April 1833

If asked five years ago, many would have agreed that Charles Bingley was indeed a fortunate gentleman. his father's profession may at one time have held him firmly middle class, but through a series of successful investments, at the time of his death, Mr Bingley sr. had managed to raise/lift/ his son to become a gentleman of no profession. Yet these five years had seen a series of bad luck for the Bingleys that many close acquaintances would attribute to the failed attempt of purchasing the old estate Netherfield. Since then, the Bingley name had shifted into a decline, with Mr Bingley first gaining a name in the gambling parlors and then the brothels before apparently fleeing England altogether to the West Indies for a time. many whisperings at this time attributed to the youngest Bingley sister's marriage to a wealthy manufacturer to be a desperate attempt at reclaiming some of the Bingley worth, but her brother's return to England proved how far he had fallen, for the house he now rented was nowhere near as fine as even his humble childhood home, and he began his time in London in social isolation.

it had been three months since his return when he received a letter; it was strange, for he knew no Mrs Collins. Upon opening it however, his face turned ashen as he read. Mrs Collins-nee Bennet- was writing to appeal to him, 'her last hope', she wrote. But the letter itself made no sense to him- for the past five years he had tried in vain to forget the beautiful and serene Jane Bennet, but it was of no use-every smile, every gesture she made, every curl that fell along her neck was as clear as if he had seen it not five minutes ago. He recalled her family, the gentleman Mr Bennet, his wife Mrs Bennet and Jane's sisters, Mary, Kitty and Lydia, and yet here Jane-Mrs Collins spoke of a sister named Elizabeth.

'You mean you haven't heard?'

'If i knew, Caroline, I would hardly be here asking you, now would I?'

Caroline smirked in agreement, brushing imaginary crumbs off her dress of blue linen, her bracelets jolted against one another at her movement and the sound rang out through the sitting room.

'I am merely surprised, brother- it's all anyone has spoken of these last few months.' Charles sat patiently, waiting for her to continue while she adjusted herself, allowing just enough time to give the dramatic effect she desired. 'Oh, very well then,' she said, excitement gleaming in her eyes.

'well, some time last year one of the Bennet's maids was caught stealing and was quite naturally brought before the authorities to be charged. During this process mr Bennet confesses that the maid is in face his bastard Child!' Mr Bingley started at the news and his sister nodded enthusiastically at the juicy gossip, 'yes, indeed! Well, Mr Bennet was trying to lessen the sentence when Mrs Benet-his wife, begins to accuse the girl of more thefts around the neighbourhood, naturally bringing all this drama even more publicity! Silly woman,' she added, rolling her eyes gleefully, 'and it was all Bennet could do to prevent the girl's death.'

'So she is to be sent to Australia?' Bingley asked, his thoughts back to his letter. Caroline nodded,

'it's a wonder the family didn't join her, what with the scandal they brought on themselves, that Mrs Bennet spreading the gossip herself!- they really are quite ridiculous, they should be grateful the eldest was already married for I doubt any man will want to enter into that fray.' Bingley nodded stoutly, and remained silent for the rest of his visit.

Jane's letter now made sense, but what she was asking of him was perhaps too much-too degrading even for Him.

September 1833

She had heard of such practices but the reality of standing to attention, while the ships crew leered over each of the female's bodies was beyond humiliating,most particularly for a girl who had been comparatively sheltered against the basest of men; even the Mistress Bennet, before learning of her parentage had never been unkind and had allowed her, a mere serving girl to be taught to read and write form the eldest Bennet girl. the mere thought of her sister at such a time brought such a pain that she felt numb. Never Again will she meet her sister, not lay eyes on the English countryside; this was to be her new reality, her life. Elizabeth had now spent the last few weeks in the Company of women She had never before even considered- petty thieves and prostitutes had conversed with her, a few trying to cheer the girl up, already resigned to their fate. She had heard stories of what was to come from the other females as they had awaited their ship, and she had originally complained quite verbally that they were being treated just as cattle; now she remained silent at the startling proof that they were not like cattle-they were cattle. The thought was sobering, and Elizabeth could not stand to raise her eyes to meet the men considering her.

'Elizabeth Bennet?' she started slightly at the name, the last serving of humiliation she had received before she left. Mr Bennet- she could not bring herself to call him father- had finally given her his name, marking her as his own. She was not sure whether it was out of love, or guilt, nor did it matter; in a few months time she would be too far away to be anything but a name to the Bennet family.

'Elizabeth Bennet?' the voice repeated itself. Before her stood an oddly familiar face, his boyish features turned grave through the bitterness of disappointment, but she recognised him; she had watched as he had tenderly courted Jane's heart before vanishing, leaving her sister to bear her own disappointment. Elizabeth fell down into a curtsey, 'Mr Bingley, sir.'