Elizabeth Bennet did not feel ready to become a wife. Indeed, though her mother spoke of little beyond the marriages of herself and her older sister Jane since Jane had turned fifteen four years prior Elizabeth had given little thought to the institution with regards to herself in any event. She had thoughts aplenty about marriage in general, however. Being a keen observer of people, Elizabeth had noticed years ago how generally unhappy in their relationships most married people tended to be. This especially applied to her own parents. As a result, if she were to think about marriage as it related to herself, and this she did only fleetingly as she was sure, until that very day, it was a long way off, she imagined that she must love someone very deeply and being deeply loved in return to be induced to enter into such a state. All this she considered on her morning walk, one lovely spring day. If only she knew how her nascent dreams would soon be crushed.

"Another rousing morning excursion?" Mr. Bennet asked his daughter as she entered the breakfast room smiling and looking windswept.

"Yes, "Elizabeth confirmed cheerfully. After a quick kiss to her father's head she went to the sideboard to fill her plate then she took a seat beside. The pair sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes as Mr. Bennet resumed his perusal of the Farmer's Journal. Eventually when Elizabeth finished her food, she began her inquiries.

"Will we be able to tour the Hudson's field today?" She asked.

"Are they still determined to press the issue?" Mr. Bennet asked, carefully folding the paper and quirking a brow.

"Do not look at me that way." Was the unsympathetic rejoinder. "The stone wall has been in a state of disrepair for weeks and now the livestock are at issue. We must assess it and find a resolution."

"Very well," he sighed. "However, if I accompany you to the Hudson farm, I expect to be left to myself for the remainder of the week. I imagine you can manage things well enough without me."

Elizabeth nodded her assent. She had often wished her father took more of an interest in the well-being of their estate and that of all who lived there. For as long as she could remember his indifference had only grown. He roused himself for matters which would, conceivably, cause considerable or irreparably harm to the people or property of Longbourn, but beyond that he could not be moved. Although it saddened and aggravated her Elizabeth understood. One day in the, she hoped distant, future when Mr. Bennet died Longbourn would pass to a man he had quarreled with to the point of estrangement decades earlier. She understood that it made little sense to Mr. Bennet to exert himself on behalf of an estate that would pass to such a man. However; before this devolvement of the estate was so certain Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had hoped to father a son and though she was still young while this hope yet lived Elizabeth learned during these years, at her father's knee, the history, importance, responsibility of Longbourn and its tenants and farm. It had been in the Bennet family for six generations and Elizabeth was proud of this heritage and would not give it up no matter how her father slowly faded from the man who instilled that pride in her.

"Please allow me my morning and we shall make our way this afternoon. I have reason to believe our evening will not be a peaceful one so I must get my reading in while I can."

"Shall I ask you to explain yourself, Sir or let you have your fun?" She asked. Even as she said this her mother and three younger sisters made their loud and boisterous entrance into the room. It was some minutes before they were all settled at the table with plates and even longer before some argument or other between the two youngest was resolved enough for anyone else at the table to be heard.

"If you find that you can be still and dare I ask quiet for more than a minute I have some news to share that I believe you will all want to hear," Mr. Bennet said when there was enough quiet that he could make himself heard.

"Oh do tell us!" Lydia, the youngest at just twelve, exclaimed. "Nothing new or interesting ever happens here."

Her father paused for a moment and Elizabeth thought if he had been aiming that look of derision at her she would have been quelled, but Lydia either did not understand or chose not to see. She simply chattered with Kitty, the next youngest and her elder by two years, about what the news might be.

"Well I will say, my dear, Mrs. Bennet," he said when Kitty had finally taken the hint and convinced Lydia to quiet enough, "I hope you have ordered a good dinner today because I have reason to expect an addition to our family party."

"Whoever do you mean?" Asked his lady. "I know of no one that is coming, unless Charlotte Lucas should happen to call, and I hope my dinners are good enough for her. I do not believe she often sees such at home."

"No indeed, it is not Miss Lucas. In fact, the person of whom I speak is a gentleman and a stranger."

One look at Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth knew her mother was considering all of the eligible gentlemen in the neighborhood and which ones might most easily be persuaded to take her least favorite, and right now only available, daughter off her hands. She knew the former list was short and the latter empty. She could almost see Mrs. Bennet lament the absence of Elizabeth's elder sister Jane, the far sweeter and prettier sister, who was residing with their aunt and uncle in London for a few months.

"Mr. Langley!" She guessed with an eager smile. The nearly forty-year-old tenant of Purvis lodge was a particular favorite of Mrs. Bennet as his main requirement in a wife was someone who could care for his four young children. This caused Mrs. Bennet to believe he would not be so picky as to mind Lizzy's tomboyish-bluestocking ways.

"It is not Mr. Langley," said her husband; "It is a person whom I never saw in the whole course of my life."

This caused a great commotion and Elizabeth saw that her father greatly enjoyed the enthusiastic questioning from all five occupants of the breakfast room that ensued. Finally, when he had had enough, he explained:

"About a month ago I received this letter; and about a fortnight ago I answered it, for I thought it a case of some delicacy, and requiring early attention. It is from my cousin, Mr. Collins, who, when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases."

Although she was just as surprised as her mother and sister who now exclaimed at this news, Elizabeth found herself distracted by her father's insistence on treating the entail as source of humor. It was a matter which, understandably, caused her already excitable mother to tremble with nerves and she wished he would not choose to sport with her over it.

"How impertinent of him to write to you when you have chosen to be estranged from one another for so long. What can he mean by it?" That lady was asking.

"Ahh I see your confusion," Mr. Bennet said with an indulgent smile. "The Mr. Collins who chose to correspond with me and who will be our guest in a matter of hours is the son of the Mr. Collins whom I knew and . . . disliked so strongly. You will remember, my dear, that I did say I had not seen this gentleman in all of my life."

"Why did the son choose to write you?" Elizabeth asked.

"Perhaps I could enlighten you all by reading the letter?"

Everyone agreed to this.

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent, 7th May

Dear Sir,

"The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured father –

Here there was a general interruption.

"His father has passed away?" Elizabeth asked. "Had you been told?"

"Indeed, I had." Mr. Bennet confirmed. "A mutual acquaintance informed me that he died last month."

The ladies all exclaimed at not being informed and Mr. Bennet's responses and explanations of it having no immediate or practical impact on their lives were insufficient to satisfy their indignation. It was some time before he returned to the letter.

" . . . always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose him, I have wished to heal the breach. My mind is now made up on the subject for having received ordination at Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honorable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish. As a clergyman, I feel it is my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds I flatter myself that my present overtures will be acceptable and that the circumstances of my being next in the entail will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject the offered olive branch. If you do not object, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Monday June 5th by four o'clock and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday se'ennight following. I am respectfully yours and pass along my compliments to your lady and daughters.

William Collins