As Mr Darcy began his life as the master of Pemberley, another young man was about to embark on a new role in life. Eighteen year old Henry Bennet was preparing to begin his years as a university student. He had grown into a handsome man, and had an even temper and a love of learning that was certain to auger his prosperity in his new environment. As he finished packing his trunks, he reflected on the journey he was about to make. He could hardly wait to begin his adventure, though he was loathe to part with his family. The farewell was bittersweet for the entire family also. His sisters would miss him, sixteen year old Elizabeth most of all. She would be losing her companion, her intellectual partner and her sparring mate. Aside from their father, who rarely set aside the time, nobody else but Henry could entertain Elizabeth's quick mind in discussion and debate. She gave him a firm, brief hug and he promised to write her often. Elizabeth nodded and looked down. She was of course elated for her brother, but felt ashamed of her envy. She longed for an adventure far from Hertfordshire, and a chance to better herself academically. But it could not be.

Mrs Bennet alternated between being immensely proud that HER son was attending University, no doubt rubbing shoulders with sons belonging to the most elite families; to being overcome with worry at the certainty that he would meet with an ill fate in the bustling city. She filled his ears with all kinds advice and warnings, peppered with excited exclamations of what a wonderful day this was. Henry was used to his mothers nonsensical ramblings, and indulged her once more, a good natured smile on his face. Usually, Mr Bennet would be making a joke of his wife's histrionics, was he was unusually quiet on this particular day. Those who did not know Thomas Bennet might think that his reserve today was due to indifference. In fact, it was the exact opposite. Mr Bennet was overwhelmed with pride at watching his son set forth to attend Cambridge, as Bennet men had been doing for generations. As Henry climbed into the carriage, to the flurry and emotional goodbyes of his mother and sisters, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Henry turned in surprise, and met the misty eyes of his father. The two men smiled at each other, and Thomas Bennet's voice cracked as he said his son's name.

"It's a wonderful thing, as a father, to stand by and watch my boy becoming a man. Do me proud, my boy. God speed to you." He quickly shook his sons hand then shuffled inside to the retreat of his library, no doubt to collect his thoughts and escape what would likely be a taxing day with all the Bennet girls missing their brother, not to mention what he expected from his wife. And just like that, Henry Bennet was off to Cambridge.

Henry's easy manners and general good humour stood him in good stead for making friendships. No sooner had he sat down for his first lecture when the young man seated next to him struck up conversation, and Henry was only too ready to respond.

"Oh!" Cried the young man "I am ever so glad that you do not mind me beginning conversation with you. I find the rules of polite society to be quite constricting, and without knowing anyone here, I quite despaired of ever making an introduction. I am sure I shall not fit in here, everybody seems to have generation upon generation of Cambridge graduates in their families, and think too much of themselves to engage in simple conversation."

Henry smiled widely " I take it you do not think much of the elite members of society then?"

The man looked carefully at Henry and then blanched "oh Good God! I've offended you- you are obviously the son of a -"

"Be not worried" interrupted Henry with a wave of his hand. "Tis true, I am at least a fifth generation Cambridge alumni, but I have been raised amongst country manners. You will find no airs and graces with me. In fact it is I who should be apologising, for I do love to tease. It is, I am afraid, one of the many questionable traits I have inherited from my father."

The man visibly brightened. "I am delighted to find someone here not so droll and serious. My father left me a large inheritance, with the intention that I first complete University studies, then obtain my own estate. Honestly though, I'm not sure I want the responsibility. It turns men so dour and cross."

Henry privately felt that this man was sharing far too much detail about himself before a proper introduction had been made, but was too good natured to correct the man, especially after already tormenting the man earlier.

The man continued on talking "this one fellow I met just the other day, for instance, well- let's just say I wouldn't be that fastidious for a kingdom. Nice enough fellow though, just very serious and proper. Not like you or I. Met him in a bookshop on campus here. We were each buying a book for our sisters. When I commented on the title he was holding, he made it very clear what he thought of me addressing him so. I apologised, much the way I did to you, and he seemed to come around. He used to go here- graduated now though- but was back visiting one of the professors. He mentioned a few professors by name with high recommendations -"

Here, the young man was cut off by the professor entering the class. Papers were rustled, pens poised ready to take notes. Henry stole a side long glance at his new friend, and stifled a smirk. His paper was wrinkled, and already blotted, yet he looked around like an eager puppy. Yes, thought Henry. He is like a puppy, happy, eager to please and jumping from subject to subject without a care.

Before long, the lecture finished and the pupils all gathered their belongings and filed out the door. Once the crowd had dispersed, Henry caught his new friend.

"Despite all that illuminating conversation, I do believe there is one vital piece of information I'm still lacking."

The man furrowed his brow momentarily, then broke out into a grin. "Bingley." He said, holding out his hand "Charles Bingley"

Henry took his hand with great enthusiasm. "Henry Bennet of Longbourn, Hertfordshire. Pleasure to meet you."

From that point on, Henry and Bingley were the closest of friends. It was not surprising, really, since the two had very similar temperaments. Bingley had a sweet naïveté about him, whilst Henry had sharp wit, but the two rarely held a grudge or lost their tempers. Henry was easily the more intelligent of the two, for although Bingley was smart, Henry was clever.

The two formed a bond over being the lone son with several sisters, although in Bingleys case they were both older than him. His sisters Caroline and Louisa resided just outside of London in a house left to Bingley by his father. Bingley believed Louisa had caught the attention of a wealthy London gentleman named Hurst, and was eager to make a good impression on the man.

" He is from a very good family" stated Bingley to Henry just prior to the mid-semester break. "He has a fine house on Grosvenor Square. From all accounts, he is used to the finest of things. Louisa is quite taken with him, how I hope our family does not disappoint him!"

This was the first suitor that Bingley had encountered, and whilst he was not yet legally of age to be guardian to his sisters, in many respects he had already assumed the role. He was journeying to Bingley Lodge, where his sisters resided, for the break and to meet this man who had captured his siste's eye. To say that Bingley was nervous was an understatement. Henry watched his friend fuss over the prospect of hosting such a guest and could not help but smirk.

"Bingley, old chap. Calm yourself. It is simply a man attempting to know your sister better. You live in a respectable neighbourhood and employ reliable staff- what could go wrong?!"

" yes, yes, I suppose you're right, Henry." Bingley sounded far from convinced.

The environment was still tense and heavy, much to Henry's dislike. With a wry smile, he turned to his friend.

"Why do you not invite your fastidious friend from the bookstore to the dinner? If he's as stiff and proper as you say, he'd know exactly how to impress such a guest!"

Bingley let out a laugh. "Oh, I dare say he would! Unfortunately though, he rarely comes to London, even scarcer to Cambridge. From what I've heard of the man, he prefers the country and has a vast estate to run there, in Derbyshire. Pemberley, I seem to recall. I've heard it's magnificent."

"Ahh, so that's why I haven't met the chap yet."

Bingley shrugged. "I'm barely more than an acquaintance of his myself, having only shared one ten minute conversation with the man, but I dare say Darcy's not the most social of characters."

"Darcy, eh? Of Pemberley. Ill keep an ear out for that name. In the meantime, it looks like you're stuck with just me as your dinner guest!"

Bingley looked gratefully at his friend.

"I appreciate you coming with me, Henry. I am in your debt!"

"Nonsense, Bingley! I have nowhere else to go for the break- Longbourn is too far to journey in time. Besides, if your sisters are as charming as you say, it is I who will be in debt!"

Henry gave Bingley a cheeky grin and raised his glass to his friend.

On the night of the dinner with Mr Hurst, both Miss Bingleys dressed carefully. Louisa wished to look well for the man she hoped to marry. Mr Hurst was hardly anything to behold, but could afford to take a wife from wherever he chose. Louisa did know much about the man's character, and had only seen him a few times at crowded events, but knew from the clothes he wore and the carriages he kept that she could do far worse than be Mrs Hurst.

Charles would be arriving from Cambridge that afternoon, he had informed his sisters, and would be bringing a guest of his own to dine. Charles' letter was not very forth coming with details, as usual, only saying that the friend was of the landed gentry, and perhaps Caroline might turn his head. Caroline was certain he was referring to Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy- for Charles had not ever mentioned any other particular friends. Caroline fanned herself and settled into her chair, casting her mind back to that wonderful day several weeks back when Charles casually mentioned making Mr Darcy's acquaintance.
"Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, of Pemberley?!" Caroline practically screeched.
"Yes, I do believe that's what he called his home. You know of him Caroline?"
"Oh, all the ladies in London talk of Fitzwilliam Darcy, Charles. And Pemberley is not a 'home', it is a vast estate. Practically the size of Derbyshire. Fitzwilliam Darcy is said to be the handsomest man in England, although so very recluse. Every woman wants the opportunity to meet him. And now, thanks to you, dear brother, I shall!" Caroline clapped her hands with glee.

Bingley hesitated.
"I wouldn't anticipate that, if I were you, Caroline. Mr Darcy doesn't come to London often, and I'm not so presumptuous to assume we can call on him socially when he does."
Caroline had waved him off, and congratulated herself on being right. For here he was, barely a month later, to attend a dinner party at Bingley Lodge.
As Caroline swept down the stairs, she was certain she was dressed to high enough standard to attract Mr Darcy. She was a tall, angular yet graceful lady, 23 years of age, with coppery brown hair and green eyes. Her skin was flawless ivory. She was essentially the female version of her brother, and neither would ever be called plain. Yet whilst Bingley's features might be called chiselled, Caroline Bingley's were sharp and bordering on shrewish. She heard male voices in the parlour room and smiled brightly as she entered.
Caroline's first impression of Mr Darcy was that he was not as tall as she'd expected. Nor was he dark haired. She'd always inferred from her acquaintances that he had dark hair. The blond gentleman in front of her was definitely handsome, however. He smiled at her, and so taken aback was she by his smile that she almost missed her brothers introduction. Almost.
"... is Mr Henry Bennet, of Hertfordshire."
Caroline's heart dropped. Apparently her face did too, for Mr Bennet leant forward and in a low voice murmured "not what you expected, Miss Bingley?"
Caroline was flustered and lost for words. Masking her disappointment, she braved a smile and looked up at Mr Bennet. "Not at all, sir. You merely caught me in a moment of distraction. Pray forgive me."
"Then allow me the honour of escorting you to dinner, Miss Bingley."
"Thank you, Mr Bennet. And please, it is my sister who is Miss Bingley. I am Miss Caroline."
"If what your brother says is true, that shall not be much longer!"
Caroline smiled, but the forward teasing manner of the gentleman did not sit well with her. The fact that he was not Mr Darcy was an additional strike against his name. As the dinner progressed, every fact she heard from Henry Bennet further cemented his poor character and low connection in Caroline's mind. His estate was still in the hands of his father, and was barely even able to be called that, bringing in less that 2000 pounds per year. Located in the unremarkable county of Hertfordshire, alongside questionable maternal relatives was enough for Caroline to hear. How Charles always managed to befriend the worst prospects in society was beyond Caroline's understanding. Ironically, the fact that her own social status of being born into a family of trade was beneath Henry Bennet's as being a gentleman quite escaped her notice.
Luckily, the dinner was going well from Mr Hurst's perspective. He was not a man who enjoyed social interactions, but pursuing the lovely Louisa Bingley was well worth it. He had every intention of proposing marriage to her, but figured he would enjoy being hosted and pampered for a while until he made things official.
He had already consumed a vast quantity of wine, as he often did, which made him lower his reserve. When the men retreated for brandy, he addressed the two young university students directly.
"Do you boys fancy cards?"
Bingley was taken aback, assuming the man wished to play tonight and was usurping his role as host.
Henry answered for him.
"Never been a big player, myself, but I'm not one to shun an opportunity either."
Hurst clapped him on the back
"Good man, good man!"
Bingley watched this exchange and since eager to meet with the mans approval, signalled his assent.
"Capital, my club is always looking for respectable new members. Shall I pick you both up tomorrow evening and introduce you to my party? Lot of fun we have- you'll fit right in"
And with that, Charles Bingley and Henry Bennet were introduced to the gentlemans clubs in London.