Making Matches

Disclaimer: I don't own Pride and Prejudice. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Elizabeth Bennet is the only daughter of the Duke of Grafton, beset on all sides by fortune hunters, social climbers, and four very overprotective brothers. She expects her visit to family in Hertfordshire to be an unremarkable respite from the watchful eyes of the Ton, but Elizabeth isn't the only new arrival in the area, and unfortunately, a number of her fellow visitors have plans and expectations of their own. Alternatively, D&E against the world. OOC. AU. Title subject to change (open to recommendations).

Rating: K+.

Author: tlyxor1.

Part One: Autumn

Chapter One: The Meryton Assembly

Grandmother Grafton has no patience for the frivolities of Meryton. Admittedly, she has no patience for the frivolities of London, or Euston, or anywhere else, either, but at least there, she - as a result of her role as the Dowager Duchess of Grafton, Dowager Countess of Euston (so forth and so forth) - is obliged to behave herself. In Meryton, however, she claims the role of an ageing, cantankerous elder with a perverse, unfathomable sort of glee, emulates such a character with bewildering ease, and shows no indication she harbours any regrets for the deception.

Instead, Grandmother Grafton relishes in her liberation from society's usual constraints - such as it is - and not a single person - not even her son - questions her complete want of manners, decorum, or courtesy. Rather, they attribute the degradation in her deportment to the unfortunate reality of ageing, and consider the matter no further.

To Elizabeth Bennet, it is as baffling as it is amusing, and mortifying as it is surreal. Her Grandmother Grafton is perhaps the most intelligent woman Elizabeth knows, well-read, and well-versed in any number of subjects. She is observant and shrewd, proud, opinionated, and unapologetically independent. As such, her guise as a bitter old lady with nought to do but criticise her family - and the subsequent treatment she receives from their new neighbours - ought to be demeaning. A woman of her stature, treated like an invalid? It's utterly absurd.

Rather than share in this sentiment, however, Grandmother Grafton laughs, and Elizabeth has not the heart to condemn her for it.

Of late, Grandmother Grafton has found very little to laugh about.

"Your aunt ought not to throw her daughters in the way of tradesman," Grandmother criticises, and she makes no effort to modulate her tone. They receive a number of judgemental looks for the trouble, and Elizabeth pretends not to notice. "They can do far better."

"My cousins hardly care for status, Grandmother," Elizabeth answers.

Behind her ornamented fan, Grandmother Grafton pulls an unpleasant face. Jane, Mary, Catherine, and Lydia have had (or are experiencing) the best education money can buy. Their dowries are notable, their connections more so, their education and talents everything expected of proper, well-bred gentlewomen. They are everything estimable, and they could and would go far in the social circles Elizabeth was born into.

If not for their continued ties to trade, that is.

"How can I possibly forget?" Grandmother laments, bitter.

Elizabeth is careful not to roll her eyes, but it is a near thing. Grandmother Grafton's prejudices towards tradesmen is an immutable facet of her character - she frankly despises her only surviving daughter-in-law - but though Elizabeth does not share in her opinion, she also knows better than to argue the point. Not only is Grandmother Grafton entirely too stubborn to change her mind, but a public assembly in Meryton is neither the time nor the place for such a conversation.

"You cannot deny that Mr Bingley is handsome, at least. Jane seems quite taken with him."

"A handsome face may hide a multitude of sins," Grandmother Grafton intones.

"Perhaps," Elizabeth concedes, "Only time will tell."

"His sisters have a very high opinion of themselves," Grandmother observes, her expression scornful. She has no patience for social climbers ; Particularly those whose fortunes originate from trade. As is, she makes no effort to tolerate Aunt Francine, and the woman is family. Mr Bingley and his sisters hardly stand a chance.

"Quite."

They glance at the women in question, stood removed from everyone else in the room, and dressed far too lavishly for a simple country assembly. They haven't been introduced - Grandmother Grafton has refused the offer of one, and Elizabeth has adopted the role of her (supposedly) recalcitrant grandmother's long-suffering caretaker - and she wonders if the two women realise who they are.

Likely not, if the lack of any obsequious fawning is anything to go by.

Elizabeth does not repine the absence.

"What do you know of the family?"

"Very little," Elizabeth answers, "Nothing of note, certainly."

They watch Miss Bingley sidle up to one of the last two members of the Netherfield party. He is tall and handsome - exceedingly so, on both accounts - but he is also in possession of a forbidding countenance, and his entire demeanour does not inspire welcome. In fact, Elizabeth is fairly certain an inconsequential country assembly is just about the last place the gentleman wants to be, and she has to wonder at what on Earth he is doing there.

Elizabeth recognises him, of course. Mr Darcy is a friend of her older brothers, their respective cousins are in the midst of a rather prolonged courtship, and they'd shared a few dances over the course of Elizabeth's first (and thus far only) season. She would not call him a friend - or even a friendly acquaintance - but they are certainly known to each other, and Elizabeth is sure she has never seen him appear so unapproachable.

"There is her target, poor fellow," Grandmother Grafton quips.

"If Alistair is to be believed, he is quite far from poor," Elizabeth parries, "Though in this instance, I imagine that is part of the problem."

"Mr Darcy, if I remember correctly," Grandmother Grafton recalls, "Due to inherit Pemberley, in Derbyshire?"

"That is correct."

"And you danced with him?"

Grandmother Grafton's disdain is obvious. She holds no love for the Darcy family - Amelia Darcy made sure of that - but as far as Elizabeth is concerned, the reaction is excessive. Mr Darcy is handsome and eligible, but he is certainly no rake.

The same cannot be said for the second cousin they share.*

"I did," Elizabeth confirms, "Alistair introduced us at Almack's. I believe he felt obliged to offer me a set."

"Nonsense," Grandmother Grafton dismisses. She flutters her fan, agitated, "You are beautiful, graceful, and a delightful conversationalist. He would have been privileged to dance with you."

"You flatter me, Grandmother."

"I speak only the truth, dearest."

As they converse, they also observe as Mr Darcy successfully evades Miss Bingley's clutches. In its way, it's a spectacle, but Elizabeth can't find it in herself to laugh. She had experienced such determined attention only a few months prior, and it had made her completely miserable. As such, that same misery in Mr Darcy can only inspire sympathy.

Grandmother Grafton does not share Elizabeth's opinion. She chortles to herself as Mr Darcy makes another half-lap around the room, as Miss Bingley makes a vain attempt to appear subtle in her pursuit, as a long-suffering Mrs Hurst reluctantly trails along in her younger sister's wake.

While Mr Darcy tries valiantly to avoid interaction with his hostess, Elizabeth's cousin, Mary, joins them on the settee, and Elizabeth is quickly diverted by their new companion.

At eight and ten, Mary is the second of Thomas Bennet's daughters, petite and pretty, clever and canny. She has spent the last twelve months in London, refining her skills in Music and Dance, in Etiquette and Deportment. She's spent hours observing Elizabeth, Jane, and one of the cousins they all share, Victoria, as they hosted callers, planned events, shared in the management of Grafton House under the sharp, watchful eyes of their shared grandmother. She had accompanied Elizabeth, Jane, and Grandmother Grafton to Hertfordshire, however - to spend some time at home before her presentation - and Elizabeth's glad for her company.

"You dance quite charmingly, cousin," Elizabeth compliments, "James Goulding seems quite taken with you."

"With my assumed dowry, you mean," Mary replies, cynical, "He believes me as vacuous as my mother. Certainly, he was not pleased that I had the audacity to disagree with him."

Elizabeth shares a commiserating grimace with her younger cousin, unsurprised and unamused. She has experienced her own share of fortune hunters, of condescending, unmarried gentlemen who expect Elizabeth to possess nought but air between her ears, and the experience - even secondhand - is no less disappointing than it was the first time.

"I ought not be surprised," Mary continues, "Mr Goulding is as he has always been."

"So very critical, Mary."

"Someone ought to be. Goodness knows, my mother and sister shall not."

As Elizabeth hides her mirth behind her fan, Grandmother Grafton laughs unabashedly. "You are a treasure, my girl."

Mary's expression is deadpan, but her green eyes sparkle with good humour. "I do what I can, Grandmother."

Grandmother Grafton pries into the nature of Mary's disagreement with the heir of Heye Park, Mary indulges her curiosity, and Elizabeth is unsurprised that during her dance, Mary had found herself obliged to challenge young Mr Goulding's (very traditional) notions regarding the education of women in their society.

Elizabeth has never read A Vindication of the Rights of Woman herself, but she assumes Mary Wollstonecraft was quoted extensively.

"I imagine he shall set his sights on Kitty next," Mary says, "Since Jane and I have proven not to suit his tastes."

Grandmother Grafton clicks her tongue, unimpressed. "Charming."

"Ought I be insulted that he has not considered me?"

"You ought to count your blessings, Lizzy," Mary answers, laughing.

Grandmother Grafton is appalled by the very notion, however. "He would not dare!"

"Of course not," Mary agrees, "His questionable values aside, the man is not witless. He would be laughed out of Hertfordshire."

Grandmother nods, mollified, and her and Mary's conversation turns to their preparations for Mary's presentation in the New Year. Elizabeth is content to listen, to observe as the assembly's other attendees go about their evening, but Mary is determined to gain Elizabeth's insights from her first (and thus far only) season in town, and Elizabeth has no reason to deny her.

Thus occupied, it isn't until they are approached by Mr Darcy that Elizabeth's attention is diverted. His expression is closed off, his gaze shadowed with some unfathomable, tumultuous depth of feeling. It seems he is troubled - by more than the persistent Miss Bingley, that is - but nonetheless, Mr Darcy is everything polite and proper, and not even Grandmother Grafton can find fault in his manners.

"Do you find Hertfordshire to your liking, sir?"

"It is tolerable, I suppose. It does not compare to the Peak District, though I believe the hunting will be pleasant."

"I am partial to Suffolk, myself," Elizabeth replies, "Though I own, it is my home, and I am therefore biased."

Darcy smiles, though the expression is fleeting. "And what brings you to Hertfordshire?"

"I have been visiting family. I am to stay with my Aunt and Uncle Bennet until the end of November, and then I am to visit with my Aunt and Uncle Salisbury until 12th Night."

"And then on to London?" Darcy assumes.

"And then on to London," Elizabeth confirms, her smile mirthless. She already dreads it, and she is not the only one to do so.

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End Notes:

* Historically, Amelia Darcy married the fifth Duke of Leeds. Her son, George Osborn, seemed to be everything respectable, though the same couldn't be said for his mother. In any case, in this head canon I'm building, aMelia Darcy is George Darcy's first cousin. Her (ex-)husband is Grandmother Grafton's nephew, cousin to Elizabeth's father. Hence, Elizabeth and Darcy share a second cousin in their son, though they are not second cousins themselves. The man in question, Lord Danby, will be introduced later, but all you need to know (for now) is that he won't be a reflection of the real son of Amelia and Frances Osborne.

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