A Most Favourable Match (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations)

Prologue

“The morning post has arrived, Ma’am,” Mrs Hill announced cheerfully as she bustled into the parlour at Longbourn with several envelopes on a tray.

The clocks had just struck eleven, and Mrs Bennet was lying languidly on the sofa, fanning herself with a brisé fan. Four of her five daughters sat on chairs or window seats about the room, and her husband in a comfortable leather chair by the mantelpiece, book in one hand and teacup in the other.

“They are probably just business letters for Mr Bennet, Hill,” said the mistress of the house, barely glancing at the housekeeper before waving towards Mr Bennet.

“You might as well give all of them straight to him. It is not as though anyone writes to me nowadays, regardless of the obligations or politeness that blood or friendship ought to demand. How ill I do feel in this heat!”

“Aunt Gardiner wrote to you only on Tuesday,” Elizabeth Bennet reminded her mother with a hint of a smile as her father sighed, put down his book and beckoned to the housekeeper. “Don’t you remember, Mother?”

“Yes, yes, but that was such a short letter that I cannot count it,” Mrs Bennet retorted crossly.

“There was a letter from one of your old school friends in the north this week, too,” Elizabeth added.

“Yes, I remember that letter,” her middle sister Mary confirmed, always ready to recite her full knowledge of any question in detail, if listeners allowed. “Mrs Jenkins wrote a great deal, I recall. You read much of it to me, Mother. Your friend had been through many travails —”

“Mrs Jenkins wrote a great deal indeed, and none of it worth the writing. There is only so much I wish to know of Mr Jenkins’ gout,” their mother snapped, before laying back again on the cushions with a martyred sigh.

“Oh, do not bother me so when I am ill, Lizzy. Or you, Mary. None of you understand how I suffer in the summer.”

From her place slouched by the garden window, Lydia Bennet raised her head.

Though just fifteen and the youngest daughter of the house, she looked quite as bored and listless as her mother.

“You are right, Mama — it is far too hot. I do wish that Father would take us all to Brighton for the summer. If only we could bathe in the sea, we should be far more comfortable. Oh, I should like it of all things!”

“Yes, we should all love some sea bathing,” Kitty chimed in fretfully. Though a year and a half Lydia’s senior, she was very often led by her younger sister’s stronger inclinations and voice. “Do say that we might, Father.”

“No to Brighton and no to sea bathing,” Mr Bennet said crisply, his expression and tone amused but implacable.

“As I told you last time, Lydia, there is a perfectly serviceable bathtub here at Longbourn. If you really are determined to soak yourself out of doors, you might ask Mr Hill for the use of the horse trough, provided that it does not inconvenience the animals, of course.”

This absurd suggestion was met with a chorus of objections from his wife and younger daughters, which ended only when Hill spoke again. “One of the letters is from London, Ma’am, and in Miss Bennet’s hand,” she said, holding out her tray and beginning to turn back to her mistress.

As quick as a flash, and regardless of her previous languor and alleged heat-sickness, Mrs Bennet was on her feet and snatching up the letter from her eldest daughter.

“Dear Jane has written!” she exclaimed delightedly.

“Did I not tell you yesterday that she would write soon, Lizzy? You told me I should expect nothing for a week given all the entertainments my dear brother and sister have so kindly arranged. Jane is a most dutiful daughter, however. I knew she would find time to write to her family.”

Elizabeth only smiled, knowing that her mother had said no such thing, but willing to indulge her present whim for short-term peace. In their conversation yesterday, Mrs Bennet had certainly underlined Jane’s dutiful nature, but more as a contrast to Elizabeth’s less tractable temperament.

Jane and Elizabeth had both spent the first part of the summer in London with their aunt and uncle, Mr and Mrs Gardiner.

As well as helping to amuse and care for the Gardiners’ three young children, the Bennet sisters had enjoyed a lively round of social events on the fringes of the London Season, where their relatives were able to introduce them to several hostesses of their acquaintance.

After a month of such social gaiety, however, Elizabeth was bored, tired, and ready to return home. While grateful to her aunt and uncle, she was generally unimpressed with London society more than any other, and longed again for the clean air and country walks of Hertfordshire.

Left to herself, Jane would likely have come home with her sister. However, being the favourite of the Gardiner children, and following entreaties from Mrs Bennet that her two eldest daughters should take their place in London society as long as possible, she had agreed to stay the whole of July.

Breaking the seal on the letter and dropping back to the sofa, Mrs Bennet scanned the letter avidly, smiling and nodding with each line she read.

“Last Friday, Jane and Mrs Gardiner attended Lady Morgan’s ball.

Oooh, Miss Lewis, the mining heiress, was there with her brother.

Lord and Lady Morgan ‘very friendly and hospitable’…

Now, you must listen to this part, Mr Bennet.

’The Earl of Grantchester was most attentive’, Jane says — did you hear that, Mr Bennet? Most attentive. An earl!”

Mr Bennet sighed and looked over the top of his silver-rimmed spectacles with irreverently twinkling eyes. “Yes, my dear. The Earl of Grantchester. No doubt he knew how gratified Jane’s mother would be by his attentiveness, and pleasing you was his sole aim at the Morgan ball.”

Elizabeth laughed, briefly drawing ire from her mother that might otherwise have fallen on Mr Bennet for his facetious remark.

“I don’t know what you have to laugh at, Lizzy.

You ought to be in London too, dancing with earls and marquesses and rich mining heirs, trying to catch a good husband.

Instead, you insist on coming back here to read books and go galumphing across the fields.

Anyone would think you had a grand dowry, the way you carry on. Instead of which, Mr Collins may —”

“— Mr Collins may turn us all out without a penny as soon as Father is cold in his grave,” chanted Lydia and Kitty, completing the next line of Mrs Bennet’s usual complaints about the terms of the entail on the Longbourn estate, which would so inevitably and disastrously keep it in the male line.

“How edifying, Mrs Bennet,” commented Mr Bennet with a satisfied sigh.

“Thanks to your years of instruction, even our youngest daughters are perfectly aware that in the absence of a son, the entail will eventually pass Longbourn in its entirety to my second cousin. Still, I am in good health and urge yourself not to trouble yourself unduly over my imminent demise quite yet.”

“Yes, we all know we have no expectations, Mother,” Lydia said impatiently. “You need not go on about it again, just because Lizzy doesn’t appreciate London society. You ought to send me to London instead, and I shall dance with all the rich men you please.”

“And I,” Kitty piped up.

“I know you would, my ducks, if your father would only allow it…”

“No London and no rich men until you have attained either greater age or greater sense,” Mr Bennet quickly interjected, ruling out any possibility of the sympathy sought by his wife. “That goes for both of you, Lydia and Kitty.”

“I don’t know why anyone would want to go to London, except perhaps to visit the bigger libraries,” remarked Mary in rather superior tones, much to the disgust of the two youngest girls. “Balls are foolish events in my opinion, and given far too much importance in the lives of the young.”

“What else does Jane say, Mother?” Elizabeth pressed, choosing not to answer her mother’s familiar personal accusations and keen to preserve family harmony if she could.

“Was Lord Grantchester’s friend Lord Keeble at the ball, too?

They are both very amiable gentlemen and showed us great courtesy in London this summer. ”

Mrs Bennet turned over the page and gave a little scream that made Elizabeth and Mary turn their heads sharply and Lydia and Kitty jump from their seats. Even Mr Bennet looked genuinely concerned for a moment.

“What is it?” Elizabeth asked, moving to sit beside her mother. “May I see?”

“It is wonderful!” answered Mrs Bennet, her fingers trembling but her eyes glowing as she held the letter before her face. “Oh, how often I have dreamed of such a thing. Jane is to be married!”

“Married?!” Elizabeth exclaimed, frowning. Nothing that had passed earlier in the summer could have allowed her to foresee such a turn. “Married to whom?”

“Oh, just listen to this, Lizzy. ‘After the Morgan ball, Lord Grantchester was so kind as to honour me with his addresses. I have accepted him, and he will write to Father straight away to request his blessing, although we do not plan to marry until next summer.’ There! What do you say to that?”

“It is a surprise, but Lord Grantchester is a good man,” Elizabeth said slowly, trying to gather her disparate thoughts. “I did not see that he was thinking along such lines while I was there. I thought him only a good-hearted man who appreciated Jane’s pleasant company and graceful dancing.”

“Jane is so very beautiful and such a sweet girl besides. How could any man not wish to marry her, earl or not?” Mrs Bennet asked herself and the room in general. “Just think, Mr Bennet, a countess… Jane is to be a countess! Can you believe it?”