Chapter One
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a father with five daughters grown up must be in want of situations for them all.
Ironically, such concerns were beneath Mr Thomas Bennet.
His wife was concerned enough with the fate of the females in the family.
There was no need, in Bennet’s opinion, for both of them to suffer from anxiety.
Such was the way of gentlemen. Gentlemen often had the luxury of having all they required just by virtue of their existence.
Women with adequate dowries often experienced a similar lack of concern for the fates of others.
Thomas Bennet had never been overly worried about what would happen after his death. Why should he? It was not his affair.
His wife was worried, at least vocally, but not enough to make any financial sacrifices, and if Mrs Bennet was to have her lace, he would have his books and port.
It was Mrs Bennet who was responsible for the chances of their daughters, and by Jove, it seemed as if the woman, despite her fierce vocal rants, was actually against the girls, for she prevented their education and accomplishments, and drove men away.
She refused to accept that just because her husband had fallen for an ignorant but beautiful seventeen-year-old, did not mean that all men were looking for similar matches.
As Bennet took his seat at the breakfast table, his wife prattled away with four of their daughters, and he thought about the information he had received from his brother earlier this week by letter.
Mr Bennet had immediately written back to ask his brother-in-law not to speak of the matter to his sister, Jane, or Lizzy.
Gardiner had written back the following morning informing him that he would certainly not keep quiet, and that he would not support Thomas keeping the matter from his wife and daughters, who ought to benefit from Bennet’s new circumstances.
Gardiner would insist on informing Fanny, and probably Elizabeth and Jane if Thomas attempted to keep the entire sum for himself without promising specific dowries to his daughters and security to his wife.
Heaven forbid he enjoy his money and leave them with inheritances.
He might as well never have made the investment.
A wife and five daughters would have the lot spoken for in a matter of minutes.
The only way the sum would serve him–he surmised as his second daughter entered the breakfast room, her walking skirts at least three inches deep in dust–was to rid him of his daughters entirely.
If at least Jane was married, she could remove some of the burden of her sisters from him.
He might as well break the news to his family today–as distasteful as he found it–before Gardiner wrote to Mrs Bennet.
Elizabeth noticed her father’s odd demeanour as she joined her family at the breakfast table. He had been rather strange since reading a letter he received from Uncle Gardiner earlier in the week, followed by another two days later.
Elizabeth had pointedly asked if her aunt and the children were well several times in an attempt to encourage him to speak on the contents of the missive, which had obviously agitated him.
Mr Bennet had been particularly sharp all week.
Even to her, he had been unmerciful with his wit.
Elizabeth almost wondered if her father was having troubles with money.
At breakfast, Mrs Bennet was droning on about how she would tempt Mr Bingley’s party to dine at Longbourn on Michaelmas three days hence, and the dishes she would like to include to impress Mr Bingley, but were not in her budget.
Elizabeth knew her mother was hinting for Mr Bennet to offer her more money, though he was steadily ignoring her.
“Mr Bennet, wake up! You will be the death of me, I am sure!” Mrs Bennet wheedled. “How is Jane to marry this Mr Bingley without any dowry if you will not show her and the family to advantage?”
“Jane is not without a dowry.” Mr Bennet mumbled as he cut into his ham.
“Pish! One thousand pounds!” Mrs Bennet said disdainfully. “What sort of man would marry her for that? At the very least, this Mr Bingley must see that Jane has been raised to keep him well fed, and see to the awareness of others of his wealth and station by the table she keeps.”
“I had no desire to share this with anyone, least of all any of you,” Mr Bennet surveyed the table with distaste.
“But Gardiner has refused to keep it a secret, and so you may as well know that I invested some money with our brother a few years ago, and the investment has matured. As much as I dislike sharing my affairs with those–like all of you–who will tell everyone you know by dinner, you all might as well be aware that Jane has a dowry of ten thousand pounds.”
“Ten thousand! Of course we must tell everyone, you silly man, what good is ten thousand pounds if no one knows you have it!” Mrs Bennet exclaimed, rising from her chair in amazement. “Now, when everyone finds out how well dowered our girls are, they–”
“I did not say all of our girls, Mrs Bennet.” Mr Bennet’s voice was shockingly firm.
The table, which had erupted in girlish excitement, stilled instantly.
“You have always claimed that Jane is the most beautiful and the most likely to attract a husband. This is one matter in which you have my full agreement, and so in the interest of her attracting a wealthy suitor quickly, and because she is also the eldest and most deserving, she is to have a greater portion than the others. Jane, if this endeavour is fruitful, I expect you to help your sisters later if they require it.”
“Oh.” Mrs Bennet seemed uncertain, but then quickly convinced herself that Mr Bennet was absolutely correct, and why not?
Many families gave a much larger portion to their eldest girl.
Fanny herself only received five thousand.
Harriet, the elder of the two, who married a man from her father’s profession, inherited their father’s small fortune and her husband inherited his house and law practice, due to Edward’s not wishing to take up the law.
Edward received twice as much as Fanny, but Harriet’s portion, which was now her husband's property, was considerably larger than that of her younger sister or even her brother.
Mrs Bennet addressed her husband. “Well I do hope dear Lydia will have a generous portion as well. She is a beautiful, happy girl, Mr Bennet, like myself, if you recall. With a good dowry, she will certainly marry quickly.”
“Lydia will receive the dowry she deserves,” Mr Bennet answered darkly.
“As will they all. If I am not pleased by their behaviour or their matches, I will give them nothing beyond what they receive on your death. At this particular time, I am making no promises to any of our daughters except Jane. I believe I ought to have some time to enjoy part of my new fortune before I give it all away to my children, which I am certain I will do quickly enough just to be rid of them.”
“How much is there?” Mrs Bennet asked boldly. None of her daughters had the temerity to ask such a question.
“That is my business, but in the interest of having peace in my home and lessening your hysteria, you should know there is enough that you will receive an additional five thousand added to your widow’s portion.
It can be, like the rest of your dowry, be split amongst the girls upon your death, raising the amount they receive then to two thousand each.
” Mr Bennet paused. “If they have pleased us, that is. But when I pass, you will have another two hundred a year at your disposal, which should settle your fears. I hope that will quiet you a bit, Mrs Bennet.”
“Since when have any of us had to please you in order to receive our dowry?” Elizabeth asked.
“I am not even certain that my youngest sisters have been educated for such measures, and that is no fault of their own. I find it strange that we were not treated as burdens until you obtained more money, and never before you actually had it.”
“Lizzy,” hissed Jane in concern. Elizabeth was sailing perilously close to the sun, turning her impertinence upon her parents, but Elizabeth bristled at her father’s mocking behaviour.
“Do not think that because I enjoy your company, Lizzy, that you will do better than your sisters,” Mr Bennet drawled. “You are clever, but as your mother is fond of saying, I do not see how you are any more deserving than the others.”
Lydia and Kitty jeered as Elizabeth’s face flamed. “I do not seek more than my share, that is, if I am deemed worthy of any share at all. My dowry is not my business until I marry, that is if it even exists at all.”
“I will take comfort in Philippians chapter four, verse nineteen. And God will meet all of your needs according to the riches in his glory of Christ Jesus.” Mary sermonised.
“Well, if you can take so much comfort in sermons, Mary Bennet, it will not hurt you if Lydia’s portion is larger than yours.” Mrs Bennet dismissed Mary with a shake of her head.
“Now Jane, let us take the carriage to visit your Aunt Phillips, and perhaps Mrs Long and Lady Lucas. They will do the rest for us once they know,” Mrs Bennet said to Jane, who wiped her mouth delicately with her napkin and rose with her mother obediently.
“And Mr Bennet.” Mrs Bennet turned before she left the room.
“Mrs Douglas from the market sent me a note that she is to receive from town a barrel of oysters that would go very well wrapped in bacon and broiled on Michaelmas, and artichokes for soup as well. I will not hear of any objections to the expense! Now, off to load your guns, sir, or call for the gamekeeper, for I require a haunch of venison as well. The rest of you may remain here at home today.”
When did the rest of us become such impositions? Elizabeth wondered as Jane followed their mother from the room. One might think that a windfall from an investment would make one’s daughters less of a burden.