James Egerton
Egerton, Finley, Watson & Pierce
94 Park Lane, London


My dear Mr. Bennet,

We have been retained by Sir Reginald West, father of Mr. Jonathan West, to communicate with you in the matter of the termination of any contact between his son and your ward, Miss Julia Bradford. As you know, Mr. West has served as a piano master to your daughter, Miss Catherine Bennet, and your ward, Miss Bradford, for some months. Sir Reginald is concerned that the attractions of his son, and the young man's warm manner, may have given rise to expectations on the part of Miss Bradford as to their continued association. Sir Reginald regrets if this has happened, but has made it clear to his son that this is impossible. Mr. West's family is a very socially prominent one, and its members must take great care in choosing their affiliations. We enclose a refund of the tuition paid by you to Mr. West for the previous quarter.

Members of my firm have discussed the matter with Mr. West at length, and we are confident that, even if you are dissatisfied with this termination, you have no legitimate claim. Any contesting of this decision on the part of members of your family would no doubt give rise to gossip, and I have been instructed by Sir Reginald to inform you that he would take vigorous action to protect his family name in the event that any damage was done to them.

Cordially,

James Egerton,

Mr. Bennet is shaken by the untimely deaths of his siblings,
and later his first wife. His response to these tragedies, his much happier
second marriage, and the family connections resulting from it, drastically
alter the trajectories of his daughters' lives.

Life then had been about excitement, promise, sensation. He was
twenty-three when he was introduced to the young and lively Frances
Gardiner. Her face and figure drew his eye, and her energy and good humor
lifted his spirits. Her charm was enhanced by her open reciprocation of his
interest - he was her everything, her knight in shining armor. She was
dazzled by his eloquence, his looks, his wit...his standing. He was a
gentleman in every sense of the word. And he was independent, so there was
nothing to stand in the way of marriage.

Perhaps he had been precipitous in his choice of wife. The sudden death of
his siblings had pulled him back to his ancestral home, and away from his
scholarly life at Cambridge, where he had only half-jokingly been referred
to as 'the next Newton' by his colleagues. To have his dream snatched from
him (he had been one of the youngest professors in the University's
history), and his heart broken (he had been especially close to his
sister), had made him less prudent, more eager to grasp at happiness. If
the fruit of his years of monk-like dedication, and his much-loved older
brothers and younger sister, could all be snatched from him within three
days by a bolt of lightning, a runaway carriage,
and Indian
rockets, then he would live for the moment.

His life with Fanny had not been without disappointment. Though he had
continued to dote on her, he had learned that 'lively' did not necessarily
imply 'reasonable' or 'agreeable' - she and his mother never got along, and
so his mother, with whom he had always had a very warm relationship, spent
most of their marriage staying with her sister - nor was beauty always
adequate compensation for a short attention span and a woefully inadequate
education. Fanny was very clever, the daughter of an eminent jurist was
unlikely to be otherwise, but her own mother had died when she was a child,
and Judge Gardiner had concentrated his attentions on his son, neglecting
his daughters and letting them spend their days idly, shopping and
gossiping.

While neither his wife, nor her sister, were ones with whom he could share
his deepest feelings or new ideas, he became very good friends with his
brothers-in-law, and saw his mother and her relations regularly, and there
were other great joys to distract him from their differences: Jane,
Elizabeth, and, finally, Catherine. The ache sharpened as he thought of his
little girls growing up without their mother. She had fussed, and
overreacted, but she had been unstinting with affection and attention -
even to Elizabeth, whom she had irrationally blamed for not being a
boy. Because of this, from the start Lizzy was 'his girl,' and even at
three months she had spent quite a bit of time each day in his lap while he
worked. She had been his daughter in other ways: like her father, she had
developed precociously, learning to walk at seven months, and to speak at
nine. By the time she was a year old, she could count to ten, and if the
two numbers totaled no more than the fingers on her hands, add them
together. By fourteen months, she recognized the numerals from 1 to 10, and
all of the letters, and could clumsily scrawl legible 'E', 'L', 'I', and
'Z' with a pencil grasped in her chubby fist (she soon mastered the rest of
the letters in her first name, although it was longer before she
consistently got them in the correct order). Two months before his wife's
death, Elizabeth had been thrilled to realize that there could be more than
ten of something, an insight that caused his mother to exclaim, "Oh Thomas,
she is just like you were!" His wife had been far less enthusiastic,
wondering aloud what value a gift for mathematics was in finding a husband.

Fanny had so wanted to give him a son. Jane, named for Fanny's mother, had
been the perfect baby girl, and Fanny had confidently proclaimed that the
next would be an equally perfect baby boy. Her disappointment at
Elizabeth's birth had been acute - she was actually indifferent when her
second daughter was named after Thomas' mother, with whom Fanny had never
been comfortable. His wife was with child again as soon as possible, but
she lost that baby to a high fever after a few months: unnamed, as yet,
although his wife had thought of the baby as 'Thomas, Jr.' for
weeks. Determined that this name would be given to a son, she buried the
stillborn (which had been a girl, despite her confidence), and her loss,
and immediately saw to it that she was yet again with child. Catherine, for
his mother's beloved sister, had followed Elizabeth in barely eighteen
months, so strong was her desire to give him an heir and so great her
enthusiasm for the marriage bed. That was a facet of their marriage
which had held no disappointment.

At least her death had been mercifully quick. She had delivered the new baby as
easily as the others, but she was weaker, and on this occasion the bleeding had
not stopped soon enough. She had held her new daughter only once before she
closed her eyes 'to rest,' and lapsed into unconsciousness. She never awakened
and the summoned doctor could do nothing, but her husband found some comfort in
the idea that she knew she was in his arms, and had heard his words of love.

A quiet knock brought him back to the present, and his mother entered with the
two older girls to say goodnight. Three-and-a-half year-old Jane came forward
to place a quick kiss on his cheek, then stepped back to offer a proper
goodnight. She was anxious to be a 'big girl,' to not add to her father's
worries - she was even trying to be mother to the younger girls (not that
Elizabeth cooperated in the slightest), insisting on spending a great deal of
time watching over her youngest sister, whom she had designated 'Kitty'.

Elizabeth did not share Jane's reserve, and having spent much of the last
few days in his study and being only a year-and-a-half old, one could not
expect otherwise. She climbed onto her father's lap, demanding a bedtime
story - 'Papa story, Papa story, Papa story,' although it came out more
like "Papa towie". She rejected an offer from her grandmother to read, with
a thorough agitation of her curls, because "Gamma not gowl!"

A glance at his mother made him realize how much of a toll these last few
days had taken on her. She had been a rock, seeing to everything, and
caring for Jane and Catherine - sometimes even for Elizabeth - but she was
no longer young and he could not expect her to continue.

Mr. Bennet hugged Elizabeth tightly as he looked from his mother to Jane
and, suddenly it was clear to him. His girls needed him to take
charge. Fanny was gone now, and he must stop grieving and be father and
mother; see to their spiritual, emotional and physical needs. He had never
been one to hide from his responsibilities, and it was time to shoulder
these.

"I can do the voices, Papa," Jane offered.

"Even the lion's deep voice?" Mr. Bennet asked with a low growl.

"Yes, sir," Jane nodded seriously, while Elizabeth protested noisily (and
correctly) that Jane could neither do the voices, nor could she read.

Mr. Bennet laughed as he stood, hoisting Elizabeth onto his hip and putting his
hand out to take Jane's.

"Well, I think we should be able to deal with Mr. Aesop between us, Jane,"
he replied, pausing to give his relieved mother a kiss on her cheek before
leading the girls to their nursery.

~/~

Immediately after his precipitous marriage, Thomas Bennet had been very
concerned about giving his new wife financial security. Though his estate was
quite prosperous, the generation-skipping entail had been renewed by his father
(continuing a long-standing tradition). And once his father had had a third
son, he had felt confident enough to put almost all of the family's other
assets into adding property and making improvements to the estate. As Thomas
was the last of the Bennet men, if he were to die unexpectedly he would leave
his widow nearly penniless. Always of a frugal and hard-working disposition,
the young man applied himself with a vengeance, and his genius once again bore
fruit. In addition to making a systematic study of farming and land management,
and significantly understating Longbourn's income to reign in the extravagance
of his young bride, he formed a partnership with his brother-in-law Gardiner,
who combined the Judge's intelligence and ambition with an Edinburgh University
education in engineering. Together they revolutionized brass production and the
manufacturing of articles using this metal and within a few years had become
quite wealthy. At this time, Thomas had considered selling out to his partner
and concentrating on his family and estate, when he was left a widower with
three daughters under four years of age. Not expecting to marry again, and
still with a substantial part of his wealth subject to the entail (and with the
current beneficiary of that entail being a distant cousin), Mr. Bennet
redoubled his efforts to ensure that his girls would be well provided for in
the event of further tragedy. This renewed effort soon led to a new, practical
process for the manufacturing of steel, and the rewards from his invention, and
the mass-production of the metal, were clearly destined to turn the partners'
wealth into huge fortunes. His success in business had helped to distract him
from the loneliness of the loss of his wife, although the additional wealth had
meant less to him than the excitement of conceiving the ideas, and the even
greater excitement of making them practical.

Mr. Bennet had always insisted that the bulk of the reward go to Edward
Gardiner, whose forceful personality and canny judgment were responsible for
the day-to-day success of their collaboration, but the ideas had come from
Thomas Bennet, and his brother-in-law insisted that he take at least an equal
share of the return - they compromised with a 60/40 split, which satisfied
neither, but Edward Gardiner contented himself by immediately putting 10% of
the holding company in trust for the Bennet children, without telling his
partner. After some years of astonishing growth for their company, the pair
sold off their earlier, 'lesser' enterprises to a consortium of very wealthy
investors, and they had realized somewhat over 3 million pounds, which
was still a minority of the huge and growing wealth of Gardiner
Enterprises. From his share, Thomas Bennet settled a breathtaking one hundred
thousand pounds on each of his girls, and put an even larger unentailed
£900,000 in trust for the entire family, in the funds and similar safe
investments, and his partner put £300,000 in another trust for his
partner's children. Because Thomas was a very private man, and deeply
distrustful of fortune-hunters, even as late as 1810 he put about the rumor (by
telling his sister-in-law Mrs. Philips, as whatever she knew that was not sworn
to secrecy soon became common knowledge) that their dowries were £5000,
and that his annual income was perhaps £3000. If people could have
checked, they would have learned that he spent somewhat more than the income
from the 'entailed estate' (which did not include adjacent lands that he had
purchased since becoming Master), or about £8000 a year - the income from
all of the Hertfordshire properties was more than twice that amount. But his
servants were very well paid and very loyal, so they cooperated in the
farce. While their neighbors knew that the family was 'prosperous,' the
fact that the majority of the family expenditures went to educating the
children and paying the servants made those expenditures difficult to
estimate. Not counting the funds in trust, by the time Jane was out in
Society, Mr. Bennet's annual income was in excess of £50,000, and it was
that low only because Gardiner Enterprises disbursed a fraction of its profits,
and both the partners gave a great deal of the disbursed funds to various
charities. The rest were consistently plowed back into the many new
opportunities that he and his brother-in-law continued to find, growing their
enterprise ever larger.

---

Note to the reader: This seems a good juncture at which to acknowledge
two things. First, the story is clearly a rewrite of the (currently
unfinished) P&P fanfic Connections, by Sharni. The author has kindly
granted me permission to make free use of her story and characters, and her
only expressed preference was that there be 'no pirates' in the story. I
hope she enjoys what I've done with it - her words, and Miss Austen's,
appear throughout this story.

Second, this departs very far from 'Austen canon' and even from
Sharni's story. My idea was to take, as much as possible, the same characters
as Connections, but justify to myself the changed Bennet family
circumstances. The enormous wealth that I gave to the Bennets in this story
would be absurd in the context of the original P&P - it would be absurd for
Darcy to be so wealthy in that story. However, it is (perhaps) not so absurd
here, in that Mr. Bennet has not only invented, but profited from, a
commercially viable process for manufacturing steel. That process was, of
course, actually invented by Henry Bessemer in 1855, and from what I can tell
(not being an expert), the Bessemer Process could have been developed many
years earlier if it had occurred to someone else. Once the process was
invented, enormous fortunes were created quite quickly - for instance, Andrew
Carnegie amassed a fortune of approximately £50,000,000 in less than 20
years in the ironworks business. Further, once the Industrial Revolution
began, far-sighted rich people maintained and expanded their own wealth by
investing in these new enterprises (just as they do today), and that happens
in this story, as well.

Naturally it is pure speculation on my part what would have happened if a
single brilliant team had invented and exploited mass production of steel
some fifty or more years before it happened, and while I thought about this a
fair amount in choosing the incomes for various characters, the details do
not play a significant role in the course of the story. For instance, I have
imagined that most of the wealthier people in this story have indoor plumbing
(accelerating the Industrial Revolution might have had this
consequence), but it isn't mentioned in the story, so the reader can imagine
whatever they choose. I have tried, within my very limited knowledge, to make
the story as plausible as I can, but it is just for fun, and has no
pretensions to "alternative historical" accuracy. If the reader is interested
in a fanfic written by someone who actually knows about Regency England, I
strongly encourage them to read the (uncompleted) Forces of Passion by
Alison. It's very well written, and the author's knowledge of the period is
far greater than even my aspirations in that regard.

Finally, I must say that descriptions of the 'precocity' of the baby
Elizabeth character are drawn from my own experiences with my eldest
daughter. One of the betas found this to be the least believable part of the
story, but it is the only part that I can say is entirely possible.

---

Chapter 1: October 1813


Upon taking up residence at Netherfield, on the Monday after Michaelmas,
Mr. Bingley very soon discovered that, though there were many fewer people in
his country neighborhood than in Town, the country inhabitants compensated by
knowing the most intimate details of their neighbors' affairs. His open and
friendly nature soon overcame any qualms his neighbors might have otherwise
felt about poking their collective noses into his life (and he doubted that
they ever felt any qualms). Not only were they happy to inquire into his
affairs, they were eager to share items of interest about other
residents of the area. It is not surprising that, after having been in
Hertfordshire a week, he had heard three retellings of the history of the
Bennet family. At least that part of the family history which was known to the
neighborhood - the Bennets had always been a private family, and so a
good deal that would have interested their friends never circulated; for
instance, oddly little was known of Mr. Bennet's mother's connections. Bingley
had listened with only half an ear to the first telling, but heard enough
references to the beauty of the daughters to pay more attention to subsequent
renditions.

Mr. Bennet had been barely three and twenty when thrust into the role of Master
of Longbourn, and his change of fortune and the tragedies in the years shortly
before and after his assumption of the estate made for a dramatic tale. In the
telling, the Bennet brothers were of surpassing nobility and bravery, the
sister the acme of cultivation and gentility, and his dead wife was all that
was lively and charming. In point of fact, his siblings were excellent
people, and his wife had been (often) charming, but the only figure in this
tale that might really be 'larger than life' was Mr. Bennet himself, and about
him those telling it knew surprisingly little. In their story, he had been a
'teacher' before inheriting Longbourn, and his mother was from 'somewhere in
the south of England.' The vast bulk of the story concerned the romantic and
tragic details (both real and imagined) of his life, and his resulting
heartbroken 'collapse'. Thomas was friendly and helpful to his neighbors, but
he listened more than he spoke, and when he spoke, it was most often to ask a
question. He was known to be honest, hard-working, reliable, and a good
listener; and he was clever enough in his dealings with the locals that none
outside his circle ever wondered at how little they actually knew him. And
because they liked him, they related the sequel to his tragedy with even more
pleasure, as it was a love story. In their view, Mr. Bennet had secured his
daughters' futures in a most satisfactory way: just a year after the death of
his lovely young wife he had married again, and his second wife's family was
close-knit, wealthy, and of extremely high rank.

For Thomas, this new love was completely unexpected, since in making his
children his first priority, he had participated in society as little as
possible while avoiding incivility. It had not been love at first
sight. When his mother's childhood friend had come to visit six months
after Fanny's death, accompanied by her nineteen-year-old niece (the niece
had come to escape the attentions of a particularly annoying suitor), he had
just tolerated the disruption to his household, and had been polite to his
guests out of affection for his mother. What first interested him about the
niece was not her beauty, though Sarah was lovely, but her warm manner, and
the affectionate attention she gave to his daughters. When he looked more
closely, he saw her intelligence, her depth of understanding and good
sense, and the soundness of her principles and education - and her
beauty. In turn, Sarah noted the warmth he lavished on his girls, his
wry humor, and his brilliant mind. In time, he began to seek her
company, and, a little later, she his, and by the end of the scheduled
visit, the couple's happy fate was sealed.

His mother had been able to attend his second wedding with none of the
misgivings she brought to his first. This was not because of Sarah's rank,
nor was it because of the £42,000 - not the rumored ten thousand - she
brought to the marriage, but due to knowing that Sarah was an intelligent,
well-educated, disciplined, and loving woman who would be the perfect
complement to her son. And when his mother died peacefully in her sleep,
eleven years after her son's second marriage, her opinion had only been
reinforced by the intervening years. The birth of an heir, Thomas, Jr., a
year after the wedding, had confirmed the neighborhood's conviction that
this partnership was marked for fortune, and the events of the years since,
including another son, Benjamin - the somewhat unfortunate alliteration
being dictated by Sarah's father's given name - born three years after the
first, had proved them as correct as the late Mrs. Bennet.

~/~

Some eight years after the birth of their second son, the Bennet family
again increased, but in a somewhat less conventional, and certainly more
sensational, manner than previously. The Honorable Frederick Bradford, heir
to Viscount Portman, of Portman Hall, Shaftesbury, Dorset, had been a
student of Thomas Bennet's at Cambridge, and although a year older than his
professor, they had become fast friends. Thomas Bennet had stood up for his
friend in London when he married the only child of a distinguished, but
untitled family, and their friendship was sustained by regular
correspondence and occasional visits, including the presence of the new
Lord Frederick Portman at Mr. Bennet's second wedding. Thomas Bennet had a
large, closely-knit, extended family, but Lord Portman had not been so
lucky. He and his wife were only children with no near relations, and they
had just two children of their own: a son, James, and a daughter
Julia. While quite wealthy, all of their substantial income derived from
the title - the wife's dowry had been only £10,000 and after their son
was born, the viscount and his wife had seen no need to economize. So when
Lord Portman, his wife, and his heir were lost at sea while traveling to
Greece, their daughter Julia had been left with almost nothing, as the
title specified 'heirs male'. As a result, the title became extinct on the
simultaneous death of the viscount and his son, and the daughter was left
with little more than her personal property. Fortunately for Miss Bradford,
Lord Portman had specified Thomas Bennet as his daughter's guardian, and
the Bennets had taken the 17-year-old girl into their home and their
hearts. Miss Bradford had been a minor celebrity for a time - transformed
from the wealthy and beautiful daughter of a peer into an impecunious
orphan in an instant - and her story still circulated among the Ton as a
curiosity, although it would have better served many of them as a
cautionary tale.

Lady Portman had once expressed to Mr. Bennet, forcefully and without
contradiction from her husband, a desire for her children to marry for love,
and without regard to rank or fortune. So when Mr. and Mrs. Bennet set aside a
substantial sum for their ward (to which she objected without knowing
how substantial a sum it was), they naturally imposed the condition that
she marry with their approval, but they never, in the four years since her
parent's death, sought to direct her choice - nor was it necessary, as their
marriage, and that of her parents, had provided the best possible example for
Miss Bradford. And when Miss Bradford had formed an attachment to Kitty's
latest piano master, Mr. Bennet had had the young man's background and family
looked into, and though not without reservations about them, he had done
nothing to stop the match. However, given the obvious intensity of feeling on
the part of his ward, he ensured that she was never alone with the young
man. The young people had met in London, at the master's studio, while Kitty
and Julia were staying with Mrs. Gardiner, and Miss Bradford's guardians - who
referred to themselves as her 'parents' - were content to allow the courtship
to proceed under the eyes of their relations; they did, however, travel to
London to become introduced to the young man. Oddly, despite having been chosen
because of his patronage by Mrs. Bennet's relations, the young man only knew
Miss Bradford as 'the ward of a country gentleman' and Mrs. Gardiner as the
wife of a 'comfortably-off merchant of some sort or other'. And as Miss
Bradford did not really understand how wealthy her family was - none of the
children did, although Elizabeth was astute enough to have a rough idea - she
had supposed that her dowry was perhaps £3,000, and that was the estimate
that she related to her swain when he asked.

While the local gossips knew nothing of the piano master or the dowry, they
were familiar with the other details of Miss Bradford's history, and delighted
in communicating those to Mr. Bingley, as well. His interest in the topic was
entirely due to hearing of the beauty and cultivation of the young ladies of
the household, as he had been previously entirely unaware of the 'Portman
incident' - ironically, the only members of his household who would have any
real interest in such tattle were his sisters, and the manner of the younger,
and the tendency of the elder to be everywhere with her, would probably
preclude their hearing about it from their Hertfordshire neighbors.

The neighbors also nattered on about the brilliance of the accomplishments
of the second Bennet daughter, but to Bingley this translated as 'she nets
exceptionally fine purses' (ironically, Elizabeth had never netted a purse,
painted a table, or covered a screen), and so it made no lasting
impression. In actuality, Miss Elizabeth was a local legend: at the age of
four she had astounded her neighbors with feats of mental calculation, and
had been seen conversing with their learned rector in Latin at the age of
six. The breadth and depth of her skills increased dramatically over the
years, but she had learned to refrain from demonstrating those of her
abilities not considered fashionable. Outside of her intimate circle, her
neighbors were familiar only with her astonishing virtuosity as a pianist
and a singer, but they did not realize that these were lesser
accomplishments for this most unusual young woman.

All three of the Bennet girls had been permanently and significantly
affected by their mother's death. In Jane's case, the pain of the early
loss, together with a strong desire to not 'trouble' her father, had led
her to hide her feelings, and her assumption of responsibility for her
sisters had transformed her calm good nature into a saintly, imperturbable
gentleness - only an offense to one of her family could get a rise out of
her, but in those cases she was fierce and implacable. In Elizabeth's case,
her mother's initial disappointment with her sex had led to a strong bond
with her father, and after Fanny's death Elizabeth was almost inseparable
from him. Her remarkable intelligence had been shaped by their close
association, so that by three she was far more interested in numbers than
dolls or dresses, and this preference became ever more pronounced as she
grew up. The change to Catherine was the most pervasive, but also the least
visible - she was, as nearly as is possible for a child, a copy of her
mother. However, being raised by Sarah Bennet from infancy had made her
patient instead of irritable, considerate instead of selfish, thoughtful
instead of heedless, and well-educated and refined, instead of frivolous
and vulgar. Her uncanny physical resemblance to her mother as a child and
young lady made her the darling of her aunt, Mrs. Philips, and the fact
that she returned the affection without being spoiled by it was a testament
to Sarah's skill and care as a parent.

~/~

Bingley found his interest in the Bennet family piqued enough to be eager for
an introduction, but during his first short stay in Hertfordshire he only had
the pleasure of meeting Mr. Bennet. Bingley's temperament helped him
take pleasure in the encounter, as Mr. Bennet was in many ways a disconcerting
man. He had a lightning-fast, penetrating intellect, and often seemed to be
enjoying a private joke. Bingley liked a joke himself, and his personality
did not rub Mr. Bennet the wrong way, so they both enjoyed their chat. Bingley
was intelligent, rather well-educated for a gentleman of means, and he was
always pleased with superior company. There was, however, one disappointment
- when returning Mr. Bennet's visit, he did not catch even a glimpse of the
daughters. He was forced to take solace in the thought that they would surely
be at the assembly to be held in Meryton shortly after his return from London.

The night of that ball, Bingley's party was running much later than he would
have preferred. His sisters seemed to be taking even more time to prepare for
the evening's outing than when in London; no doubt Miss Bingley felt it
imperative that she impress the country folk with her elegance. The men had
been waiting some time - even Bingley's brother Hurst, who, on occasion, could
be every bit as fastidious about his appearance as his wife. Mr. Darcy - the
host's best friend - would much rather have stayed in, and even he began to
think the assembly preferable to watching Bingley's impatience to be gone. When
Caroline and Louisa - Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst - finally appeared, the
response was muted, and one of relief, and they had to be satisfied with
complimenting one another, although Caroline mistook Darcy's satisfaction at
being able to leave for approval, and was pleased with her efforts.

On their arrival at the hall - smaller, noisier, and more crowded than they were
used to - they were welcomed with appropriate deference by their new
neighbors. Bingley took pleasure in introducing his party, and talked happily
whilst keeping half an eye out to see if the Bennet family was in
attendance. He smiled as he saw Mr. Bennet toward the rear of the hall looking
rather stern, but being laughed at by a very pretty, petite young woman who, he
never doubted, must be one of the daughters about whom he had heard so
much. Neither man nor daughter was willing brave the crush around the
Netherfield party, so he resigned himself to biding his time, confident that he
would meet the entire family during the course of the evening.

It was over half an hour later before Bingley received that introduction, and
it came only after Mr. Bennet was prompted by a woman whom Bingley initially
thought could be the eldest daughter. On closer observation, though, it was
obviously Mrs. Bennet. She seemed in her mid-thirties, and there was something
in the conspiratorial manner of their conversation, and in his obvious pleasure
at her presence, which showed that they were a couple.

She slipped her arm into his, and allowed her husband to lead the way to Mr.
Bingley. Mr. Bennet welcomed his new neighbor cheerfully, before introducing
Mrs. Bennet. Some unseen signal had also conjured his daughters from the crowd.

"This is Elizabeth," Mr. Bennet said, with obvious pride.

Mr. Bingley was presented to the lovely, emerald-eyed girl with chestnut curls,
who had taken his notice earlier, and he smiled broadly as he expressed his
sincere pleasure at meeting her.

" - and our youngest daughter, Catherine," he continued as another pretty,
almost platinum-blond, girl stepped forward with a demure smile which suggested
a less lively discourse than Miss Elizabeth's.

" - My eldest is about somewhere - ah, here's my girl - Jane dear, may I introduce
Mr. Bingley."

Bingley was more than charmed as a flaxen-haired, young woman, with the
most beautiful of faces, and the purest of azure eyes, smiled up at him and
softly welcomed him to the neighborhood.

He stayed with the Bennets until the commencement of dancing, introducing
his sisters who, on the whole, were pleased to make their acquaintance;
especially as none of the other neighbors they had met that evening seemed
worthy of notice. Attractive and fashionable women, Miss Caroline Bingley
and Mrs. Louisa Hurst also proved clever and facile conversationalists, if
more interested in Society and fashion than one might wish. The Bennets
would have been encouraged if not for the hint of derision toward Meryton
which soon crept into the discourse of the younger lady; Jane was not of a
temperament to notice, and Kitty too distracted by her second assembly, but
Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, and Elizabeth, noticed and were dubious that all of
their new neighbors would wear well.

The party dispersed as the music began; Mr. Bingley leading Jane to the floor,
and Elizabeth and Catherine being claimed by the young men who had previously
solicited their hands for the first dance. Mr. Bingley's sisters took their
places opposite Mr. Hurst and Mr. Darcy.

The evening progressed as country assemblies generally do, with music,
laughter, and conversation, only the focus of conversation at this
gathering was, of course, Mr. Bingley's party. Having already had the
opportunity to talk a great deal about Mr. Bingley, the new topic of
interest became Mr. Darcy. It was generally known within minutes of his
entrance that he possessed an income of ten thousand pounds annually - he
took some solace that people believed the rumor he had started, as his
properties and investments yielded more than five times that amount. When
to this was added his fine, tall person, his noble mien and handsome
features, the whole of the company was initially well disposed to admire
him, but an arrogant and aloof manner soon altered their opinions.

During the first half of the evening, aside from dancing once with each of
Bingley's sisters, he walked around the room looking forbiddingly out of place
and occasionally speaking to one of his own party. He was relieved later in the
evening, after Bingley introduced him to Mr. Bennet, to meet a man whose eyes
held a kindred, albeit subtler, expression of dismay at spending the evening in
such a manner. The two settled into what became a relaxed conversation on
estate management and politics.

For Elizabeth, her father's approval of Mr. Darcy's company might have
gone some way to mitigating the opinion she had soon formed of him, had not she
been personally slighted by the man earlier in the evening. Obliged, by
the scarcity of gentlemen, to sit down for two dances, she was near enough to
overhear a conversation between him and Mr. Bingley, who left the floor for a
few minutes to press his friend to join it.

"Come, Darcy," said he, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing
about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance."

"I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly
acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be
insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in
the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with."

"I would not be so fastidious as you are," cried Bingley, "for a kingdom!
Upon my honor I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life, as I
have this evening; and there are several of them, you see, uncommonly
pretty."

"You are dancing with the most handsome girl in the room," said
Mr. Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.

"Oh! she is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her
sisters sitting down just behind you, who is in every way lovely, and who seems
most agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you."

"Whom do you mean?" and turning round, he looked for a moment at Elizabeth,
seeing her indistinctly in the shadows, and turned back and coldly said, "She
is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me, and I am in no
humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other
men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are
wasting your time with me."

Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy walked off; and Elizabeth
remained with no very cordial feelings towards him, though she told the
story with great spirit among her friends; for she had a lively, playful
disposition, which delighted in any thing ridiculous.

Mrs. Bennet shook her head in wonder upon hearing the story. "Lizzy, you have
too much good sense to take the matter to heart. You know you have beauty and
brilliance, so declining the introduction was Mr. Darcy's loss, not yours."

"Thank you for saying so, Mama," Elizabeth smiled, for though she was able to
laugh at the situation, a little balm to her wounded vanity was welcome. "I can
understand why he might say that Jane is the most handsome girl in the room,
although I cannot approve of his dismissing Kitty so readily. His friend
certainly seems very taken, and Jane, in return, appears to have relaxed some
of her usual reserve with a new acquaintance."

Sarah Bennet smiled her agreement. "My first impression is that he seems a
pleasant young man."

"He does - possibly a little too agreeable for my taste - but very
pleasant. It is odd that he is so different to Mr. Darcy; I wonder at their
friendship."

"It may become clear as we know them better, Elizabeth. There is surely more to
Mr. Darcy than his stalking around and making disagreeable remarks; for one
thing, your father is enjoying his conversation. They have been talking
steadily this past three-quarters of an hour."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she looked across and found them deep in
conversation. "I wish that my father would not find him such good company. I
dislike the idea that I should have to be polite to the man for the sake of his
friend or my father."

"Oh Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet cautioned, "do not nurse a grudge over his incivility.
I wonder how much of his behavior might stem from discomfort at being outside
his own circle. He is rather awkward with strangers."

"More disdain than discomfort; that is probably unfair, but I am confident that
he feels himself above the company here. Please do not defend him,
Mama. I am enjoying my righteous indignation far too much, for now."

Mrs. Bennet was unable to suppress a slight laugh at her stepdaughter's
perversity. "That is fair enough, but may I ask one thing of you? Will you
refrain from repeating the story of Mr. Darcy's insult to your father? It is
rare that he is able to be entertained by anyone without taking pleasure in
absurdity, and it is clear he enjoys Mr. Darcy's conversation. I am afraid that
knowing of this slight might taint his pleasure." She continued, "And you
cannot have missed the gossip about his wealth that spread the moment he
entered. One need not be completely disagreeable to feel discomfited at being so
discussed by strangers."

"For you, Mother, I will promise to not spread the story further, but I reserve
the right to think of Mr. Darcy as I will." In spite of her expressed intent,
though, her mother's words softened her opinion slightly, at least by causing
her to think briefly of how uncomfortable she would be in the same circumstance.

Chapter 2


As would be expected, the assembly was the topic of conversation the following
day. Kitty was thrilled to have danced every dance at only her second ball
since coming out. Mrs. Bennet smiled and commended her impeccable behavior
during the evening. "I am not at all surprised you were never without a partner,
as you were in every way a lady."

"Is that a veiled criticism, Mama?" Elizabeth queried with an amused look in
her eyes. "I had to sit out a set."

"You know very well, my dear, that I was nearby when you deflected a partner
for that dance to Charlotte."

"Me, turn aside a request to dance - ?" Elizabeth answered in mock
indignation. "Jane and Kitty may be able to turn away suitors by the droves,
but those of us who are merely 'tolerable' must take every opportunity
we are afforded."

Mrs. Bennet shot a quelling glance at her daughter, but it was unnecessary as
Elizabeth had already moved the conversation to the fashion of the evening.

"Did you notice the lace on Mrs. Hurst's dress-" she began with a cheeky grin
at Mrs. Bennet.

"Elizabeth, no lace!" her father interrupted. "I expected you to be above such
interests."

"But Father, such discussion is mandatory the morning after a ball," Elizabeth
smiled at him, completely unabashed.

"Ben, do you wish to escape this postmortem? We could take a ride down to the
lower property to look at the drainage work."

"Ah, drainage, now that is interesting," laughed Elizabeth. "Ben, you
had much better stay here and learn about lace."

The look of disgust Ben sent Elizabeth was enough to show his affinity lay
with his father as far as drains and lace were concerned.

"May I ride Perseus today, Father? Mr. Perkins says I have a way with him."

"As long as you stay by me. And, as for drainage Elizabeth, I shall have you know
that I had quite an interesting discussion with Mr. Darcy on the subject last
night, and it was the most entertained I have ever been in a ballroom when not
dancing with your mother."

Elizabeth laughed and watched as her father placed a kiss on his wife's cheek,
gratefully taking his leave from the ladies and escaping the horror of a
discussion of finery.

"Did you bring up lace to drive them from the room?" Mrs. Bennet
asked with a barely suppressed smile.

"I wish to learn from Jane what she thinks of Mr. Bingley," Elizabeth
laughed, "and I know she is never particularly forthcoming with a large
audience."

"He seems a pleasant man," was the only answer Jane offered at first, but
further prompting brought a more open response.

"He is just what a young man ought to be," she admitted, "sensible, good
humored, lively; and I never saw such happy manners! - so much ease and
friendliness!"

"He is also handsome," replied Elizabeth, "which a young man ought likewise
to be, if he possibly can. His character is thereby complete."

"I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. I did
not expect such a compliment."

"Did you not? I did for you. But that is one great difference
between us. Compliments always take you by surprise, and me
never. What could be more natural than his asking you again? He could not
help seeing that you and Kitty were about five times as pretty as every
other woman in the room. No thanks to his gallantry for that. Well, he
certainly is very agreeable, and I give you leave to like him. You have
liked many a stupider person."

"Dear Lizzy!"

"Oh! you are a great deal too apt, you know, to like people in general. You
never see a fault in anybody. All the world are good and agreeable in your
eyes. I never heard you speak ill of a human being in my life."

"I would wish not to be hasty in censuring any one; but I always speak what
I think."

"I know you do; and it is that which makes the
wonder. With your good sense, to be honestly blind to the follies
and nonsense of others! Affectation of candor is common enough - one
meets it every where. But to be candid without ostentation or design - to
take the good of every body's character and make it still better, and say
nothing of the bad - belongs to you alone."

Mrs. Bennet laughed at this exchange between the sisters, thinking it
illustrated the difference in their approaches to their fellow man perfectly.

~/~

At very much the same time, the analogous discussion was taking place among the
inhabitants of Netherfield. Bingley had never met with pleasanter people or
prettier girls in his life; every body had been most kind and attentive to him,
there had been no formality, no stiffness; he had soon felt acquainted with all
the room; and as to Miss Bennet, he could not conceive an angel more
beautiful. Darcy, to the contrary, had seen a collection of people in whom
there was little beauty and no fashion, and few about whom he had felt any
interest. Miss Bennet he acknowledged to be pretty, but she smiled too much.

Mrs. Hurst and her sister allowed it to be so - but still they admired her
and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet girl, and one whom they
should not object to know more of. Nor would they mind getting to know
more of the Bennet family as a whole.

"Mrs. Bennet appears a very elegant woman. She has kept her looks very well
for someone with grown daughters," Mrs. Hurst offered.

This might have been an appropriate moment for Mr. Bingley to enlighten them
concerning all he had learned of the Bennet family history but, frankly, the
details seemed of little importance, and his mind was much more agreeably
occupied thinking about Miss Bennet.

"Louisa, I feel that I have met Mrs. Bennet before, somehow, although I cannot
place her," Miss Bingley added. "I am glad that, though we will not have the
company we are used to, there is at least one tolerable family in the
district. Mr. Darcy, you did not seem averse to Mr. Bennet's conversation."

"He is a remarkably sound and intelligent gentleman," Darcy agreed.

"And what, sir, did you think of the younger daughters? I believe they all
are reputed beauties."

Darcy hesitated a moment before answering. During their lengthy and
wide-ranging conversation, they had discussed the rising conflict between
landowners and industrialists, and Mr. Bennet had related, with amused
affection, a cynical, perfectly phrased, and wonderfully insightful comment
of Elizabeth's concerning the Corn Laws. This little aside had caught Darcy's
attention, and he had begun to feel some misgivings over his precipitous
judgment of the middle Miss Bennet.

"They are not unattractive girls," he replied noncommittally, causing
Caroline to smile at what she saw as 'damning with faint praise'. She could
like the Bennet girls more if Darcy liked them less.

~/~

"And so, you like this man's sisters too, do you?" Elizabeth continued at
the Bennet house. "Their manners are not equal to his."

"Certainly not at first. But they are very pleasing women when you
converse with them. Miss Bingley is to live with her brother and keep his
house; and I am much mistaken if we shall not find a very charming
neighbor in her."

Neither Elizabeth nor Mrs. Bennet were convinced, but before they could
reply, Charlotte and Maria Lucas were announced.

Kitty and Maria soon excused themselves in order to walk together into Meryton,
leaving the others to continue in their talk of the ball. Charlotte Lucas was
an intelligent young woman with excellent sense. Roughly halfway in age between
Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth, she had a close friendship with both. She too,
joined in the gentle teasing of Jane regarding Mr. Bingley's quite obvious
interest.

"I do not believe I mentioned this last night, Jane, but I happened to overhear
Mr. Robinson asking Mr. Bingley how he liked our Meryton assemblies, and
whether he did not think there were a great many pretty women in the room, and
which he thought the prettiest? He answered that immediately - 'Oh! the
eldest Miss Bennet beyond a doubt, there cannot be two opinions on that point.'"

"You are jesting, Charlotte," Jane blushed. "I am sure you misheard."

"Oh, Jane! It is certain she did not. I heard him call you an 'angel'
myself. Why is it that the only time you ever practice suspicion is on the
receipt of a personal compliment?"

"It appears my overhearings were generally more to the purpose than
yours, Eliza," said Charlotte. "Mr. Darcy is not so well worth listening
to as his friend, is he? - Poor Eliza! - to be only tolerable. The man
must have very poor eye-sight."

"It is wonderful of you to say so, Charlotte, but I think his poverty is in his
manners."

"It was very wrong of him to behave in such a way, but do try not to take
it too personally," put in Jane. "Miss Bingley told me that he is reserved
unless among his intimate acquaintance."

"Oh, do not concern yourselves about me," Elizabeth answered
light-heartedly. "I do not value Mr. Darcy's opinion enough to feel more than
the slightest of stings. I am certainly not seeking his approval."

"I wished he had danced with you Lizzy," said Miss Lucas, "but in a way,
his pride does not offend me so much as pride often does, because
there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so very fine a young man,
with family, fortune, every thing in his favor, should think highly of
himself. If I may so express it, he has a right to be proud."

"That is very true," replied Elizabeth, "and I could easily
forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine." What she
did not say was that her family had connections to match his, and (likely)
superior fortune, and neither of her parents would tolerate such behavior.

"I do not feel that Mr. Darcy's comment was a symptom of pride," Mrs. Bennet
offered, "but I cannot account for it to my satisfaction. I would suggest
any judgment not be made on the basis of one evening's observation. I
shall hold my verdict until I have at least had a conversation with the man. He
may improve on acquaintance. Elizabeth, you will have another opportunity to
assess the whole party when they dine with us in two days time."

Jane's smile stalled the complaint on Elizabeth's lips. Her dislike of Mr.
Darcy did not stand against her sister's pleasure at Mr. Bingley's
company. She would see what the night brought, but certainly anticipated
little pleasure on her own account.