Chapter 1
It had been a little more than two years since Mrs. Bennet’s demise, and life had indeed gone on.
Unfortunately, Bennet’s resolve to assert himself over his younger daughters did not last long, and the two youngest, now seventeen and fifteen, were as badly behaved and vulgar as they had ever been, with nothing but redcoats on their minds.
Jane and Elizabeth had tried to curb Lydia, knowing full well success with her meant Kitty would fall in line as well, but without their father’s support, nothing changed.
The one change Bennet had been able to make was with Mary.
At Elizabeth’s suggestion, he had started to pay her attention and work with her.
She had blossomed under his direction, revealing he had three intelligent daughters.
It had been almost two years since Fordyce’s sermons had been opened or any moralistic quote had crossed Mary’s lips.
Netherfield Park had been let at last in September, after standing empty for some years.
The new tenant was the wealthy son of a tradesman who was following his late father’s charge to ascend to the ranks of the gentry.
His name was Mr. Charles Bingley. He was accompanied by his two sisters, Miss Caroline Bingley, who would act as his hostess, and Mrs. Louisa Hurst, his older sister.
Louisa’s husband, Mr. Harold Hurst, and Bingley’s friend, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, made up the balance of the Netherfield Park party.
The day the Bingley party arrived to take up residence, there was a quarterly assembly in Meryton. Mr. Darcy was proud, aloof, and haughty the whole night, refusing to be introduced to any of the locals; then, he insulted Elizabeth Bennet within her hearing.
His friend had tried to convince the taciturn man to dance and suggested Elizabeth as a partner.
She was sitting out a set to allow others their chance to dance.
Mr. Darcy barely looked at her and pronounced she was ‘not handsome enough to tempt’ him and added that ‘he would not give consequence to women slighted by others.’ From that instant, the name Darcy had been disliked by all in the neighbourhood.
After that, Elizabeth Bennet hated the very sight of Mr. Bingley’s friend, even before Mr. Wickham, a handsome and charming gentleman of the Derbyshire Militia, shared his tale of the perfidy of Mr. Darcy.
The tale Mr. Wickham’s related to her in September, just after Darcy’s insult at the assembly, reinforced her already negative opinion of Mr. Darcy.
Charlotte had pointed out the impropriety of the lieutenant’s disclosures to Elizabeth after such a short acquaintance, and the many contradictions and inconsistencies in his tale of woe, but Elizabeth was not open to logic.
She accepted his story as the truth, as it fit the narrative in her mind about the dastardly Mr. Darcy.
How could it not be so, with such a pleasant countenance as Mr. Wickham had?
The Netherfield party attended a few events in the neighbourhood, the last one at Lucas Lodge where Elizabeth had noticed Mr. Darcy always stood near her or stared at her.
She was certain he looked to find fault, while Charlotte believed her friend was wrong about the reason Mr. Darcy always looked at her.
That night Elizabeth refused to dance with the proud, disagreeable man.
It was also the night she noticed, for some unfathomable reason, Miss Bingley took a decidedly negative view of her and would use any opportunity she had to denigrate the second Bennet daughter.
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The only thing of interest besides the Netherfield party and all the Redcoats was the receipt of a most interesting letter from the heir presumptive of Longbourn, Mr. William Collins. Bennet called Elizabeth into his study and read it to her:
8 October 1810
Hunsford Parsonage
Near Rosings Park, Westerham, Kent
Dear Sir,
I offer my condolences on the passing of your esteemed wife. I still suffer from the loss of my dear parents.
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.
For some time, however, 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.
“Who writes in such a fashion; he must be insensible!” Elizabeth opined. Her father nodded, much diverted by the letter.
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.
“Olive branch! Papa, please tell me this man does not think he is to marry one of us!” Elizabeth was horrified at the thought.
“I will not allow that, I promise you, Lizzy,” Bennet soothed his daughter.
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 hereafter.
If you should have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Thursday 25 October, by four o'clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Friday 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 daughters, your well-wisher and friend,
William Collins, Reverend by the beneficence of Lady Catherine de Bourgh
“Papa, I know you want to laugh at him, but please promise you will protect us and not leave him alone with us!” Elizabeth sought reassurance.
“I will have my sport, but he will not be allowed to be alone with any of you, and I will send him to Mr. Dudley as much as I am able. I am sure he will enjoy the company of a fellow parson,” Bennet averred.
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The Monday after receipt of Mr. Collins’ letter, Jane, who had been asked to dance twice at the assembly and then again at Lucas Lodge by the amiable but puppy-like Mr. Bingley, had been invited to have dinner with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. Elizabeth had dubbed them ‘the supercilious sisters’ because they thought themselves superior to all in neighbourhood, conveniently forgetting they were from trade.
The carriage horses were being used on the farm.
Jane almost cancelled due to the oncoming storm, but instead she rode Nelly to Netherfield, hoping to arrive before the rain.
She had been caught in a prodigious downpour and had taken ill; a note advising them of her condition had been sent to Longbourn that night.
The next morning, Elizabeth walked the three miles to Netherfield Park, with no care for how much mud was on her petticoats; all she wanted was to make sure her Jane was well. Since their mother’s death, all of them, including Lydia, were worried when any of them succumbed to illness.
To her chagrin, when she arrived at Netherfield, the first person she saw was the proud, disagreeable Mr. Darcy. “Please show me to my sister,” Elizabeth asked curtly, and without preamble.
“Follow me, please,” Mr. Darcy set off towards the manor house.
Unfortunately, on hearing voices from the breakfast parlour, Elizabeth could not be so rude as to ignore Mr. Bingley and his sisters, entering the parlour to greet them quickly.
“Welcome, Miss Elizabeth,” the ever-affable Mr. Bingley greeted Elizabeth.
“I apologise if I am disturbing your meal; I am merely here to check on my sister. Ever since our mother passed away, we are extremely careful when any of us fall ill,” Elizabeth explained.
As much as she wanted to, even Miss Bingley could not make a caustic comment at that. Mr. Darcy, having lost both his parents, easily understood the sentiments expressed. The housekeeper was summoned, and Elizabeth Bennet was shown to her sister’s room.
As soon as she was out of the breakfast parlour, Miss Bingley gave full vent to her vitriol against Miss Elizabeth, snickering with her sister about Miss Eliza’s petticoats. “You would not allow your sister to walk three miles to attend Miss Bennet, would you Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley cooed.
“No, I would not allow her to walk that distance to visit Miss Bennet,” Darcy replied leaving the woman confused as to his meaning.
“I am sure her eyes do not look so fine to you any longer,” Miss Bingley gave her sister a conspiratorial look.
“Actually, they showed an uncommon brightness from the exercise, and the sisterly affection she displayed is to be commended. It is a pity more ladies do not do such for others without guile,” Darcy replied.
As they usually did, Miss Bingley’s caustic comments ended up hurting none but herself.
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