These first couple or three chapters, honestly, are probably not that exciting. Consider this as the coffee (or tea) starting to brew. It has to steep first for all the flavor to come out. But here's a tidbit. A lot of the names I'm using in this chapter are actual characters or names used in the novel. They don't have any importance or any lines. Some are just mentioned in passing.

If you're still reading, I hope I won't put you to sleep. Unless you're reading this at two o'clock in the morning in bed, trying to get back to sleep like I often do, maybe this will cure it.

Chapter 2

The ball in Meryton produced mixed results for the Bennet girls. Even Meryton itself had its expectations exceeded and disappointed in the same event. Rumors were satisfied by the arrival of the Netherfield party. Every one of its matrons had Mr. Bingley at the corner of their eye, and their own daughter, granddaughter, niece, or target for matchmaking in the other eye. This was all right in the midst of season for country sport, after all. Birds have some chance escaping the hunters, between the guns and the dogs that flush them from the blind. Small chance. The gentlemen, no such escape exists. The matrons, the hounds. For they were more than fair game: clothes tailored from London, a baroche, servants in livery waiting outside. Netherfield's tenant would be the greatest trophy of the season.

As for the rest of the gentleman's party, the disappointment was mutual. Two ladies and three gentlemen total. Both ladies dressed to cut, to cut to pieces and walk all over every country girl that had any aspirations to beauty and refinement. These birds were easily distinguished by their white plumes in the hair, which none of the women in Meryton could boast. And the lace, especially in Mrs. Hurst's gown, drew numerous compliments. Throughout the evening, these handsome figures took their places occasionally amongst the dancing set. Few gentlemen approached them, as was deemed supposedly proper. Mr. Darcy was obliged to give Miss Bingley a few dances, and Mrs. Hurst, one. Mrs. Hurst got at least two out of her husband. Their best occupation during the evening involved quiet musings amongst each other. That changed, of course, when Mr. Bingley introduced Miss Bennet to his sisters. After Jane had been engaged for two dances, it was a mark of praise to receive the notice of his sisters. Few people had gained so high a mark in their favour thus far.

"What do you make of the two sisters?" asked Maria Lucas. "They're so elegant and fashionable. Probably from court."

"Better pleased with themselves than anything else," remarked Lizzy.

"I wonder if Mr. Darcy is courting Miss Bingley."

"If it's true, they ought to beak it off. I've never seen a man in love look so bored, almost exasperated."

"I can't say I blame Mr. Darcy for that," said Mary. "Or if he'd prefer not to dance, he could have stayed at home and spared himself the trouble."

"What a tall man, and such a fine figure in a blue coat," Maria admired. "I'm quite frightened of him. He does look exasperated."

"Maria, I was teasing about that. There's no reason to be shrinking before such a man. As my sister said, if he didn't wish to dance this evening, that's his own fault in coming. Oh look, Maria, Mr. Bingley has just asked Charlotte for the next dance!"

Without hearing the conversations that come with standing in the presence of all these individuals, it would be difficult for an observer to view these social interactions with accuracy. The best one like Mary might do is get pieces, here and there, from those nearby. Or if no audible dialogue passed, conjecture offered its own amusement. When Sir William and Mr. Bingley first approached Mrs. Bennet, conversation could be easily surmised. Jane and Lizzy were nearby, and introduced; with nods and extended arm, she was pointing out all her younger children across the room. But perhaps the greatest amusement to come from it was Mrs. Bennet putting herself forward with Mr. Darcy, then he bowed and walked the other way, leaving her sour milk white in face. Hardly to say it was a laugh at her mother's expense, not her sister's.

Other sources of amusement and annoyance came from Kitty and Lydia, as well as their circle of friends. Harriet and Penelope Harrington kept close to the two youngest Bennet sisters. Nothing so remarkable for birds of the same flock. They were practically competing, who could stand up for the most dances, and which pair of sisters danced the most. Friendly rivalry, to be sure. Lydia pulled out a ribbon from her hair, and obviously made a bet with it. Miss Harriet Harrington was coming out ahead in the bet, and teased Lydia for it. Lydia's response was to fling it in her face and exclaim: come get it! That was all that was audible of Lydia in the midst of the dancing. Of course, Lizzy put a stop to it as quickly as possible. For it went unobserved by her mother, and Jane was occupied by the Bingleys. Mary could merely observe it; any attempt to hinder her younger sisters' pleasure was bound to create a disagreeable scene in the middle of the whole room.

Miss King was numbered on among Mr. Bingley's dancing partners. At eighteen, of eligible age for society, the poor girl proved to be a little awkward in her dancing. It did not appear that Mr. Bingley minded any lack of poise or experience. He was too agreeable to further her embarrassment. But when poor Mary King collided with the next man opposite of Bingley, she did not escape the remarks and poorly contained laughter of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. There was also Miss King's uncle off to one side of the room, who observed the misstep, and turned the other way mortified. Her evening, aside from her dance and few minutes' conversation with Mr. Bingley, ended up being a miserable one.

Miss Leah Watson was spotted a number of times going back for refreshments during the dance. The fact she was overlooked many dances did not go unnoticed by many of the matrons. Some raised eyebrows were seen as they attempted to count how many glasses of punch she'd partaken already. With a sigh and some pity did Mary see a mutual acquaintance be slandered so. She was of nervous disposition, would have enjoyed dancing and danced just fine, but for the stain on the front of her skirt. After that, Miss Watson kept close to the wall and by the side of Charlotte or Maria Lucas.

Maria Lucas danced a bit more often than her older sister, which also raised eyebrows in the spectators. Lady Lucas could not afford to make much of it. Her younger daughter was coming of age, while Charlotte had been out for a few years now without suitors. If she waited too long, she'd find herself in Mrs. Bennet's situation, with too many unmarried daughters on her hands, outnumbering her sons. Maria had also got a new gown for this occasion. The gentle yellow complimented her. And thankfully, she had enough requests for dances that Mary did not have to have her by her side the whole evening. A good-humored girl but too like her father, lacking in substance to contribute anything worthwhile in conversation. Mary might have preferred sitting by the Clarke siblings. It always displeased Mrs. Bennet when Mary spent too much time with Miss Clarke, who made Charlotte Lucas at her twenty-seven years of age seem very young. It wouldn't bode well for any of her daughters to associate themselves intimately with a confirmed old maid. Charlotte Lucas may have been an exception, especially for her plainness. What her mother approved and disapproved was forever a mystery to her children; what her reasons were couldn't always be construed, while her motivations were never mistakable.

"I wonder at Kitty and Lydia," remarked Mary. "They are so fond of dancing, while I take little pleasure in a ball. Dancing seems to give more misery and anxiety than pleasure to its participants."

"I'd take more pleasure in this one if there were enough partners as agreeable as Jane's," Lizzy agreed.

"I believe the rewards of observation and reflection are much greater."

"We shall have to be philosophers, Mary, in the lack of gentlemen. Have you any words of wisdom to take from this evening's events?"

"None that will benefit anybody. Nobody would listen, most of all Mama. She'd make a better impression on our visitors if she might consider lowering her voice."

Lizzy groaned. "I couldn't agree more. She's not considering how an affront to Mr. Darcy may influence his friend's opinion. Although, I can't say I blame her feelings."

"Perhaps you take Mr. Darcy's slight too personally?"

"Refusing to dance is not the offense, as you must've seen." Lizzy saw him across the room, doing his tenth lap of the room, with a smirk. "It's what comes out of the mouth that defiles. He's of the mind that dancing with ladies, overlooked or snubbed by others, is beneath dignity for a gentleman such as himself."

"And how would you know he is of that mind?"

"From his own lips. But, it is no matter really," shrugged Lizzy. "If such are his opinions of the company, it would be a punishment to stand up with him. Miss Bingley is welcome to him."

"Conjecture is not philosophy, dear sister."

"Is not philosophy a school of opinion, Mary?"

Both sisters looked each other in the eye, expressions that mingled interest and irritation, but as two good natures that are engaged in a duel. Even if Mary was not one to gossip like her younger sisters, not a single soul in the world is immune to it. Coming to agreement on a subject happened rarely. Winning a battle of intellect against Lizzy was nearly impossible. Intellect and wit are two different qualities. If her elder sister were an intellectual, Mary could always prove her point. But if the other person doesn't agree or care when they're proved wrong, triumph is vanity.

For all that however, Mary smiled in return. Jane might've laughed when being teased.

"Well, looks like the Harrington girls have ceased pursuing Lydia," remarked Lizzy. "Happy for that. And hopefully, Lydia won't play such games on the dance floor again."

"They're gathered round Aunt Phillips."

"What are they saying?"

Lizzy waited in silence upon Mary's concentration and farsighted vision. Between the number of people in the crowd, and from their position seated, making out any conversation was a straining effort.

"All I can make out is… a piece of news… Uncle Phillips… headquarters… Oh dear, I can't see now. Mr. Doyle just moved into view."

A few minutes following that interchange between aunt and nieces, the room was buzzing. Funnily enough, it was more the men and women, murmuring and made excited by the news of -shire militia, coming to Meryton in a short few weeks, and will be quartering in town for the whole winter. Uncle Phillips rejoiced over the formal arrangements being made for official processes involved in housing his majesty's army in the neighborhood. Any of the local tradesmen present exchanged the news with each other, for all the baking, butchering, ordering, and supplying that would be required of them. And with this news, their wives and families were in the terrible imposition to give these officers hospitality. For nothing, not so great an honour, had occurred since his majesty passed through the town during Sir William's majoralty.

As we all know well, the lives of the Bennet family would never be the same again.

Any thoughts so far? Any thoughts about their future love interests? Of the younger three, who do you like the most? Who do you tolerate the most?