I must prevail upon you to cease and desist at once.

I am speaking of your relentless series of weekly letters that have consumed an inordinate amount of my time since the very day you were most advantageously united with my nephew.

You probably think that I am capable of being worn down by your incessant pleadings, but I come from a long female line that is made of strong stuff, Mrs. Darcy, very strong stuff indeed. I am not easily swayed by the interminable stories of your new life and your new plans for Pemberley.

You can readily comprehend from my remarks above that I have read each and every one of your letters. Do not imagine that your letters are worthy of my time, however. It just so happens that I pride myself on my conscientiousness in all things, Mrs. Darcy, all things, especially in the earnest attention that I devote to my correspondence, no matter how I feel about its source or what my expectations are of its content.

Please consider how easily I could have left your missives unopened or had them returned, or even burnt without their ever having been read. I think that my generosity warrants a certain amount of approbation, and if you have the least shred of consideration for your new relations at Rosings then you will reduce the frequency of your writing at once.

I accused you last summer of being an overly resourceful young woman in your efforts to attach yourself to my nephew. You have now proven me correct in my assessment of your guile by the continuous correspondence that you have somehow been able to carry on with my daughter Anne for the past several months. How you've managed to smuggle letters to her is beyond my comprehension. None of my investigations have uncovered the covert channel that you've managed to find into Rosings.

If you'll pardon a brief moment of uncharacteristic boastfulness on my part, I must tell you that I am also capable of maintaining clandestine communication into places of interest. I have known your own housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, for many years, and she has kept me abreast of all the recent goings-on at Pemberley, including your many renovations and your visits to the Lambton neighbourhood and the frequent picnics and walks that you've taken with your husband and my niece Georgiana, who apparently is quite enamoured of you after knowing you for such a short time.

Your housekeeper also informs me that you threaten to re-introduce several customs that had been started many years ago by my sister when she herself was the beloved mistress of Pemberley. (I hope you remember that you have very large shoes to fill, Mrs. Darcy.) I would like to make you aware that I myself was an integral participant in many of those activities, and I frequently took a very active role in their planning and execution. I therefore insist upon being allowed to help out in any such endeavour that you plan in the future, for otherwise you would fail to properly duplicate my sister's achievements.

I have also heard, from entirely different quarters, of your auspicious appearances in town at my nephew's side. Somehow you have managed to make an unexpected impression upon many of my close friends, even after I had warned them of your background and family.

And now to the point of this letter. The reason that I am breaking my silence and sending you this short note is because of the authorization that you've requested on the naming of your first child. By the way, please make sure to extend my warmest congratulations to my nephew.

Since I will be blood-related to this child, I feel it necessary to give the matter the consideration it deserves, and yet I sincerely hope that this does not encourage you to continue writing to me on such a frequent basis. The one exception that I will allow is to be notified of any further news on the progress of your condition, your sister's similar condition, any renovations to Pemberley that you plan, or any definite intentions of yours on the re-introduction of the activities that I made reference to above.

I hereby authorize you to use my beloved sister's name as the name of your first female child. Your decision to use one of your mother's Christian names, namely "Barbara," as another of your daughter's given names happens to be quite fortuitous, since as it turns out I share that name with her. I feel it necessary to point this out for no other reason than my fondness for unexpected coincidences.

You see, I was actually christened Barbara Catherine. However, when I was a young girl, a neighbourhood acquaintance of mine named Catherine Hughes, of whom I was very fond, died of the pox at the age of thirteen. I thereupon decided to honSMUDGE her memory by calling myself Catherine for the remainder of my life.

I would therefore be honoured if you would call your daughter Anne Barbara.

I am sorry for rambling on like this, Mrs. Darcy. As you know, this is highly uncharacteristic of me as I place great value on concision in all human intercourse. Fortunately, I have managed to keep this note quite brief as I really had very little to say to you. I will make every effort to let you know by September if Anne and I will be able to visit Pemberley after your blessed event has taken place in November.

Your invitation to tour the grounds of Pemberley is appreciated but probably misplaced, as I am quite familiar with the park already, having toured it myself many years ago when my beloved sister Anne was the mistress.

I am also familiar with the three oak trees to which you refer, presuming they are the ones that stand in the glade a half-mile to the north. I have made that pleasant journey many times in the past, both before and after my marriage to Sir Lewis de Bourgh.

I expect that if I were to make a trip to Pemberley I would be able to show you many routes and avenues that even your own husband is unaware of.

The details that you request of my past life at Pemberley are really no one's business but my own, being memories held only by me and by my late husband. I'm sure they are of no interest to someone of your modern generation.

But since Georgiana is a blood relative, she may wish to know some of my past history, perhaps to record it in an annotated family tree or to mount it on plaques under our portraits in the West Hall. Perhaps some day she will take up an interest in genealogy, as do many people in middle age. I therefore authorize you to inform her of the contents of this letter.

I first had the pleasure of visiting Pemberley many years ago just after my sister Anne was married to William Darcy. It was under an oak tree, the middle of those three near Sparrow Lake to the north, that I first met Lewis de Bourgh, a friend of William Darcy's. I had been on a long solitary walk and had hurt my ankle and was resting there when he happened by and introduced himself. We spoke for several minutes and then he helped me back to the main house.

It was on the same spot one yeSMUDGE later that he asked for my hand in marriage and carved our names into the trunk of the middle tree.

And several years after that, I brought him back to the same location and told him that I was to give him a child, Anne. I count that day as one of the happiest of my entire life.

I'm sorry to have bored you once again with my ramblings, Mrs. Darcy, but I'm sure you understand that I am only interested in providing useful information for Georgiana in case her fancy takes a genealogical turn some day.

It turns out that it may be possible after all for Anne and me to visit Pemberley for a fortnight in July. I do not yet know the precise date of our arrival, but I will inform you of such when it becomes known to me.

I will happily give my advice on the raising of children, Mrs. Darcy, as you suggest. However, it has recently come to my attention that some of my counsel is not as well received as I had thought. I have caught Mrs. Collins several times going against my wishes, but she insisted that she had no choice but to weigh my own advice against contrary guidance from other sources. I suppose that everyone needs to have a method of reconciling conflicting recommendations from time to time.

And of course Darcy didn't take my advice on his selection of a wife, but I trust he is happy with his choice.

In any case, I expect that your mother, who has raised many more daughters than I have, will also have much advice to offer. I would not wish to be in her way when the baby is born.

Our plan is to arrive at Pemberley on July 8.

My driver insists that the journey from London to Derbyshire can be accomplished in one day, but I am somewhat skeptical. I say we should be lucky to get as far as Northhamptonshire in a single day.

We may therefore not arrive at Pemberley until July 9.

I must apologize, but I don't expect that Anne and I will be able to reach Pemberley by tomorrow because of a variety of circumstances that have conspired against our progress. I feel a full explanation is in order.

Anne and I reached Bourgh House in London and planned on leaving the next day. I didn't expect to get even half the distance to Derbyshire in a single day and so planned on a stop at Bedford. But night fell sooner than expected and we found ourselves somehow in Meryton of all places.

I found out later that this was Anne's doing. She had bribed the coach driver to take us through Hertfordshire by a somewhat circuitous route.

In any case, the Towne Inn in Meryton was full up, and so now Anne suggested that we search out Longbourn. I was extremely vexed by this time but felt that there was not much choice but to trust my daughter's navigatory instincts. We managed to find Longbourn about an hour later.

Your parents were surprisingly gracious, considering the abrupt nature of my visit last year and the even more abrupt nature of our present visit. Anne and I were exeedingly tired after our journey, and your parents were very kind in offering us a warm meal and lodgings for the night.

In the morning at breakfast, your mother and I had a forthright discussion on the difficulties involved in raising daughters without the benefit of having sons. Since most of her daughters are married and my own is not, she felt it incumbent upon herself to give me all manner of advice regarding the acquisition of a husband. I found this quite vexing and so went to find Anne to take a stroll through the grounds while our carriage was being prepared.

However, Anne was speaking closely with your sister Catherine and I found them to be completely inseparable. Considering their difference in age and your sister's fascination with red coats, I was somewhat alarmed at this relationship but was unable to dissuade Anne from continuing it.

Later that morning your mother insisted on taking me on a tour of the grounds. Your father's estate is rather small, but it does boast several fine groves of elm trees. In fact, one of those trees reminded me very much of an elm tree at Rosings under which my late husband Lewis and I once SMUDGE, but that is really of no consequence.

In any case, your mother and I had a long reminisce about our younger days, about the older styles of courtship, about the old balls and gowns of the period, and about the manner in which the art of gallantry has lost much of its chivalry in the modern approach.

I must say that I find your mother to be a most interesting woman. She was able to persuade me to stay at Longbourn for one more night.

Unaccountably, your father seems to pay little attention to Harriet, and seems to spend most of the time complaining of his nerves.

I write on the morning before the second of our two nights as we prepare to recommence our journey to Pemberley tomorrow. I am sorry for the length of this letter, but I wanted you to know the full rationale for our tardiness and the new date of our arrival.

I must apologize for our inexcusable delay in reaching Pemberley, but once again I have to inform you that Anne and I will have to put off our arrival for one more day.

This day was spent primarily on a call to Lucas Lodge and a visit to your sister at Netherfield.

Anne insisted that common courtesy demanded a call to Mrs. Collins' parents, and so we spent a tedious morning hour visiting with them.

Sir William is second only to Mr. Collins in his ability to grovel. I must say that in the comfort of my own parlour at Rosings I rather enjoy the sycophancy of Mr. Collins, but in an unfamiliar environment such as Lucas Lodge I find the bootlicking of its owner to be quite annoying.

I received a rather cold reception from Miss Maria, who I had thought might at least enquire about Rosings, whose dining room and many other comforts she had the pleasure of enjoying last year. Instead she seemed somewhat intimidated by me for some unaccountable reason.

When I was finally able to drag my daughter and your sister Catherine away from Miss Maria, we continued on to Netherfield, where we spent a delightful several hours talking and touring the grounds.

I must say that your sister is an exceedingly attractive young woman, and her husband somehow has the exact same pair of eyes as did my late husband Lewis, and a similar general manner. They would not let us exit Netherfield until we promised to dine with them the following day, as this particular day was their cook's night off. I must say I see no reason to give extra time off to the help, and I believe that your sister and her husband are overly generous. Nonetheless I had to agree to dinner on the morrow and therefore a third night at Longbourn.

We were accompanied on these journeys by your sister Mary, whom I find to be a most agreeable and accomplished young lady. For some reason your mother dismisses her as being bookish and prim, but I find her to be attentive and polite and a great proficient on the pianoforte.

I must apologize once again for a completely unexpected change in plans.

At dinner with your sister and Mr. Bingley at Netherfield, it became clear that Anne would not be separated from your sister Catherine, and insisted that the latter must accompany us to Pemberley. I could see no reason for bringing Catherine without also bringing Mary. And then since your father didn't seem to relish the idea of being left alone at Longbourn with only your mother to amuse him, and vice versa, well, the long and the short of it is that we are all now on our way to Pemberley for a summer visit.

Your elder sister and her husband are staying behind as she is quite heavy with child.

I dare say, Lizzy (if I may be allowed to call you by that name), with both your mother and myself to help with your child in November, you will have your hands full.