I was 13 when I met Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She was then just turned 7. My family had been elevated by a knighthood for a good turn my Papa paid the Crown. So, we sold the shop I'd grown up above and moved to Meryton to begin life as part of the landed gentry.

We were being introduced to the Bennet family after Sunday services. I can remember the exact moment that Miss Elizabeth bounded up to me, clumsily curtsied, and announced to all and sundry that I, Miss Charlotte Lucas, shall be her new best friend, and shall call her Lizzy (which she pronounced 'Lissy' as she had a cute manner of speech common in the young) as all her friends did. Without taking but a breath, she began to enumerate all the larks we would enjoy together. I was overwhelmed by the little fireball, gratified that she wanted to befriend me, jealous of her beauty and personality, and thankful for a new friend.

At 7, Lizzy already had a strong and well-formed mind. She was intelligent, curious and forward thinking. But her leading characteristic was that she simply sparkled. Not even the sun was brighter than Lizzy Bennet. I always tended toward the plain, yet next to Lizzy and her effervescent sister Jane, I was positively invisible. Oh, do not get me wrong, neither young lady allowed me to ever feel inferior. Lizzy would regularly tell me that not only was I not plain, but that no man would miss the intelligent gleam in my eyes. I simply took Lizzy's word as I've always had trouble seeing in myself, what she saw in me.

Lizzy never waivered from her proclamation that day in the churchyard. We were inseperable friends. Lizzy was the leader of our merry band of children. She inspired awe. I cannot but explain it thus. Wherever Lizzy went, people followed. She was kind, caring, compassionate. She had an empathy that none of us understood. She knew just what others needed, and she provided that need be it emotional or material, however she was able. And we followed her lead, we nearly worshipped Lizzy Bennet. She was our own pint-sized deity, sent to make our lives lovelier and to apparently teach us charity.

Wait, it was more than that. She was our lamplight. Lizzy was driven by a hunger for knowledge of any sort. She wanted to know how the world worked on an intricate level. She wanted to know how the wheat in the fields became bread for our tables, and she wanted to perfect every step in the process. She was boisterous, and often shoved from her home by her mother's nevers. So, in those years, those glorious childhood years, we all learned something new nearly each day as we followed our Lizzy.

We all learned knots and climbing so that we would make estimable pirates. We followed the Netherfield Steward around for several days a week, learning estate management. We did. We visited the millner, the baker, the modiste, the chandler, the blacksmith, and even the vicar. At every location, Lizzy demanded that we learn "the trade." Of course, we did not learn the trade, we simply learned to appreciate the efforts made by each of those individuals at their craft. Though, I do recall that we made bees wax-candles with the chandler, we learned a simple stitch pattern at the modiste's and the baker taught us (after hours) to shape marzipan animals. Lizzy made a pig.

One summer, the summer she had turned 10, she vowed that we play master of an estate, and we visited every tenant on every estate in a 10 mile radius that summer – often lightening their load as Lizzy liked to work while she conversed. I cannot tell you how many loads of firewood we children carried, how many socks we darned, how many pots of stew we stirred, how many times we taught younger children their letters-all at her simple request. We were Lizzy's to command and command us she did. And we learned.

Lizzy had a philosophy that if you approached a task with good cheer, good cheer would follow you. You may think that all of these good folks were unlikely to appreciate the attentions of a child and her merry band of followers. But here in our corner of the Kingdom, Lizzy was loved. No one stayed disgruntled for long. Once she would explain our task and set to, not a man or woman would complain. To a person, especially here in Meryton, Lizzy is the jewel of the county. Not because of her looks but because of who she is.

Her mother was very vocal that he daughters would never learn to cook as 'they were perfectly able to keep a cook.' When she was 12, Lizzy gathered us all around the Mount and said with conviction, 'should we starve if we manage to find ourselves away from home in an emergency? Cast adrift in the sea? On a deserted land with no cook to bring us a meal? NO! We shall learn the rudimentary steps to epicurean delights!' So we followed her again. We made rounds to each of our homes and some tenant homes. Our cooks taught us to brew tea, make biscuits and cakes. Some tenant wives taught us to make simple breads and stews. The cook at Netherfield, I will never forget, taught us class as if we would all be cooks in great homes one day. She taught us to cook an egg, cook a joint of meat, dress a pheasant, roast a fish and to carve a flower out of a potato. The very best instruction we had was from my own mother who taught us to make preserves and to make pies. I believe she was grateful for the extra hands that day.

We all learned much because of Lizzy. She believed that depending upon our home, we should know how to do every task required of our staff so that if we were ever without a staff we would not struggle. I remember visiting a young woman on one of the tenant farms – I think she was the one to tell Lizzy these things. She had been born into the gentry, but was cast aside for the common reason. She had not even a maid of all work to tend her home. She cooked and cleaned. She sewed her own garments, she learned to cultivate vegetables and herbs, tended her children, her husband and her chickens. To this day, not one of our merry band is unable to run a home without a servant. We may not do it well, but that we would be able to do it at all is due to Lizzy. We vowed to all pass this knowledge on to our own children.

She is a wonder.

Today, I have the unenviable task of informing my Lizzy that I will be wed to quite possibly, the stupidest man alive. But I want only for a comfortable home and protection. She will not understand. She will tell me to wait for love. She will tell me that I am wasting myself on Mr. Collins, that I will never feel valued, that I will be lonely and bored with no one of intelligence to stimulate my days… and she will be right. But I must do this.

[Charlotte pauses to view Longbourn from Oakham Mount]

Do you know when I first realized that you were in love with Lizzy? It was the day of the party at my home. Your eyes never left her, and you inched closer to her all evening. You scowled when she smiled at anyone, and you had a soft smile whenever her laughter filled the air. Do you know, you are not alone. There is not a man or boy in Meryton that does not harbor some of those same feelings for Lizzy. No one would admit it. No one believes they deserve her, and they do not. But you could, IF you recognize her for her worth. If you understand that it is not your money that will draw her to you, but your goodness, your intelligence, your respect. You've managed to keep all of that from her. She cannot like you as you are.

You appear startled. She does not like you, sir. I am sorry to say, that most of the town does not – you've not appeared to your advantage here in our humble home.

Darcy turns away slowly from the view. I thank you for honestly answering my request to learn something of the Elizabeth Bennet you know. I believe that I love her more at this moment than I thought yesterday. It grieves me that she does not like me. I am sure that I have much to work on to deserve her. If, it is as you say, I have the whole of Meryton to overcome for her affection. Miss Lucas, you have been an invaluable, dare I call you friend? I hope to see you again some day soon. And I hope that I can claim that I am a better man.

Before I leave this place for London Miss Lucas, I have but one more question – does Miss Jane…

She does!

Thank you for keeping me from making a grave error. I shall not return with my friend in a week or so, but I shall return. I have much to prove as a lowly man to a veritable goddess.

Goodbye Mr. Darcy, and good luck! She is worth the effort. She is worthy of everything.