Singleton + Writer + Book Lover + Moviegoer = Screen Spinster

Welcome to the loneliest blog on the web. I have no words of wisdom to espouse. (why does espouse sound so much like spouse? Is that word trying to rub it into my spinster brain?) Anyway, I don't own a cat. Never will. I don't cook, nor do I sew or knit, but I do spin a yarn (tale) from time to time. I have no domestic talents, I am not a domestic engineer/goddess, nor do I want to be. I'll sometimes post my views on scripts, (mine & yours or theirs) movies, television shows and maybe theatre, along with my own musings usually in the style of a poem. So pull up a rocking chair, sit back as your cherry pie bakes and stay a while if you like.

Thursday, August 30, 2012

A letter to Jane Austen from Elizabeth Bennet



My Dearest Miss Austen,

My sincerest thanks to you and your mighty pen for allowing me to see the error of my ways with regard to my prejudices, as well as my own pride. Putting me through the emotional upheaval of the last year was the only way I could grow into the woman I am now: A grateful and blessed creature. My marriage to Fitzwilliam Darcy is all that I could have ever imagined and more. He is faithful, intelligent, and truly does possess the kindest and most loyal of hearts. Our life together at Pemberley is filled with laughter and friendship. I take daily walks in our gardens, attempting not to cry from the beauty that surrounds me.

That being said, why oh why, did you surround me with so many relatives who operate on the idiotic level? Lydia and my mother drove me nearly to the brink of insanity everyday, but at least I have love for them and can forgive their lack of intelligence. But Mr. Collins?!!?? Really, now? Why such a man to be my cousin and the heir to Longbourn, which by the way, I feel should never have been entailed away. Just because we are all daughters and females does not mean that we are not equal to men. I digress. Back to Mr. Collins! His constant barrage of senseless rhetoric is a thorn in my side. I tolerate him only for the sake of my dear friend, Charlotte. If you had made her slightly more handsome she could have chosen a husband with intelligence. Instead, she has chosen a fool. The constant influx of his pretentious notions on love and etiquette and God is almost more than I can bear, but then I remind myself how fortunate I am that I only see him a few times a year, and that my Mr. Darcy is quite the opposite. I immediately banish the thoughts, horrid ones indeed, that if I had been closer to poverty, or less pretty or less intelligent, I, too, might have chosen, if choice is even possible, such a man to be my husband. Therefore, I am grateful, despite the bumps and bruises along the way that you gave me the courage and mindfulness to believe in myself, and to know that the only reason to marry is for love.

With all my affection,

Mrs. Darcy, formerly Miss Elizabeth Bennet

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