We arrived without incident and settled in Paris at once. Parisian society was much to our taste, although the best of meat requires a change to maintain its savour. Having soon made some acquaintance in Paris, we spared no effort in behaving like proper Frenchmen with every night engaged: grand dinners, philosophical soirées and, of course, the balls. Georgiana and I charmingly assumed the onerous burthen of being even more amiable than we have done in England and, excepting time spent in the arduous task of procuring the necessities of gowns and the assorted finery so as to appear a la Français, we have done little else but stroll down the splendid avenues, and eat every imaginable delicacy in disgraceful quantities.

Our circle of acquaintance widened further at the event of a large private ball, and it was here that we were introduced to the dowager Comtesse d’Estrouville and her son, le Comte. The dowager is a lady of refinement and elegance, clever, well-read, lively, witty, and altogether engaging, although I would venture that her speech is apt to be too frank, and her character too ingenuous, for someone of her rank in English society. Her son has been a correspondent of my husband’s for some time; the Comte is tall, well-formed, confident, and unassuming, an excellent sportsman and accomplished conversationalist, with an easy air and engaging manners. I need not tell you—for of course you will have guessed—that he was soon violently in love with Georgiana. A series of engagements brought us together, and the friendship between Mr. Darcy and himself led him to make us an invitation to his country estate of Belle Aire, some ways outside Paris. We generously accepted, of course, and spent a few days there with his sister, whilst Mr. Darcy and the Comte fished, and went over the plantations. It soon became clear that an offer was inevitable, despite such a little time passing since their first meeting—if our Comte has a failing, it is a propensity for celerity in both thought and action. I well remember Mrs. Gardiner’s dictum that a man cannot find himself ‘violently in love’ after a short period of time—that the phrase itself is become hackneyed and worthless—but violently in love the Comte believed himself to be. Mr. Darcy was charged with the unenviable task of pre-empting the Comte’s addresses by speaking to him of Georgiana’s certain refusal. We left the estate the next morning in a prodigious hurry, as I am sure you can easily believe.