I opened it with nerveless fingers, wondering what news it would contain, and wondering if it would mention Eliza. For all my efforts to forget her, I cannot banish her from my mind, and when there is a lull in my duties, I find myself thinking of her. I read Catherine’s news of her family with little interest, scanning the page until Eliza’s name caught my eye. ... and so Harry has divorced her. Divorced? I sat back in my seat, rocked. I steeled myself to read on. It is not to be wondered at. Harry drank, it is true, and gambled, and had numerous mistresses, but Eliza should have borne it. I always knew that she was unsatisfactory. There was something ridiculously romantic about her, for which I blame you, James, for you encouraged her. It is true that Harry should not have invited his mistresses into their London home, but if Eliza had only been sensible and withdrawn to the estate, instead of going into a decline and then falling prey to the first man who showed her a little kindness, she would be a married woman still.
