A Modern Day Pride and Prejudice
Chapter One
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.
"Did you know that the new neighbours will be moving in tomorrow? You know the house on Netherfield Road, that big mansion of a house?"
However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood-
"No I didn't know."
-this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families-
"Yes, well I just found out from Mrs. Long; the sweet little old lady next door and she told me all about it. Do you know who is moving in?"
-that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.
"I have no idea and I'm sure you'll tell me whether I do or do not want to hear it" sighed my father flipping a page of his newspaper.
"The family's name is Bingley and they have three children, a son and two daughters, and another boy staying with them and they're very rich doctors and they're planning to attend the neighbour charity party event next week after they're all moved in and settled and possibly make a donation! Imagine such a respected family living in the small town of Meryton!" gushed my mother with enthusiasm.
I heaved a sigh and folded over the top corner of Pride and Prejudice. My mother's voice was too loud and distracting to ignore so I decided to give up reading and focus on their conversation.
"Do you know how old the kids are?" my mother asked with excitement in her blue eyes.
"Hmm? No I'm afraid I don't, why don't you just tell me instead of having me guess?" said my father patiently. He also laid his reading material with a sigh and gave me a 'this might take a while' look accompanied with a roll of his brown eyes. I smiled back knowingly. Once my mother got going, it was difficult to keep her from saying what she wanted to say.
"Well," continued my mother oblivious to our exchange, "One daughter is nineteen, the other is seventeen, the son is eighteen and the boy living with them is eighteen as well!"
"And why do you think I care how old the children are?" asked my father in a bored voice, tired of the subject, "What do you suppose their ages mean to me?"
"Dear!" my mother exclaimed exasperated, "Don't you think it would be nice if our girls became friends with their girls! And maybe Jane or Mary would be interested in their son and the other boy! It would be lovely to see Mary with a boyfriend instead of locking herself in her room and playing that piano all day!" I rolled my eyes at this.
"I see you have this all planned out my Dear. Tell me, don't you think the girls should have a say in this? And you never know, maybe one of the boys will take an interest in you." teased my father.
"Of course I don't plan these sorts of things! And you know very well I'm not interested in younger men!" my mother said flustered. "I just don't think we should let this opportunity go to waste. Maybe we could send Jane over with a plate of cookies or something to welcome them to the neighbourhood. She is the prettiest by far."
"Why not send Lizzie over? I'm sure they will find her pleasing, she is witty and she won't drop the plate on the way over unlike the other girls, they are much sillier than Lizzie." argued my father smiling at me. I was the daddy's girl in the family for sure.
"You annoy me so! Just leave this up to me!" my mother said ending the conversation by standing up and walking out of the family room with her charity planning clipboard and notes tucked under her arm. My father gave me another eye roll and picked up his paper, reading where he left off. I decided that the only placed I was to have any peace to read was up in my room with the door closed.
As I sat on my bed and began reading again I considered the possibilities the new neighbours would bring. Of course the boys would be interested in Jane; she was the prettiest and eldest of us five Bennett daughters. At age eighteen with her long golden waving hair, fair complexion, sapphire eyes and polite to a fault personality, she was admired by many boys at our school. She was always happy, courteous and pleasant to be around. Maybe she would date one of the boys or become best friends with the two daughters.
I laughed out loud when I considered Mary, the middle child at age sixteen in our large family, dating a well-groomed rich boy. Unknown to my parents, Mary did have a boyfriend and he was the exact opposite of what my mother admired; tattooed, pierced and a detention goer. I kept Mary's secret for her and no one else in the family knew otherwise. Mary wouldn't befriend the Bingley girls; she had no friends besides her boyfriend and preferred the company of her piano. She had mousey hair, a pale complexion, a plain face, and was quiet, shy and kept to herself as much as possible.
Lydia and Kitty would not likely become friends with the new girls either, they were thirteen and fourteen and much too hyper, silly and immature to be friends with older, mature and well mannered girls. Of course Lydia and Kitty would be interested in the two boys; they were notorious boy-crazed fiends at school. At the moment Lydia was undecided between three boys and Kitty was dating two and seeing one on the side. Every night after school they would each bring home a new boy and lead them up to their bedroom lairs for who knows what kind of torture. Lydia was the leader between the two of them and being the youngest she always got what she wanted. She was the tallest out of the five of us and quite pretty. Though Kitty was one year older she followed Lydia's example and was also pretty. They were both loud, funny, obnoxious and boy-crazy. Mary, Lydia and Kitty looked most like our mother, where I looked most like our father and Jane looked adopted, her beauty left her excluded.
I thought about how my mother would force herself on the Bingley family as soon as possible wanting to make friends with the right kind of people, rich people in her eyes. My mother was once a very pretty woman, but the stress of five teenage daughters created lines and wrinkles on her once smooth youthful face.
Though my father seemed to care less about the news of new neighbours, I knew he did it mostly to annoy our mother. He was really a kind, generous man and would most likely become good friends with the new Bingley neighbours.
Looking in the mirror on my bedside table, I considered what the new neighbours would mean to me. My shoulder length dark brown hair was pinned back except my bangs that- according to my mother were 'too long'- hung over my brown eyes. I had pale skin with a few freckles dotting my nose and round cheeks. I was not beautiful like Jane, but I was not as plain as Mary. I couldn't see myself befriending the posh rich girls and boys; I had a slight attitude towards snobby rich kids and I was also too judgemental, too opinionated for my mother's liking. She said I was rude and but my father called it wit. I didn't need new friends anyway, I had several close friends at school and that was enough for me. Besides the new Bingley girls probably wouldn't want to be my friend, and the boys will have no interest in me. With that settled I returned to my book and immersed myself in the world of Jane Austen.