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Becky Sharp left London and travelled down to Queen's Crawley in hampshire, the home of Sir Pitt Crawley. Sir Pitt was a baronet and a Member of Parliament, and the land-owning Crawley family was of a higher social class than the Sedleys and the Osbornes, who had made their money by commerce. This thought comforted Becky as she reflected on her failed adventure with Mr Joseph Sedley.

Sir Pitt Crawley is nothing like we silly girls imagined a baronet to be. Think of a short old man, in dirty old clothes, who smokes a horrible pipe, speaks with a rough uneducated accent, swears at his servants, and gets drunk every night! He has been married twice, I learn, and has two sons by his first wife. The older, Mr Pitt Crawley, still lives here. He's a pale, thin, ugly man, who is always reading religious books and riding around the countryside, telling everybody to lead good lives.

After a week Amelia received a letter from her friend.

MY DEAREST, SWEETEST AMELIA -- Oh, how my life has changed from those happy times in your house! There I was surrounded by the kindness of a loving friend, and now…!

Sir Pitt also has a brother, Mr Bute Crawley. He and his wife, whom everyone calls Mrs Bute (there are so many Crawleys!), live in a house nearby. It seems that he and Sir Pitt don't get on -- some quarrel about money, I believe. Indeed, Sir Pitt himself is very mean -- I am not allowed to have a candle in my room after eleven at night! But of course I cannot complain, as I am only a poor little governess!

As for Lady Crawley, Sir Pitt's second wife, she is a poor, faded, unhappy creature, who has nothing to say. She is quite often ill, and spends the rest of her time sewing. I am governess to her two little girls, Rose and Violet, who are no trouble, and already love me quite as much as their mother, I think!

Becky may have been a poor governess, but she was a clever, cunning little creature as well. For we must remember that this story has Vanity Fair for a title, and Vanity Fair is a very vain, wicked, foolish place, full of all sorts of falseness and pretence.

It was certainly true that Sir Pitt Crawley was a mean, selfish, rude old man. He was never known to give away a penny, or to do a good action, but he enjoyed a joke -- and the company of a lively and amusing young woman. So the little governess had no difficulty in making herself useful and agreeable to her employer. She wrote his letters for him, played cards with him, and helped with the management of the farm, park and gardens.

Your affectionate friend, Rebecca

PLEASE FORGIVE MY LONG SILENCE, dearest Amelia, but for some weeks now our usual quiet life at Queen's Crawley has been quite different, because Miss Matilda Crawley is here on her yearly visit. We have dinner-parties and dancing-parties; we drink the best wines every day, and there are fires in every room. Miss Crawley, you see, is Sir Pitt's unmarried half-sister. She is a fat old lady, but has a fortune of seventy thousand pounds, which makes her brothers, Sir Pitt and Mr Bute, very affectionate towards her, as you might imagine! It is said that she intends to divide her fortune between Mr Bute's family, and Sir Pitt's younger son, Rawdon Crawley, who is a captain in the army and a great favourite with his aunt. This Captain Rawdon is staying here now, and I suppose you will like to know what sort of person he is.

Before many months had passed she was almost mistress of the house, though she was always careful to appear modest and respectful. She was popular with everyone, it seemed, including two other members of the Crawley family, whom she described in another letter to her dear friend.

Your affectionate friend, Rebecca Becky did not, strange to say, give her dear friend an altogether accurate report of Captain Rawdon Crawley. The Captain had paid her not just one, but a great many compliments. The Captain had walked with her twenty times in the park, had met her in fifty corridors and passages. The Captain had leaned over her piano in the evenings as she sang, while Miss Matilda Crawley nodded sleepily in her chair by the fire. (Lady Crawley was now upstairs, being ill, and ignored by everyone in the house.)

Well, he is a very large, fashionable young man. He has a loud voice, swears a great deal, and is always giving orders to the servants, who all love him in spite of this, for he is very generous with his money -- when he has any! He leads quite a wild life, I believe, gambling and so on, but his aunt Miss Matilda just laughs, and often pays his debts for him. She says he is worth far more than his boring brother, Mr Pitt Crawley, whom she hates.

Shall I tell you a compliment Captain Rawdon paid me? One night at a dancing-party he asked me, the poor little governess, to dance with him, and afterwards he swore out loud that I was the neatest little dancer in the room. You should have seen the angry stares I received from all the fine young ladies!

Nor did Becky mention to her friend what a great liking Miss Crawley had taken to her. Nothing would satisfy the old lady but that Miss Sharp should always sit next to her at dinner, and entertain her with amusing conversation.

"You've more brains in your little finger, my dear, than most people have in their heads," she said to Becky. "You're certainly cleverer than my poor nephew Rawdon."

And so, in truth, she was -- cleverer than both father and son.

Not long after this, a carriage stopped at Miss Matilda Crawley's home in London in Park Lane, a fine comfortable house, and Miss Crawley herself was carried inside. Doctors were called, and the old lady was put to bed and cared for day and night by a young person who had accompanied her from Queen's Crawley. No one else was allowed in the sickroom, and this was naturally very upsetting to Miss Briggs, who had been Miss Crawley's devoted companion and friend for many years.

This mysterious young person was none other, of course, than Miss Rebecca Sharp. She nursed Miss Crawley, gave orders to the servants, and very soon persuaded kind-hearted Miss Briggs into friendly feelings towards her.

Captain Rawdon Crawley visited every day, and spent a good deal of time in the company of Miss Sharp, receiving reports about his aunt's health. This improved rapidly, her illness being caused by no more than a rather large, hot fish supper, but when an old lady of great wealth becomes ill, all her affectionate relations are naturally anxious to pay her every attention.

It was not the same case for another member of the Crawley family, however. Sir Pitt's wife, Lady Crawley, had been ill for some time but no one had paid her any attention at all. And some three months after Becky had gone to London, Lady Crawley quietly slipped out of this life, almost unnoticed.

Sir Pitt had missed Becky greatly. It was only his fear of offending his wealthy sister that had made him let Becky go to London at all. He had written to her several times and often visited her in Park Lane, begging her, commanding her to return and continue the education of his two daughters. But Miss Crawley always refused to let her go, and so Becky stayed.

"That's all right," Sir Pitt said. "It's you I want to see, Miss Becky. I want you back at Queen's Crawley. It's not the same without you. All my accounts have got confused again. I can't get my letters done. You must come back. Dear Becky, do come."

The day after Lady Crawley's death, Sir Pitt appeared in Park Lane. Miss Crawley did not want to see him, so she sent Becky down with a message that she was too ill to have visitors.

"Come as Lady Crawley, if you like," the baronet said. "There! Will that satisfy you? Come back and be my wife. Yes or no?"

"I don't think -- it would be right -- to be alone -- with you, sir," said Becky, seeming rather upset.

Tears ran down Becky's face, tears of real sorrow.

"Married!" cried Sir Pitt. "Married! Who to? You're joking. Who would marry you, Becky? You've not a penny to your name!"

"Oh, Sir Pitt!" she said. "Oh, Sir -- I -- I'm married already!"

Becky fell to her knees. "Oh, Sir Pitt, dear Sir Pitt, please don't be angry. I'm so grateful for all your goodness to me."

"Grateful be damned!" shouted Sir Pitt. "Where is this husband, then? Run off and left you, has he?"

"Oh, sir! Please let me come back to dear Queen's Crawley. I can't be your wife, sir. Let me -- let me be your daughter!"

At this moment the door opened, and Miss Crawley walked in.

"I have told Sir Pitt," said Becky, in a sad, tearful voice, "that I can never become Lady Crawley."

Miss Briggs, accidentally listening at the door, had heard Sir Pitt's proposal and had rushed upstairs to tell Miss Crawley. Neither of them, however, had heard Becky's reason for refusing Sir Pitt's offer of marriage.

"You've refused him!" said Miss Crawley, amazed that a penniless governess should refuse a baronet. "But why? Is there someone else?"

"Can this be true, Sir Pitt?" Miss Crawley asked, in a horrified voice. "You have actually proposed marriage to Miss Sharp?"

"I cannot tell you now," replied poor Becky. "I am very miserable. But oh, promise you will love me always."

Pleased that Rebecca had shown the good sense to refuse Sir Pitt, Miss Crawley promised always to remain Rebecca's friend. To Becky's relief, finding his offer of marriage refused, Sir Pitt left, without revealing her secret to Miss Crawley. So Becky had time to make plans, and that night she sat down and wrote a letter to a certain Miss Eliza Styles.

DEAREST FRIEND -- The crisis we have talked about so often has arrived! Half of my secret is known. Sir Pitt came today and asked me -- to marry him! Think of that! He knows that I am married, but not to whom. Now is the moment to tell Miss Crawley the truth. But she likes me, and she will forgive you anything. So, all will be well. She will die and leave us all her money, and you will stop gambling, and be a good boy. R.

That night in Park Lane, Becky was especially charming to Miss Crawley and Miss Briggs. And after the business with Sir Pitt, Becky, with her secret sorrows, was the heroine of the day.

Miss Eliza Styles was, of course, no other than Captain Rawdon Crawley. That big, handsome soldier had become so devoted to little Rebecca that there was no solution but to marry her. He admired her tremendously, believing her to be the cleverest little thing alive, and when he received her orders to rent some rooms for their new home, he hurried at once to obey.

On the second day after Sir Pitt's proposal the servant went to wake Miss Sharp as usual, but almost at once ran to Miss Briggs's room in great excitement.

"What! " cried Miss Briggs. She opened the letter eagerly.

"Oh, Miss Briggs," said the servant, "Miss Sharp's bed hasn't been slept in. And I found this letter for you in her room."

Your affectionate and grateful Rebecca Crawley

Only you, dear Miss Briggs, will know how to give this news to his devoted aunt. Tell her how much it hurts me to leave her. Ask her to forgive the poor girl to whom she has shown such affection. Ask Miss Crawley to forgive her children.

As Miss Briggs finished reading the letter, the servant came to tell her that Mrs Bute Crawley had arrived from hampshire. Mrs Bute was a strong and determined woman, and she and her husband, Sir Pitt's brother, were anxious to pay Miss Crawley every attention. Like Rawdon, they too were in debt and their hopes lay in Miss Crawley's death, since they expected a good share of her money.

DEAR, KIND MISS BRIGGS -- I know that you will pity me and forgive me. I must leave the home where I have known nothing but kindness. I must do my duty and go to my husband, who commands me to join him. Yes, I am married, married to the best and most generous of men -- Captain Rawdon Crawley!

"There was a reason for her refusing Sir Pitt," said Mrs Bute.

"It's a good thing I'm here," said Mrs Bute, "to take care of poor, dear Miss Crawley. But at least it will open her eyes to that girl. I always knew she was a wicked, cunning little thing."

Mrs Bute and Miss Briggs waited until Miss Crawley was downstairs, seated comfortably in her armchair. And then they began to prepare her for the dreadful news about Rebecca.

"We cannot," said Mrs Bute. "Oh, prepare yourself, dear friend! Miss Sharp has -- gone!"

"Of course there was a reason," Miss Crawley answered. "She likes someone else."

Still holding the letter, Miss Briggs ran downstairs to tell Mrs Bute the terrible, shocking news of the marriage.

"Likes!" Miss Briggs gasped. "Oh, my dear Miss Crawley, she is married already!"

"She went last night," Miss Briggs said. "She left a letter for me. She's married to --"

"Such shocking news! Oh, do tell her gently!" said Mrs Bute.

"The secretive little creature! How dare she not tell me!" cried Miss Crawley. "Send her to me at once!"

"Married to whom?" said Miss Crawley, in a nervous fury.

"To -- to a relation of --" Miss Briggs could not continue.

"Rawdon -- Rebecca -- married! A governess! You stupid old fool, Briggs, I don't believe you!"

"Oh, Miss Crawley! She's married to your nephew Rawdon!"

The old lady screamed in fury, then fell back in a faint, and had to be taken to bed. The doctor was sent for, and Mrs Bute went to sit by the bedside to act as nurse. "Her relations ought to be round her at a time like this." she said, full of concern.

"Tell me!" cried Miss Crawley. "Don't drive me mad!"

No sooner had Miss Crawley been carried to her room than Sir Pitt arrived at the house. "Where's Becky?" he said. "Tell her to get her things together. She's coming with me to Queen's Crawley, even if she is married."

"Haven't you heard the news?" cried Miss Briggs. "She's gone. And she has married your son -- Captain Rawdon!"

When Sir Pitt heard this news, he broke out into such furious language that it sent poor Miss Briggs trembling from the room. The old man went away, back to Queen's Crawley, and there we will leave him, wild with hatred and unsatisfied desire.

"Suppose the old lady doesn't forgive us," Rawdon said to his wife as they sat together in their comfortable little London home. He had filled it with presents for his wife -- flowers, perfumes, a piano, jewellery, dresses… Becky had been trying her new piano all morning, and new rings sparkled on her little fingers. "Suppose she doesn't forgive us, eh, Becky?"

"You can do anything," her husband said, kissing her little hand. "Come on, let's go out for dinner."

"Then I'll make your fortune," she said, patting his cheek.