My dearest Louisa,
I have been in the most dreadful and pathetic state these two centuries at least. So wretchedly ill and fatigued you have no idea. My hands are so weak and lifeless I can barely proceed with what I have set out to do this morning, however, I am determined, even if it wrenches the last of my strength out of my body and I shall spend the rest of the day lying on the sofa too enfeebled by exertion to move. I am sure I do not remember the last time I could sit upright or take up a pen to write to you and, while I have been thus unwell, all I could dwell upon was how ill you would think of me if I did not send you a reply. I was in agony over it, I can assure you, dreading that you might get it into your head that I have taken offence with your words and decided to spurn your advice and sympathy.
No, indeed! Nothing can be farther from the truth, I assure you. I was greatly diverted by your accounts of Mrs. Berry and Aunt Grey and, though I was awfully vexed at your thinking so very ill of the Captain at first, I could not remain angry with you for long, aware as I am that you only want what is best for me. To tell you the truth, I begin to think quite ill of him myself and I must confess that I have grown somewhat concerned about his intentions. I am sure that he is in love with me as much as ever, however, I have been stationed in this dreadful place for two months now without any idea when I should become his wife. Indeed, at times I begin to think that you have been in the right all along and that my dear Captain is not going to marry me after all.
No! No! I must not think so! Oh, I know I must not! I am being silly and I know precisely the reason why I have such monstrous thoughts polluting my mind. I have been too long without any amusements to occupy my time and thus I have grown stupid and forlorn. I am not used to spending all my days inside with no company and entertainment and I am sure that London – or at the very least that wretched part of it where we took up lodgings – does not at all agree with my spirits and constitution. I detest its putrid air that suffocates me whenever I look out of the window. I am convinced that it is no place for a simple country girl like me and I am certain that this is what has been causing my melancholy, loss of appetite, sickness and faintness. I have been growing rather ill and I have quite alarmed poor faithful Molls by a number of fainting fits that I have had this past fortnight.
She is afraid that I should pop off at any moment and she keeps saying that I should send for the doctor. However, when I brought this matter up before the Captain, he was adamant that I should not. He is talking about taking me to the country, where he is certain I shall regain my health and spirits in no time. He says that he has an estate somewhere in the North. I do wish he would spend more time with me, however, he is almost never around during the day and, when I am left alone in such a wretched state, I am plagued by a great deal of awful thoughts and suspicions. I begin to think that he does not love me and I wonder whether he ever loved me at all. Why did he ask me to elope with him and brought me to London, yet did not marry me as he had promised he would? What am I to do if he does not? What is happening to me? Why does he not let me see a doctor? I have been quite hysterical, crying my eyes out. Why! The paper is all damp and blotched now and I am sure you shall not understand a word of it.
Dear God! What have I done? Oh, Louisa! I think I am losing my mind! I wish you and my dear mama were here by my side! I do not think that I can stand it any more! I dare say I should go to the shops tomorrow or, perhaps, to the park or an exhibition and then, in the evening, to the theatre or the Opera. I shall speak with Captain as soon as he is back and if he truly loves me he shall not refuse me such a trifle. I do not know what else to tell you. In any case, I cannot proceed to write another line, because my head has grown heavy and I feel sick again. I shall not give orders to post the letter just yet, in case I have something by way of news for you, though, upon my word, I cannot imagine how it can be. I shall have my rest now.