The Bennet Uncle (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Prologue

Dressed in an exquisite riding habit, Jane Bennet entered the Netherfield parlour in search of her sister.

“Lizzy,” she called rather loudly, suspecting her of being in the library.

Indeed, after only a few moments, Elizabeth appeared in the parlour doorway, a book in her hand.

She observed Jane with loving admiration.

With her natural beauty heightened by the wind, she looked like a Greek goddess descended to greet her worshippers.

Diana, perhaps, though only if Diana had been dressed in a dark green tailored jacket with a long skirt to match and a shirt which, together with the hat, imitated the gentlemen’s fashion.

Her costume was completed with low-heeled boots, matching gloves, and an elegant riding crop, which she still held in her left hand.

“I must confess I could ride all day long,” she declared, looking out of the window towards the horse waiting to continue the afternoon ride. Then she looked around. “Where is he? Do you know what he wants from us?”

Elizabeth shook her head. Yet whatever he wanted, they would gladly do because he had turned their lives upside down, but in such a happy way.

On that glorious summer day, through the open doors and windows, they heard a carriage arriving at the main entrance but paid it little attention. The parlour windows looked over the rose garden rather than the drive, and they supposed the newcomer to be Thomas.

Elizabeth still entered the parlour with a slight uneasiness.

Despite her decision to forget the past, it still reminded her with obstinacy of those few days spent at Netherfield when Jane had fallen ill, and she herself had been obliged to remain there to nurse her sister.

If at first Mr Darcy had shown himself somewhat more agreeable, towards the end of their stay, he had grown cold and disagreeable, and the presence of Mr Bingley’s sisters had only worsened matters.

They could not endure Elizabeth, and their efforts to appear amiable towards Jane were nothing more than a facade.

She remembered his silhouette by the window, his icy eyes measuring her with such indifference that fury had risen within her like a wave upon the sea.

To look in such a manner at someone with whom one had already spent several days had seemed singularly impolite.

She had eventually come to understand that it was merely his way of showing her how little importance she possessed in his eyes.

Many months had passed since that day, and three since her visit to Kent.

Though her anger had subsided, it had left behind a sensation bordering upon defeat, and for so spirited a woman, that was difficult to endure.

But in that elegant room, they were awaiting the arrival of a dear face, and the joy of the present overcame the memories of former days.

She sank into an armchair when a maid entered the room. It was quite unusual for Thomas to be announced when, to their perplexity, two other names were spoken instead of his.

“Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy, for the young ladies.”

The astonishment was so great that Elizabeth sprang from her seat, almost frightened, arranging her gown only a moment before their entrance. She looked at Jane, who appeared equally startled. They had never expected to see those two gentlemen again.

As the two men entered the room, Elizabeth stood still, looking at Jane, who, in an unconscious gesture, snapped the riding crop lightly against her leg.

Extreme consternation was written upon every countenance, but if Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with a trace of anger, Jane looked at Mr Bingley with evident interest. They bowed and greeted one another, and the ladies observed that the gentlemen appeared scarcely less affected by the meeting, which led them to believe that they too had been unaware of whom they would find in Netherfield’s parlour.

Elizabeth tried not to look at Darcy, but her eyes betrayed her and were immediately caught by his own.

They could hear the horses neighing outside and the servant attempting to calm them with gentle words.

Even distant voices drifted faintly across the grounds.

The Netherfield parlour remained engulfed in silence, longer than civility properly allowed, as none of them seemed entirely certain who ought to begin speaking in such a strange situation.

Past events crowded upon them all, from their first meeting to their last, together with the joys, the frustrations, and all that had remained unresolved between them.

Elizabeth could not imagine what had brought Mr Darcy there.

Her anger gradually softened; her thoughts turned towards the man who had orchestrated the meeting without their knowledge.

Thomas clearly took pleasure in directing the destinies of those around him, and she was forced to admit that this had been, in the end, a remarkably lenient revenge to offer his nieces in Netherfield’s parlour.