ABOUT LYDIA'S LETTERS

July 7, 1811

 

To Miss Catherine Bennett

Longbourn, near Meryton, ----shire

 

Dearest Kitty,

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It has been an age since my last letter to you, but I have been tremendously busy what with all the assemblies and gatherings that I have been attending here in Brighton, I have hardly had a single moment to even reflect let alone relate all the happenings to you. Only last Saturday Colonel Forster hosted a ball to raise the status of the regiment within the town, to be hosted at the small music hall within town. While many elegant citizens attended, none looked nearly as fine as the officers in their best regimentals. I danced two of the dances with Denny, but honestly, he is so clumsy my feet were black and blue by the end of the first dance. Then I danced with some young man from Brighton. He was nice enough, but hardly anything to speak of. I would have rather sat out, but I was trying to make a certain someone we know jealous for he has hardly paid more than a few minutes attention to me since we have arrived in Brighton. It worked because Wickham asked me for the next two dances. He dances marvellously well, but after we slipped away together for a tête-à-tête beneath the stars. If Colonel Forster noticed anything, he didn’t say as much.

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But dear Kitty, I must tell you about what else I am discovering here in Brighton, not within the bright halls of the town or sunny beaches of the coast, but within the bedroom and in my late-night talks with Harriet. More than a dear friend, my elder by a few years, so recently married, she has taken it upon herself to teach me the ways of the world—how a married woman should behave and all the joys of being a married woman. Do not be scandalized, dear Kitty, by what I am about to recount to you. As Harriet says, it is only what any young woman should know, and I take this opportunity to share the experience so that you know what pleasure there is and what we can joyfully expect in marriage.

 

It began just over a week ago while I was talking with Harriet in her room one evening, both of us seated on the bed in our long nightgowns. Colonel Forster was gone away for a few days, and I confess that when he goes we spend so long talking into the night that sometimes we fall asleep in her big bed just to wake up in the morning to talk some more. This night, Harriet mentioned how much she enjoyed kissing—that she could spend all day kissing. I laughed and said she was daft for I saw nothing so exciting in kissing that I’d want to spend all day doing it and I doubt my sisters or mother would put up with constant kisses on the cheek.

 

‘Oh, silly,’ she told me. ‘Not that kind of kissing.’

 

‘What other kind of kissing is there?’ I asked, since I only know the kind we give each other on the cheek when leaving for a long journey.

 

‘The type between a man and a woman,’ she said. ‘Between a husband and a wife.’

 

‘What are you going on about,’ I pestered her. ‘Because my dear father and mother hardly ever kiss and if they do it is the same as they would me and my sisters.’

 

‘Oh, but they wouldn’t kiss like this in front of you,’ Harriet said. ‘This type of kissing is only done behind closed doors and in the privacy of the bedroom.’

 

‘Explain yourself, Harriet,’ I said, ‘because you make no sense. I doubt my mother and father do anything behind closed doors since mother always keeps to her chamber and father to his.’

 

‘You are naïve,’ Harriet said and slapped me playfully on the shoulder. ‘Of course, there is a door between those two chambers just as there is one between mine and Colonel Forster’s, and if they don’t pass from one to the other now, they certainly must have done at some point since you are one of five sisters.’

 

Harriet kept teasing me without explaining anything until at last I said, ‘you can think me a fool if you like, but if you will not explain about this different kind of kissing then I will return to my own chambers and bid you goodnight.’

 

‘Do stay, dear Lydia,’ she said. ‘I won’t tease you any longer.’ At which point she began to explain how a man and woman might kiss not just brushing their lips to cheek, but lip to lip using their tongues, entwining them together.

 

‘Oh Lord!’ I said. ‘That sounds awful. I don’t think I would ever do that with anyone, let alone a man.’

 

‘But you will,’ Harriet said. ‘It’s the most delicious thing in the world. You are imagining it all wrong. Let me show you.’

Harriet had me kneel on the bed covers facing her. ‘Close your eyes,’ she said. ‘I’m going to kiss you like a man would—like your husband will one day. First, just lightly on the lips, but then I want you to separate your lips just a bit and relax so that I might kiss you properly. Don’t be afraid. You will see, it comes very naturally.’

 

She knelt close to me, side-by-side but facing me, our thighs pressed close together through our thin nightdresses. I closed my eyes and waited. She held my shoulders and I could feel the warmth of her face as she approached me. When her lips touched mine the feeling was thrilling, though I can’t imagine why. You and I, Kitty, have kissed on the lips in greeting countless times, but with no more feeling than a simple accidental touch on the hand. I relaxed my lips, as Harriet had instructed, and she began to explore my mouth with her tongue. Even before she had truly started, I was startled to find myself echoing her movements, my tongue embracing hers, the entire feeling so powerful I felt overcome with a desire to embrace her—to move closer to her and feel her whole body on mine. It was truly unbelievable, Kitty. No wonder she wished she could do this all day.

When at last she released me, I told her as much. ‘That was so beautiful,’ I said. ‘I’d like to try again.’ And when we did, I wrapped my arms around her and embraced her. My entire body was on fire and my head so light. My hands wandered over her arms, without my willing them, feeling the flesh through the sleeves.

 

When we broke the kiss again, I felt lightheaded and giddy and imagined my cheeks were as flushed as hers were. Harriet’s eyes seemed to sparkle with wild excitement in the candlelight shining from the side table. I confess, Kitty, that there was another feeling too—almost an ache from the region high between my legs, the muscles inside me seeming to pulse, and a dampness was beginning to seep down my legs—not like water, not like the dampness of sweat, or even the monthly blood that comes from there. It was more of a smooth wetness that I felt between my legs, like fine silk—if silk be made of liquid. But I did not mention this to Harriet at this moment for fear of embarrassing myself.

 

At this point, Harriet let out a light laugh and threw herself back on the bed. ‘La! If only my husband were home. I’ll not be able to sleep now without some release. I’m far too excited for sleep.’

 

‘What do you mean, Harriet?’ I asked. For I had the same feeling of excited restlessness, but without any clue of what she meant by release.

 

‘Of course, I forget,’ she said. ‘You are young and know little of the ways of the world. But really, dear Lydia, have you never explored your own body until you are filled with such pleasure that your senses leave you altogether.’

 

‘Really, Harriet,’ I said. ‘You are so cruel to tell me of these things.’ You see, dear Kitty, my entire body ached for something, though I knew not what. It was as if Harriet had a magnificent remedy for what ailed me, but was keeping it out of reach.

‘You mean to tell me that you have never reached you hands to that space between your legs more than just to wash yourself—to explore your own pleasure.’

 

‘Never!’ I was indignant at this deviant suggestion, but Harriet seemed to think nothing of it.

 

‘Then you are missing out on more than just kissing,’ Harriet said. ‘You are missing out on one of the greatest pleasures on earth. I am surprised you have never discovered it. There is a spot there—a pearl, let’s say—that releases waves of incredible feeling over your body. Here. Let me show you.’

 

At this, Harriet ordered me to remove my nightdress, which was fine since we had dressed in each other’s company before, though I had always averted my eyes to give her some little privacy. But now she took off her own gown and invited me to look directly at her naked form. Her breasts were smaller than mine, sloping like the top of a plump, ripe pear towards pert nipples as red as summer raspberries. She is also slighter than me, the soft curves of her body simply accentuated by the visibility of the bones in her hips. And between her legs, soft chestnut curls to match those on her head. She lay back, propping herself up on the pillows at the headboard and relaxed her knees outwards so that her cunnie—as Harriet calls the slit between her legs—opened. At once I saw that the same type of warm moisture that had filled me, also affected her. Her organ seemed to glisten with it. And the scent, Kitty! Though not exactly sweet, was delicious.

 

‘Look, Lydia. Look closely.’ Harriet reached down and held apart her lower lips with her fingers. And for the first time I truly saw the shape of a woman, the rosy folds opening up like—a rose perhaps, though not really. You will, Kitty, have to look for yourself sometime, if you haven’t already, to truly understand.