Chapter 1

September 1811

Mr Bennet, the noble master of a prosperous estate in Hertfordshire named Longbourn, was the proud father of five lovely daughters, who he loved with his whole heart. Although his dear wife had departed from this mortal coil some years ago, he did everything in his power to guard and protect his children from harm.

Before Mrs Bennet had passed on, she summoned a soothsayer to her bedside to tell her what would become of her five young daughters when she was no longer able to care for them. Normally, Mr Bennet would not have agreed to seek out a fortune teller's guidance, but his daughters had suffered a series of mishaps, and he wondered if something evil was afoot.

Jane had the wind knocked out of her when she fell from her horse. Elizabeth had slipped into the river and was nearly carried away by the current. Mary hit her head on a low hanging branch and suffered headaches for weeks afterwards. Catherine was plagued by dreadful coughing fits for no discernible reason. Lydia had endured a painful rash from a poisonous plant.

These incidents had all happened within such a short span of time, that Mr Bennet could not deny his dear wife's request for a clairvoyant's advice.

The soothsayer cast her divining stones into a circle formed by a bit of rope and studied the results. "Your daughters are in mortal danger, I fear," the old woman had said in a trembling voice.

Upon this mournful pronouncement, Mrs Bennet wailed. "What shall become of my precious girls?"

The woman sadly shook her head. "The night will claim them and they will no longer be of this world."

Mrs Bennet was overcome with heart palpitations and nervous spasms. "Oh, my dear husband, you must promise to protect our daughters from harm when I am gone," she cried, clinging to his hand.

Longing to soothe his wife's distress in her dying days, Mr Bennet swore he would protect them with his life. Not long afterwards, his wife passed on to her final reward, leaving him with five young girls to raise, without the benefit of their mother's guidance.

To honour that impassioned promise to his late wife, Mr Bennet bolted the door of his daughters' bed chamber each night when they retired, locking them in to protect them from the dark shadows. As long as he drew breath, no creatures of the night would claim his cherished children.

This practice had met with resounding success. Every morning they arose, well-rested and ready to meet the day ahead. Jane, the eldest and most beautiful, sparkled with light as she sat to his right at breakfast each morning. Elizabeth, the most clever and witty daughter, never failed to amuse him with her impertinent observations. Mary, the middle child, sang and played the pianoforte, keeping music in the air for his enjoyment. Catherine, a cheerful girl with a merry laugh, brought joy to his heart with her brilliant smiles. Lydia, the very image of her sainted mother, had the same vibrancy and zest for life as his dear departed wife.

Although they were each different in their own way, the one thing they had in common was their love of dancing. After supper they joined hands and danced in the blue parlour, while Mary played their favourite tunes. Their energy seemed inexhaustible, and Mr Bennet could not be happier for it.

Their indefatigable energy was in no small part due to his housekeeper's tireless attendance to their well-being. Since their mother could not care for them, Mrs Hill took charge of them, ensuring that they consumed healthy, nutritious meals. There was no shortage of meat and vegetables from the farm, fish from the river, fruit from the orchard, and berries from the forest. She also made special wines from her own recipes. Indeed, supplies were plentiful and the larder was stocked to overflowing.

Mr Bennet loved his daughters as much as any other devoted father; however, he was less fond of their spirited, relentless banter, especially while trying to read. "I may be the youngest, but I shall be the first to be married." Lydia chose to repeat this claim at every opportunity.

Of course, Jane heartily disputed this claim. "I am the eldest and I shall be married first." Mr Bennet could only agree with this pronouncement, since this was the usual order of things.

Lydia's response was always the same. "La! You are nearly on the shelf, Jane. No man wants to marry a spinster, already two and twenty years old."

"Perhaps, sister dear, but I am the best dancer among us," Jane would say.

Lydia refused to be bested by her eldest sister. "Only because you have had more practice." Catherine, while a bright child, sided with Lydia on every issue.

This frequent conversation naturally led to spirited debate, in which each party claimed themselves to be the winner. However, this rivalry became too much for Mr Bennet's sensibilities to bear. If he was being honest, when forced to choose between this lively evening ritual or the serenity of his library, the latter had far greater appeal. He betimes sought refuge in that quiet domain, where he could relax with a book, without interruption by argumentative females.

However, his daughters must have mourned his absence, for they mended their raucous tendencies and ceased their frequent disputes. Polite conversation prevailed at breakfast and supper. During the evenings, they had quite given up their musical pursuits, instead attending to their stitching projects.

Having no need to escape to his library in the evenings, Mr Bennet joined his daughters in the parlour as they diligently worked on their stitchery. However, none of them embroidered samplers or handkerchiefs, or refashioned bonnets, as was their usual employment. Each daughter busied herself with the same task: repairing their dancing slippers. This gave him pause; the girls only wore their dancing slippers at the monthly assembly, which had been held nearly three weeks ago.

"Jane, my dear," he said, observing the abundance of neglected footwear. "How did your slippers become torn?"

"'Tis a puzzlement, indeed, Papa. I cannot account for it," Jane said, with her usual innocence.

When he posed the same question to Elizabeth, his favourite and most clever daughter, she could offer no reasonable explanation. Mary, Catherine and Lydia also claimed to be perplexed by the poor condition of their slippers. Mr Bennet knew his daughters were hiding something from him, but every attempt to discover the truth met with no success; they refused to reveal their secret. What's more, he noticed that their demeanours were much altered, his lively daughters had become quiet and taciturn.

Since he had not failed to lock them into their chamber each night when they retired, he knew for certain that the girls had had no opportunity to dance. However, each evening, his daughters attended to their slippers, mending the worn soles and using scraps of fabric and lace to repair the torn tops, and attach shoe roses.

Frustrated by this conundrum, he became even more determined to know more. He cajoled them, scolded them and threatened them with punishment most severe, all to no avail. They refused to reveal their secret. For three nights, he slept in the hall outside their bed chamber, but the door never opened. Each morning, when he unbarred the door, he demanded to see their dancing slippers; the result was always the same, they were torn and frayed.

He could not help wondering if the old fortune teller's prediction had finally come true. Had a spell been cast on his children? Since his daughters were still with him, the night had not yet claimed them, but was he running out of time? By Michaelmas, he had still not discovered the cause of the mystery.

While Mr Bennet secluded himself in his study, a servant announced a visitor to Longbourn. "Mr Charles Bingley, at your service," the man said. "I am new to the neighbourhood. I have taken a one-year lease of Netherfield Park, which is but three miles from here."

Mr Bennet was delighted to meet his new neighbour. "I know the place well and am pleased to know Netherfield is let at last." Indeed, the estate had been unoccupied far too long. He invited his guest to join him and offered a glass of wine.

"I have heard from the neighbours that your daughters are the jewels of the county."

Mr Bennet wondered if Mr Bingley might have been sent by Providence to help him find a solution to his problem. Mr Bingley listened in rapt attention as Mr Bennet unfolded the story of the worn-out dancing slippers. "None of them will reveal their secret. If you can learn how my daughters tear their slippers, you shall choose one as your bride."

"May I meet them?" Mr Bingley inquired with eager anticipation.

Mr Bennet escorted the gentleman to the sitting parlour and introduced his daughters. They each made their curtsies and greeted Mr Bingley. From the moment Mr Bingley set his eyes on Jane, his eyes never strayed from her. While Jane often had this same effect on men in the community, she seemed as spellbound as her admirer. This could only portend well for Mr Bennet. When the two men returned to the study, Mr Bingley accepted his challenge. "I will discover the secret and return to claim Miss Bennet's hand." Mr Bennet had no doubt that Mr Bingley would do all he could to solve the mystery.

Later that night, when his daughters retired, he bolted the door, locking them all safely inside. Then he showed Mr Bingley to the guest chamber next to his daughters' chamber. Mr Bingley promised to listen carefully to every sound that night and report his findings in the morning. Mr Bennet instructed his trusted housekeeper to attend to the guest's every need. When he retired for the night, he prayed that Mr Bingley would discover the girls' secret.

In the morning, before he unbarred the door, he knocked on his guest's door, eager to learn of his success; however, Mr Bingley was gone. There was no trace of him in the empty bed chamber. Alarmed, he unbolted his daughter's door, and demanded to see their slippers. One by one, each daughter showed him torn and tattered slippers, as they had every previous morning.

"What has happened to Mr Bingley?" he inquired, fearing for the man's life.

"Maybe he went home, Papa," Jane said, confusion crossing her face.

"Why did he not take his leave of me?"

"Perhaps you scared him away, Papa," Lydia said.

Believing evil forces posed danger to the community, Mr Bennet met with Colonel Forster of the local militia, who promised to send a man to investigate. Later that day, Lieutenant Wickham called on Mr Bennet who explained the mystery of the worn slippers. "They are dancing, but where or how, I cannot fathom," he said, then advised the lieutenant of the reward.

"Never fear, Mr Bennet, I will learn the secret." Mr Bennet introduced him to his daughters. Once the girls had left the study, Wickham proclaimed Jane the most beautiful and Elizabeth the most amiable. That night Wickham retired to the guest chamber, but in the morning, there was no trace of him.

Upon hearing of Wickham's disappearance, Colonel Forster sent Lieutenant Denny to find the missing man. As with the previous two men, Mr Bennet told the story and Denny agreed to take on the challenge.

Much to Mr Bennet's dismay, Lieutenant Denny went missing the next morning. Now angry, Colonel Forster railed against Mr Bennet. "I will not lose any more of my men to this mischief."

Alarmed by this unfortunate turn of events, Mr Bennet feared he would never solve the mystery of the torn slippers. However, as though by divine intervention, Mr Collins, a distant cousin, arrived at Longbourn for an unexpected visit.

When Mr Bennet explained the story and begged for his help, Collins cried out in fear. "Oh no, sir, I am not up to that challenge. Some devilry is the cause of this fiasco and I shall not be caught in its talons." Mr Bennet could well understand his cousin's hesitation and did not press the issue upon him.

"I have come to choose a wife from among your daughters. Their beauty is well renowned in the kingdom and I am a good prospect for any woman. I have a cosy cottage in need of a mistress."

Since the man seemed amiable enough, Mr Bennet agreed. At least one of his daughters would be saved from this sorcery. "You shall meet them and make your choice."

Upon meeting the sisters, Collins naturally selected the most beautiful among them – Jane. He made sure to sit next to her at supper and made every effort to woo her with his witty repartee, indulgent compliments, and sparkling wit. When Jane blushed and smiled, Mr Bennet could only conclude that Mr Collins's methods were having a great effect on her.

"My compliments to you, Cousin, on your excellent table setting. The pheasant is cooked to perfection and this wine is the best I have ever tasted," Mr Collins said, with much fanfare. Later that evening, Mr Collins entertained them by reading from Reverend Fordyce's Sermons to Young Women. When Mr Collins retired to his guest chamber, he advised Mr Bennet of his plan to propose to Jane on the morrow, proclaiming his confidence that his suit would prosper. Mr Bennet wished him every success.

However, when the morning came, Mr Collins's belongings were scattered around the room, but he was nowhere to be found. Upon questioning his daughters, once again they claimed ignorance of his whereabouts. Nor would they explain the cause of their torn slippers.

That afternoon, Mr Bennet received a guest from Derbyshire; Mr Darcy of Pemberley. "I have come in search of my friend, Mr Bingley," he said, with a serious mien and grave tone. "He seems to have disappeared. The last his family heard from him was five days ago."

Mr Bennet could well understand Mr Darcy's concern. "I fear Mr Bingley is not the only missing man. Three others have disappeared in their quest to solve the mystery, and a fourth, my cousin, went missing only this morning." Mr Darcy listened attentively as Mr Bennet relayed all he could recall of the day Mr Bingley visited Longbourn, and the night he went missing. He also explained the fortune-teller's prediction, the questionable worn-out slippers, and his every attempt to discover the cause.

Mr Darcy assumed a perturbed scowl. "My good sir, if you simply confiscate their slippers, they shall be unable to dance," he said with an air of contempt.

Although Mr Bennet had not considered that solution, he easily discarded it; something deeper was afoot. "Will you take up the challenge? You may marry whichever of my daughters as you choose."

Mr Darcy assumed a stony façade, and his eyes hardened, "I have no desire to marry any of your daughters, sir," he said in an irritated tone. "My only purpose is to find my friend and restore him to his family."

"When you meet my daughters, you may change your mind."

After a moment of tense silence, Mr Darcy finally spoke. "May I be introduced to your daughters?"

Mr Bennet summoned the girls and in short order, they entered the study and made their curtsies. Upon his introduction to each daughter, Mr Darcy acknowledged them with only a slight nod of his head. "Miss Bennet, what has happened to my friend, Mr Bingley?" he inquired, his eyes flaring with disdain.

"I do not know, sir. Perhaps he changed his mind about staying in Hertfordshire and returned to London," Jane said in a meek voice.

Mr Darcy's nostrils flared in anger. "I have just come from London, and his sisters have not heard a word from him in five days and are fraught with worry."

Jane turned pale and hung her head. "I hope with all my heart that you may find your friend."

"I assure you," Mr Darcy said, casting his eyes on every Bennet daughter. "I intend to do so." He offered a curt bow and left the house.

Although Mr Bennet wished the gentleman every success in his quest to locate Mr Bingley and the other missing men, he had little confidence in his success. With no other able-bodied men to come to his assistance, Mr Bennet wondered how he would protect his daughters from the creatures of the night.