Chapter 1
“Mr. Bennet, Mr. Bennet!” Mrs. Frances Bennet screeched as she burst into the sanctuary of his study. “Have you done as I instructed? Have you called on Mr. Bingley yet?”
Bennet tamped down his first inclination to make sport of his wife and deny he had done so. It was not worth the diatribe which would result. “Yes, Mrs. Bennet, I went this morning as you requested I do.”
“Well, what have you to tell? He is to marry Jane you know, a single man of fortune must be in want of a wife,” Mrs. Bennet stated with surety. “How can any man resist the beauty of our eldest daughter?”
“If you already decided he is to marry Jane, why do you not inform him of such and start planning the wedding?” Bennet asked sarcastically. He knew full well the sarcasm would be lost on his wife.
“You vex me so, Mr. Bennet. That is not the way it is done,” Mrs. Bennet replied, missing his mocking tone as he expected she would. “Will Mr. Bingley be attending the upcoming assembly?”
The quarterly assembly would be held in two days, on Friday evening.
It usually was well attended by the four and twenty gently bred families of the neighbourhood, plus others who lived between Meryton and St. Albans.
The only problem was ladies usually outnumbered the men, which had birthed the practice of each lady sitting out at least two sets to ensure no one who wanted to dance would not be afforded the opportunity.
“He did mention that his sisters and a friend—or perhaps friends—would be arriving this afternoon,” Bennet shared with his wife. He knew the thought of more possible targets for his wife’s desire to see her daughters well married would distract her.
“Oooh,” Fanny Bennet fluttered her silk handkerchief in excitement, “what a good thing for our girls if he brings several rich men from Town.” With that, Mrs. Bennet left his study, as he had hoped she would, so she could share the intelligence with other like-minded gossips, especially her older sister, Hattie Phillips.
Bennet sat back in his comfortable desk chair.
He was the epitome of ‘decide in haste, repent at leisure.’ He had met Frances Gardiner when she was seventeen and a stunning beauty.
Being so blinded by her looks and that she was willing to share her favours with the unexperienced Thomas Bennet, four and twenty at the time, he had accepted what she offered.
Bennet had paid no attention when she manoeuvred him into an extremely compromising position.
Hattie Phillips, recently married to her father’s law clerk, came upon Bennet being kissed by her sister on cue, with their father in tow.
By the time he found out the compromise was staged, it was too late to do anything about it.
He had proposed and she had accepted. They were married within ten days.
Fanny gained what she wanted?to be the mistress of an estate.
Even better, her husband was weak-willed, permitting her to batter him verbally until he gave in to her.
As the years passed, it took less and less to impose her will on him.
To save himself from losing time with his precious books and port, Bennet simply gave in, not wishing to waste his time by fighting her.
Bennet’s only defence was distraction, which he employed whenever he could. Sometimes it was like distracting an upset child who forgets why they were upset when something shiny is dangled before their eyes.
It always hurt him how Fanny mistreated their second daughter, Elizabeth, for the crime of being born a girl and not a boy. During her pregnancy, Fanny had told one and all her second babe would be a boy.
From the day Lizzy was born, her mother accused her of being wilful and disobedient for defying her and being born a girl.
There were three more girls after Lizzy?Mary, Kitty, and Lydia.
In Fanny’s mind, because she was not the heir she expected, Elizabeth had defied her and was the cause for her failure to produce an heir.
Bennet did what he could to protect his second daughter from her mother’s vitriol.
He would send her to his wife’s brother Edward and his wife Maddie in London as often as he could.
At first Fanny was happy the daughter she disliked was absent, until Jane complained, in what seemed an innocent remark at the time, that she felt excluded.
Thereafter, each time Elizabeth was allowed to visit the Gardiners, Jane had to be included as well.
Elizabeth never minded—she loved her older sister and was her best friend.
It seemed Jane would try to intercede on her sister’s behalf when their mother was being particularly harsh, but it always seemed to have the opposite effect of what Jane intended.
Bennet wished he had the strength to stand up to his wife, but the simple fact was he did not have it in him.
It was the reason he had not told her about the ridiculous letter he had received from his cousin, William Collins, the heir presumptive of Longbourn, beneficiary of the entail on the estate.
Bennet pulled the letter out and read it to amuse himself again.
6 August 1810
My dear Cousin Bennet,
The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured father always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach; but for some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with anyone with whom it had always pleased him to be at variance.
My mind, however, is now made up on the subject, for having received ordination at Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect towards her ladyship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are instituted by the Church of England.
As a clergyman, moreover, I feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds I flatter myself that my present overtures are highly commendable, and that the circumstance of my being next in the entail of Longbourn estate will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject the offered olive-branch.
I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologise for it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends—but of this more when I see you in person.
If you should have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Monday, November fifth, by four o’clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday sennight following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady Catherine is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a Sunday, provided that some other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day.
I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and daughters, your well-wisher, cousin, and friend,
William Collins
Rector, Hunsford Parish
Each time Bennet reread the missive it cheered him up thinking about how he would be able to observe the ridiculous man for himself in little more than a month.
He had never seen such a mixture of servile, obsequious pomposity.
The man had somehow achieved ordination, yet from his veneration of his patroness he seemed he held her above God Almighty.
Bennet knew he would have to tell his wife before the man showed up, as he had responded to his letter, inviting him to visit so he could see the man for himself. He would tell her a day or two beforehand, telling her the letter had only just arrived as it had been misdirected.
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‘Why on earth did I agree to join the Bingleys?’ Darcy asked himself for the tenth time since departing London with Miss Bingley and the Hursts in his coach with him. He had received an express from his friend begging him to convey his sisters and brother to the estate.
Darcy was sure Miss Bingley had convinced her brother not to collect her and the Hursts so she could ride with him.
Now he had to endure her inane chatter and the overpowering scent she used for upwards of three hours.
He thanked God Carstens, his valet, was riding Zeus besides the carriage in case the harpy got too much for him.
He had much to worry about; he had some weeks ago rescued Giana from the clutches of that libertine George Wickham and his sister was still very fragile.
His Aunt Elaine, the Countess of Matlock had convinced him to go to Netherfield, saying she and her daughter Tiffany, less than two years older than his sister, would help her to recover.
The last thing Darcy wanted was to be stuck anywhere within the reach of the cloying Miss Bingley.
After Miss Bingley attempted to rest her knee against his, Darcy rapped on the ceiling and the coach halted. He did not wait for a footman; he opened the door and leapt out of the cabin without assistance.
“Carstens,” he gave his valet a pointed look. The valet was sure Miss Bingley had been overfamiliar—again. “I find I am in the mood for exercise; please change places with me.” It was the matter of a moment for the valet to dismount. Zeus nickered as his master took the reins from Carstens.
There was no missing the pinched look on Miss Bingley’s face when the object of her obsession—well his fortune, his estate, and his town house were what she craved—was replaced by his manservant.