It is a truth universally acknowledged that a family of only daughters must be in want of a son. This truth is so well fixed in the minds of the parents of a family lacking in sons that they may, in the end, elevate one daughter to roles and responsibilities traditionally reserved for the male sex. This certainly seemed to be the case with the Bennet family. Their second daughter, Elizabeth, grew up and into the role of caretaker to their estate of Longbourn alongside, and increasingly in place of, her father.

June 1809

"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 took a seat beside him. 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?"

"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. This involvement, however grudging, was still new and much more than she had come expect until recently and so she reminded herself to be thankful.

"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 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.

"Oh, do tell us!" Lydia, the youngest at just thirteen, 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, my dear, Lizzy," he said when Kitty had finally taken the hint and convinced Lydia to quiet, "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 Lizzy. "I know of no one that is coming, unless Charlotte Lucas should happen to call, and I know our dinners are good enough for her – she is does not expect us to put on a show."

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

One look at her youngest sisters and Elizabeth knew they were considering all of the eligible gentlemen in the neighbourhood – though they were only fourteen and thirteen respectively matchmaking had already become a favorite pastime. They knew the sooner she, the only daughter of age in the house, was married off to an eligible gentleman the sooner they might be considered. She knew the former list was short and the latter empty. If the mystery guest were an eligible gentleman, it would be better if 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, were home to be won. Elizabeth had neither the desire, nor frankly the ability, to attract suitors.

"Mr. Langley!" Kitty guessed with an eager smile. The nearly forty-year-old tenant of Purvis Lodge was a particular favourite of the local matrons as his main requirement in a second wife was someone who could care for his four young children. Elizabeth imagined Kitty had heard him mentioned as a possibility for herself since she was not allowed to be picky due to her headstrong, tomboyish-bluestocking ways.

"It is not Mr. Langley," said their father; "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 the 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 sisters, who now exclaimed at this news, Elizabeth found herself distracted by her father's insistence on treating the entail as a source of humour. It was a matter which, understandably caused considerable anxiety in their home and she wished he would not sport with them about it.

"It is strange 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?" Mary observed.

"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 last Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable 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. I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends – but of this hereafter. 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 and daughters.

William Collins