By Jane Austen & Kaliar Trilt
This is a project I started for two reasons. One: I love Pride and Prejudice. Two: I tend to be crap at sticking with a story. I have about 4 notebooks of drabbles and unfinished fanfiction in various fandoms at this point. I feel that this type of story where I am adding and changing elements from an already established text, I can find the drive to finish. And, by God, I will if I have to keep whittling at it for the next 5 years.
For anyone embarking on this journey with me, pairings will be fem-Darcy/Elizabeth and Jane/Caroline. I'm attempting to add or change at least 30-40% of the original text in each chapter. Chapters in the original P&P are short, so you can expect at least 3-5 chapters per posting. I won't at this time promise a publication schedule, but I will try to get an update to you at least once a month.
Feel free to ask any questions or shoot me any comments. Would be happy to hear from you. Oh and if you are interested in a finished P&P femslash, check out Gay Pride and Prejudice. It's amazing. Trying not to re-read it at this point because I don't want it to sway my vision of this piece too much!
Note: 11/23. It was brought to my attention that the lack of backstory and some missed pro-noun changes caused some confusion over if Darcy was male, female, or something in between. This week I went through the first 5 chapters and made some edits and change to fix this issue. Sorry for any confusion for the people who read the first draft.
For the people who would like to review the changes; The majority of the changes are in the first three chapters. If you don't want to re-read to see the changes, I'll summarize any changes in the beginning of the next new chapter.
Chapter 1
It was a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. Time, political events, and societal pressure has re-crafted that universal truth. At the current social climate of this particular tale, it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man or woman in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a husband or wife.
However little known the feelings or views of such a person may have on their first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that they are considered the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters until a preference is made for the same sex. At which point match making mama's regroup and turn possession of the young man or woman to their other sons or daughters.
"My dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to him one day, "have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?"
Mr. Bennet replied that he had not. It was an instinctual reply. If Mrs. Bennett asked him if he desired sugar in his tea or a first edition of the Holy Bible he would have answered with the same response. "No, dear."
"But it is," returned she; "for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she told me all about it."
Mr. Bennet made no answer. Instead he buried his nose further into his rather thick book.
"Do you not want to know who has taken it?" cried his wife impatiently.
Mr. Bennett rolled his brown eyes. Why oh why had he chosen a wife? Surely a husband would have nagged him far less. Would have taken his poor nerves into consideration. "You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it."
This was invitation enough. Mrs. Bennett smiled, patted down her upswept brown hair, and began with relish. "Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is taken by a young man of large fortune from the north of England; that he came down on Monday in a chaise and four to see the place, and was so much delighted with it, that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he is to take possession before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to be in the house by the end of next week."
"What is his name?" Mr. Bennet looked up from his book. He watched impassively as his wife vibrated with glee.
"Bingley."
"Is he married or single?" God help them all if he was single. There would be no peace in his small estate until the lad went running for London or professed a love for kilts.
"Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!"
Mr. Bennet sighed. He lowered his book. "How so? How can it affect them?"
"My dear Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "how can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them."
"Is that his design in settling here? To choose a young lady to wed?"
"Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he may fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon as he comes." Mrs. Bennet reached for her husband's book. Mr. Bennet yanked it out of reach and placed it in his lap.
"I see no occasion for that. How should we know his preference? How tiring it would be to make his acquaintance if he has not the slightest inclination to marry any of our girls. What is the use of visiting him if he prefers men? You and the girls may go, or you may send them by themselves, which perhaps will be still better, for as you are as handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley may like you the best of the party." Mr. Bennet lip curled upward at the thought. How grand that would be. Fanny remarried. That would leave him open to pursuing a less vexing groom.
"My dear, you flatter me." Fanny said. She enthusiastically paced around the dining room her skirts swooshing around her. "I certainly have had my share of beauty, but I do not pretend to be anything extraordinary now. When a woman has five grown-up daughters, she ought to give over thinking of her own beauty."
Mr. Bennet suppressed a snort. "Were not you gazing into a mirror for nigh 2 candle marks this morning?"
"Mr. Bennet!" Mrs. Bennet sniffed. "Even woman with 5 daughters ought to be well put together. After all you can never be sure when a handsome gentleman will call."
Mr. Bennet looked up from his book. He turned a page. "You don't see me primping."
"Maybe you should, my dear. You must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley when he comes into the neighborhood." Mrs. Bennet turned to study her husband. Wild grey hair. Wrinkled coat and pants. Ink stained hands. The man looked a mess. Not at all like the gentleman a young Fanny dreamed of wedding. More like a crazy man who had wandered into her home and helped himself to her tea. And then wandered out again to find a young man to ogle. Mrs. Bennet sighed. The lord led her in a frightfully disappointing path.
"It is more than I engage for, I assure you."
"But consider your daughters. You must attend him. Our girls cannot afford for us to assume that every young man entering the village prefers the harder lines of the male form." She huffed when she spied her husband's glazed eyes. Mrs. Bennet pursed her lips at the image of gentlemen dandy who was more drawn to her wild, insane husband rather than her beautiful, accomplished girls.
Fanny Bennet began to fan herself. She swayed slightly before staggering to one of the worn wooden chairs. She clutched at the polished oak. Bingley preferring her husband! How had life come to this? Why had she never considered the fact that there was a chance that the few men entering the neighborhood might not be for her girls?
The young Fanny had not cared a wit that the sole heir to the British crown eloped with his male paramour, and then demanded that the royal family and the entirety of the Ton accept the match. At the time she had just entered her second confinement. Her babe, restless even in the womb, had spent that last months of her pregnancy mercilessly kicking her, so she had not really listened when her own dear Mr. Bennet began talking of the crown prince threatening to defect to the America's.
By the time her second youngest was spitting up all over the dresses Fanny had meticulously sewn for her, Fanny was gleefully talking about all of the wealthy heirs and heiresses who were entering the marriage market with an eye on their own sex. Fannie had loved it! She had never had so much gossip to exchange with all of the fashionable ladies in the neighborhood. As Lady Lucas had said, why should they not pursue the spouse of their choice if they have the funds? And if it gave Fanny something to occupy her mind with, so much the better.
By the time Fanny was in her fourth confinement, society had altered to construct new social norms to govern the inclusion of same-sex matches. And as long as all parties accepted these norms, they were welcomed with open arms by almost all into every fashionable neighborhood.
Mrs. Bennet wanted to stomp her feet. Scream. Plead with god to ensure that Mr. Bingley gay or straight would be drawn to one of her girls and not her past-his-prime husband. "Mr. Bennet! You will leave Mr. Bingley to your girls."
Mr. Bennet rolled his brown eyes. "Really Mrs. Be—."
Fanny scowled. She dug her fingers into the chair back. Why would her husband never cooperate? Fanny would ensure that Mr. Bennet understood the importance of not seducing the young newcomer. "Only think what an establishment it would be for one of them. The wealth. The security. Surely Mr. Bennet you can understand the need for your daughters to wed well. The need to curtail your lustful urges to the right time and place."
Mr. Bennet clenched his fist around the book. "Madame, I have been curtailing my urges for the last twenty-five years. I have been discrete, have I not?"
Mrs. Bennet flushed. "You have. I—" Mrs. Bennet swallowed. "you're family appreciates it."
Mr. Bennet nodded. He arched an eyebrow. "Joy."
Fanny ignored Mr. Bennet's sardonic comment. The man could get testy when he contemplated the fact he had married Fanny a mere three years before same-sex marriage had become accepted. Mr. Bennet would need to push past his angst. Fanny did that all the time.
Fanny continued, "Sir William and Lady Lucas are determined to go, for their unwedded children, for in general, you know, they visit no newcomers. Indeed you must go, for it will be impossible for us to visit him if you do not." Oh how vexing it would be if Mr. Bingley preferred women, and the Lucas' queer daughter caught Mr. Bingley. Fanny paused, maybe she should encourage Lizzie to temporarily distract the girl…Fanny paled as she truly considered the match.
The Lucas girl had an even lower dowry than her girls. Such an equally unfortunate match between two females that could not provide for themselves could ruin the family in the eyes of all civilized high society.
Mr. Bennet began to collect the various papers that he had spread across the breakfast table. "You are over-scrupulous, surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will be very glad to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my hearty consent to his marrying whichever he chooses of the girls...even you; though I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy." Although he doubted Lizzie would accept any offer made to her by any man.
Mrs. Bennet ignored her husband until Lizzie was mentioned. He could not be serious! Lizzie would never attract a sophisticated gentleman. "I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the others; and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so good-humoured as Lydia. And I'm pretty sure she may be that way. You know like the Crown Prince. I saw her holding hands with Charlotte Lucas again. Mr. Bennet, you must talk to her about the impossibility of that match."
"This way. That way. I care not as long as Lizzie does not start giggling inanely or chasing red coats." Mr. Bennet shifted in the stiff wood chair. He old bones protested the movement.
"There is naught wrong with admiring a chiseled male form wrapped up in a red uniform." Mrs. Bennets eyes glazed.
"I cannot argue that," Mr. Bennet said. He smiled, god had he enjoyed chasing after his share of red coats in his day. Mr. Bennet returned the conversation to his daughter "And as for Miss Lucas, Sir William will never allow the match, and our Lizzie is too smart to elope."
Mrs. Bennet ignored her husband's reassuring words, "You are always giving her the preference. Worse, you never caution or guide her to carefully toe the line of what is acceptable for her since she began showing signs that she preferred women."
"I give Lizzie preference because they have none of them much to recommend them," replied he; "they are all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of quickness than her sisters." And Mr. Bennet would never speak it, but he felt a special connection with the daughter whose eyes strayed far too often on the fairer sex.
"Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such a way? You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion for my poor nerves. If you did, you would guide Lizzie away from the more masculine characteristics and mindsets she has developed since she began to show signs that she preferred women." Mrs. Bennet fanned herself with her hands. Her husband was not good for a calm disposition.
"You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these last twenty years at least." Mr. Bennet rose from his seat. He tucked the book and his papers in the crook of his arm. "And Lizzie is very aware she is not the heiress to a grand estate. She does not ask women to dance at assemblies, nor does she attempt to join me when visiting gentlemen."
"Ah, you do not know what I suffer."
"But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men of four thousand a year come into the neighbourhood."
"It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come, since you will not visit them." Mrs. Bennet felt lightheadedness sweep through her body. She fell bodily into the time worn chair. Images of her and her Lydia living in the hedgerows. Starving. Wearing rags. God to wear rags. How could they stand it? And Lizzie…she would probably take to living in the streets with irritating ease.
Mr. Bennet raised an eyebrow at his wife's drama. "Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I will visit them all. And I assure you, Mrs. Bennet, when Lizzie begins to step over her bounds I will speak to her."
Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character. Her mind was less difficult to develop. She was a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented, she fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her daughters married, preferably to wealthy gentlemen—although she wouldn't turn away wealthy heiresses; its solace was visiting and news.
Chapter 2
Mr. Bennet was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr. Bingley. He had always intended to visit him—after all Meryton society had so few examples of the superior male form…and, well, if he ever wanted to escape his wife's nerves, he would need to play his part in marrying off his daughters. Though to the last always assuring his wife that he should not go; and till the evening after the visit was paid she had no knowledge of it. It was then disclosed in the following manner. Observing his second daughter employed in trimming a hat, he suddenly addressed her with:
"I hope Mr. Bingley will like it, Lizzy." Mr. Bennet fought to keep a straight face. The hat was, in truth, a monstrosity. Uneven stiches, jagged cuts, and hideous fabric—his Lizzie was no hatter. Lizzie arched an eyebrow. Her lips quirked in a half smile.
"We are not in a way to know what Mr. Bingley likes," said her mother resentfully, "since we are not to visit." Mrs. Bennet shot Mr. Bennet a frown. She crossed her arms across her well-endowed chest.
"But you forget, mamma," said Elizabeth, "that we shall meet him at the assemblies, and that Mrs. Long promised to introduce him."
"I do not believe Mrs. Long will do any such thing. She has two nieces of her own. She is a selfish, hypocritical woman, and I have no opinion of her." Mrs. Bennet grabbed her younger daughter Mary's cross stitch. She began jabbing the needle through the cloth erratically. Mary watched in horror as her meticulous rendition of the last supper was marred with red trails of string. It looked a bloody mess. Mary sighed.
"No more have I," said Mr. Bennet; "and I am glad to find that you do not depend on her serving you." Mr. Bennet sat back and linked his ink stained hands. He waited for his words to register in his wife's woefully slow mind.
Mrs. Bennet deigned not to make any reply. She continued viciously weaving the red ribbon through Mary's creation. A hacking cough erupted in the silent room. Followed by another and another. Unable to contain herself, began scolding one of her daughters.
"Don't keep coughing so, Kitty, for Heaven's sake! Have a little compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces." Mrs. Bennet threw the cross stitch. It landed on the floor. Mary dove for it.
Kitty coughed again, a lacy pink handkerchief pressed against her lips. "Kitty has no discretion in her coughs," said her father; "she times them ill."
"I do not cough for my own amusement," replied Kitty fretfully from behind her kerchief. "When is your next ball to be, Lizzy?"
"To-morrow fortnight." Lizzie watched her sisters, mother and father closely. A small smile played at her lips. Her family was ridiculous at times, but she could not deny she loved these moments of insanity just fine from the privacy of her own home.
"Aye, so it is," cried her mother, "and Mrs. Long does not come back till the day before; so it will be impossible for her to introduce him, for she will not know him herself."
Mr. Bennet turned to his wife. He should have guessed that his wife would need more than veiled references to ascertain he had already made the mans acquaintance. "Then, my dear, you may have the advantage of your friend, and introduce Mr. Bingley to her."
Mrs. Bennet frowned. Why did her husband always tease so? He really had no compassion for her nerves. And did Kitty really need to continue coughing so? "Impossible, Mr. Bennet, impossible, when I am not acquainted with him myself; how can you be so teasing? And Kitty really! We know you are there! You can stop that incessant racket."
"But I can't—," Kitty began.
"I honour your circumspection." Mr. Bennet cut in. "A fortnight's acquaintance is certainly very little. One cannot know what a man really is by the end of a fortnight. But if we do not venture somebody else will; and after all, Mrs. Long and her nieces must stand their chance; and, therefore, as she will think it an act of kindness, if you decline the office, I will take it on myself."
The girls stared at their father. Mrs. Bennet said only, "Nonsense, nonsense! It would be improper."
"Mother is right, father," Mary said. She looked up from the bloody rendition of the last supper. "Proper society has rules that we all must follow. Without them we would be little more than rutting beasts."
"Mary!" Jane and Lizzie exclaimed. Lydia and Kitty began to titter. Mrs. Bennet was too caught in the horrifying vision of Charlotte Lucas wedding Mr. Bingley.
Mr. Bennet thought it best to ignore the slightly colorful interpretation of societal rules. "What can be the meaning of that emphatic exclamation?" cried he. "Do you consider the forms of introduction, and the stress that is laid on them, as nonsense? I cannot quite agree with you there. What say you, Mary? For you are a young lady of deep reflection, I know, and read great books and make extracts."
Mary wished to say something sensible, but too cut up in her last great remark knew not how.
"While Mary is adjusting her ideas," he continued, "let us return to Mr. Bingley."
"I am sick of Mr. Bingley," cried his wife. Mrs. Bennet threw herself out of her chair.
"I am sorry to hear that; but why did not you tell me that before? If I had known as much this morning I certainly would not have called on him. It is very unlucky; but as I have actually paid the visit, we cannot escape the acquaintance now." And why would he want to. The lad had been too cute for words. He may need to call on the lad again to bask in his young puppyish beauty.
The astonishment of the ladies was just what he wished and not at all what he wished; that of Mrs. Bennet perhaps surpassing the rest; Lizzie shrugged. Jane gazed at her sister imagining the beautiful young man. Lydia took the opportunity to steal the lace from a distracted Kitty's gown. Mary imagined another young fellow for her to perform for. Mrs. Bennet threw herself at her husband. Bennet huffed as her elbow drove into his stomach. Then she attacked him with her lips.
When she had finished attacking him, she began to declare that it was what she had expected all the while.
"How good it was in you, my dear Mr. Bennet! But I knew I should persuade you at last. I was sure you loved your girls too well to neglect such an acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am! and it is such a good joke, too, that you should have gone this morning and never said a word about it till now." Mary frowned. Her poor cross stich would have been far better off if his father had been as open and honest as the parson suggests.
"Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you choose," said Mr. Bennet; and, as he spoke, he left the room, fatigued with the raptures of his wife. God he needed to bury himself in a man, but since that wouldn't happen anytime soon a good book would have to do.
"What an excellent father you have, girls!" said she, when the door was shut. "I do not know how you will ever make him amends for his kindness; or me, either, for that matter." Although Mrs. Bennet, it would be far better if he didn't play so. "At our time of life it is not so pleasant, I can tell you, to be making new acquaintances every day; but for your sakes, we would do anything. Lydia, my love, though you are the youngest, I dare say Mr. Bingley will dance with you at the next ball. And Lizzie…" Mrs. Bennet began. Lizzie looked at her mother. Jane leaned closer to her. "Just don't distract Mr. Bingley."
"Oh!" said Lydia stoutly, "I am not afraid; for though I am the youngest, I'm the tallest."
The rest of the evening was spent in conjecturing how soon he would return Mr. Bennet's visit, and determining when they should ask him to dinner.
Chapter 3
Not all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with the assistance of her five daughters, could ask on the subject, was sufficient to draw from her husband any satisfactory description of Mr. Bingley. They attacked him in various ways—with barefaced questions, ingenious suppositions, and distant surmises; but he eluded the skill of them all, and they were at last obliged to accept the second-hand intelligence of their neighbour, Lady Lucas. Her report was highly favourable. Sir William had been delighted with him. He was quite young, wonderfully handsome, extremely agreeable, interested in women, and, to crown the whole, he meant to be at the next assembly with a large party of unwed men and women. Nothing could be more delightful! To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love; and very lively hopes of Mr. Bingley's heart were entertained by all except Elizabeth whose eyes were firmly focused on her good friend Charlotte.
"If I can but see one of my daughters happily settled at Netherfield," said Mrs. Bennet to her husband while lounging in bed with her husband, "and all the others equally well married, I shall have nothing to wish for." Mr. Bennet grunted in reply before returning to his catalogue of Mr. Bingleys delightful features.
Within a few days Mr. Bingley returned Mr. Bennet's visit, and sat about ten minutes with him in his library. Mr. Bennet attempted to talk about the great poets of their time. The lad's only contribution seemed to be a love of the tic poem by John Donne. Mr. Bennet moved the conversation swiftly to the weather.
Mr. Bingley had entertained hopes of being admitted to a sight of the young ladies, of whose beauty he had heard much; but he saw only the father—who seemed to ogle his breaches far too much. The ladies were only marginally more fortunate, for they had the advantage of ascertaining from an upper window that he wore a blue coat, and rode a black horse.
An invitation to dinner was dispatched hours after his visit; and already had Mrs. Bennet planned the courses that were to do credit to her housekeeping, when an answer arrived which deferred it all. Mr. Bingley was obliged to be in town the following day, and, consequently, unable to accept the honour of their invitation, etc.
Mrs. Bennet invaded Mr. Bennets library with the news. "He's not to come", she exclaimed. "What did you do, you wicked man."
Mr. Bennet looked up from his ledgers. "I believe we talked about the merits of John Donne on a fine autumn day."
"John Donne indeed!"
She continued to be quite disconcerted. She could not imagine what business he could have in town so soon after his arrival in Hertfordshire; and she began to fear that he might be always flying about from one place to another, and never settled at Netherfield as he ought to be. Lady Lucas quieted her fears a little by starting the idea of his being gone to London only to get a large party for the ball; and a report soon followed that Mr. Bingley was to bring twelve ladies and seven gentlemen, a few of whom were rumored to be that way, with him to the assembly. The girls grieved over such a number of ladies and over the idea of some of the few men being more interested in chasing breaches than skirts, but were comforted the day before the ball by hearing, that instead of twelve he brought only six with him from London—his five sisters and a cousin. And when the party entered the assembly room it consisted of only five altogether—Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the husband of the eldest, and another young woman.
Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine women, with an air of decided fashion. His brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, merely looked the gentleman; but his friend Miss Darcy soon drew the attention of the room by her fine, tall person, beautiful features, noble mien, and the report which was in general circulation within five minutes after his entrance, of her having ten thousand a year and being in the marriage market for a young lady.
The gentlemen pronounced her to be a fine figure of a woman—although they mourned over the idea she would never fall for them. They had to be content with the fact that they would now be able to enjoy her beauty during their gentlemanly pursuits. The ladies declared she was much handsomer than Mr. Bingley and more beautiful than the Bingley sisters, and she was looked at with great admiration for about half the evening, till her manners gave a disgust which turned the tide of her popularity; for she was discovered to be proud; to be above her company, and above being pleased; and not all her large estate in Derbyshire could then save her from having a most forbidding, disagreeable countenance, and being unworthy to be compared with her friend.
Mr. Bingley had soon made himself acquainted with all the principal people in the room; he was lively and unreserved, danced every dance, was angry that the ball closed so early, and talked of giving one himself at Netherfield. He was even kind enough to dance with a few of the interested gentlemen. Such amiable qualities must speak for themselves. What a contrast between him and his friend!
Miss Darcy danced only once with Mrs. Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, declined being introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in walking about the room, speaking occasionally to one of her own party and avoiding the eye of all in the room. Her character was decided. She was the proudest, most disagreeable woman in the world, and everybody hoped that she would never come there again. Amongst the most violent against her was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of her general behaviour was sharpened into particular resentment by her having slighted one of her daughters.
Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by the scarcity of heterosexual gentlemen and wealthy homosexual women, to sit down for two dances with her dear friend Charlotte; Elizabeth smiled and teased the elder woman, at one point she clasped their gloved hands together.
Charlotte shifted away from her friend. "My dear Lizzie," She whispered, "you know we cannot." Elizabeth heart beat in her breast as she felt Charlotte's hand slip from her grasp. Then Charlotte walked away to join her mother near the edge of the dance floor.
At that exact moment, Miss Darcy had been standing near enough for Elizabeth to hear a conversation between her and Mr. Bingley, who came from the dance for a few minutes, to press his friend to join it.
"Come, Darcy," said he, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance."
"I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with."
Elizabeth felt her breathe rush from her lungs. Miss. Darcy preferred the fairer sex. Elizabeth's gaze trailed over the fine form wrapped in green silk. The high cheekbones. The severe line of her full lips. Elizabeth blushed at the thought of dancing with the woman. She had never danced with a woman before.
"I would not be so fastidious as you are," cried Mr. Bingley, "for a kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening; and there are several of them you see uncommonly pretty."
"You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," said Miss Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet. She was currently stealing glances at the younger Miss Bingley from her position in Mr. Hursts arms. Darcy fought back a smile as Caroline returned the interested gazes instead of conversing with her sister.
"Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you." Mr. Bingley turned his head in the young ladies direction.
Elizabeth blushed. She snapped her gaze to her clasped hands. What would it be like, truly, to dance with a woman? To, in a way, proclaim it was someone like Miss Darcy she dreamed of marrying?
"Which do you mean?" and turning round he looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, she withdrew her own and coldly said: "She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men and women. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me."
Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Miss Darcy walked off; and Elizabeth remained frozen. Her dreams of dancing with the woman shattering. Elizabeth felt anger stir.
Later she told the story, however, with great spirit among her friends; for she had a lively, playful disposition, which delighted in anything ridiculous.
The evening altogether passed off pleasantly to the whole family. Mrs. Bennet had seen her eldest daughter much admired by the Netherfield party. Mr. Bingley had danced with her twice, Mrs. Hurst had talked to her avidly about the weather, and Miss Bingley had kissed her on the cheek in farewell. Jane was as much gratified by this as her mother could be, though in a quieter way. Elizabeth felt Jane's pleasure. Mary had heard herself mentioned to Miss Bingley as the most accomplished girl in the neighbourhood; and Catherine and Lydia had been fortunate enough never to be without partners, which was all that they had yet learnt to care for at a ball. And Lizzie had spent three dances talking intimately with Charlotte which could not be destroyed by their later seperation. They returned, therefore, in good spirits to Longbourn, the village where they lived, and of which they were the principal inhabitants. They found Mr. Bennet still up. With a book he was regardless of time; and on the present occasion he had a good deal of curiosity as to the event of an evening which had raised such splendid expectations. He had rather hoped that his wife's views on the stranger would be disappointed; but he soon found out that he had a different story to hear.
"Oh! my dear Mr. Bennet," as she entered the room, "we have had a most delightful evening, a most excellent ball. I wish you had been there. Jane was so admired, nothing could be like it. Everybody said how well she looked; and Mr. Bingley thought her quite beautiful, and danced with her twice! And Miss Bingley kissed her on the cheek! Only think of that, my dear; both brother and sister were enchanted. And she was the only creature in the room that was so distinguished by both! First of all, he asked Miss Lucas. I was so vexed to see him stand up with her! But, however, he did not admire her at all; indeed, nobody can, you know."
At this Lizzie interjected, "Mother!"
Mrs. Bennet rolled her eyes. "Oh Lizzie, I know you have a particular regard for the poor girl, but she has not enough to her name to be a prudent match. Not to worry dear I'll find you a beautiful lass after Jane has married Miss or Mr. Bingley." Lizzie flushed and her sisters tittered. Jane smile sympathetically.
Mrs. Bennet turned back to her husband. "And he seemed quite struck with Jane as she was going down the dance. So he inquired who she was, and got introduced, and asked her for the two next. Then the two third he danced with Miss King, and the two fourth with Maria Lucas, and the two fifth with Jane again, and the two sixth with Lizzy, and the Boulanger—"
"If he had had any compassion for me," cried her husband impatiently, "he would not have danced half so much! For God's sake, say no more of his partners. Oh that he had sprained his ankle in the first dance!"
"Oh! my dear, I am quite delighted with him. He is so excessively handsome! And his sisters are charming women. I never in my life saw anything more elegant than their dresses. I dare say the lace upon Mrs. Hurst's gown—"
Here she was interrupted again. Mr. Bennet protested against any description of finery. She was therefore obliged to seek another branch of the subject, and related, with much bitterness of spirit and some exaggeration, the shocking rudeness of Miss Darcy.
"But I can assure you," she added, "that Lizzy does not lose much by not suiting her fancy; for she is a most disagreeable, horrid woman, not at all worth pleasing. So high and so conceited that there was no enduring her! She walked here, and she walked there, fancying herself so very great! Not handsome enough to dance with! I wish you had been there, my dear, to have given her one of your set-downs. I quite detest the woman."
Chapter 4
When Jane and Elizabeth were alone sitting face to face on their mattress, the former, who had been cautious in her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister just how very much she admired him.
"He is just what a young man ought to be," said she, "sensible, good-humoured, lively; and I never saw such happy manners!—so much ease, with such perfect good breeding!" Jane said. She smiled at the memory of the young man. Her smile fell a bit as her mind skipped from the man to his gorgeous sister.
"He is also handsome," replied Elizabeth drawing Jane from her thoughts, "which a young man ought likewise to be, if he possibly can. His character is thereby complete." Elizabeth fought to keep a straight face.
"I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. I did not expect such a compliment." Jane blushed. She smiled at the idea of the affable gentleman, but she couldn't help but wish his sister had asked her to dance.
"Did not you? I did for you. But that is one great difference between us. Compliments always take you by surprise, and me never. What could be more natural than his asking you again? He could not help seeing that you were about five times as pretty as every other woman in the room. No thanks to his gallantry for that. Well, he certainly is very agreeable and, I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a stupider person."
"Dear Lizzy!" Jane grabbed Lizzie's arm. "Be serious."
Elizabeth grinned, her brown eyes sparkling. "Oh! I am, you are a great deal too apt, you know, to like people in general. You never see a fault in anybody. All the world are good and agreeable in your eyes. I never heard you speak ill of a human being in your life." Lizzie pressed their hands together.
"I would not wish to be hasty in censuring anyone; but I always speak what I think." Jane rested her hands in her lap. She watched her sister continue with a glint in her brown eyes.
"I know you do; and it is that which makes the wonder. With your good sense, to be so honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of others! Affectation of candour is common enough—one meets with it everywhere. But to be candid without ostentation or design—to take the good of everybody's character and make it still better, and say nothing of the bad—belongs to you alone. And so you like this man's sisters, too, do you? Her, well, his manners are not equal to his."
Jane remembered the woman's cool blue eyes and the pressure of soft lips against her cheek. She couldn't fight back a smile. "Certainly not—at first. But they are very pleasing women when you converse with them. Miss Bingley is to live with her brother, and keep his house; and I am much mistaken if we shall not find a very charming neighbour in her."
"Charming neighbor indeed," Elizabeth said, her eyes glinting in amusement. "Very charming if she continues to gift you with kisses when parting."
"Proof of her charming nature." Jane replied.
Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not convinced; their behaviour at the assembly had not been calculated to please in general; and with more quickness of observation and less pliancy of temper than her sister, and with a judgement too unassailed by any attention to herself, she was very little disposed to approve them.
They were in fact very fine ladies; not deficient in good humour when they were pleased, nor in the power of making themselves agreeable when they chose it, and Miss Bingley chose to be at her most charming near Elizabeth's sister. Otherwise they were proud and conceited. They were rather handsome, had been educated in one of the first private seminaries in town, had a fortune of twenty thousand pounds, were in the habit of spending more than they ought, and of associating with people of rank, and were therefore in every respect entitled to think well of themselves, and meanly of others. They were of a respectable family in the north of England; a circumstance more deeply impressed on their memories than that their brother's fortune and their own had been acquired by trade.
Mr. Bingley inherited property to the amount of nearly a hundred thousand pounds from his father, who had intended to purchase an estate, but did not live to do it. Mr. Bingley intended it likewise, and sometimes made choice of his county; but as he was now provided with a good house and the liberty of a manor, it was doubtful to many of those who best knew the easiness of his temper, whether he might not spend the remainder of his days at Netherfield, and leave the next generation to purchase.
His sisters were anxious for his having an estate of his own; but, though he was now only established as a tenant, Miss Bingley was by no means unwilling to preside at his table until she found a wife of her own—nor was Mrs. Hurst, who had married a man of more fashion than fortune, less disposed to consider his house as her home when it suited her.
Mr. Bingley had not been of age two years, when he was tempted by an accidental recommendation to look at Netherfield House. He did look at it, and into it for half-an-hour—was pleased with the situation and the principal rooms, satisfied with what the owner said in its praise, and took it immediately. And the charming young ladies in the area encouraged him to think well of the decision.
Between him and Darcy there was a very steady friendship, in spite of great opposition of character. Bingley was endeared to Darcy by the easiness, openness, and ductility of her temper, though no disposition could offer a greater contrast to his own, and though with his own he never appeared dissatisfied. On the strength of Darcy's regard, Bingley had the firmest reliance, and of her judgement the highest opinion. In understanding, Darcy was the superior. Bingley was by no means deficient, but Darcy was clever. She was at the same time haughty, reserved, and fastidious, and her manners, though well-bred, were not inviting. In that respect his friend had greatly the advantage. Bingley was sure of being liked wherever he appeared, Darcy was continually giving offense.
The manner in which they spoke of the Meryton assembly was sufficiently characteristic. Bingley had never met with more pleasant people or prettier girls in his life; everybody had been most kind and attentive to him; there had been no formality, no stiffness; he had soon felt acquainted with all the room; and, as to Miss Bennet, he could not conceive an angel more beautiful. Darcy, on the contrary, had seen a collection of people in whom there was little beauty and no fashion, for none of whom he had felt the smallest interest, and from none received either attention or pleasure. Miss Bennet he acknowledged to be pretty, but she smiled too much.
Mrs. Hurst allowed it to be so—but she admired her and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet girl, and one whom she would not object to know more of. Miss Bingley spoke not once her brother had staked his claim, but she found Jane Bennet to be the most enchanting woman she had ever beheld. It mattered not that the family, aside from the second eldest was an embarrassment. She would take the family connection if she could claim the girl. Miss Bennet was therefore established as a sweet girl, and their brother felt authorized by such commendation to think of her as he chose. Miss Bingley couldn't help but hope her brother's emotional connection was as fleeting as usual.
Chapter 5
Within a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom the Bennets were particularly intimate. Sir William Lucas had been formerly in trade in Meryton, where he had made a tolerable fortune, and risen to the honour of knighthood by an address to the king during his mayoralty. The distinction had perhaps been felt too strongly. It had given him a disgust to his business, and to his residence in a small market town; and, in quitting them both, he had removed with his family to a house about a mile from Meryton, denominated from that period Lucas Lodge, where he could think with pleasure of his own importance, and, unshackled by business, occupy himself solely in being civil to all the world. For, though elated by his rank, it did not render him supercilious; on the contrary, he was all attention to everybody. By nature inoffensive, friendly, and obliging, his presentation at St. James's had made him courteous.
Lady Lucas was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be a valuable neighbour to Mrs. Bennet. They had several children. The eldest of them, a sensible, intelligent young woman, about twenty-seven, was Elizabeth's intimate friend. Although Lady Lucas had worked hard to steer Charlotte away from being intimate in every sense of the word with Miss Elizabeth Bennett. The match would not do. Not when both young ladies had no fortune to speak of.
That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over a ball was absolutely necessary even with the tension between Charlotte and Elizabeth; and the morning after the assembly brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to communicate.
"You began the evening well, Charlotte," said Mrs. Bennet with civil self-command to Miss Lucas. Mrs. Bennet daintily held a teacup in her hands. She smiled at the dowdy woman. "You were Mr. Bingley's first choice."
Charlotte forced a smile. "Yes; but he seemed to like his second better." Charlotte tried not to look at Elizabeth who was smiling softly at her. Why, oh why, Charlotte berated herself for the hundredth time, had she accepted her dear friend's kisses? They could never cross that line again. Good sense demanded it.
"Oh! you mean Jane," Mrs. Bennet proclaimed drawing Charlotte from her self-recrimination. Charlotte tightened her fingers against her own tea cup. When would the reminders of her own unsuitability stop?
Elizabeth lips twitched at her mother's very obvious attempt to pretend a surprise she did not feel. Her heart beat fast in her chest at Charlotte's proximity. Charlotte, as her mother professed on multiple occasions was not a beauty, but she had a gentleness and frankness about her that Elizabeth couldn't help being drawn to. This, Elizabeth thought, her gaze watching Charlotte gracefully raise the cup to her thin lips, is a woman I can spend my life with.
"I suppose," Mrs. Bennet continued, "because he danced with her twice. To be sure that did seem as if he admired her—indeed I rather believe he did—I heard something about it—but I hardly know what—something about Mr. Robinson." Mrs. Bennet gazed at the collection of women. Surely, one of them would take the bait. How vexing if no one did. How was she to crow about her good fortune if no one helped?
Lady Lucas fought the urge to roll her eyes. No, such an action—although warranted when dealing with Fanny Bennet—would not demonstrate her genteel class. No one spoke for long moments. They daintily nibbled biscuits, sipped tea, and gazed at various areas of the room not occupying Mrs. Bennet.
"I'm sure it was Mr. Robinson." Mrs. Bennet said again. She grasped the tea pot. Lady Lucas reluctantly edged the cup closer to Fanny.
As Fanny poured the dark liquid into her cup, Lady Lucas dutifully filled in the information Mrs. Bennet desired. "Perhaps you mean what I overheard between him and Mr. Robinson; did not I mention it to you? Mr. Robinson's asking him how he liked our Meryton assemblies, and whether he did not think there were a great many pretty women in the room, and which he thought the prettiest? and his answering immediately to the last question: 'Oh! the eldest Miss Bennet, beyond a doubt; there cannot be two opinions on that point.'"
Mrs. Bennet beamed. The good lord was clearly compensating for the fact her husband was so vexing. "Upon my word! Well, that is very decided indeed—that does seem as if—but, however, it may all come to nothing, you know." Mrs. Bennet fell silent. Gazed down at her tea cup and started visibly when she saw the empty cup. Now she would have to wait until someone realized her cup was empty.
Elizabeth leaned forward to dutifully pour her mother tea—if her arm happened to brush against her dear friends arm, well on-lookers would just assume it was a casual, platonic, and accidental touch between friends. Charlotte Lucas' breathe caught. Her limbs froze. It was long moments until her dear friends soft skin finally gave one last delightful brush. Charlotte licked her lips. For a moment her wide, startled eyes met Eliza's mischievous ones.
"Thank you, Lizzie," Mrs. Bennet said.
Charlotte dragged her eyes away from Eliza only to meet her mother's disapproving frown. Charlotte felt her stomach turn. She had thought last night's rebuff had been enough. Her father would be hearing of this event tonight if she did not act. "My overhearings were more to the purpose than yours, Eliza," said Charlotte. "Miss Darcy is not so well worth listening to as her friend, is she?—poor Eliza!—to be only just tolerable."
Elizabeth froze. Not at the words, but the biting tone and the way Charlotte dragged her eyes across her form with her lips curled in disgust. Eliza looked away, her hands shook. Eliza knew she was no great beauty, but to hear it from the woman she loved hurt.
Mrs. Bennet bristled. She was by no means an intelligent woman, but she could identify a cut better than most. Lizzie was her least favorite daughter, but she was still her daughter. "I beg you would not put it into Lizzy's head to be vexed by her ill-treatment, for she is such a disagreeable woman, that it would be quite a misfortune to be liked by her. Did you not tell me last night that she sat close to you for half-an-hour without once opening her lips, Mrs. Lucas."
"Are you quite sure, ma'am?—is not there a little mistake?" said Jane. "I certainly saw Miss Darcy speaking to her."
Mrs. Bennet could have kissed Jane for continuing the conversation. She could always count on her Jane to be sensible and kind. Mrs. Bennet stole a glance at Elizabeth. She was sitting her head bent over her teacup. Her body rigid. "Aye—because she asked him at last how he liked Netherfield, and he could not help answering her; but she said she seemed quite angry at being spoke to."
"Miss Bingley told me," said Jane, "that she never speaks much, unless among her intimate acquaintances. With them she is remarkably agreeable."
"I do not believe a word of it, my dear." Mrs. Bennet felt anger stir in her breast when Elizabeth finally looked up, and she spied unshed tears stirring in them. Miss Lucas, thought she could hurt her daughter without consequence, did she? Let us see, Fanny thought, how the Lucases like being cut. "If she had been so very agreeable, she would have talked to Mrs. Lucas. But I can guess how it was; everybody says that she is eat up with pride, and I dare say she had heard somehow that Mrs. Lucas does not keep a carriage, and had come to the ball in a hack chaise."
The room froze at the very blatant slight. Lady Lucas felt her cheeks flush red. Jane stared at her mother in horror. Eliza's head tilted just a hint.
"I do not mind his not talking to my mother," said Miss Lucas, "but I wish she had danced with Eliza." Elizabeth felt her throat tighten at this additional sign of rejection. Surely Charlotte wouldn't try to match her with another? Hadn't they come to an accord months ago when they kissed? Eliza was drawn from her thoughts by her mother.
"Another time, Lizzy," said her mother, "I would not dance with her, if I were you."
Elizabeth felt like her tongue was made of lead. Finally she forced words passed her lips. "I believe, ma'am, I may safely promise you never to dance with her."
"Her pride," said Miss Lucas, "does not offend me so much as pride often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so very fine a young woman, with family, fortune, everything in her favour, should think highly of herself. If I may so express it, she has a right to be proud."
"That is very true," replied Elizabeth, "and I could easily forgive her pride, if she had not mortified mine." Please, Elizabeth thought, I do not want Miss Darcy. I want you. Don't destroy this.
"Pride," observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her reflections, "is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed; that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us."
"If I were as rich as Miss Darcy," cried a young Lucas, who came with his sisters, "I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine a day."
"Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought," said Mrs. Bennet; "and if I were to see you at it, I should take away your bottle directly."
The boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare that she would, and the argument ended only with the visit.
End Note: Hope you enjoyed. Feel free to leave me some reviews. Feel free to let me know if I missed anything or if you found yourself with questions that need to be answered.