Her Brother’s Keeper (Obstinate, Headstrong Girl #1)

Prologue

The first time he bloodied her, Elizabeth knew it was time to take a husband.

The situation could not remain as it had been, especially during this last six months. She had been too young, when their lives fell to pieces, to handle matters properly. She had trusted too much in her relations, and too little in her own judgment.

It was not in her nature, however, to increase her vexations by dwelling on them.

She was confident of having performed her duty, and to fret over unavoidable evils or augment them by anxiety was no part of her disposition.

In short, she had done the best she could.

Unfortunately, her best was no longer good enough and must be improved by what, in her experience, seldom improved anything—that is to say, a man.

She studied her reflection critically in the mirror.

No longer was it the face of a carefree girl, although she was only twenty; however, there was something more of steadiness, of reason, and perhaps even of wisdom—at least the sort of wisdom gained by surviving hard experience—in the expression of the young woman staring back at her.

It was a pretty face, she told herself. Her hair was thick, wavy, and difficult to manage on her own, but Elizabeth could dress it herself if she took her time about it.

Jane had recently given her an almost-new dress which she could remake to fit her smaller frame.

The problem was not in her appearance, but rather, her circumstances.

Jane had recently been introduced to the gentleman, a Mr Bingley, who had leased Netherfield—and he had apparently shown a promising interest in her at the previous assembly and was expected to attend the upcoming one; she would be unavailable to spell Elizabeth for the evening, which meant it would be difficult to leave Fox Hollow to attend the next assembly herself.

Nevertheless, as little as she liked asking for help, there were those who would give it.

Mrs Hill probably would do it, especially if told the reasons for attending the assembly—although she could barely conceive the conversation.

‘Excuse me, Mrs Hill, but I need to go a-husband-hunting. Could you come to Fox Hollow for an evening?’

It was ridiculous to expect the genteel marriage of which she had once dreamt; nor could she imagine a ‘proper’ gentleman taking her on, what with the burdens accompanying her.

What she needed was a husband who was respectable enough to possess as much influence as her own relations, strong enough to help her, and kind enough to wish to.

She could respect such a man and build a life with him, no matter his looks or his fortune.

As a rule, suitors were thin on the ground in Meryton and its surrounds, but the recent incursion of a militia stationed nearby meant there might be a possibility amongst them.

By the same token, there was Mr Morris, Netherfield’s steward, widowed in the last year and reportedly searching for a wife.

Yet, he had two other children! It was not ideal.

Even so, he was reported to be an affectionate father, which spoke well of him.

She could barely imagine what her father would say, could he hear her thoughts.

But of course, he could not and never would again, ensconced as he was within Longbourn’s peaceful family cemetery, her sisters Catherine and Lydia tucked in by his side, all victims of a fever that had swept through the village three years past.

She traced the bloody welts on her arm with the tip of one finger. Oh, Neddy, Neddy, she thought, with that old familiar mix of love and despair. She would marry anyone, if only it would help him.