I am sorry that I have not written in you in a very long time. Writing does not come easily to me. I am not one with much to say.
But journal, what a night. I am burning through candles thinking about the prettiest girl I have ever laid eyes upon, wondering when we will shall meet again. Cranky Fitzwilliam, no doubt, is tossing and turning in his bed. Typical Darcy. He was quite petulant tonight. Normally I would be embarrassed by his irritable temper, but I was so distracted by soft eyes and a blue dress, I let him sulk all night alone by the punchbowl. Caroline was acting strange as well. The ride home from the Meryton Dance was awkward, just me babbling about the night and the two of them barely glancing at each other.
Either way, they cannot keep my spirits grounded. Miss Jane Bennet is the subject of my love and the cause of my insomnia this night. How lucky that we live just down the road from each other. Not only does a warm sweetness envelop everything she says, she is a fantastic dancer, too! And her brown eyes, her dark brown hair, that dress…Jane’s enthusiasm for life is contagious, and I have a rarely met a girl as tenderhearted.
I know it has been but one night, yet I feel strangely like I want to propose marriage to Jane. There are certain, special moments when one is sure of what to do in an instant. I believe the second that I saw Jane was one of those times.
I also sensed an odd connection between Darcy and one of Jane’s sisters. Though he’d never admit it, I think he might be similarly charmed by a Bennet.
The last candle is about to go out, so I will have to retire to a surely sleepless night. I will have my sister call up the Bennet household tomorrow (would not want to appear too forward) and see if Jane would want to take a stroll around the gardens of Netherfield. This will be an interesting summer.
Until next time,
Charles Bingley (aka Barry Eitel)