back to his wife. I have still another motive
                  for your coming: Mr. Johnson leaves London next Tuesday; he is going for his
                  health to <ref target="_Bath" corresp="Bath">Bath</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Bath" target="_Bath" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#DJM">Bath was a fashionable
                     city in Somerset, England, "known for and named after its Roman-built baths."
                     The mineral hot springs in Bath were thought to cure illnesses like gout (<ref target="https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/428/">"Bath"</ref>). Mr. Johnson had
                     the gout, which led to him going to Bath for treatment in the hot mineral
                     springs. Even if Mr. Johnson is really going for his health, as Alicia says
                     here, Bath was well-known as a fashionable, exciting place to be, where one can
                     see and be seen.</note> where, if the waters are favourable to his constitution
                  and my wishes, he will be laid up with the<ref target="_Gout" corresp="Gout">
                     gout</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Gout" target="_Gout" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#DJM">
                            <graphic url="notes/Gout.jpg"/>Gout is a form of
                     arthritis causing "severe pain, redness, and tenderness of the joints." It
                     causes "high levels of uric acid in the blood that crystallize in the joints,
                     tendons, or surrounding tissues that results in severe pain," often in the
                     toes. When the gout first developed people believed it was caused by a too-rich
                     diet; as a result, only "elites" were thought to get it. It was called "The
                     disease of kings." (<ref target="https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/gout/symptoms-causes/syc-20372897">"Gout"</ref>). Mr. Johnson is ostensibly going to Bath to treat his gout.
                     The image included here, <ref target="https://fineartamerica.com/featured/gilray-cartoon-illustrating-gout-in-the-foot-jean-loup-charmetscience-photo-library.html">a cartoon image drawn by James Gilray in 1799</ref>, shows how the the
                     sharp pain and inflammation of gout looked and felt.</note> many weeks. During
                  his absence we shall be able to chuse our own society, and to have true enjoyment.
                  I would ask you to Edward Street, but that once he forced from me a kind of
                  promise never to invite you to my house; nothing but my being in the utmost
                  distress for money should have extorted it from me. I can get you, however, a nice
                  drawing-room apartment in <ref target="_Seymour" corresp="Seymour">Upper Seymour
                     Street</ref>
                  <note xml:id="Seymour" target="_Seymour" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#DJM">According to <hi rend="italic">Jane Austen’s World</hi>, Seymour Street is a
                     London street adjacent to Hyde Park and near other well-known locations Mayfair
                     and St. James’s, where wealthier people lived. This is the neighborhood where
                     Mrs. Johnson lives. "Upper Seymour Street is situated in Marylebone...just
                     around the corner from Portman Square and one block over from Upper Berkeley
                     Street, an area that Jane Austen and her sister lived in" (<ref target="https://janeaustensworld.wordpress.com/2009/09/04/upper-seymour-street-and-portman-square-regency-london/">"Upper Seymour Street"</ref>).</note>, and we may be always together there
                  or here; for I consider my promise to Mr. Johnson as comprehending only (at least
                  in his absence) your not sleeping in the house. Poor Mainwaring gives me such
                  histories of his wife's jealousy. Silly woman to expect constancy from so charming
                  a man! but she always was silly—intolerably so in marrying him at all, she the
                     <ref target="_Heiress" corresp="Heiress">heiress of a large fortune and he
                     without a shilling</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Heiress" target="_Heiress" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#DJM">An heiress is a woman who inherits the property or rank
                     of another on that person's death. In this case, she received a large amount of
                     money or property and Mainwaring--who has a title but no money--married her for
                     her fortune.</note>: one title, I know, she might have had, besides baronets.
                  Her folly in forming the connection was so great that, though Mr. Johnson was her
                  guardian, and I do not in general share <hi rend="italic">his</hi> feelings, I
                  never can forgive her. </p>
               <closer>
                  <salute>Adieu. Yours ever,</salute>
                  <signed>ALICIA.</signed>
                    </closer>
            </div>


            <pb n="270" facs="pageImages/270.jpg"/>
            <div n="27" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XXVII.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Mrs. Vernon to Lady de
                  Courcy.</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Churchhill. </placeName>
                        </dateline>
                    </opener>
               <p>This letter, my dear Mother, will be brought you by Reginald. His long visit is
                  about to be concluded at last, but I fear the separation takes place too late to
                  do us any good. She is going to London to see her particular friend, Mrs. Johnson.
                  It was at first her intention that Frederica should accompany her, for the benefit
                  of masters, but we overruled her there. Frederica was wretched in the idea of
                  going, and I could not bear to have her at the mercy of her mother; not all the
                  masters in London could compensate for the ruin of her comfort. I should have
                  feared, too, for her health, and for everything but her principles—there I believe
                  she is not to be injured by her mother, or her mother's friends; but with those
                  friends she must have mixed (a very bad set, I doubt not), or have been left in
                  total solitude, and I can hardly tell which would have been worse for her. If she
                  is with her mother, moreover, she must, alas! in all probability be with Reginald,
                  and that would be the greatest evil of all. Here we shall in time be in peace, and
                  our regular employments, our books and conversations, with exercise, the children,
                  and every domestic pleasure in my power to procure her, will, I trust, gradually
                  overcome this youthful attachment. I should not have a doubt of it were she
                  slighted for any other woman in the world than her own mother. How long Lady Susan
                     <pb n="271" facs="pageImages/271.jpg"/>will be in town, or whether she returns
                  here again, I know not. I could not be cordial in my invitation, but if she chuses
                  to come no want of cordiality on my part will keep her away. I could not help
                  asking Reginald if he intended being in London this winter, as soon as I found her
                  ladyship's steps would be bent thither; and though he professed himself quite
                  undetermined, there was something in his look and voice as he spoke which
                  contradicted his words. I have done with lamentation; I look upon the event as so
                  far decided that I resign myself to it in despair. If he leaves you soon for
                  London everything will be concluded. </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>Your affectionate, &amp;,</salute>
                  <signed>C. VERNON.</signed>
                    </closer>

            </div>


            <div n="28" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XXVIII.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Mrs. Johnson to Lady
                  Susan.</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Edward Street.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                  <salute>My dearest Friend,—</salute>
                    </opener>
               <p> I write in the greatest distress; the most unfortunate event has just taken
                  place. Mr. Johnson has hit on the most effectual manner of plaguing us all. He had
                  heard, I imagine, by some means or other, that you were soon to be in London, and
                  immediately contrived to have such an attack of the gout as must at least delay
                  his journey to Bath, if not wholly prevent it. I am persuaded the gout is brought
                  on or kept off at pleasure; it was the same when I wanted to join the Hamiltons to
                  the Lakes; and three years ago, when I had a fancy for Bath, nothing could induce
                  him to have a gouty symptom. </p>
               <pb n="272" facs="pageImages/272.jpg"/>
               <p>I am pleased to find that my letter had so much effect on you, and that De Courcy
                  is certainly your own. Let me hear from you as soon as you arrive, and in
                  particular tell me what you mean to do with Mainwaring. It is impossible to say
                  when I shall be able to come to you; my confinement must be great. It is such an
                  abominable trick to be ill here instead of at Bath that I can scarcely command
                  myself at all. At Bath his old aunts would have nursed him, but here it all falls
                  upon me; and he bears pain with such patience that I have not the common excuse
                  for losing my temper. </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>Yours ever, </salute>
                        <signed>ALICIA.</signed>
                    </closer>
            </div>



            <div n="29" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XXIX.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Lady Susan Vernon to Mrs.
                  Johnson.</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Upper Seymour Street.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                  <salute>My dear Alicia,—</salute>
                    </opener>
               <p>There needed not this last fit of the gout to make me detest Mr. Johnson, but now
                  the extent of my aversion is not to be estimated. To have you confined as nurse in
                  his apartment! My dear Alicia, of what a mistake were you guilty in marrying a man
                  of his age! just old enough to be formal, ungovernable, and to have the gout; too
                  old to be agreeable, too young to die. I arrived last night about five, had
                  scarcely swallowed my dinner when Mainwaring made his appearance. I will not
                  dissemble what real pleasure his sight afforded me, nor how strongly I felt the
                  contrast between his person <pb n="273" facs="pageImages/273.jpg"/>and manners and
                  those of Reginald, to the infinite disadvantage of the latter. For an hour or two
                  I was even staggered in my resolution of marrying him, and though this was too
                  idle and nonsensical an idea to remain long on my mind, I do not feel very eager
                  for the conclusion of my marriage, nor look forward with much impatience to the
                  time when Reginald, according to our agreement, is to be in town. I shall probably
                  put off his arrival under some pretence or other. He must not come till Mainwaring
                  is gone. I am still doubtful at times as to marrying; if the old man would die I
                  might not hesitate, but a state of dependance on the caprice of Sir Reginald will
                  not suit the freedom of my spirit; and if I resolve to wait for that event, I
                  shall have excuse enough at present in having been scarcely ten months a widow. I
                  have not given Mainwaring any hint of my intention, or allowed him to consider my
                  acquaintance with Reginald as more than the commonest flirtation, and he is
                  tolerably appeased. Adieu, till we meet; I am enchanted with my lodgings. </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>Yours ever,</salute>
                  <signed>S. VERNON.</signed>
                    </closer>
            </div>



            <div n="30" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XXX.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Lady Susan Vernon to Mr. de
                  Courcy.</hi>
                    </head>
               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>
                                <ref target="_UpperSeymourStreet" corresp="UpperSeymourStreet">Upper Seymour Street</ref>
                                <note xml:id="UpperSeymourStreet" target="_UpperSeymourStreet" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#SM">
                                    <graphic url="notes/upperseymourstreet.jpg"/>Lady
                           Susan is now in London, in her fashionable lodgings in Upper Seymour
                           Street. According to the well-researched blog <hi rend="italic">Jane
                              Austen's World</hi>, "living at this location off Oxford Street was
                           considered a moderately respectable to fairly good address during the
                           Regency era." It is located in Westminster next to Hyde Park.
                        </note>
                            </placeName>
                        </dateline>
                    </opener>

               <p>I have received your letter, and though I do not attempt to conceal that I am
                  gratified by your impatience for the hour of meeting, I yet feel myself <pb n="274" facs="pageImages/274.jpg"/>under the necessity of delaying that hour
                  beyond the time originally fixed. Do not think me unkind for such an exercise of
                  my power, nor accuse me of instability without first hearing my reasons. In the
                  course of my journey from Churchhill I had ample leisure for reflection on the
                  present state of our affairs, and every review has served to convince me that they
                  require a delicacy and cautiousness of conduct to which we have hitherto been too
                  little attentive. We have been hurried on by our feelings to a degree of
                  precipitation which ill accords with the claims of our friends or the opinion of
                  the world. We have been unguarded in forming this hasty engagement, but we must
                  not complete the imprudence by ratifying it while there is so much reason to fear
                  the connection would be opposed by those friends on whom you depend. It is not for
                  us to blame any expectations on your father's side of your marrying to advantage;
                  where possessions are so extensive as those of your family, the wish of increasing
                  them, if not strictly reasonable, is too common to excite surprize or resentment.
                  He has a right to require; a woman of fortune in his daughter-in-law, and I am
                  sometimes quarrelling with myself for suffering you to form a connection so
                  imprudent; but the influence of reason is often acknowledged too late by those who
                  feel like me. I have now been but a few months a widow, and, however little
                  indebted to my husband's memory for any happiness derived from him during a union
                  of some years, I cannot forget that the indelicacy of so early a second marriage
                  must subject me to the censure of the world, and incur, <pb n="275" facs="pageImages/275.jpg"/>what would be still more insupportable, the
                  displeasure of Mr. Vernon. I might perhaps harden myself in time against the
                  injustice of general reproach, but the loss of HIS valued esteem I am, as you well
                  know, ill-fitted to endure; and when to this may be added the consciousness of
                  having injured you with your family, how am I to support myself? With feelings so
                  poignant as mine, the conviction of having divided the son from his parents would
                  make me, even with you, the most miserable of beings. It will surely, therefore,
                  be advisable to delay our union—to delay it till appearances are more
                  promising—till affairs have taken a more favourable turn. To assist us in such a
                  resolution I feel that absence will be necessary. We must not meet. Cruel as this
                  sentence may appear, the necessity of pronouncing it, which can alone reconcile it
                  to myself, will be evident to you when you have considered our situation in the
                  light in which I have found myself imperiously obliged to place it. You may be—you
                  must be—well assured that nothing but the strongest conviction of duty could
                  induce me to wound my own feelings by urging a lengthened separation, and of
                  insensibility to yours you will hardly suspect me. Again, therefore, I say that we
                  ought not, we must not, yet meet. By a removal for some months from each other we
                  shall tranquillise the sisterly fears of Mrs. Vernon, who, accustomed herself to
                  the enjoyment of riches, considers fortune as necessary everywhere, and whose
                  sensibilities are not of a nature to comprehend ours. Let me hear from you
                  soon—very soon. Tell me that you submit to my <pb n="276" facs="pageImages/276.jpg"/>arguments, and do not reproach me for using such. I
                  cannot bear reproaches: my spirits are not so high as to need being repressed. I
                  must endeavour to seek amusement, and fortunately many of my friends are in town;
                  amongst them the Mainwarings; you know how sincerely I regard both husband and
                  wife. </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>I am, very faithfully yours,</salute>
                  <signed>S. VERNON</signed>
                    </closer>

            </div>


            <div n="31" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XXXI.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Lady Susan to Mrs. Johnson.</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Upper Seymour Street.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                  <salute>My dear Friend,—</salute>
                    </opener>
               <p> That tormenting creature, Reginald, is here. My letter, which was intended to
                  keep him longer in the country, has hastened him to town. Much as I wish him away,
                  however, I cannot help being pleased with such a proof of attachment. He is
                  devoted to me, heart and soul. He will carry this note himself, which is to serve
                  as an introduction to you, with whom he longs to be acquainted. Allow him to spend
                  the evening with you, that I may be in no danger of his returning here. I have
                  told him that I am not quite well, and must be alone; and should he call again
                  there might be confusion, for it is impossible to be sure of servants. Keep him,
                  therefore, I entreat you, in Edward Street. You will not find him a heavy
                  companion, and I allow you to flirt with him as much as you like. At the same
                  time, do not forget my real interest; say all that you can to convince him that I
                  shall be quite wretched if he remains <pb n="277" facs="pageImages/277.jpg"/>here;
                  you know my reasons—propriety, and so forth. I would urge them more myself, but
                  that I am impatient to be rid of him, as Mainwaring comes within half an hour.
                  Adieu! </p>
               <closer>
                        <signed>S VERNON</signed>
                    </closer>
            </div>



            <div n="32" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XXXII.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Mrs. Johnson to Lady Susan.</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Edward Street.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                        <salute> My dear
                     Creature,—</salute>
                    </opener>
               <p> I am in agonies, and know not what to do. Mr. De Courcy arrived just when he
                  should not. Mrs. Mainwaring had that instant entered the house, and forced herself
                  into her guardian's presence, though I did not know a syllable of it till
                  afterwards, for I was out when both she and Reginald came, or I should have sent
                  him away at all events; but she was shut up with Mr. Johnson, while he waited in
                  the drawing-room for me. She arrived yesterday in pursuit of her husband, but
                  perhaps you know this already from himself. She came to this house to entreat my
                  husband's interference, and before I could be aware of it, everything that you
                  could wish to be concealed was known to him, and unluckily she had wormed out of
                  Mainwaring's servant that he had visited you every day since your being in town,
                  and had just watched him to your door herself! What could I do! Facts are such
                  horrid things! All is by this time known to De Courcy, who is now alone with Mr.
                  Johnson. Do not accuse me; indeed, it was impossible to prevent it. Mr. Johnson
                  has for some time <pb n="278" facs="pageImages/278.jpg"/>suspected De Courcy of
                  intending to marry you, and would speak with him alone as soon as he knew him to
                  be in the house. That detestable Mrs. Mainwaring, who, for your comfort, has
                  fretted herself thinner and uglier than ever, is still here, and they have been
                  all closeted together. What can be done? At any rate, I hope he will plague his
                  wife more than ever.</p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>With anxious wishes, Yours faithfully,</salute>
                  <signed>ALICIA.</signed>
               </closer>
            </div>



            <div n="33" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XXXIII.<lb/>
                  <hi rend="italic">Lady Susan to Mrs. Johnson.</hi>
                    </head>
               <opener>
                  <dateline>
                            <placeName>Upper Seymour Street.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
               </opener>
               <p>This <ref target="_Eclaircissement" corresp="Eclaircissement">eclaircissement</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Eclaircissement" target="_Eclaircissement" resp="editors.xml#MUstudstaff" type="gloss">In the fashionable French, this
                     word literally means "clearing up"; it is used to indicate that something kept
                     secret or hidden has been revealed, as noted in the OED. For Lady Susan, the
                     revelation of the truth is not a desirable outcome.</note> is rather provoking.
                  How unlucky that you should have been from home! I thought myself sure of you at
                  seven! I am undismayed however. Do not torment yourself with fears on my account;
                  depend on it, I can make my story good with Reginald. Mainwaring is just gone; he
                  brought me the news of his wife's arrival. Silly woman, what does she expect by
                  such manoeuvres? Yet I wish she had stayed quietly at Langford. Reginald will be a
                  little enraged at first, but by to-morrow's dinner, everything will be well
                  again.</p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>Adieu!</salute>
                        <signed>S. V.</signed>
                    </closer>
            </div>



            <pb n="279" facs="pageImages/279.jpg"/>
            <div n="34" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XXXIV<lb/>
                  <hi rend="italic">Mr. de Courcy to Lady Susan.</hi>
                    </head>
               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName> —Hotel</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                    </opener>

               <p>I write only to bid you farewell, the spell is removed; I see you as you are.
                  Since we parted yesterday, I have received from indisputable authority such a
                  history of you as must bring the most mortifying conviction of the imposition I
                  have been under, and the absolute necessity of an immediate and eternal separation
                  from you. You cannot doubt to what I allude. Langford! Langford! that word will be
                  sufficient. I received my information in Mr. Johnson's house, from Mrs. Mainwaring
                  herself. You know how I have loved you; you can intimately judge of my present
                  feelings, but I am not so weak as to find indulgence in describing them to a woman
                  who will glory in having excited their anguish, but whose affection they have
                  never been able to gain. </p>
               <closer>
                        <signed>R. DE COURCY.</signed>
                    </closer>
            </div>



            <div n="35" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XXXV.<lb/>
                  <hi rend="italic">Lady Susan to Mr. de Courcy.</hi>
                    </head>
               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Upper Seymour Street.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                    </opener>

               <p>I will not attempt to describe my astonishment in reading the note this moment
                  received from you. I am bewildered in my endeavours to form some rational
                  conjecture of what Mrs. Mainwaring can have told you to occasion so extraordinary
                  a change in your sentiments. Have I not explained everything to you <pb n="280" facs="pageImages/280.jpg"/>with respect to myself which could bear a doubtful
                  meaning, and which the ill-nature of the world had interpreted to my discredit?
                  What can you now have heard to stagger your esteem for me? Have I ever had a
                  concealment from you? Reginald, you agitate me beyond expression, I cannot suppose
                  that the old story of Mrs. Mainwaring's jealousy can be revived again, or at least
                  be <hi rend="italic">listened</hi> to again. Come to me immediately, and explain
                  what is at present absolutely incomprehensible. Believe me the single word of
                  Langford is not of such potent intelligence as to supersede the necessity of more.
                  If we ARE to part, it will at least be handsome to take your personal leave—but I
                  have little heart to jest; in truth, I am serious enough; for to be sunk, though
                  but for an hour, in your esteem is a humiliation to which I know not how to
                  submit. I shall count every minute till your arrival. </p>
               <closer>
                        <signed>S. V.</signed>
                    </closer>
            </div>



            <div n="36" type="letter">
               <head>XXXVI.<lb/>
                  <hi rend="italic">Mr. de Courcy to Lady Susan.</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>——Hotel.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                    </opener>

               <p>Why would you write to me? Why do you require particulars? But, since it must be
                  so, I am obliged to declare that all the accounts of your misconduct during the
                  life, and since the death of Mr. Vernon, which had reached me, in common with the
                  world in general, and gained my entire belief before I saw you, but which you, by
                  the exertion of your perverted <pb n="281 [page breaks after per-]" facs="pageImages/281.jpg"/>abilities, had made me resolved to disallow, have
                  been unanswerably proved to me; nay more, I am assured that a connection, of which
                  I had never before entertained a thought, has for some time existed, and still
                  continues to exist, between you and the man whose family you robbed of its peace
                  in return for the hospitality with which you were received into it; that you have
                  corresponded with him ever since your leaving Langford; not with his wife, but
                  with him, and that he now visits you every day. Can you, dare you deny it? and all
                  this at the time when I was an encouraged, an accepted lover! From what have I not
                  escaped! I have only to be grateful. Far from me be all complaint, every sigh of
                  regret. My own folly had endangered me, my preservation I owe to the kindness, the
                  integrity of another; but the unfortunate Mrs. Mainwaring, whose agonies while she
                  related the past seemed to threaten her reason, how is <hi rend="italic">she</hi>
                  to be consoled! After such a discovery as this, you will scarcely affect further
                  wonder at my meaning in bidding you adieu. My understanding is at length restored,
                  and teaches no less to abhor the artifices which had subdued me than to despise
                  myself for the weakness on which their strength was founded.</p>
               <closer>
                        <signed>R. DE COURCY.</signed>
                    </closer>
            </div>


            <pb n="282" facs="pageImages/282.jpg"/>
            <div n="37" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XXXVII.<lb/>
                  <hi rend="italic">Lady Susan to Mr. de Courcy.</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Upper Seymour Street.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                    </opener>

               <p>I am satisfied, and will trouble you no more when these few lines are dismissed.
                  The engagement which you were eager to form a fortnight ago is no longer
                  compatible with your views, and I rejoice to find that the prudent advice of your
                  parents has not been given in vain. Your restoration to peace will, I doubt not,
                  speedily follow this act of filial obedience, and I flatter myself with the hope
                  of surviving my share in this disappointment. </p>
               <closer>
                        <signed>S. V.</signed>
                    </closer>

            </div>


            <div n="38" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XXXVIII.<lb/>
                  <hi rend="italic">Mrs. Johnson to Lady Susan Vernon.</hi>
                    </head>
               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Edward Street.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                    </opener>
               <p>I am grieved, though I cannot be astonished at your rupture with Mr. De Courcy; he
                  has just informed Mr. Johnson of it by letter. He leaves London, he says, to-day.
                  Be assured that I partake in all your feelings, and do not be angry if I say that
                  our intercourse, even by letter, must soon be given up. It makes me miserable; but
                  Mr. Johnson vows that if I persist in the connection, he will settle in the
                  country for the rest of his life, and you know it is impossible to submit to such
                  an extremity while any other alternative remains. You have heard of course <pb n="283" facs="pageImages/283.jpg"/>that the Mainwarings are to part, and I am
                  afraid Mrs. M. will come home to us again; but she is still so fond of her
                  husband, and frets so much about him, that perhaps she may not live long. Miss
                  Mainwaring is just come to town to be with her aunt, and they say that she
                  declares she will have Sir James Martin before she leaves London again. If I were
                  you, I would certainly get him myself. I had almost forgot to give you my opinion
                  of Mr. De Courcy; I am really delighted with him; he is full as handsome, I think,
                  as Mainwaring, and with such an open, good-humoured countenance, that one cannot
                  help loving him at first sight. Mr. Johnson and he are the greatest friends in the
                  world. Adieu, my dearest Susan, I wish matters did not go so perversely. That
                  unlucky visit to Langford! but I dare say you did all for the best, and there is
                  no defying destiny. </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>Your sincerely attached</salute>
                  <signed>ALICIA.</signed>
                    </closer>

            </div>


            <div n="39" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XXXIX.<lb/>
                  <hi rend="italic">Lady Susan to Mrs. Johnson</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Upper Seymour Street.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                  <salute>My dear Alicia,—</salute>
                    </opener>
               <p>I yield to the necessity which parts us. Under circumstances you could not act
                  otherwise. Our friendship cannot be impaired by it, and in happier times, when
                  your situation is as independent as mine, it will unite us again in the same
                  intimacy as ever. For this I shall impatiently wait, and meanwhile can safely
                  assure you that I never was <pb n="284" facs="pageImages/284.jpg"/>more at ease,
                  or better satisfied with myself and everything about me than at the present hour.
                  Your husband I abhor, Reginald I despise, and I am secure of never seeing either
                  again. Have I not reason to rejoice? Mainwaring is more devoted to me than ever;
                  and were we at liberty, I doubt if I could resist even matrimony offered by HIM.
                  This event, if his wife live with you, it may be in your power to hasten. The
                  violence of her feelings, which must wear her out, may be easily kept in
                  irritation. I rely on your friendship for this. I am now satisfied that I never
                  could have brought myself to marry Reginald, and am equally determined that
                  Frederica never shall. To-morrow, I shall fetch her from Churchhill, and let Maria
                  Mainwaring tremble for the consequence. Frederica shall be Sir James's wife before
                  she quits my house, and she may whimper, and the Vernons may storm, I regard them
                  not. I am tired of submitting my will to the caprices of others; of resigning my
                  own judgment in deference to those to whom I owe no duty, and for whom I feel no
                  respect. I have given up too much, have been too easily worked on, but Frederica
                  shall now feel the difference. Adieu, dearest of friends; may the next gouty
                  attack be more favourable! and may you always regard me as unalterably yours, </p>
               <closer>
                        <signed>S. VERNON</signed>
                    </closer>
            </div>


            <pb n="285" facs="pageImages/285.jpg"/>
            <div n="40" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XL.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Lady de Courcy to Mrs. Vernon.</hi>
                    </head>

               <opener>
                        <salute>My dear Catherine,—</salute>
                    </opener>
               <p>I have charming news for you, and if I had not sent off my letter this morning you
                  might have been spared the <ref target="_theVexation" corresp="theVexation">
                     vexation</ref>
                        <note xml:id="theVexation" target="_theVexation" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#ATJ">According to another definition of vexation in the OED,
                     vexation is "the state or fact of being mentally troubled or distressed; (in
                     later use) esp. annoyance, irritation, dissatisfaction, or disappointment"
                     ("Vexation," n.3a).</note> of knowing of Reginald's being gone to London, for
                  he is returned. Reginald is returned, not to <ref target="_Consent" corresp="Consent"> ask our consent </ref>
                        <note xml:id="Consent" target="_Consent" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#AHM">The OED states that
                     consent means "voluntary agreement to or acquiescence in what another proposes
                     or desires; compliance, concurrence, permission" ("Consent," n.1a). Reginald is
                     not asking for his parent's permission to marry Lady Susan.</note> to his
                  marrying Lady Susan, but to tell us they are parted for ever. He has been only an
                  hour in the house, and I have not been able to learn particulars, for he is so
                  very low that I have not the heart to ask questions, but I hope we shall soon know
                  all. This is the most joyful hour he has ever given us since the day of his birth.
                  Nothing is wanting but to have you here, and it is our particular wish and
                  entreaty that you would come to us as soon as you can. You have owed us a visit
                  many long weeks; I hope nothing will make it inconvenient to Mr. Vernon; and pray
                  bring all my grand-children; and your dear niece is included, of course; I long to
                  see her. It has been a sad, heavy winter hitherto, without Reginald, and seeing
                  nobody from Churchhill. I never found the season so dreary before; but this happy
                  meeting will make us young again. Frederica runs much in my thoughts, and when
                  Reginald has recovered his usual good spirits (as I trust he soon will) we will
                  try to rob him of his heart once more, and I am full of hopes of seeing their
                  hands joined at no great distance. </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>Your affectionate mother,</salute>
                  <signed>C. DE COURCY</signed>
                    </closer>
            </div>

            <pb n="286" facs="pageImages/286.jpg"/>

            <div n="41" type="letter">
               <head type="sub">XLI.<lb/>
                        <hi rend="italic">Mrs. Vernon to Lady de
                  Courcy.</hi>
                    </head>
               <opener>
                        <dateline>
                            <placeName>Churchhill.</placeName>
                        </dateline>
                  <salute>My dear Mother,—</salute>
                    </opener>
               <p>Your letter has surprized me beyond measure! Can it be true that they are really
                  separated—and for ever? I should be overjoyed if I dared depend on it, but after
                  all that I have seen how can one be secure. And Reginald really with you! My
                  surprize is the greater because on Wednesday, the very day of his coming to
                  Parklands, we had a most unexpected and unwelcome visit from Lady Susan, looking
                  all cheerfulness and good-humour, and seeming more as if she were to marry him
                  when she got to London than as if parted from him for ever. She stayed nearly two
                  hours, was as affectionate and agreeable as ever, and not a syllable, not a hint
                  was dropped, of any disagreement or coolness between them. I asked her whether she
                  had seen my brother since his arrival in town; not, as you may suppose, with any
                  doubt of the fact, but merely to see how she looked. She immediately answered,
                  without any embarrassment, that he had been kind enough to <ref target="_CallOn" corresp="CallOn"> call on</ref>
                        <note xml:id="CallOn" target="_CallOn" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#MUStudStaff">To call upon someone meant to pay
                     them a brief visit (OED, "call", v.).</note> her on Monday; but she believed he
                  had already returned home, which I was very far from crediting. Your kind
                  invitation is accepted by us with pleasure, and on Thursday next we and our little
                  ones will be with you. Pray heaven, Reginald may not be in town again by that
                  time! I wish we could bring dear Frederica too, but I am sorry to say that her <pb n="287" facs="pageImages/287.jpg"/>mother's errand hither was to fetch her
                  away; and, miserable as it made the poor girl, it was impossible to detain her. I
                  was thoroughly unwilling to let her go, and so was her uncle; and all that could
                  be urged we did urge; but Lady Susan declared that as she was now about to fix
                  herself in London for several months, she could not be easy if her daughter were
                  not with her <ref target="_Masters" corresp="Masters">for masters</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Masters" target="_Masters" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#AHM">According to the OED, a master in this sense is someone "of approved learning,
                     a respected scholar; an authority in (also of) a particular subject" (<ref target="https://www-oed-com.proxymu.wrlc.org/view/Entry/114751?rskey=Kh74YB&amp;result=1#eid">"Master," 13a</ref>). Lady Susan is referring here to Frederica's London
                     tutors, likely in subjects like singing, dancing, and drawing.</note>, <ref target="_etc" corresp="etc">&amp;c</ref>
                        <note xml:id="etc" target="_etc" type="gloss" resp="editors.xml#AHM">This is a way to write et cetera. From the
                     Latin, it means "And the rest, and so forth, and so on, indicating that the
                     statement refers not only to the things enumerated, but to others which may be
                     inferred from analogy." The OED goes on to note that it is also a generic
                     ending to a letter before the signature, as is the case with this letter ("Et
                     Cetera," 1).</note>; Her manner, to be sure, was very kind and proper, and Mr.
                  Vernon believes that Frederica will now be treated with affection. I wish I could
                  think so too. The poor girl's heart was almost broke at taking leave of us. I
                  charged her to write to me very often, and to remember that if she were in any
                  distress we should be always her friends. I took care to see her alone, that I
                  might say all this, and I hope made her a little more comfortable; but I shall not
                  be easy till I can go to town and judge of her situation myself. I wish there were
                  a better prospect than now appears of the match which the conclusion of your
                  letter declares your expectations of. At present, it is not very likely, </p>
               <closer>
                        <salute>Yours ever, &amp;,</salute>
                  <signed>C. VERNON</signed>
                    </closer>
            </div>



            <div type="conclusion">
               <head type="sub">CONCLUSION</head>
               <p>This correspondence, by a meeting between some of the parties, and a separation
                  between the others, could not, to the great detriment of the Post Office revenue,
                  be continued any longer. Very little assistance <pb n="288 [page breaks after assist-]" facs="pageImages/288.jpg"/> to the State
                  could be derived from the epistolary intercourse of Mrs. Vernon and her niece; for
                  the former soon perceived, by the style of Frederica's letters, that they were
                  written under her mother's inspection! and therefore, deferring all particular
                  enquiry till she could make it personally in London, ceased writing minutely or
                  often. Having learnt enough, in the meanwhile, from her open-hearted brother, of
                  what had passed between him and Lady Susan to sink the latter lower than ever in
                  her opinion, she was proportionably more anxious to get Frederica removed from
                  such a mother, and placed under her own care; and, though with little hope of
                  success, was resolved to leave nothing unattempted that might offer a chance of
                  obtaining her sister-in-law's consent to it. Her anxiety on the subject made her
                  press for an early visit to London; and Mr. Vernon, who, as it must already have
                  appeared, lived only to do whatever he was desired, soon found some accommodating
                  business to call him thither. With a heart full of the matter, Mrs. Vernon waited
                  on Lady Susan shortly after her arrival in town, and was met with such an easy and
                  cheerful affection, as made her almost turn from her with horror. No remembrance
                  of Reginald, no consciousness of guilt, gave one look of embarrassment; she was in
                  excellent spirits, and seemed eager to show at once by ever possible attention to
                  her brother and sister her sense of their kindness, and her pleasure in their
                  society. Frederica was no more altered than Lady Susan; the same restrained
                  manners, the same timid look in the presence of her mother as heretofore, <pb n="289" facs="pageImages/289.jpg"/>assured her aunt of her situation being
                  uncomfortable, and confirmed her in the plan of altering it. No unkindness,
                  however, on the part of Lady Susan appeared. Persecution on the subject of Sir
                  James was entirely at an end; his name merely mentioned to say that he was not in
                  London; and indeed, in all her conversation, she was solicitous only for the
                  welfare and improvement of her daughter, acknowledging, in terms of grateful
                  delight, that Frederica was now growing every day more and more what a parent
                  could desire. Mrs. Vernon, surprized and incredulous, knew not what to suspect,
                  and, without any change in her own views, only feared greater difficulty in
                  accomplishing them. The first hope of anything better was derived from Lady
                  Susan's asking her whether she thought Frederica looked quite as well as she had
                  done at Churchhill, as she must confess herself to have sometimes an anxious doubt
                  of London's perfectly agreeing with her. Mrs. Vernon, encouraging the doubt,
                  directly proposed her niece's returning with them into the country. Lady Susan was
                  unable to express her sense of such kindness, yet knew not, from a variety of
                  reasons, how to part with her daughter; and as, though her own plans were not yet
                  wholly fixed, she trusted it would ere long be in her power to take Frederica into
                  the country herself, concluded by declining entirely to profit by such unexampled
                  attention. Mrs. Vernon persevered, however, in the offer of it, and though Lady
                  Susan continued to resist, her resistance in the course of a few days seemed
                  somewhat less formidable. The <pb n="290" facs="pageImages/290.jpg"/>lucky alarm
                  of an<ref target="_Influenza" corresp="Influenza">influenza</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Influenza" target="_Influenza" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#MUStudStaff">According to History.com the flu, or influenza,
                     is a highly contagious viral infection that mainly affects the respiratory
                     system. During the 18th century another influenza pandemic arose. It began in
                     1729 in Russia and spread throughout Europe within 6 months and all the world
                     within three years. In general, influenza was very dangerous in this period
                        (<ref target="https://www.history.com/topics/inventions/flu">"Influenza"</ref>)</note>. decided what might not have been decided quite
                  so soon. Lady Susan's maternal fears were then too much awakened for her to think
                  of anything but Frederica's removal from the risk of infection; above all
                  disorders in the world she most dreaded the influenza for her daughter's
                  constitution! </p>
               <p>Frederica returned to Churchhill with her uncle and aunt; and three weeks
                  afterwards, Lady Susan announced her being married to Sir James Martin. Mrs.
                  Vernon was then convinced of what she had only suspected before, that she might
                  have spared herself all the trouble of urging a removal which Lady Susan had
                  doubtless resolved on from the first. Frederica's visit was nominally for six
                  weeks, but her mother, though inviting her to return in one or two affectionate
                  letters, was very ready to oblige the whole party by consenting to a prolongation
                  of her stay, and in the course of two months ceased to write of her absence, and
                  in the course of two or more to write to her at all. Frederica was therefore fixed
                  in the family of her uncle and aunt till such time as Reginald De Courcy could be
                  talked, flattered, and finessed into an affection for her which, allowing leisure
                  for the conquest of his attachment to her mother, for his abjuring all future
                  attachments, and detesting the sex, might be reasonably looked for in the course
                  of a twelvemonth. Three months might have done it in general, but Reginald's
                  feelings were no less lasting than lively. Whether Lady Susan was or was not happy
                  in her second choice, I do not <pb n="291" facs="pageImages/291.jpg"/>see how it
                  can ever be ascertained; for who would take her assurance of it on either side of
                  the question? The world must judge from probabilities; she had nothing against her
                  but her husband, and her conscience. Sir James may seem to have drawn a harder lot
                  than mere folly merited; I leave him, therefore, to all the pity that anybody can
                  give him. For myself, I confess that I can pity only Miss Mainwaring; who, coming
                  to town, and putting herself to an <ref target="_Clothes" corresp="Clothes">an
                     expense in clothes</ref>
                        <note xml:id="Clothes" target="_Clothes" type="editorial" resp="editors.xml#AHM">
                            <graphic url="notes/Robe.jpg"/>According to the article "The Cost of Living in London in Europe in the 18th
                     Century," clothes cost a lot because it was very important during this century.
                     People spent a lot more on clothes than we do today.(<ref target="https://www.history1700s.com/index.php/articles/14-guest-authors/1558-the-cost-of-living-in-london-in-europe-in-18-century.html">Hayword, "Cost of Living"</ref>) In the Regency period, dress fit for very
                     fashionable events might cost over 100 pounds (<ref target="https://reginajeffers.blog/2023/01/20/cost-of-a-womans-clothing-in-the-regency-era/">Jeffers, "Cost of a woman's clothing in the Regency era"</ref>), which
                     today would be around $5,000 (<ref target="https://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/currency-converter/">National
                        Archives Currency Converter</ref>) The image included here shows a French
                     fashion popular in the eighteenth century, a<ref target="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/159485">Robe a la
                        Francaise</ref>. In the novel, Miss Mainwaring goes to London to buy
                     fashionable clothes like this in an attempt to secure Sir James as her
                     husband.</note> which impoverished her for two years, on purpose to secure him,
                  was defrauded of her due by a woman ten years older than herself. </p>
            </div>



            <trailer>FINIS.</trailer>
         </div>
      </body>
   </text>
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