First of all, would like to thank those who left gratuity (reviews, fav/follows). I'll try to respond to more reviews in future. I also apologize for my technical issues with posting chapter 3. It's late. Once again, I own none of Jane Austen's original text or dialogue. Just borrowing for my storytelling purposes.

I do like Colonel Fitzwilliam. I like reading FF with him as a leading character, but sorry, my story is not one of those. I may, might, maybe bring him in later. Yet to be seen.

It's also my goal, for all three silly sisters, to stick as close as I can to their characters.

Chapter 3

Their visits to Mrs. Phillips were now productive of the most interesting intelligence. Every day added something to their knowledge of the officers' names and connections. Their lodgings were not long a secret, and at length they began to know the officers themselves. Mr. Phillips visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a store of felicity unknown before. They could talk of nothing but officers; and Mr. Bingley's large fortune, the mention of which gave animation to their mother, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals of an ensign.

Since their return from the assembly that night, to the next card party at Lucas Lodge, to the dining room at breakfast, the single subject prevailed. Though it was hardly surprising given what little exposure the Bennet family had of the world outside Hertfordshire. Without a governess to school their thoughts in another direction, or even an active occupation for vacant minds, young girls could give wild reign to the common fancies. It was a novel thing to even see a man wearing a red coat, in of itself. Adding to the romanticism drum rolls, bad pipes, medals and gold braid, heroic recognitions from the war office, how could a wealthy bachelor with a country seat compare?

"From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must be two of the silliest girls in the country," declared Mr. Bennet. "I have suspected it for some time, but I am now convinced."

Kitty felt the distinction with blushes and silences.

"I declare Captain Carter is the handsomest man in all the militia," sighed Lydia. "Only four and twenty. Twice as tall as me. When we were dancing at Lucas Lodge, he thought me the prettiest girl in the room. I hope you shall meet him before long, Mama. And I shall be off later this morning, just to see him once more before he goes to town. He shall be leaving tomorrow morning."

Having swallowed her previous bite of breakfast, Mrs. Bennet managed to voice and glare her protest against Mr. Bennet. "I am astonished, my dear, that you should be ready to think your own children silly. If I wished to think slightingly of anybody's children, it should not be my own."

"If my children are silly, I must hope to be always sensible of it."

"They are all of them clever, in their own ways." She glanced down the table at Mary, who had her silverware in raised hand for the last five minutes. "For heavens sake, Mary! Put that book away! You read often enough. I believe you can spare yourself half an hour in the dining room without a book."

"I fear that I cannot agree with you on this point, Mrs. Bennet," her husband retorted. "I had hoped that our sentiments always coincided in every particular, but all hope is lost, especially with regards our two youngest daughters, uncommonly foolish as they are."

"Papa!" whined Kitty.

"My dear Mr. Bennet, you must not expect so much of your girls. When they get to be our age, I daresay they will not think about officers any more than we do. I remember the time when I liked a red coat myself very well… and indeed, I do still in my heart. And if a smart young colonel, with five or six thousand a year should want one of my girls I shall not say nay to him. I thought Colonel Forster looked very becoming the other night at Sir William's in his regimentals."

"Oh Mama," squealed Lydia, with a hearty blush. "So full of secrets! Colonel Forster is quite a gentleman, but he's nearly forty."

"Lydia, how are you such an authority on the ages of these officers?" Lizzy asked skeptically, suspicious of impudent behaviour.

"La, it's no great secret! You can often tell age just by looking at the face. When I guessed Captain Carter's age, my guess was off by two years. Don't look so cross. He didn't mind… But Colonel Forster is a gentleman, even if he's not to be compared with Captain Carter. My aunt says that Colonel Forster and Captain Carter do not go so often to Miss Watson's as they did when they first came; she sees them now very often standing in Clarke's library."

Three people in the room were spared this further torture with the servant bringing a letter, addressed from Netherfield Park. Jane was asked to dinner by the sisters, and the invitation accepted promptly. However, controversy arose over her form of conveyance to the park. Mrs. Bennet denied her use of the carriage, insisting instead she go on horseback.

"Mama, this is not fair weather to go out," said Jane. "It looks as though it will rain."

"Exactly, my dear!"

"Mama-"

"So what if it rains, all the better!" declared Mrs. Bennet. "You'll just have to stay the night."

"Surely, that is not necessary."

"They might easily order for their carriage and bring her home tonight," added Lizzy.

"The gentlemen are taking their carriage to town to dine with the officers. It will be too late and a lot of inconvenience to do so at that hour."

"I'd rather not be an inconvenience," begged Jane. "I'd just as soon not go if-"

"Nonsense! You wish to go, don't you Jane? Well, you must go. Don't lose this opportunity to improve your acquaintance with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst."

"That's very good, Mama," sighed Lizzy. "She'll arrive at Netherfield, and sit down to dinner with them completely soaked. You can hardly allow that kind of appearance at your table would be acceptable."

"It would say a good deal about Mr. Bingley," said Mr. Bennet. "If he rode through rain to sit down to dinner, he's too desperate to get himself married to think twice of leaving a watermark on the chair." Kitty and Lydia giggled at the thought. And he went on to encourage: "For my part, Mrs. Bennet, if you wish your daughter to give the appearance of desperation, you could not do better."

The family saw Jane off, in Mrs. Bennet's fashion, regardless of all her own protestations and Mr. Bennet's advice. Jane dressed as best as could be managed for both dinner and the saddle. Feeling a few drops already on her face, she beckoned the horse to a gallop as soon as she gained the road. It was not long before Mrs. Bennet had her wishes gratified, as to the rain. Drops turned to downpour within ten minutes, remaining constant through the evening. With the wind, she declared that any conveyance of Jane back from Netherfield would be nearly impossible, even unwise. There was no possibility of her being brought home with the consideration of wind and treacherous mud.

"If Miss Bingley would not be permitted to venture out in such conditions," reasoned Mrs. Bennet, "neither should Jane. And if I know Mr. Bingley well enough, he will not hear of her being sent off."

Jane took ill by the next day, which fit capitally into her scheme. Lizzy promptly dressed and set off walking toward Netherfield, in spite of her mother's attempts to dissuade. The rain had broken enough to allow for a walk, enough also to tempt the youngest girls to follow Lizzy as far as Meryton. She'd have gone the whole way alone. In such a state of anxiety for Jane, solitude would've been preferable, and her pace wouldn't be slowed by them.

"What if Captain Carter should've left for town by now?" asked Kitty.

"Well, if there's nothing else to do, why don't we look in at the milliner's. Mrs. Freeman told us she should be getting new stock within the next week or so. I want to look for something that has scarlet, either the sash or the feather. Oh, wouldn't that be divine. Red feathers!"

"Mama says too much red in your dress will make your face appear red too."

"Oh Lord," groaned Lydia, eyes rolling.

"We're almost to Meryton, you two. Kitty, Lydia," said Lizzy, turning round, "don't forget to stop at the apothecary on your way home. Mama needs to reorder her salts. I don't imagine I'll have time to stop there and be back from Netherfield before dinner."

"We won't," Kitty assured.

"Mary could also use some more paper. If you could stop at the mercantile as well."

"Oh Lizzy!" cried Lydia. "Why didn't you tell Hill before we all left? We might've easily sent one of the servants for all the stops and supplies."

"The servants have enough to do, Lydia, and you both have plenty of free time in your day. Between both stops, it should not take either of you ten minutes." She turned and continued walking.

"It also occurs to me," grumbled Kitty, "that Mary has as much time on her hands as you or I. Yet, she's never asked to go out on errands. Don't you think it unfair?"

"It just occurred to me, let's look in at the Inn before we walk over to the militia headquarters," declared Lydia. "Perhaps we'll see Captain Carter off from the stage. I've already stitched my initials in my handkerchief to give him… Oh, what was I thinking? I ought to have used red thread instead of blue. Why do we always have an abundance of blue and nothing else?"

There was no gaining back any of Lydia's attention. Kitty relapsed into silence, doing her best to avoid the soggy spots on the road ahead. While the rain could be pleasant atmosphere, sitting in the parlour and tea being served, it tried her patience to walk in it. A mild wind stirred, which rustled their skirts and bonnets to strengthen the morning chill. If it were not for the militia, Kitty and Lydia would not have stirred from Longbourn. By the time they'd reached the village, Kitty shivered in spite of herself. Hardly a good mood to be greeting any officer. It also struck her that her sister had prepared ahead of time to bestow a token on Captain Carter, whereas she'd not given any thought to it. What a pitiful sight to be standing behind her younger sister as she made her advances to the fine captain.

If ideas could be gathered in a basket, Kitty's basket was rather bare of them. How to draw attention from another quarter. There were plenty of officers to go round. Lydia could not possibly have them all. Perhaps she could get her way with any of Kitty's bonnets, but not men. She gazed about for any of the previous partners she'd danced with at Lucas Lodge. Several milled about the streets. The hour was early yet. Lydia met disappointment at the stage, learning the Captain Carter already boarded and departed for town. How droll if she knew where his lodgings in London would be; then she might write to him, or better, send a letter without signing it. Anonymous transcripts excited more love than the tenderest signed confession.

"Do you know when he will be returning?"

"In a couple of weeks, I believe," sighed Lydia. "Oh, I forgot! Mr. Bingley mentioned at Lucas Lodge that he should love to give a ball. He was rather disappointed that our last assembly ended so early in the evening. What fun should the militia be invited too! That would be excellent. And by then, Captain Carter shall have returned."

"Wonder what took him to town in the first place."

"He mentioned something about a family matter. Either someone was ill or died; I don't recall," shrugged Lydia. The precious token she'd been clasping tight in hand was stuffed back into her reticule. "Well, I shall just save my handkerchief until he returns. In the meantime, let's take a walk to Clarke's library."

"What? You never go to the library!"

"Just to see if any of the captain's good friends might be there. It's nice to hear about him in his absence."

"Oh but we need to visit the apothecary, Lydia, and the mercantile-"

The nose wrinkled. "Nonsense!" decried her younger sister. "We can do all that later. You said yourself: Mary can go get her own papers if she needs them so badly. I don't know what she needs them for anyway. It's not like she keeps a diary, unless it's a secret from us. Of course, what secrets could Mary possibly have that are worthwhile to write down? Are you coming?"

"Go ahead and go to Clarke's library. I'll run over to the milliner. It's across the street from the apothecary anyway."

Lydia observed the pout on her sister's lips. "Really, why must you be so cross, Kitty?"

"I am not cross."

"Yes, you are!"

"There are other people in the world, you know. And it's so chilly this morning-"

"The weather is perfectly fine. You're just in a bad mood. Stop complaining and come with me. You can stand in doors, warm yourself up a bit."

Never had it occurred to Kitty that she could've walked the other direction. Her sister may have followed in a huff, but followed her, she might've been persuaded. The milliner's shop would've amused Lydia more than a bookshop, but it was first on her mind to pursue a favourite haunt of her favourite officer in the militia. Among other schemes, she'd hoped to make inquiries with Mr. Clarke as to the captain's favourite subject in books. Something to keep Captain Carter's interest when he returned.

When they came to the bookshop, Mr. Clarke had little to entertain them in the way of books or common acquaintances shopping. But a pair of officers, having just finished breakfast at the inn, walked over to explore the local spots of interest. Fortunately for the Bennet girls, they also were in search of amusement and company, rather than books.

"Pleasure to meet you, ladies," said one. "The name's John Pratt. And my comrade, Chamberlayne."

"Private Chamberlayne," corrected the other.

"How fortunate to meet you. We came early to see if we might meet someone at the coach, but alas," sighed Lydia, "he's already left for London."

"Scoundrel! He must be," declared Mr. Pratt, "to leave you to sigh after him."

"It is no matter. Urgent family business, which I completely understand. I don't suppose you know Captain Carter."

"Ah yes, we saw him off before he left. Shame!"

"Well, he assured me he should be returning to Meryton before a fortnight. Oh!" Kitty bumped an elbow into Lydia's side. "I am remiss. Mr. Pratt, Mr. Chamberlayne, my sister, Katherine. And I'm Lydia."

"Miss…"

"Oh, Bennet! Well, I'm not Miss Bennet. Actually, I'm the youngest." Kitty bit the inside of her cheek. "But we're all so informal. Whether we are called miss or not is no significance. How have you enjoyed Meryton since you've arrived?"

"Very much."

"Very much indeed," seconded Mr. Chamberlayne. "Colonel Forster has us well placed and comfortably situated. We will have a bit of rigorous drilling these next few weeks."

"I'm glad you've come. Meryton is much in need of good company, especially during the winter. Not to say we pass the time in boredom, but with good company, we shall all be merry, shan't we Kitty?"

"Do you speak for Meryton or yourself, Miss Lydia?" asked Mr. Pratt.

"She speaks for both," Kitty interrupted. "Meryton is proud to give quarter to his majesty's – regiment."

Having had enough of hearing Lydia's voice for the time being, Kitty dipped a polite curtsy before turning false attention to the book shelves. For a country village, the establishment offered little in variety. But on this occasion, it was as vast as the libraries and shops of London. Kitty picked a random aisle and sought refuge in the peace of farm trades. The subjects surrounding included cattle, bees, and pigs, as well as almanacs and periodicals of the Agricultural Report published from Manchester. She picked up a few books and skimmed pages, trying to count minutes.

Lively conversation resonated from the opposite side, deepening the red in her cheek, setting live the embers that were cooled on the road to town. Fretful tears slowly gathered. No use trying to conjure thoughts of the milliners to distract her. Lydia was bound to find herself a red feather. Soon as she returned home, she'd be busy that evening tearing apart an old bonnet to don the new plumage. Scarlet, just to match the regimentals.

"Do you find anything of interest, Miss Kitty?"

"Oh no, I…" Mr. Chamberlayne came into view. "I was simply looking for… something new. I'm not sure what; daresay, I'm in the wrong section altogether."

"I shouldn't have taken you for a farmer."

"Oh dear, no," chuckled Kitty. "I'm no farmer. My father is, well, I suppose 'tis more correct to say oversees the farm. But he's not what you'd call a farmer."

"Nothing wrong with the profession. I hope I do not imply that."

Spirits lifted a little. Of course, he was not at all handsome. His smile was a bit jagged. Also, having marched on foot and spent a bit much time under the sun, he was a bit sunburnt, appearing to glow a brighter shade of pink than Kitty's own cheek. Yet, the attention shown her proved him pleasant. Having broken from his friend's side temporarily allowed Kitty a few moments of conversation for herself, without having to combat Lydia's less than flattering speeches. In the end, the morning turned out well for both of them. Captain Carter was sorely missed, but it turned out to be in Mr. Pratt's power to assure Lydia that he should be returning from town within a fortnight. They'd actually come to the library to do him the favour of finding a particular book.

"I'm afraid we have none of Barnhart's or … what was the name?" asked Lydia.

"It's German," said Mr. Pratt. "Although, his published reports are a bit obscure for a common library. I doubt we'd find that here. Told him to try seeking it out while he's in town."

"Is he rather bookish?" laughed Kitty. She'd noticed a slight, almost imperceptible change in her sister's countenance. Anyone else in the family would have missed it. "Unless he's a reader of novels, then that doesn't count."

"Sounds as though you ladies would be disappointed if I confirm that charge. Well, I won't besmirch our friend, Carter. I'll leave that for you to judge, Miss Lydia."

With a couple blinks, she came back to her normal self. "I should love to find out! Even if he is a bookish type, I find it all the more charming. You're not going now, are you gentlemen? We were just about to walk over to the milliner's shop."

"Afraid we have only half an hour before we must return to camp," replied Mr. Chamberlayne. "We will not be free until late this afternoon, with only a short break mid-day."

Kitty answered before Lydia, too quickly she attempted and gasped. "I hope we may resume our conversation very soon then." Then stopping to clear her throat, and with a couple coughs, "Pardon me. Perhaps we shall meet sometime soon."

"We've heard rumors about a ball soon," Lydia offered. "The new tenant at Netherfield Park, whom we are intimately acquainted with, longs to give a ball. And our Aunt Phillips is so fond of having company. I'm sure we'll dance or make up a card table sooner or later!"

Upon arrival at the milliner's, the Bennet girls had more excitement. The Harrington sisters had a vaguely similar idea and purpose about the shop, and their search turned up another couple of officers. Introductions were made to a Mr. Saunders and Mr. Denny. There was much more to work with at the milliners, in which Harriet and Pen begged the opinions of their newly formed acquaintances. Great debate had brewed about white and pink, which should make the better sash. Tricky situation. Harriet presented to the world a pale glow with dark hair; her sister, Pen, an ebony mane with a lily's complexion, in her own words. For Harriet, her side in the great debate and indecision, incited quite the laughter from all the company.

"Harriet, you're being absolutely ridiculous!" cried Lydia. "Just go with pink. You know you'll pick your favourite colour in spite of all our advice."

"You are unjust, Lydia!" laughed Harriet. "And that is not true. I've always chosen. Today, I shall pass the privilege of choice to these fine gentlemen." With batting eyes she addressed them: "You are tasked with a heavy responsibility. What shall I choose? The white or the pink?"

The officers whispered a moment between each other, to the delight of all the females. When pink was at last the selection made, it was met with a feigned disappointment in all except Harriet. Conversation might have lingered longer had the men the ability to stay; their next drill, same as the others, beckoned them away, leaving all four of them to rave and talk plenty. Pen turned all different shades of red, in fits and through laughs extolling Mr. Denny as the best beau any girl in Meryton could wish for and more. Clever man, so merry and cheerful, and handsome as well. Acquiring more information as to their identities and histories was another task for later, when Lydia and Kitty went to visit Aunt Phillips. Everyone was too briefly acquainted to give much detail.

"Isn't this just delightful, Kitty! They're just what we needed here in this part of the country," sighed Lydia. "If only they were so well-trained and perfect, then they wouldn't need to be called away to bothersome drills. Oh, I want to have a look at the feathers."

"This is a change in fashion," said Pen. "I thought you got some faux rose and cherries just a week or so ago."

"I needed those to improve Kitty's handiwork. Now it's quite darling. I wore it to church just last week. Mama let me have it, as she's too plain to look well in it."

"Lydia! You're so beastly about that bonnet. Say what you want, do what you want with it, but that doesn't change the fact it is mine… was mine," complained Kitty. Her initial happiness with Mr. Chamberlayne and the other officers was instantly diminished. All former misery from the cold weather returned. "Mama indulged you because you made a great fuss about it-"

"Oh hush, Kitty! You'll find yourself another bonnet today. They have brand new stock, just look!"

"Not all of it fit to be seen," mumbled Harriet. "Oh that one, the sheer with blue embroidery on the end, it's hideous."

"It wants some flowers, very desperately," said Pen.

"I think it would make a fun, little project," decided Lydia. "But I'm in no need of occupation. If anything, I'd rather not risk being seen in it."

The fresh stock of millinery was alternately cooed over, admired, abused, then tossed aside. Lydia turned her nose up to all the closed-styles, which frame the face without doing injustice to the wearer. However, a lot of these types of hats were displayed for younger ladies, those not even the age of a lady. Kitty's stolen bonnet was of this style. Ironic, what was Lydia's pride to wear a week or two ago, was now deemed unsuitable. Fifteen envied and desired the appearance of eighteen. Her gaze shifted to the open-styles, the berets, and sweet caps nearer the front window. As winter approached, warmer and more robust models were advertised.

Suddenly, a cry of delight came from their midst. It was not scarlet feathers, but the sight of a velvet-capped, crimson bonnet, of pearly ribbon, so rich-looking it gave the appearance of satin. That white ribbon wrapped round the top, with a single faux rose of the same pearl colour pinned to the right side. Lydia's joy was too much for words, for a full ten seconds. Her friends and sisters gathered round, and catching sight of the beauty, understood immediately. Its ownership was impossible to dispute.

"It's the most gorgeous thing in all creation," sighed Lydia. "It's just the colour of the officers' redcoats. So elegant! I'll wager not even Miss Bingley has such a handsome bonnet, not in all of London." Harriet and Pen next begged her to try it on, take a glance in the mirror. "I must have it, but I cannot just wear this everyday. It's too good for everyday; only special occasions. Perhaps the ball at Netherfield, if Mr. Bingley will be so good as to invite our friends in the militia."

"If he's dined with them," said Pen, "it would be ungenerous if he did not invite them. They're our heroes, in service to the king."

Kitty's eyes went a different direction. "Lydia, are you sure you can afford this bonnet?" she questioned. "Did you notice the price?"

"Oh, Lord! Twenty-five guineas." From happiness to horror, her expression was altered by the shop display. "Kitty, how much money have you?"

"Not even close-"

"Well, how much?"

"Seven."

"Seven! You spendthrift sister!"

"I could lend you some," offered Harriet. "But I'm afraid it's only two guineas."

"Let's see: two, seven, four. Only fourteen."

"Thirteen, you dunce," scoffed Kitty. "Only thirteen guineas altogether. Pen?"

"I'm sorry, Lydia," pleaded the younger Harrington. "I don't have enough, and what little I have in my allowance, I need that for a new pair of gloves soon. My mama will be so angry if I overspend before the ball, that she probably won't allow me to go."

Lydia was nearly in tears. To have found the perfect bonnet, only to placed just out of reach of any of their purses. Jane might be persuaded to lend them the money, if not being she were ill and confined to Netherfield. Lizzy might be humoured, but in both their experience, Lizzy was not one for flattery or compassion for their wants. Never in their domestic history had Mary extended them generosity. And so, the darling scarlet hat returned to its display. Lydia retreated from the shop in despair, imagining some other more fortunate girl would procure her treasure. It would be a topic of half an hour's begging before dinner, to her mother and father. Then, it would become the tragedy of her diary later that evening.

Well, there you have it. Two of the silliest girls in the country... Fair or unfair? I feel a little of both.