Speak No Evil （First Person）
I thank you, dear reader, for the inestimable privilege of reading my humble narrative, and I flatter myself that you may find it informative and perhaps even entertaining.
Before I begin, I must state my reason for taking up the quill for this little missive.
Firstly, I do this to record the story exactly as I observed it; having been placed in the extremely fortuitous position of witnessing the events firsthand, I flatter myself that my rendition should be able to enlighten and inform you, and perhaps a lesson in morality may be ascertained such as to improve the moral fibre of any who choose to partake of my narrative.
Secondly, I have been charged both by my patroness, the incomparable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and my cleverest of cousins, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, to leave no detail unexpanded, and to leave no doubt as to the veracity and completeness of the enclosed tale.
Thirdly, I flatter myself that one day, perhaps sooner rather than later, I may have my own children to whom such a tale of adventure and rectitude may be of some minor interest. I hope you will indulge me in this matter.
As you may know, I am a humble clergyman, possessed of a very good living in the town of Hunsford in Kent, a mere half mile from the incomparable estate of Rosings, under the direction of my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
In addition to this beneficence, I am also, through no extraordinary merit of my own, the heir to the estate of Longbourn in Hertfordshire.
This lovely estate, with an income of two thousand per annum, is currently under the direction of my estimable cousin, Mr Thomas Bennet.
My esteemed patroness is not one to hold entails as a worthy way to dispose of property, but neither is she one who can change what generations past have done.
When she learned that I was heir to an estate with five daughters, she naturally applied her sense of justice and generosity to suggest a likely remedy.
Since all the ladies were unmarried, and she clearly believes any clergyman in her own living should naturally be in want of a wife, she suggested the obvious solution.
Under direct recommendation, I journeyed to Hertfordshire, intending to offer an olive branch in the form of matrimony to one of the ladies, who I had been reliably informed were amiable.
It seemed likely that of five daughters, at least one should be, through beauty, character, and disposition, of suitable temperament and deportment to become mistress of my parsonage, and after many years of waiting, mistress of her childhood home.
Upon my arrival, I found the ladies indeed all possessed of the type of beauty that any man would aspire to.
I naturally, in deference to the preferred order of things, inclined myself towards the eldest, Miss Jane Bennet, as was her right and privilege, as has been instructed into my humble understanding for many years.
However, shortly after arrival, Mrs Bennet informed me that Miss Bennet was likely soon to be engaged, and therefore unlikely to be a proper matrimonial object for myself.
Being both humble and cognisant of the respect and deference due the lady of the house and mother to the cousins, I agreed to abide by her will.
The next in both age and beauty, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, was unfortunately of the affliction of sightlessness.
For a man of my station, to reject a wife because of this condition may seem to lack Christian charity, but I was also concerned about whether she would be able to perform the duties of a clergyman’s wife, which frequently included visiting parishioners, assisting with the poor, and such other things as from time to time my noble patroness might suggest as suitable duties.
I might add, based on the insistence on frankness that is the hallmark of my patroness, that I also found Miss Elizabeth frighteningly impertinent, and at the very least, three or four times as clever as I am.
Not being a man to overstate my accomplishments, and while admitting a true cousinly respect for Miss Elizabeth, I felt no need to spend every day of my life shackled to someone who would talk circles around me even without the use of her eyes.
In the interest of fairness, I must concede that that previous thought was unworthy of me, and uncharitable towards my cousin.
I in fact endeavoured to remove such unworthy verbiage from this missive, but when my cousin became aware of the language, she laughed until she cried, and insisted that should I remove it from my final clean copy, she would…
well, it is best not to elaborate too much on her threat.
As it was, I came to the third in line. Much to my liking, I found a woman of plain and unassuming beauty, not overly forward or pretentious, diligent and thoughtful in her reading of religious texts, and of no mean accomplishment on the pianoforte.
Thus, my attention turned towards Miss Mary Bennet, and much to my delight, the young lady did not appear displeased.
My eldest cousin, Miss Bennet, was taken ill one night during a visit to friends at a nearby estate, Netherfield Park.
She was obliged to stay overnight and returned in her father’s carriage the next day.
Miss Bennet thought herself to have recovered most of her equilibrium, but she had not recovered quite as well as she maintained and was thus obliged to spend the next three days abed.
Upon her recovery, we were informed that the neighbour, one Mr Bingley, planned a ball at Netherfield a fortnight hence.
Having been thus apprised of a ball, and in possession of five daughters—at least four of whom still had the use of their vision—my cousins all determined it an absolute necessity to visit the shops in Meryton.
They must prepare for said entertainment through the acquisition of such female accoutrements as are deemed essential to the proper operation and enjoyment of a ball.
While I felt a certain amount of guilt about abandoning their father, Mr Bennet, the gentleman was effusive in his forgiveness.
He assured me he would prefer I escort his daughters into the local village of Meryton, and thus hither we journeyed.
As was my extreme privilege, Miss Mary was upon my arm the entire mile into the village, and our conversation was all that could be hoped.
We had a very liberal discussion regarding Fordyce’s sermons and other religious texts of which she could claim much more than average knowledge—or even my knowledge in some cases.
Much to my delight, she had several very practical and thoughtful questions about the parsonage, its position with respect to Rosings, how often we attended Rosings for tea or supper, the disposition of my gardens, the schedule of worship, the number of parishioners, and…
well, suffice it to say the mile disappeared in a trice.
The eldest Miss Bennet, whilst still looking a bit peaked but insisting on her good health, moved rather slowly.
Since she assisted her next younger sister, Miss Elizabeth—who, as I previously mentioned and lamented, was absent the use of her visual facilities—we all found the pace appropriate and satisfactory.
Upon entering the village, my two younger cousins, Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia, espied some militia officers with whom they were acquainted.
I had been told the young girls were rather loud and vulgar, but they seldom were in the presence of Miss Elizabeth, who seemed to exert a calming influence on them.
They were everything demure and polite as they crossed the street to meet and give solicitations to a pair of militia officers, Lieutenants Denny and Sanderson.
After appropriate greetings were exchanged, the aforementioned officers set out to introduce a new acquaintance to the area, one Mr George Wickham, who, it transpired, was to join the militia henceforth.
He was a very gentlemanly looking man, possessed of what my younger cousins assured me was the most handsome mien, and who certainly possessed good manners and condescension in abundance.
He chatted quite happily with the group, was in fact surprisingly quite enamoured with my cousin Miss Elizabeth, and talked to her nearly to the exclusion of everybody else.
She, being naturally of a social disposition, was quite disposed to talk to the gentleman in her turn for quite some minutes.
I watched the man curiously, trying to imagine what his particular interest might be, when a pair of horses approached.
All in the group turned to notice the riders, and I had the supreme pleasure of being introduced to Mr Bingley by my cousin Miss Mary.
Mr Bingley, it transpired, was the potential intended for the eldest Miss Bennet.
Another man accompanied him, and whilst I was unacquainted with the gentleman at the time, I later learned he was Mr Darcy, nephew of my patroness.
I would later introduce myself properly to the great man and hope he would not look upon me as lacking in manners for not having made myself known to him sooner.