Elizabeth

There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more I am dissatisfied with it; and everyday confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of either merit or sense.
My given name is Elizabeth Bennet, and I am not yet one and twenty. I reside near Meryton in my family's estate of Longbourn (that is, IF it does not end up entailed to the hands of the vivacious Mr. Collins). I am one of five sisters, and the eldest but one. I am second only to my dearest Jane, of whom with I share my deepest thoughts. She is all purity and goodness. The only fault I am able to calculate on her behalf is that she is able to see no wrong doings in anyone. My younger sisters are "three of the silliest girls in England" in the words of my dear father, Mr. Bennet. My second sister is named Mary, and with all do respect and admiration, her serious countenance displays a form of annoyance known to all (including myself). She especially enjoys entertaining a room by playing the pianoforte upon any occasion. If you are never graced with the opportunity to hear her talents, find yourself not at unease, for disasterous is not quite the word to describe the sound. I also enjoy playing the pianoforte, even though my talents are ill, indeed. I suppose this; however, to be my own fault for not practicing. My youngest sisters, Kitty and Lydia, are nothing short of exuberant and take pleasure in standing up with the officers at balls and parties. With the time I find free, I do nothing of consequence. I enjoy writing and reading letters, and walking through the countryside woods, even in the mud. (Sometimes, my pettycoat can become six inches deep in mud, I daresay!)