Prologue: 1796

Posted on December 25, 2009

The gentleman sat alone in his study. His correspondence, details of the latest tests of his new inventions, were open in front of him, but he was unable to comprehend them; the text blurred, the numbers were meaningless. First the shock, then the disbelief, and now the blinding grief had passed. He was left with a throbbing ache, a void at his loss. He stared into space, and ran his mind back over the five years of his marriage. It had not gone as he might have anticipated when he was first captivated by the beautiful, vivacious seventeen year-old, although, in truth, he had made no effort to think things through.

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; everybody 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, everything 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.

Chapter 3

Posted on December 28, 2009

As Darcy dressed for dinner at Longbourn, he realized he was actually looking forward to the evening. Mr. Bennet had proved himself a well-informed and amusing conversationalist, so time in his company did not seem a chore. His acknowledged reservations about furthering his acquaintance with the Bennets lay with the three unmarried daughters of the house. He was well aware that many who sought his company were influenced by his prospects as a single man of fortune. At least his initial conversation with Mr. Bennet had not led to suggestions that he might like to meet one or another of his girls...

He hardly admitted to himself a second niggling point of concern in regard to Bingley. His friend was quite taken by the undeniably beautiful Jane. It was not unusual for Bingley to quickly become infatuated with a lovely woman, but each time, it unsettled Darcy's happy notion that in a few years Bingley would make a very suitable husband for Georgiana. Charles was a great friend, was well situated financially, and possessed a cheerful and gentle nature. Such a match would suit his wishes for Georgiana's security and happiness very well, so he could only hope that this infatuation too, might fade.

The visit proved to be a pleasant affair. Mrs. Bennet demonstrated both skill and ease as a hostess, creating a welcoming and comfortable atmosphere. Even the Bingley sisters seemed to relax a little. The company was very congenial. In addition to the Bennets and the Netherfield party, the only other guests were the local parson, Reverend Sommers, and his wife, a couple in their sixties. Though older, they were in excellent health, quick-witted, pleasant, and clearly very comfortable in the Bennet home. The only time Darcy felt tense was during his introduction to the family, as he exchanged stiff and formal greetings with the girls - including a lovely young woman, Julia Bradford, who was introduced as a ward of the family and who had that morning unexpectedly returned from London. Darcy noticed that Miss Bingley reacted to the name, but as a matter of policy he avoided private conversation with her, and so was not to hear of Miss Bradford's history until their return to Netherfield.

By the end of the evening though, he wondered if his stiffness might have communicated its intended message too well, as the daughters paid him no attention at all. Before dinner, Darcy spoke primarily with Mr. Bennet, the Reverend, and Caroline, who had as usual attached herself to him. There was the odd word from Bingley, when he could tear himself away from Jane Bennet, and now and then a contribution from Mrs. Bennet, as she circulated about the room. This continued through the meal, as Caroline was seated between him and Mr. Bennet, to the right of their host, with Mrs. Hurst and Reverend Sommers seated to the host's left. Rather than admit ignorance, Miss Bingley claimed interest in whatever topic the men chose, and Mrs. Hurst said almost nothing. As a result, their conversation had ranged over recent advances in metallurgy and electricity, the economics of railroads, and modern philosophers, all of which Miss Bingley claimed to find 'very interesting,' and of which she understood barely a word. On the few instances when Mr. Bennet could direct the conversation to a topic comprehensible to Miss Bingley and her sister, Darcy would speak a bit to Miss Bradford, or attend her conversation with Elizabeth Bennet - as the table was two men 'short' (even counting Ben), Julia, Elizabeth, and Kitty were seated in that order to his right. To his surprise, he heard Miss Bradford and Miss Elizabeth speaking variously, and fluently, in Italian, French, and German, apparently choosing a language to match the music being discussed.

Before the meal, on the first occasion that Darcy's attention had drifted toward Elizabeth, he had expected to confirm his opinion that she was not much above the ordinary. However, in the better light of the Bennet drawing room, he had quickly discovered the magnitude of his error, and this realization was reinforced when she had glanced up and chanced to meet his gaze. He could not decipher her arch look, but her expression had quite caught him. Her face was extraordinarily lovely, and her eyes were mesmerizingly beautiful, and suggested an intelligence that seemed perhaps even the equal of her father's. On further observation he found himself caught by her easy and playful manners, and by her lovely figure. Finally, during the meal, he was chagrined to discover that this lovely young woman was even more above the ordinary in cultivation than she was in looks.

Elizabeth had spent much of the evening enjoying lively exchanges with her brother Ben (the older brother, Tom, was away at Eton), and conversing quietly with her younger sister and Miss Bradford, obviously sharing anecdotes and catching up after the latter's absence. Kitty, Darcy noted, was quite attractive - in her own way as pretty as her sisters, but easily overlooked because she was quite shy in company. She had character in her face though, and a very playful sense of humor that surfaced in conversation with Miss Elizabeth. Darcy's eye however, returned again and again to Elizabeth, who was frequently teasing her other 'sister' (as she referred to Miss Bradford). Miss Bradford more than once blushed at whatever was whispered to her, but always smiled at the remarks. The affection between the three young ladies made them even more attractive in Darcy's eyes.

Toward the end of the meal, Darcy pulled his mind back to his immediate company, and actually began paying Caroline more attention than was his wont, simply to distract himself from the girl with the bright eyes and playful laugh to his right. He relaxed more after the women withdrew following dinner and was easily able to put all thought of her from his mind as discussion turned to things of more practical import such as sport and horses.

On rejoining the women though, he decided that there would be no harm in speaking to Elizabeth himself. However, as soon as he approached any group where she stood, she would excuse herself or be called to another, and not long into the evening she put an end to all conversation with the suggestion that Julia play for them. The proposition was greeted with support by many in the room, particularly as most of Julia's recent stay in London had been spent studying music. Her enthusiasm had been nurtured by Mrs. Bennet as a way of making her feel comfortable when Julia first came to them. Sarah had insisted that the young lady be exposed to as many experiences and masters as possible, regularly traveling with her to London in her first years with the family.

Julia becomingly demurred in favor of anyone else who might like to play, fixing her eyes on Lizzy and - possibly in retaliation for the teasing she had received at Elizabeth's hands that evening - suggesting she should provide the entertainment.

Elizabeth laughed, stating there was no possible inducement which would lead her to perform, particularly before their new company. "I do not perform to strangers," she grinned, laughing to herself at her joke at Mr. Darcy's expense. "In any event, I am sure your Master West would be disappointed at your reluctance to share your gift, especially after the long hours you have invested recently."

The party's attention was conveniently diverted from the blushing Julia by Miss Bingley. "Would that be Mr. Jonathan West?" she asked, genuinely interested. "He is a captivating performer. I have had the pleasure of hearing him at London soirees on a few occasions."

Julia's pleasure at the compliment to her mentor was obvious. "Yes, he is the same man - not just a marvelous pianist, but also a wonderfully patient teacher. If I could play with just half his skill and feeling, I believe I could want no more."

"He must have no complaint with your playing if he has offered to come to you for lessons," Elizabeth smiled, causing the color again to rise to her sister's cheeks. "Oh, do indulge us at the instrument, dear."

Indulge them she did, and even Darcy had to admit her performance was superior. At the request of the party, Julia stayed at the instrument for the rest of the evening, playing and singing, and foreclosing the possibility of Darcy conversing with Elizabeth. He left wondering how such a pleasant evening could leave him so dissatisfied.

On the return to Netherfield, the sisters shared their recollection of the gossip surrounding Lord Portman, concluding with Miss Bingley's tasteless comments, "Perhaps the family also takes in stray dogs. I do feel sorry for Miss Bradford, as even if the Bennets treat her as generously as they do their own daughters, her portion must still be so small that she can never hope to be well-married. And what are they thinking, having a child at dinner?" It was just as well that she did not know that the men all thought that Ben was better company than Caroline.

As the Netherfield and Longbourn parties did not cross paths over the next few days, it would perhaps be supposed that Darcy was able to put all thoughts of Elizabeth out of his mind, as he had always done with all the pretty and pleasant girls he had ever met. But now and then she would intrude on his thoughts, and the fact that she had showed no interest in him occasioned mild feelings of satisfaction and the opposite.

Bingley was much more reluctant to stop thinking of Miss Bennet. Jane proved every bit as beautiful on the second meeting as she had on the first, and he had enjoyed his opportunity to spend more time in conversation with this sweet and generous woman. He was relieved when Sunday provided the opportunity to see her at church. His eyes continually drifted in the direction of the Bennet family during the service. To him it seemed the final hymn would never come - but come it did, and it took all his self control to speak politely with other friendly neighbors who sought his notice, before he was able to make his way to Jane's side.

On seeing his friend's eagerness to speak with Miss Bennet, Darcy frowned slightly and stepped away from the several happy groups chatting outside the old church building. His eyes moved boredly over the congregation, seeing no one worthy of attention. Mr. Bennet was speaking with the tiresome Sir William, cutting off his best chance of enjoyable conversation, and perversity kept him from joining the rest of his party speaking with Mrs. and Miss Bennet. His frown returned once more as he observed the satisfaction writ on Bingley's face.

A light laugh, not far away, drew his attention. He was not greatly surprised to see Miss Elizabeth and young Benjamin in an animated discussion with Reverend Sommers. The Reverend and Elizabeth seemed to be thoroughly enjoying a story the lad was sharing with them and he could just catch snatches of a wild tale of a runaway ride that had occurred the previous week, apparently on a horse named 'Perseus'. A discreet smile turned the corners of Darcy's mouth, and he casually moved a little closer to hear more of the story. He could remember youthful experiences of his own, when his overconfidence with a magnificent, headstrong animal had led to similarly embarrassing results. He had never thought to make an anecdote of them - instead keeping his own counsel, almost afraid to share what he had then perceived as failure.

"Father says to not tell Mother, though," Ben warned in a lowered voice, "or she will not trust me with Perseus again."

"Why ever would that be?" asked Reverend Sommers dryly, his eyes twinkling at the enthusiasm of the lad in telling of his adventure, and especially amused at the Ben returning home with grass and twigs caught in the hair on the back of his head.

"It was not Perseus' fault," Ben defended. "I should have remembered that Mr. Black's dogs are not to be trusted and taken another path - but as sore as my behind was the next day, I cannot regret it. The feeling I had when we made that fence - with inches to spare - was indescribable."

"But the bump when you lost your seat on the other side; that you described very fully," Elizabeth countered. "Perhaps you should set him penance for his recklessness."

"Our tradition holds that penance is for healing and prevention; I think that this has already happened," Reverend Sommers laughed.

"The prevention, perhaps, but he still sits down very carefully. However, I cannot think of any act that would accelerate this particular healing. Perhaps what is required is medical, rather than ecclesiastic, attention." Ben rolled his eyes at his sister while the Reverend laughingly agreed with her, before moving off to speak to more of his parishioners.

Charlotte then appeared to claim Elizabeth's attention, and Ben wandered off to in search of a new occupation. His sister was frankly amazed when, looking up some minutes later, she found Benjamin and Mr. Darcy in cheerful conversation. There was nothing new in Ben's friendliness to a relative stranger; and she was used to the fact that Ben would talk of horses wherever he could find an ear - what surprised her so much was that Mr. Darcy was an active participant, and was enjoying himself.

Charlotte followed her friend's eyes. "Sarah may have been correct about precipitous judgments," she commented. "Mr. Darcy no longer seems nearly as aloof as he did upon first acquaintance."

"I remain unconvinced that my initial impressions are in error," Lizzy smiled, "though it does appear that he finds some members of my family tolerable."

Chapter 4

If any of the Bennets had previously had any doubts as to the character of the handsome Mr. West, they were answered, to Julia's great dismay, when his promised visit was canceled. A few days later, there was a letter from the solicitors of Sir Reginald West - a well-known club-man and socialite - to Mr. Bennet, and none but Mrs. Bennet ever knew the precise contents of it:

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,

After reading the letter to his wife, he began ranting (again). "That damned peacock. If it were not for the fact that it would hurt Julia, I would take him apart. As it is, I will look for the chance to ruin Sir Reginald, and I dare say that it will present itself."

"My dear, of course you can ruin him, but to what end? You cannot go to war with the entire Ton. If he knew of our connections, and the size of Julia's dowry, he would have been well pleased to connect himself with our family. And in that event, Caroline Bingley would be over here every day, as well. We can instead be happy that Mr. West did not continue his courtship, as such a callow and easily led youth is not worthy to be our son. For Julia's sake we must have my sister" - meaning Lady Sophia Landsdowne Carlisle, Marchioness of Salisbury, patroness of Mr. West - "gracefully withdraw her backing."

"You are right, my dear, and I apologize for my outburst. You must be even angrier than am I, but having to counsel prudence to your sister, and to me, prevents you from expressing your true feelings. I will arrange for Anthony" - Sir Anthony Cartwright was the head of the most successful, and most feared, solicitors' chambers in London, and a very good friend of Thomas Bennet and Edward Gardiner - "to put the fear of God into them about gossiping about our girl. They might be less punctilious about protecting her name than they are about their son's." After a pause, he said, "I think that West must have someone in mind for his son, else he would not have gone about it this way... Oh, well, good riddance." However, despite what he had said to his wife, he did send letters to Edward Gardiner and Lucas Carlisle, to see if an opportunity for giving Sir Reginald his desserts would present itself - 'I shall not go out of my way to crush the man, but it would be best for my girl if he had troubles of his own to occupy his time...and someone this odious probably has many other sins for which he has not answered.'

The letter from Sir Anthony certainly served its purpose, and Mr. Egerton was most strenuous in urging his clients to not allude to the broken engagement, "Your son is guilty of breach of promise, and if their ward's reputation is even slightly compromised, they might well be sufficiently angered that they would proceed with a suit. In the hands of someone like Cartwright, the only question would be whether you were allowed to retain possession of your eyeteeth, or not."

"But how could a nothing country family like that get the services of Cartwright? I tried to get him to represent me last year, and was turned down flat - and damned rudely!"

"That does not matter. The point is, they have him, and in the present instance, going up against him in court would be a total disaster. Since you forced your son to break the engagement, not only he, but you, are liable. I assure you that in this case, a judgment of £15,000 and costs is not at all out of the question. And Sir Anthony's costs are always very substantial."

Fortunately for Sir Reginald, his wife was not at all given to gossip; that was his office. However, he had been uncharacteristically quiet about the matter - hinting a great deal, but with no names - as he and Baron Harwood had been 'negotiating a merger,' and were close on terms. It would be a coup for the West family, as the West's grandson might be a Baron (although not a particularly wealthy one). The ancient title could only be held by a male, but the letters patent allowed the holder of the title to designate his successor at any time up to his death. As Leticia Harwood was an only child, Sir Reginald's grandson would likely be the next Baron, if he could arrange the marriage. To do so, he would need to settle £50,000 on his son in addition to the £20,000 he had given him at his majority, which meant that his second son would have as large a fortune as did his heir, Edgar, but it was worth it. To be successful, however, he would have to hold his tongue, and not just until the wedding, but until a son was born. The Baron, at any time up until his death, was quite capable of disowning a grandson, and was well-known to be 'allergic' to scandal.

The West family's weakness of character, shared by the brothers and father, proved to be their undoing. Jonathan's marriage to Miss Harwood did go through, but it was not a happy one: his wife tired of him quickly, and after two miscarriages, refused his attentions. As soon as her father died, two years later, she left West to live openly with a wealthy French expatriate, and bore le Compte two sons and a daughter, and eventually became his wife. The ailing Lord Harwood, without a grandson and understanding from his daughter that there would not be one, had arranged for his title to pass to his favorite nephew; this was the last of many disappointments for Sir Reginald, and completed the alienation between the Jonathan and his father. The withdrawal of the patronage of the Carlisle family, and various scandals - including that of the former Miss Harwood - had already finished Jonathan's career and wrecked the West family's standing, and shortly after his wife left him, the West sons went to Canada in the hope of establishing themselves anew. However, the scandals, and their own weaknesses, followed them. Within three years, Edgar was killed in a brawl over an improbable run of luck at cards, and Jonathan had established the pattern, which he maintained for the rest of his short life, of drinking too much and whining about his misfortunes. His parents, instead of dwelling on their bad luck, returned to their small country estate in Sussex, gradually reestablishing themselves as creditable. After the deaths of their sons, they took a very active interest in the welfare of young people in their neighborhood, to everyone's benefit.

Of the family, Julia alone seemed unsurprised that this had happened to her. It was too much of a kind with what had happened after her first family's death. Though very confident of her current family's attachment to her, as they had treated her as another daughter or sister or niece or cousin from the first, she had never fully recovered from having all of her erstwhile 'friends' turn their backs on her. In the interval between news of her family's death reaching her school, and the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet to bring her to her new home, she had been treated as though a carrier of a particularly disgusting contagion, and almost immediately been assigned the sobriquet - more precisely, epithet - of 'Match Girl'. In fact, the headmistress had transferred her, in less than a day, into a tiny attic space, after failing to convince the family solicitor to remove her entirely. As Miss Bradford's tuition had been paid in advance through the current term, this was entirely unwarranted, and the school's behavior angered Mr. Bennet so greatly that he demanded that his ward be given £5,000 in refunds and damages, and, in the end, he prevailed.

Julia had never really believed that she would be married, so she was unable to feel that this event was a failure of the young man, and instead it was, to her, confirmation that she was somehow flawed.

The absence of Mr. West from Hertfordshire society was not especially important, although the local gossips had spoken enough of his coming that, when he did not, it gave rise to some speculation. Mr. Bennet dealt with this by informing Mrs. Philips, in a very matter-of-fact way, that the young performer had obligations in Town which he could not break, and that his services were not really needed any longer, as his pupils were, in truth, entirely proficient. Within a few days, it was 'old news' and talk of the sale of a horse from the Purvis Lodge stables to the Duke of Albany completely eclipsed that matter. There was still the odd complaint from Miss Bingley, as she was rarely pleased by Hertfordshire, and had looked forward to some 'London sophistication'. But Julia was rarely in her presence, and always accompanied by Kitty, who had taken it upon herself to provide distraction and good cheer, so the occasional comments about "the absent Mr. West" were of little moment. It became more generally evident though, whenever they met, that their brother continued to admire Jane; and to Elizabeth it was equally evident that Jane was yielding to the preference which she had begun to entertain for him from the first; but something still made Elizabeth unsure of whether Jane was considered completely 'suitable' by the sisters, especially the younger one. She had heard them both speak of Darcy's sister - and of her thirty thousand pounds - and from Miss Bingley on more than one occasion, and she wondered if these were hints intended for Jane. Miss Bingley's apparent obsession with the size of Miss Darcy's dowry helped Elizabeth better understand her parent's reasons for misleading rumors about their own dowries and the family's wealth. 'If they knew that Jane had over £100,000 and had turned away a viscount, a baron, and other gentlemen of much greater wealth than their brother...' she mused.

Even so, Jane was soon on her way to being very much in love. Elizabeth considered with pleasure that it was not likely to be discovered by the world in general, since Jane united with great strength of feeling a composure of temper and a uniform cheerfulness of manner, which would guard her from the suspicions of even the impertinent Caroline Bingley. She mentioned this to her friend Miss Lucas.

"It may perhaps be pleasant," replied Charlotte, "to be able to impose on the public in such a case; but it is sometimes a disadvantage to be so very guarded. If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the dark. There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all begin freely - a slight preference is natural enough; but there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement. In nine cases out of ten, a woman had better show more affection than she feels. Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly; but he may never do more than like her, if she does not help him on."

"But she does help him on, as much as her nature will allow. If her regard for him is obvious to us, he would need to be a simpleton not to discover it."

"Remember, Eliza, that he does not know Jane's disposition as you do."

"But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavor to conceal it, he must find it out."

"Perhaps he must, if he sees enough of her. But though Bingley and Jane meet tolerably often, it is never for many hours together; and as they always see each other in large mixed parties, it is impossible that every moment should be employed in conversing together. Jane should therefore make the most of every half hour in which she can command his attention. When she has secured his affections there will be as much leisure for falling in love as she could desire."

"Your plan is a good one," replied Elizabeth, "where the only goal is to marry a rich husband, and if I were so determined, I dare say I should adopt it. But these are not Jane's feelings; she is not acting by design. As yet, she cannot even be certain of the degree of her own regard, nor of its reasonableness. She has known him only a fortnight. She danced four dances with him at Meryton; she saw him one morning at his own house, and has dined in company with him four times. This is not quite enough to make her understand his character."

"Not as you represent it. Had she merely dined with him, she might only have discovered whether he had a good appetite; but you must remember that four evenings have been also spent together - and four evenings may do a great deal."

"My dear Charlotte, it must be one or the other. If it is too little time for him to get to know my sister, then it cannot be sufficient time for her to understand Mr. Bingley. These four evenings have enabled them to ascertain that they both like Vingt-un better than Commerce; but with respect to deeper qualities, I do not imagine that much has been discovered."

"Well," said Charlotte, "I wish Jane success with all my heart; and if she were married to him tomorrow, I should think she had as good a chance of happiness as if she were to be studying his character for a twelvemonth. But in our dear Jane's case it is of little importance. If she misses Mr. Bingley, she will certainly catch another. I am still to understand why she returned early from town last Season to avoid suitors."

"You would have done the same, Charlotte; those two men showed little regard for Jane in their rivalry, and it was very unpleasant - they were like dogs fighting over a bone. She knew them well enough to be certain that there was no happiness for her with either of them, and they spoiled more than one event for her."

"Oh, Lizzie! Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other, or ever so similar before-hand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always contrive to grow sufficiently unlike afterward to have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life."

"You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not sound. You know it is not sound, and I hope that you would never act in this way yourself."

Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley's attentions to her sister, Elizabeth was far from suspecting that she had become such an object of interest in the eyes of his friend. Since the dinner at Longbourn, Darcy had found himself observing her at every meeting. However, circumstances never seemed to give him the opportunity for conversation - he was so relentlessly pursued in Town that it did not occur to him to even wonder if she were avoiding him. Darcy had finally had enough, and he determined to put an end to his frustration. As a first step in conversing with her himself, he listened while she and Charlotte teased Colonel Forster about the Militia putting on a ball. Darcy's attention did not go unnoticed, and when the colonel had moved on she whispered to Charlotte, "What does Mr. Darcy mean by listening to my conversation with Colonel Forster?"

"That is a question which Mr. Darcy alone can answer."

"But if he does it any more, I shall certainly let him know that I see what he is about. He has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by being impertinent myself, I might well grow to be afraid of him."

This last remark almost caused her friend to choke suppressing her laugh. When she recovered herself, she replied, "Have some consideration for me, Lizzy. I nearly swallowed my tongue..." This provoked a laugh from her friend, which she hid with a slight cough. On Darcy's approaching them soon afterward, though he gave no indication of any intention of speaking, Miss Lucas' smile to her friend provoked Elizabeth to turn to him with twinkling eyes and ask, "Did not you think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was importuning Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?"

"With great energy - but it is a subject which always makes a lady energetic."

"You resort to argumentum ad populum to be severe on us?" she asked.

Before Darcy could answer, Miss Lucas interjected, "It is now her turn to be teased. I am going to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows."

"You are a very strange creature by way of a friend, always wanting me to play and sing before anybody and everybody! If my vanity had a musical turn, you would be invaluable, but as it is, I would really rather not sit down, especially before those who are in the habit of hearing the very best performers."

On Julia and Kitty joining the circle, Elizabeth found herself pressed from all sides, and finally agreed to sing if accompanied by Julia.

"Very well; if it must be so, it must." And gravely glancing at Mr. Darcy, "There is a fine old saying, which every body here is of course familiar with - 'Keep your breath to cool your porridge' - and I shall keep mine to swell my song."

Kitty and Julia sat down at the piano, and their sister stood beside them as they examined the sheet music until agreeing on a light traditional song. Elizabeth's performance was unaffected and pleasing. The song may not have been a showpiece, but her performance suited it perfectly; and by request, she remained to perform a few more songs before leaving her sisters at the instrument. The uninformed observer was left to suppose that Elizabeth's singing was not much out of the common way, while those that knew her abilities were disappointed that she had not favored them with an aria.

Darcy was again frustrated by the impossibility of conversation with Elizabeth, as some of the younger members of the gathering persuaded Miss Bradford and Miss Catherine to remain at the piano and indulge them with Scotch and Irish airs, so that they might dance at one end of the room.

Mr. Darcy stood near them, silently indignant that this was how the evening was to be passed, to the exclusion of all conversation, and was too much engrossed by his own thoughts to perceive that Sir William Lucas was his neighbor, till he spoke: "What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished societies."

"Certainly, sir - and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world: every savage can dance."

Sir William only smiled. "Your friend performs delightfully;" he continued after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the group, "and I doubt not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy."

"You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, sir."

"Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight. Do you often dance at St. James'?"

"Never, sir."

"Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?"

"It is a compliment which I never pay to any place, if I can avoid it."

"You have a house in town, I believe?"

Mr. Darcy bowed.

"I had once some thoughts of fixing in town myself - for I am fond of superior society; but I did not feel quite certain that the air of London would agree with Lady Lucas."

He paused in hopes of an answer; but his companion was not disposed to make any; and as Elizabeth chose that instant to move toward them, Sir William had the notion of doing a very gallant thing, calling out to her, "My dear Miss Eliza, why are not you dancing? - Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. - You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when so much beauty is before you." And taking her hand, he would have given it to Mr. Darcy, who, though extremely surprised, was very willing to receive it, when she instantly drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William,

"Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. - I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner."

Mr. Darcy, with grave propriety, requested to be allowed the honor of her hand; but he had no more success than his host. Elizabeth was determined; nor did Sir William at all shake her purpose by his further attempt at persuasion: "You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny me the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half hour."

"Mr. Darcy is all politeness," said Elizabeth, smiling.

"He is indeed," put in Sarah Bennet, who had been standing close enough to hear the last part of the exchange, "and I believe an appropriately polite response would be the gracious acceptance of his offer."

"And considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza," added Sir William, "we cannot wonder at his complaisance; for who would object to such a partner?"

Elizabeth responded with an arch look, but, though her every inclination was to turn away, she knew she was trapped. "I thank you Mr. Darcy," she replied demurely as she offered him her hand, and shot her mother a covert look of exasperation, but all she received from Sarah in reply was an amused smile.

Elizabeth's resistance had not injured her with the gentleman, and he was thinking of her with some complacency as led her to the dance.

Bingley threw his friend a welcoming grin before returning his attention to Jane, leaving the newcomers to themselves. Elizabeth, believing that Darcy had been coerced into the dance as much as she had, expected little conversation. Darcy though, had different ideas on the matter, and exerted himself to speak.

Elizabeth initially did not trouble herself with either talking or of listening much, giving only the most cursory of replies. However, upon noting Miss Bingley watching them with an undisguised scowl, her mischievous nature caused her to feign enjoyment. Her dislike of Darcy was not as great as her disdain for the always-condescending young woman. Darcy, who had begun to despair of a topic that would take his fair partner's interest, felt a distinct relief when Elizabeth finally turned her smile and attention upon him.

"I overheard you and my father speaking of Kant at dinner a few days back, Mr. Darcy. Are you giving up on Hume to follow the new fashion?"

"Are you such a skeptic that you agree that 'Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions'?"

"I can conclude that reason 'can never pretend to any other office than to serve and obey' the emotions just from observation of my fellow man, Mr. Darcy. As this is an analytic a posteriori conclusion, it is unlikely to be found tolerable by devotees of Kant." At this remark Darcy winced inwardly, suddenly wondering if Miss Elizabeth had heard his remark the night of the assembly. She continued, "But I suppose that a devotee of pure reason is able to reach conclusions by means that are not accessible to me. I find that I must rely on Descarte and careful observation in my dealings with the world at large, but surely those of us who are superior can know things a priori."

Her tone was arch, but he found it hard to respond, contenting himself with a joke about Socrates, as he clearly understood the criticism, and was of two minds about it. While he had prematurely dismissed her as 'not handsome enough' at the assembly, he still felt assured of his superiority to the local populace, although Elizabeth's facility with modern philosophy - she had completed the Hume quotation without the slightest pause, and had effortlessly drawn on Kant and Descarte to criticize his behavior - did give him some pause.

The debate did not continue, but Elizabeth regretted that her brief exchange with Mr. Darcy, intended only to vex Miss Bingley, had - judging from his intent look - engaged him more than she had intended. She also felt somewhat guilty about taking him to task for a private remark - 'The man is entitled to his opinion of me' - but his obvious dismissal of her friends and neighbors as beneath his notice continued to rankle.

She was about to leave him as the neared the refreshments table, but remained as Miss Bingley approached. "Mr. Darcy," Caroline purred, taking possession of Darcy's newly disengaged arm. "How very sweet of you to humor Miss Elizabeth with a dance. She must have been unaware of how much you dislike the practice unless intimately acquainted with your partner."

"You are mistaken, Miss Bingley," Darcy answered easily with a smile at Elizabeth. "I have been most agreeably engaged."

"He is all kindness, is he not Miss Eliza?" Miss Bingley continued, not wishing to leave a compliment in Elizabeth's ears.

"Not at all," Darcy answered calmly. "I enjoyed both our dance and conversation very much."

Elizabeth gave him a genuine smile before excusing herself to join Charlotte. As she moved away, she found her opinion of the man now confused; he had accepted her criticism very pleasantly, and his apology, though insufficient, was genuine and wittily phrased. No doubt her discomposure would have been even greater had she heard his next exchange with Miss Bingley.

"Your civility is everything it should be Mr. Darcy, but you need not pretend with me - one who knows how you truly think. I know you feel how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner - in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity and yet the noise; the nothingness and yet the self-importance of all these people! I cannot believe her audacity in Eliza Bennet pressing herself upon you in such a manner - What would I give to hear your strictures on these people!"

"You need not doubt my sincerity Miss Bingley. Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. I requested Miss Elizabeth's hand, and was quite agreeably engaged with her. Indeed, I wonder that you would think me unable to appreciate the great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow."

Chapter 5

Posted on January 1, 2010

Elizabeth returned home with conflicting opinions about Mr. Darcy, unsure of whether his arrogance and unfriendliness at the assembly, or his excellent manners and forbearance that evening, were the true man. Though she was reluctant to change her initial opinion of him, she was forced to admit that her careful avoidance over the past few weeks had given her no information about his nature. 'If I am to be an empiricist, I must have information...' Her father approved of him and enjoyed his company, which would normally speak highly in his favor; her mother, after some hesitation, had come to like him as well; and since their discussion after Church, Benjamin thought him everything admirable. In one way, Elizabeth thought, his impeccable behavior at the Lucas' party showed that he knew how he should act, and this gave his early behavior less excuse. Despite her misgivings, she was interested in knowing him better.

Darcy had his own conflict about Elizabeth. His initial disappointment at her inattention during the dance only served to highlight his pleasure when she actually smiled at him. Her conversation, though brief, had intrigued him, and to have her beautiful eyes focused on him was a treat. Her subtle criticism of his earlier behavior he tried to dismiss, but he was unable to ignore it completely, and his embarrassment at being overheard dismissing her person often intruded, despite his rather elliptical apology. All in all, he looked forward to meeting her again.

As it happened, their wishes were answered the following day. Elizabeth had been working for several days to devise a theoretical comparison of the efficiency of an idealized Newcomen engine vs. two different designs (by Bennet père et fille) for steam turbines, and she had continued at the task that morning to little effect. Shortly after the midday meal, realizing that she was getting nowhere, she took the earliest opportunity to escape the house. Her spirits were lifted immediately as she ambled down neighboring country lanes, and a smile came to her lips as, despite the chill of the late fall, small patches of blue gem and crocuses added color and vitality to the landscape, and she could hear the call of skylarks skittering amongst the young trees in a fresh copse of evergreens off the lane. To her left the fields opened up, and her smile broadened as she saw her brother giving Perseus his head as he came over a nearby rise with another man - her father, she supposed - not far behind. She held her breath slightly as Ben approached a low wall, but he cleared it easily. Slowing now, he espied Elizabeth and turned the gelding in her direction, grinning as he trotted toward her.

Her attention on Ben, she failed to notice that the second rider was definitely not her father until he was almost upon them, tipping his hat in salutation with a friendly, "Good morning, Miss Elizabeth."

"Why, Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth answered in surprise. "I was watching Ben and not fully attending. I had assumed he was accompanied by my father."

"Father was called away by Mr. Simpson," Ben answered, "and I was going to have to exchange Perseus for Swift if I was to be allowed to continue my ride unaccompanied, but thankfully Mr. Darcy called by at just the right time. His offer to ride with me saved me from such a fate. Never was an animal so completely misnamed."

"Did Mr. Darcy offer freely or was he badgered into it?" Elizabeth asked a little cynically. Mr. Darcy might have proved a pleasant partner during the preceding night's dance, but his condescension in accompanying a (just barely) twelve-year-old boy on a ride was outside her expectation.

"I assure you Miss Elizabeth, it was my suggestion," Mr. Darcy smiled as he swung down from his mount, "and in return, Ben has shown me a number of the more interesting views of the area."

Elizabeth was about to reply when her attention was drawn away by the appearance of a third rider, who this time did prove be her father.

"I am glad I managed to find you," he addressed himself to Mr. Darcy after greetings had been exchanged all around. "My steward only required me for a short time, and I thought to relieve you of Ben."

"He has been no burden at all," Darcy laughed. "We have had a remarkably enjoyable ride together."

"I am glad to hear it," Mr. Bennet smiled, "but I will take him off your hands nonetheless. His afternoon lessons beckon."

"Papa-" Ben began, but his father quickly interrupted.

"There is no point in protesting, Benjamin. I would not only have to face the disapprobation of your tutor if I allowed you to neglect your studies, but that of your mother."

Ben, understanding complaint would be fruitless, instead opted to delay his fate by drawing out the conversation, and decided that a disagreement with his sister would be just the thing.

"Lizzy, you are quite a distance from home. Perseus is well able to take us both."

"Thank you for your kind offer," Elizabeth answered, in a tone laced with sarcasm, "but I think I might continue on as I am."

"It would save you much time."

"I am certain it would. I am, however, enjoying my walk."

"It is pure foolishness to be intimidated by Perseus," Ben replied in a superior tone.

"Ben, it has been years now that you have tried to convince me to do one thing or another by suggesting that my reluctance is a matter of cowardice. If you had the least wit about you, you should have noticed that I have yet to cooperate, even when I am 'double dared'"

"Your fear of this horse is irrational," Ben pushed on regardless.

"I am not afraid; you have seen me ride him on more than one occasion. You know that I wish to continue my walk."

"Father, would it not be safer for Lizzy to return with us?" Ben tried, sensing his disagreement with Elizabeth had already run dry. "I am willing to walk with her if she will not ride."

"Do not think that I am unaware of the motive behind this sudden concern for your sister's safety," Mr. Bennet laughed. "You are not escaping your lessons. Elizabeth is more than capable of finding her way home without falling into harm's way. Good afternoon Mr. Darcy. We will see you at home, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth, who had expected Mr. Darcy to also make his farewells and remount his stallion, was very much surprised when instead he offered to walk back with her to the point where their paths to Longbourn and Netherfield would diverge.

Feeling even more positive toward him for his kindness to her brother, Elizabeth assented, and they strolled back at rather a leisurely pace, Darcy leading his horse behind.

"It is certainly a beautiful afternoon," he commented, admiring more the added brightness that exercise had lent her eyes than the immediate aspect of the countryside.

"Indeed," Elizabeth concurred and readied herself for the polite and inconsequential conversation one shares with a slight acquaintance, only to find herself once more surprised as Mr. Darcy directed the discussion to talk of her brother. In little time at all she had relaxed into laughing and sharing tales of the mischief in which Ben could find himself.

"It occupies all our time to keep him from trouble," Elizabeth concluded.

"It occupies everyone's time to keep him out of trouble? Even yours, Miss Elizabeth?"

"You sound skeptical, Mr. Darcy."

"This morning, Benjamin, in describing the lot of the sole male child at home with four older sisters, told me that Miss Jane coddles him, Miss Julia lectures him, Miss Catherine competes for attention, and you, Miss Elizabeth, encourage his mischief."

"Certainly not!" Elizabeth replied, her wide-eyed, mock-innocent look belying her words. "I do spend a good deal of time with him - my sisters' interests are even further from his than my own - and with Tom away at school these last three years, Ben has been rather lonely. Jane has the best seat of the four of us, and she rides out with him fairly often. And Ben has learned to draw, from Kitty, and sing, from Julia, and he has become rather skilled, but he has too much energy to spend much time in such sedentary pursuits."

"And what do you do with him? Keep him from trouble, or direct him toward mischief?"

"He needs no directing toward it. He is a very good boy, but lively and inventive, and he enjoys pranks. I admit that I participate in some, and advise on others, but he does not cause any harm. And if I did not participate, he would do the same, and might hurt himself or someone else. He is very popular among the children of our tenants and the local villagers, for his high spirits and clever ideas. At the end of the summer, he organized a Derby with the smaller children and some of our goats," she laughed.

"I see. And what was your role?"

"I helped him choose the goats and match the riders to mounts. And I recruited our butler, Mr. Hill, to act as judge, and our housekeeper, Mrs. Hill, to award the prizes. It was great fun, and so popular that the Purvis family will host it next year. In addition, I won a half crown on the final race." This elicited a hearty laugh from Mr. Darcy.

"I am surprised that he did not organize a regular Derby," said Darcy.

"We already have a few local horse races each year. Some of the younger children felt left out, and enlisted Ben's help. His cousins always come to him when they are bored, as well..." she concluded. "Did you engage in similar activities as a child?" she asked.

"No, unfortunately not," Darcy replied with disarming sincerity. "I was the only child for over ten years, and the age gap between myself and my sister has meant that we were never playmates. I have always cherished her, but she regards me as more of a parent than a friend."

"I have heard both Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst speak highly of Miss Darcy. You must count yourself fortunate to have a sister rather than a younger brother like Benjamin. I am certain she would give far less trouble."

Something in his unsettled expression made Elizabeth wonder if she had stumbled onto a sensitive area, and she moved quickly to change the topic. "Is Miss Darcy likely to be joining you at Netherfield this autumn?"

"No, she is still full young, and her education keeps her in London for the time being," Darcy replied, recovering himself. "London is an easy distance though, and I plan to make short visits during my stay in the area."

"That will be pleasant, I am sure. I especially dislike separation from my loved ones, and I wonder how Longbourn will fare when Benjamin leaves for Eton next term. We are not yet entirely reconciled to Tom's going away... How did you deal with such a change, Mr. Darcy?"

"Leaving Pemberley for school?" Mr. Darcy responded, wondering if a young lady had ever asked him so personal a question, before reminding himself that she was only interested on her brother's behalf, not his.

"Benjamin will be fine," he answered. "He is the type of lad who will adapt readily. His natural intelligence and exuberance will make him popular, and his studies, new friends, and sports will distract him from the initial homesickness. I predict that, early on, he will receive one or two canings for impertinence, but this will make him a hero to his peers. Is his older brother also at Eton?"

"Canings?" asked Elizabeth.

"Yes, it is a common method of punishment. It is painful, but the masters are careful not to do any real damage. I had a close cousin there, very popular and a sporting hero to the other students, who was caned on several occasions in his early years, mostly for fighting to protect smaller boys. And as stodgy and careful about following rules as I am- was, it happened to me twice. I found it rather shocking, as my father had never laid a hand on me, at least that I recalled, but it really was not that momentous. I can well imagine that it could affect younger boys very adversely, but by that age it is much less of an issue. It hurts far less than being knocked about in a fight, and...it is important that the punishments be uniform and consistent, and many boys of that age just do not respond to being verbally chastised."

"I had not thought of that. My father has never...I can only recall one incident where he raised his voice at me. I was quite young and had climbed almost to the top of a high fence, a horse-pen. I realize now that he was very afraid that I might fall in and be trampled - I had wanted to get a better look at the horses, you see - and he yelled at me to get down. I was so shocked that I fell and had the wind knocked out of me."

"How old were you? Were you otherwise hurt?"

"I was not yet three, because we were...yes, it was shortly before my third birthday. And I was not injured beyond a bruise or two, and he picked me up and kissed me, and put me up on the fence while holding onto me, so I soon stopped crying. But for some time afterward, I was very careful to be sure that he approved of my climbing, as I was quite affected by displeasing him."

Darcy was silent for a moment, thinking about how adorable a three-year-old Elizabeth must have been. Recovering himself, he asked, "Is Ben's brother at Eton?"

"Yes, he is, and he is not unlike Ben, although more serious, being the heir, and feeling the responsibility for his family. But he is quite happy there, and my father has had excellent reports - Tom was Sent Up for Good more than once last term." Elizabeth smiled, thinking about her brother Tom, and seeing clearly that school must be easier for some boys than others. "And you sir, were you the same type of lad as Ben?"

"I wish I had been, but I fear I am ill qualified to recommend myself to strangers." Seeing a flicker of surprise register in her eyes he sought to explain himself. "I have not the talent some people possess of conversing easily with those I have never met before. I cannot catch the tone of their conversation. I always feel that my attempts at interest in their concerns will look intrusive or impertinent."

"You should make the attempt more often, sir," Elizabeth replied with an arch look, somehow mixing both censure and empathy in her tone, "because you are quite capable upon exertion."

"I am sure you are perfectly correct, but, as you yourself commented, I find it difficult to perform to strangers."

"How then, did you get on at school, sir?"

"It was daunting at first, but my height and family name protected me from being tormented, and I was clever at lessons. And it certainly did not hurt that the cousin I mentioned, two years my senior, took me under his wing. I soon had a small group of close friends."

"It seems a very hard thing to require of young boys," Elizabeth answered seriously. "I am by no means shy, but I would not have enjoyed being sent so far from my family and friends. But Ben is eager to join his brother."

"It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything beyond the neighborhood of Longbourn, I suppose would appear far."

"When it comes to being parted from Ben, I suppose it might," Elizabeth laughed, "but I am not so provincial as to think it in reality."

"You cannot have been always at Longbourn," said Mr. Darcy, in a manner that seemed more question than statement.

"No, we sometimes visit at Ambleside, but that is a great distance, and recently we have been to Dorset. More often, one of my sisters or I might stay with my uncle in London and, since Mama's youngest sister married two years past, she has moved much closer, and we have spent Christmas with her, and some of the Season in Town. On occasion we can even get my father to go up to London for a visit."

If it crossed Darcy's mind as at all strange that Elizabeth's referred to one relation as 'my uncle' and another as 'Mama's sister,' it was only for a moment. "I must admit I try to avoid London during the Season."

"Not a safe place for a single man of fortune?" Elizabeth queried.

"No indeed!" Darcy answered with a slight smile on his face.

"Do you not miss the theater and concerts?"

"I do enjoy much of London's entertainment," he replied. "I would enjoy it far more, if I could avoid all social obligations."

Darcy looked abashed when Elizabeth began laughing at him, but then smiled broadly. "I am glad you find amusement in my suffering," he commented dryly.

"Mr. Darcy, you hardly strike me as an object of pity," Elizabeth replied before exclaiming upon the sight of Longbourn. "Oh, I had not noticed we had come so far! You have walked at least a mile out of your way."

"I noted the turn some time back, but was too much engaged in our conversation to wish it to end, but it now appears it is time to part," he commented as he drew his horse to him and easy swung himself into the saddle. "Good afternoon Miss Elizabeth."

Elizabeth responded with a slight curtsy. "Thank you for seeing me home."

"My pleasure," he replied seriously before turning his horse for Netherfield.

As Elizabeth wandered slowly toward her home, her conscious mind was occupied with thoughts of Darcy. The afternoon's exchange had gone some way toward answering her earlier questions about him, and she found that her resentment had waned. 'Overhearing him at the assembly was providential, else I might grow to like him too well, and then I should be another Miss Bingley. Perhaps he would have me even though he does not care for me, on the basis of my fortune and family, but I would rather never marry than do it on such terms...' Finding this train of thought uncomfortable, as well as unproductive, she returned to the vexing problem of how to compare the efficiencies of the competing turbine designs. 'If only I could see how to make a start...how to compare one design with another...' Suddenly, she saw what might be a way forward: 'The work done by the piston is the result of the expansion of the gas in the cylinder, after it is heated by the steam. If there is a simple rule for the work done in terms of the loss of heat...the temperature and quantity of steam going into the cylinder and the temperature on exit, then there should be an analogous rule for a turbine...' From that idea, some experiments which she and her father had previously commissioned, and what she knew about the physics of gasses, it was a straightforward matter for her derive the desired formulas. Naturally this work drove any thoughts of Mr. Darcy out of her head, but only for the remainder of the day. By that evening, she had not only prepared the details of the experiments that were needed to confirm, and refine, her proposed method of calculation, she had also performed preliminary calculations based on her best guess as to what the experiments would show (and her best guess was very nearly correct). Once all this was written down, she was finished until the data was returned to them: because of the danger in working with steam-powered engines - exploding boilers were still far too common - both she and her father were forbidden by Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner to conduct such experiments themselves.

Chapter 6

The next morning the women of the Bennet household received an invitation to dine with the Bingley sisters at Netherfield. The men were dining with the senior officers in Meryton and, as Miss Bingley wrote in her elegant hand, she and Louisa were "in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives, for a whole day's tête-à-tête between two women can never end without a quarrel."

As it happened, Mrs. Bennet, Julia, and Kitty had already arranged to spend the afternoon with Mrs. Philips, leaving it to Jane and Elizabeth to preserve Caroline and Louisa from a lifetime of hatred. Elizabeth anticipated no great pleasure from the outing and would have been pleased for an excuse to stay away herself. If she had only known that Caroline felt even less of an inclination for Elizabeth's company, she could have stayed at home without scruple but, as it was, politeness seemed to require that she attend.

While Sarah composed an acceptance for Netherfield, Mr. Hill arranged for a carriage, and the two sisters moved upstairs to prepare for the engagement and were ready to leave within the hour.

"I certainly hope we arrive at Netherfield before this storm breaks," Jane commented as their father handed her into the carriage.

"I wonder if we should not say at home," Elizabeth added hopefully. "I would hate for Robert and James to get soaked," she said, glancing over at their driver and footman.

"This may be the first time I have heard you express concern over the weather." Wanting to tease her about her reluctance to be in the Bingley sisters' company, he looked up at the men and continued, "We are as like as not to find you out wandering in the rain."

Robert responded for the two of them, "Aye, sir. That we are. And you needn't worry about us, Miss. I have our oilskins to hand, and we can have them on in an instant."

The rain did, in fact, pour down before they reached Netherfield, but the men had put on their rain-gear before it started, and James sheltered the young ladies from the coach to the house with a large umbrella - and an even larger grin for Miss Elizabeth. Any dampness the young women picked up on their dash to the house was gone in a few minutes in front of one of Netherfield's roaring fires, and by the time they had settled in the parlor, the Bennet servants were being treated to huge mugs of steaming tea in the tack room, while the Netherfield grooms saw to their horses.

"You brought the young Bennet ladies to dine?" asked Mr. Richards, the head groom.

"Aye, that I did, the two eldest. Miss Elizabeth was worried that we'd get wet and wanted to stay home, which gave the Master and me a right laugh, as she's walked about in all sorts of weather since she was a mite. But that's the way with the family. They look to our well-being ahead of their own."

Richards had lived and worked in the area his entire life, and knew the family well, "That be the truth of it." Turning to James, he continued, "You are lucky to work for them. When someone says to me 'gentleman' I always pictures Mr. Bennet, but I knows too well that ain't what they mean, mostly."

James, who had been in service with the Bennets barely six months, having come from a ill-natured, titled family in the west country, by way of a relative in service to the Gardiners, nodded vigorous agreement. "I know that all too well, Mr. Richards. The family at my previous house called me whatever name came into their heads, and when I spoke to them about being given a few days to settle Mum after Dad passed, well, you might suppose that I had asked to help myself to the silver. And the idea that we would cover up our livery with oilskins just to avoid getting soaked..."

"The Lady of this House would be the same way, but Mr. Bingley is a good man, and so he won't let nothin' too bad happen to us. But he ain't always around. She kept one o' my lads standin' in the rain last week, holdin' the horses for nigh on to half an hour while she fussed about her feathers getting wet, waitin' for the rain to stop while her maids looked high and low for a bigger umbrella. The old Mr. Harrington," he said, referring to the estate's late owner, "was a good soul, and the son," referring to the current owner, "ain't a bad fellow, but he and his wife like spendin' too much, so I doubt they will ever be able to come back." The elder Mr. Harrington, who had died seven years previously, had entailed his estate in an attempt to prevent his spendthrift son and frivolous daughter-in-law from losing it, but two years after his father's death, the son had succeeded in breaking the entail, and had gradually sold off the assets until nothing remained but the Hall and about 2000 acres surrounding it. Mr. Bennet had acquired, under one name or another, all of the former Harrington property in the county, and most of the rest, but he had declined to purchase Netherfield Park. The manor was nicely situated on a gentle rise, with a very pleasant prospect, but the land had not been well maintained, and was therefore unproductive, and the owners wanted a high price for the house, which Mr. Bennet found inferior to Longbourn, except in size. Bingley was the second party to lease the property, and Mr. Bennet hoped that he would pay more attention to the land than the previous lessee had, as the situation of some of the tenants was getting rather bad.

At one point in the afternoon Elizabeth, realized she was finding Caroline and Louisa's company quite agreeable. Their powers of conversation were considerable. They could describe an entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humor, and laugh at their acquaintance with spirit. Caroline, too, might have almost liked Elizabeth, had not Mr. Darcy admitted his admiration. Still, she had no complaint with her company as long as the men were not present. Whilst the others held the conversation, Caroline took the time to covertly study Elizabeth. She was undoubtedly pretty, though she did not have the classical perfection of her sister, Jane. Miss Elizabeth may have possessed a certain beauty but, Caroline reassured herself - incorrectly, as objective self-evaluation is almost impossible - it was no more than she herself possessed. In Caroline's opinion, Elizabeth lacked the poise and the carefully cultivated manners she was sure Darcy would expect in a wife, and her figure was far too 'robust' to be fashionable. After the Meryton assembly, Caroline had snickered to her sister that "Eliza Bennet reminds me of a bureau with the top drawer all the way open, and she has the forearms of a stevedore," although since the unusually warm evening that Elizabeth had worn a rather daring, arm- and shoulder-baring gown with décolletage, and Caroline had noticed Darcy's eye turned often in its direction, she had stopped finding it funny. (No impartial observer would say that there was anything bulky about Elizabeth's musculature - her love of the outdoors and years of assisting her father in the laboratory and on the estate had made her much fitter than was common among ladies of her class, and rather different from Miss Bingley's ideal at the languid end of current fashion.) Caroline knew from observation that Darcy did not like heavy women, and Eliza Bennet was rather slim, but too short, and too active, to be considered elegant. She had not seen the Bennet girls in town, which suggested they did not move within the refined circles into which she had managed to climb, using their brother's connection to Mr. Darcy. Caroline had worked long and hard to ingratiate herself with the right people, to direct her brother in his choice of friends, and to play the games that society demanded. 'I - We,' she corrected herself, 'are finally on the brink of moving into exalted circles. It was entirely the right move to take a country residence at the end of the Season, instead of remaining in Town as the less fashionable sort do...And to have it known that Mr. Darcy is spending the autumn as our guest... Louisa certainly slipped up in marrying Hurst - I will never settle for so small a portion - but his connections are good, and he is welcome in Society...I must get Louisa to do something about his drinking.'

Caroline knew the value of her own beauty and her fortune of £20,000, and fully intended that her assets would not go to waste. She felt far more generous toward the Misses Bennet as she favorably compared her own wealth with their comparatively insignificant £5,000 and contrasted her own fashionable taste with their less sophisticated country ways. The Bennets, she thought with generous condescension, were attractive and pleasant country neighbors, but they would hardly fit comfortably within her circle in town. Just then, for a moment, the feeling that she knew Mrs. Bennet reappeared, but it was swept away by deep voices, laughter, and general clamor in the entryway, signifying the return of the gentlemen.

Caroline, inwardly cursing that the men's early return would again throw them in the company of the elder Bennet sisters, immediately left to attend to them. She hoped to divert them to another part of the house until she and her sister had seen their guests on their way. The sight that greeted her, however, put any such plan out of her mind. Instead, shocked exclamations escaped her as she saw the three men standing muddy and soaked to the skin. The confusion was then exacerbated as the other women joined the company; Jane and Elizabeth having decided the arrival of the gentlemen was the signal to take their leave.

Bingley immediately put an end to any suggestion of the girls leaving by finally coming forward with an explanation for their state. "The road is impassable, ladies. This rain has brought the creek up high at the crossing, and our own chaise is bogged deep, blocking the road to Meryton."

"Is there not some way to go around, or at least to shift the chaise?" Elizabeth asked, trying not to look at Mr. Darcy as he removed his soaking coat; his disheveled appearance, even more attractive than his stately one, making her less inclined for his company as she reminded herself she was not to think of him as a man in that way.

"We three and the driver were unable to budge the chaise, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Bingley grinned before going on to describe the length of their efforts to free the vehicle, culminating in a vivid description of how Hurst had ended up face first in the mud. Elizabeth was further surprised as Darcy, and even the habitually dull Hurst, joined in the laughter at his misfortune. Actually, Percival Hurst was neither dull nor a drunkard. He was a well-educated, well-respected gentleman in his early thirties. He did like his plate and his cup, being widely known in his circle as a gourmet and wine connoisseur, and he had a very comfortable income of £6,000 a year, although he and his wife had given Caroline the impression that it was much less, to curb her demands for money. But he was also a man who loved his wife, and had grown to despise his sister-in-law. And in the four years that they had been married, Hurst had gradually spoken less and less around Caroline, to avoid arguing with her, so that he now was reduced to monosyllables in her presence, and lately had even begun to pretend to be in a drunken stupor in the evenings. Fortunately for Percy, his wife's sense of obligation to her younger sister was finally showing signs of wear. 'One more Season...Louisa has promised me, and then we can have our lives back. Not that there is any chance of Caroline landing Darcy - that is a joke. She is appalled that he has gotten a little wet, while Miss Elizabeth...yes, that was a definite look of interest. Darcy certainly cannot take his eyes off of her. If I was not afraid that it would get back to Caroline somehow, I would tell him who Mrs. Bennet is - funny that Caroline did not recognize her, relentless climber that she is, as Mrs. Bennet looks like a somewhat older version of her sister. A dinner spent at her right hand was more than enough to recognize her. A quiet word with Sir William released a torrent of information, which I daresay Charles has already heard... With the Bennet girls here, Caroline will be worse than usual, so I shall have to pretend to be drunk again - maybe I can sleep through most of the evening.'

"I am afraid, ladies, that you have little choice but to accept Bingley's hospitality," Darcy affirmed with a smile, trying not to look particularly in Elizabeth's direction. "Perhaps if the rain breaks, Bingley, you might be able to send someone on horseback for some of the ladies' things, but, Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, there is no way your carriage will make it through to Longbourn tonight and, I would venture to guess, not for a few days yet."

As the men went off to bathe and change it was left to Caroline to, as graciously as she could, prepare rooms for the Bennet sisters. This was certainly not what she had had in mind when inviting the Longbourn women to dine, but she would have to make the best of things. It was, at least, an opportunity to display her superior skills as hostess of the household and, it occurred to her, it might also be a perfect opportunity to showcase her comparative superiority to Miss Elizabeth Bennet in other ways. A country girl could never have the sophistication and skill of a carefully educated young lady such as herself. 'I will watch for Eliza Bennet's flaws, and subtly bring them to Mr. Darcy's attention - by the time they leave, his appreciation for her fine eyes will be gone.' Such thoughts allowed Caroline to perform her duties with a smile on her face, although if any of the rest of the Netherfield household had known that she referred herself as 'subtle' they would surely have laughed aloud.

Supper passed uneventfully. As always, Caroline had seated Darcy directly on her left - she had once been told that her left was her best side. She wanted Elizabeth as far as possible from him, and wished that she could group the rest of the party at one end of the table and put Elizabeth at the other (or even have her eat in her room). Given that her primary goal was 'banishing Miss Eliza,' this meant that Jane was seated to her brother's right at the top of the table - having both guests isolated would have been too much, even for Caroline. In the end, she decided that an unbalanced table was the best solution, and she formed three groups: Louisa, then Darcy, to her left, Charles and Miss Bennet at the opposite end of the table, and finally, in the middle on her right side, her tiresome brother-in-law and the annoying Miss Eliza. She and Louisa would keep Mr. Darcy occupied, and Elizabeth would be forced to talk to Percy, being too far away from anyone else for easy conversation.

While this meant that Jane and Charles would be thrown together at meals during her stay, it was a small price to pay. She was confident of her influence with her brother - she could easily convince him of Georgiana Darcy's superiority as a wife. Jane was a lovely woman, but her £5,000 and small town connections could never compete with £30,000 and the Darcy name. And if her influence was not enough, she was sure that she could call on Mr. Darcy to tip the scales.

Caught up in her own thoughts, Caroline failed to note just how many times Darcy's eyes drifted to the middle of the opposite side of the table. Her concerns returned though, when the men rejoined the women in the parlor after brandy. As usual, Darcy had her full attention before he had walked even a few steps into the room. She smiled in his direction and spoke a welcome to him, but her smile became somewhat frozen as Darcy only gave a brief comment in reply, before proceeding to Elizabeth and enquiring as to how she was finding her enforced stay. Elizabeth had barely time to give a polite reply, before Caroline suggested some music.

She offered the instrument first to Elizabeth, feeling particularly pleased with this means of separating her from Darcy. She had not heard Elizabeth play, but on all previous occasions Elizabeth had demurred in favor of Miss Bradford or Miss Catherine Bennet - and the latter was not an especially polished performer - which convinced Caroline that Elizabeth's performance would be mediocre, at best. This request seemed a perfect opportunity not only to expose a flaw in Elizabeth but - better still - to provide a contrast with her own superiority in taste and skill immediately afterward. Miss Bingley herself had middling taste; she had almost no feeling for the music she played, which she performed as quickly as she was able, and with many flourishes, thinking that this was a sign of virtuosity. So while her technical skill exceeded that of Kitty Bennet - whose primary interest and great accomplishments were in the visual arts - those hearing them both would, nearly to a person, prefer the youngest Miss Bennet's playing.

Elizabeth politely suggested that someone else might wish to lead the way, but Caroline earnestly resisted and Louisa paid no heed, so Elizabeth moved to the instrument. Much to Caroline's chagrin, Darcy moved to sit beside her on the bench, offering his services as page-turner.

"That is very kind of you, Mr. Darcy, but as I have not had the opportunity to look through the music here, I would rather play from memory."

"As you wish," Darcy agreed as he withdrew to a chair positioned to command him an excellent view of the fair performer.

Elizabeth ran her fingers up and down the keyboard to get the feel of the piano, then complimented Caroline on the instrument's light touch before beginning Beethoven's 'Waldstein' Sonata. She was but a few seconds into the piece when Caroline realized she had obviously misread Elizabeth's previous reluctance to perform. It occurred to her, too late, that Elizabeth's motivation might have been affection for her sisters instead of embarrassment over her own ability. Her dazzling performance held the room in silence, and Caroline's chagrin grew as she read the admiration in Mr. Darcy's eyes.

"A superb piece, played beautifully," Darcy murmured in the quiet that ensued after the final notes faded.

"You have been hiding your light under a bushel," Louisa added, "Why have we not heard you play before now?"

"Oh, that is easily explained," Elizabeth smiled, pleased at the positive response to her performance. "Julia loves to play, and plays so well that it is a delight to defer to her. And under her tutelage, Kitty is coming along very well."

"You are certainly no novice," Caroline put in, trying not to make it sound like an accusation.

"Her playing was a constant source of frustration to her masters," Jane put in. "They saw a wonderful talent in Elizabeth, but she was not interested in concentrating on it to the exclusion of other things."

"Yes, it was a genuine relief when Julia came to live with us. I enjoy too many things and as a consequence have never been able to focus on just one."

"Just when did Miss Bradford come to you, and how did it happen that your family took her in? She is an orphan, I believe?" asked Miss Bingley, with just enough false concern to hide her real feelings about the matter from Jane. Elizabeth, on the other hand, was instantly furious, and was forced to fume silently, to avoid overt incivility.

Jane replied, "She came to us four years ago, after her family died. My father and hers were very good friends."

"I understand that her family's fortune was lost when her father died-"

At this Elizabeth jumped in instantly to forestall further conversation, beating Darcy by a heartbeat. "Julia is as dear to us as any sister could be, and while she came to us as a result of a terrible tragedy, we are very grateful to have her as a part of our family." And then, continuing with a distinct edge to her voice, "As to financial matters, I recommend that you apply to my father for any information you require." 'I only wish she would...' thought Elizabeth.

Darcy sought to redirect the conversation. "I doubt that anyone would regard your performance at the pianoforte just now to show a lack of focus, Miss Elizabeth."

"I understand you to be a great reader Miss Eliza," Caroline added in a tone which clearly showed her disapproval, "taking little pleasure in much else."

"I do enjoy reading, but not to the exclusion of other things," Elizabeth replied.

"When you were not quite ten," Jane added good-humouredly, "you expressed an ambition to become a blue-stocking."

"I must admit that the idea still holds a certain appeal," Elizabeth laughed. "Oh, for the discipline!"

"Speaking of which," Caroline interrupted, glad to be able to turn the subject from Elizabeth, and make an adverse comparison at the same time, "is the disciplined Miss Darcy much grown since the spring? Will she be as tall as I am?"

"I think it possible. She is now a bit taller than Miss Bennet." Darcy had been about to say that she was 'a head taller than Miss Elizabeth,' but that had suddenly seemed too...something. Caroline Bingley was nearly as tall as her brother, and with those ridiculous headdresses she favored, she towered over people in the room, putting him in mind of a giant, orange ostrich.

"How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners, and so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite."

'She could not be more obvious if she wore a sign,' thought Darcy with a suppressed sigh. 'Georgie's playing is quite good, but even I must admit that it is nothing to Miss Elizabeth's. And Miss Bingley's pretense of affection for my sister seems especially false next to the genuine feeling of our guests for Miss Bradford...'

"It is amazing to me," said Bingley, "how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished as they all are."

"All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?" Caroline exclaimed.

"Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely know anyone who cannot do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being informed that she was very accomplished."

"Your list of the common extent of accomplishments," said Darcy, "has too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who does little other than netting purses, and covering an occasional screen. But I am very far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot boast of knowing more than half a dozen, in the whole range of my acquaintance, that are really accomplished."

"Nor I, I am sure," said Miss Bingley.

"Then," observed Elizabeth, "you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman."

"Yes; I do comprehend a great deal in it."

"Oh! certainly," cried his faithful assistant, "no one can be really esteemed accomplished, who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half deserved."

"All this she must possess," added Darcy, "and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading."

"I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing any."

"Are you so severe upon your own sex, as to doubt the possibility of all this?"

"I never saw such a woman. I never saw such capacity and application, taste and elegance, character and fashion, and gait and modulation, as you describe, united."

Miss Bingley cried out against her injustice, protesting that she knew many women who answered this description, when Charles tactfully reminded Caroline that she had offered to play after Elizabeth.

As Miss Bingley moved to the instrument the smile in Darcy's eyes made it clear to Elizabeth that he had not missed the humor in Caroline's about-face in the number of accomplished women. Elizabeth, though, was disinclined to return his smile, as she was sure she had just been given a further glimpse of the arrogance and lack of feeling that made her so wary of this man.

Sleep is often difficult enough to find in a strange room but, as she lay awake that night, Elizabeth realized that it was not the room keeping her from her dreams, but thoughts of the enigmatic Mr. Darcy. The laughing and disheveled man she had seen in the hallway only that afternoon seemed a world away from the haughty man of the Meryton assembly. Some of his comments that evening though, had again hinted at a general disdain. She considered his comments about womanly accomplishments. Had he no clue as to the rock and the hard place between which society had placed them? Those with knowledge, wit and opinions were seen as intimidating; not knowing their rightful place. Others, discouraged from real achievement, or foreclosed from it by lack of talent or resources, dutifully painted tables, covered screens, and netted purses, and for their efforts found themselves condemned for being exactly what so many men demanded. True, Mr. Darcy did not seem to wish women ignorant...and yet, Mr. Darcy could not be bothered to deflect or even moderate an ill-natured, petty attack on Julia, who was a young lady that actually embodied the comprehensive requirements of 'accomplishment' given that evening - except for the mincing walk and affected speech so loved by Miss Bingley...

As the night moved on, phrases such as 'Not handsome enough to tempt me' and 'I am very far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general,' swirled in Elizabeth's head; but as she finally drifted to sleep they mixed with snippets of his intelligent conversation, instances of unexpected gallantry, and with images of his smile.

Chapter 7

Posted on January 4, 2010

The clouds seemed to be breaking as Elizabeth joined the others the following morning, and she became hopeful of an early return home. These hopes were further strengthened when her father unexpectedly appeared before them in the breakfast parlor.

"I have been sent to confirm the health and security of our absent daughters," Mr. Bennet remarked following his greetings. "Though we never doubted they were well and safe while here. That chaise could not have become more disadvantageously bogged down had you chosen the spot deliberately," he said with a smile at Mr. Bingley.

"It seems you must have passed my servant on your way," Bingley answered. "He was sent this morning with a message and with the awkward commission of returning with a supply of clothing, despite being on horseback."

"We had already heard from Robert and James, who brought our team back to Longbourn early this morning. Mrs. Bennet was packing clothes for the girls when I left. I offered to bring them myself, but she insisted that I go ahead. I am sure that she will have your man adequately supplied and on his way back shortly. Your mother tasked me with asking if there was anything in particular you required," he said, looking between his daughters.

"Mama will know what I need," Elizabeth replied, and Jane indicated assent. "But will that be necessary now, Father?" she continued. "May we not return home with you?"

At this Darcy looked up with concern.

"I am afraid, my dear, that it will take some time to recover Mr. Bingley's chaise," Mr. Bennet answered much to Darcy's relief, "and then more repairs will be needed to the road before another vehicle will be able to safely pass; and, as far as horseback is concerned, we could certainly not get three of us on the horse; the conditions of the road are still too precarious to consider even tandem travel."

"What about returning home on foot?"

"In this dirty weather!" Caroline exclaimed before realizing it might discourage Elizabeth from her plan of leaving.

"You would not be fit to be seen," her father laughed. "Not to mention that you would likely be caught in a storm. I can just imagine what Sarah would have to say if I allowed that, and judging from Jane's expression, I can see that she is not in favor of that option, either."

It was clear to Elizabeth that she would remain a few days at Netherfield - she certainly did not feel that she could leave without her sister - and, as the men settled down with their coffees to discuss options for recovering the chaise and repairing the road, she chastised herself for allowing the idea of spending time in Mr. Darcy's presence to disconcert her so. She had discovered over the past week that he could be a very pleasant man, and she thought she had forgiven his insult. This early faux pas had made it apparent that he would never entertain any romantic notions toward her, meaning that no awkwardness of that kind should arise if they formed a friendship. So why did she feel so wary? Why was she so bothered by signs of his arrogance?

A direct query from Jane as to how she was feeling brought Elizabeth's focus back to the present as the discussion on appropriate repairs to the road continued.

"I suppose your plans for the future will make a difference to the extent of the repairs you effect," Mr. Bennet commented. "You have only taken a short lease, so if you do not intend to stay, it would be folly to expend substantial capital repairing the road."

"At present I consider myself quite fixed here," Bingley replied, unable to keep from directing a meaningful look at Jane before seeming to remember his company and quickly moving on to comment, "but whatever I do I do in a hurry, and therefore if I should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five minutes."

"That is exactly what I should have supposed of you," said Elizabeth, in order to draw attention away from Jane's blush.

"You begin to comprehend me, do you?" Bingley exclaimed, turning towards her.

"Oh! yes - I understand you perfectly."

"I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily seen through I am afraid is pitiful."

"It does not necessarily follow that a deep, intricate character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours."

"I did not know before," continued Bingley immediately, "that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study."

"Yes; but intricate characters are the most amusing," Mr. Bennet joined the conversation with a smile at Lizzy. "They have at least that advantage."

"It is now obvious how you come by your interest, Miss Elizabeth," Darcy commented with a smile. "The country though, can in general supply but few subjects for such a study. In a country neighborhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society."

"True, but the lack of variety is, I think, more than made up for by opportunity for deep study of the available subjects. And people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them forever," Elizabeth countered, warming to the discussion.

"Yes, the domestic mysteries offered up by a small neighborhood sustain our interest," agreed Mr. Bennet. "Why were Mrs. Goulding and Miss Price-Ridley so cold to one another in the village last week and why has Mr. Sterling replaced the perfectly serviceable awning outside his shop?" he laughed. "And, in any event, the girls spend far more time staying with relatives in London than I, so they have another, larger circle about which to speculate. For my part I do not wish for such diversion - I am thoroughly content with my country ways."

"When I am in the country," Bingley laughed, "I never wish to leave it; and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either."

"If the girls are often in London, it is surprising," Miss Bingley added in a faux innocent tone, "that we have not met before. We obviously mix in quite different social circles."

Caroline was successful in communicating her meaning, as Darcy felt a slight twinge of discomfort at the thought that the Bennets were not exactly of his sphere. Hurst, however, had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing, both at Caroline's absurd misconception, and Darcy's pomposity and foolishness in believing her.

"Yes, I have thought it surprising too," Jane answered, completely missing the supercilious overtones in Caroline's comment.

"Were you in town last Season?" Bingley inquired, feeling a pang of lost opportunity in the thought that he might have known her earlier.

"Yes, we spent March with Mama's sister," Jane answered, blushing slightly.

"Ah, we did not leave York until late April, and stopped for a visit in Derbyshire with Darcy on the way south," Bingley replied.

"Yes, we did not enter town until the height of the Season," Caroline added with the suggestion of a sneer in her voice.

"Ah, well," Mr. Bennet answered, sharing a quick amused smile at Elizabeth regarding Caroline's superior attitude, "if you had remained longer, you might have had an earlier acquaintance with Miss Bingley, but I was well-pleased to have you home again."

Darcy deduced that the girls' early return home had involved something that upset Miss Bennet, although her father's conversational gambit had probably misled Caroline into thinking that they had come home at his request. Of course Jane's discomfort was obvious to Elizabeth. Given her sensitivity, it was no surprise that Jane had found the falling out between Lord Henry and Mr. Church, due to their rivalry for her attention, a very trying circumstance. Elizabeth completely understood her sister's need to withdraw herself from these two boors.

"Did Mama, Julia, and Kitty enjoy their time with Aunt Philips?" Elizabeth asked in order to change the subject.

"The weather prevented the visit," Mr. Bennet answered, "which is perhaps a good thing, otherwise all of my womenfolk might have been trapped away from home, and Benjamin and I would have had to shift for ourselves."

"I dare say that if Mrs. Aikens heard that you feared starvation without Mother and my sisters there, she might well close up the kitchen and leave - and Mother would certainly have something to say if you lost us our cook!" Elizabeth laughed.

"Then it is a very good thing that you are not at home to put the idea into her head, although Mrs. Hill and your mother are very good cooks, and I still remember a few things from my bachelor days." Mr. Bennet laughed silently at Miss Bingley's look of disdain at the idea that his housekeeper, his wife, and he could actually cook, as if having any practical accomplishments was shameful. "I dare say it is time to be on my way," Mr. Bennet commented as he rose to his feet. "Thank you very much for the coffee, Mr. Bingley, and for your gracious hospitality to my daughters; and remember my offer of any aid you wish in the rescue of your chaise and the repair of the road."

"I will certainly keep that in mind if I find myself in need of assistance," replied Bingley, while thinking that, with Jane as his guest, he preferred the road stayed impassable for quite some time.

Her father's progress to the door suddenly stopped, and he returned to Elizabeth and handed her a letter with a French postmark, "I almost forgot. This came for you yesterday in the morning post and got mixed in with my mail. I was sure that you would like to see it as soon as possible, as you take such pleasure in your correspondence with 'Monsieur Le Blanc'." Seeing the looks of 'interest' - on some faces concern, and others disdain - he explained, "The writer is a Mademoiselle Marie-Sophie Germain, a rather well-known figure in French scientific circles." And with that, he left.

"And how do you know a Mademoiselle Germain, Miss Eliza?" asked Miss Bingley, with her customary hint of a sneer.

"We were introduced through correspondence with a friend of my father who lives in Gottingen. Sophie and I have in common an interest in what is often called 'the theory of numbers'."

"And what could be interesting in that, Miss Eliza?" she asked, making less effort than usual to hide her disdain.

"I can say, Miss Bingley, that I have made some study of the subject while at Cambridge, and I found it quite interesting - so I do not find it odd that others do," interjected Darcy. This brought him a rather surprised, but grateful look from Elizabeth, and silenced Caroline on the matter. Darcy said no more either, but mused 'Interested in the theory of numbers? I wonder who in Gottingen is her father's friend? Could it be...?'

It was not long after this that Bingley's man returned with a note from Mrs. Bennet and two small trunks (which he had brought back on a pack horse he had had the foresight to take with him to Longbourn). With a fresh supply of clothes for Jane and Elizabeth, the ladies retired to take care of the Bennet girls' needs and the men were left to themselves. Caroline managed to contrive that the men did not see their guests again until it was time for luncheon, and though Bingley this time found himself happily seated next to Jane, Darcy was once more placed as far as possible from Elizabeth, at Caroline's left hand. Telling himself there would be ample opportunity to spend time with her over the next few days he resigned himself to being patient, but this did not stop his eyes from often turning in her direction.

He was rather disappointed when Caroline's diligence as hostess kept the male and female members of the party separate for much of the afternoon, but eventually Caroline's resolve failed, as she yearned to be in Mr. Darcy's company. Mr. Darcy was writing when the women finally joined the men in the drawing room. Miss Bingley seated herself near him to watch the progress of his letter, and repeatedly called for his attention with messages to his sister. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and Mrs. Hurst and Jane moved to observe their game.

Elizabeth took up some needlework, as she liked to keep her hands busy while deep in thought, but she was sufficiently amused listening to what passed between Darcy and his companion that she ceased thinking about polynomials, and her sympathy for him rose every minute. The incessant commendations of the lady on the perfection of his script, the evenness of his lines, and the length of his letter, with the counterpoint of perfect unconcern to her praises, made for an odd kind of fugue. Mr. Darcy might have reverted to stiffness, but under the circumstance Elizabeth could not fault him.

"How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter!"

He made no answer.

"You write uncommonly fast."

"You are mistaken. I write rather slowly."

"How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of the year! Letters of business too! How odious I should think them!"

"It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of to yours."

"Pray tell your sister that I long to see her."

"I have already told her so once, by your desire."

"I am afraid you do not like your pen. Let me mend it for you. I mend pens remarkably well."

"Thank you - but I always mend my own."

"How can you contrive to write so even?"

He was silent.

"Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her improvement on the harp, and pray let her know that I am quite in raptures with her beautiful little design for a table, and I think it infinitely superior to Miss Grantley's."

"Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again? - At present I have not room to do them justice."

"Oh! it is of no consequence. I shall see her in January. But do you always write such charming long letters to her, Mr. Darcy?"

"They are generally long; but whether always charming, it is not for me to determine."

"It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter, with ease, cannot write ill."

"That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline," cried her brother - "because he does not write with ease. He studies too much for words of four syllables. - Do you not, Darcy?"

"My style of writing is very different from yours."

"Oh!" cried Miss Bingley, "Charles writes in the most careless way imaginable. He leaves out half his words, and blots the rest."

"My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them - by which means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents."

"Your humility, Mr. Bingley," said Elizabeth, amused at the repartee, but not willing to let the argument go Miss Bingley's way, "must disarm reproof."

"Nothing is more deceitful," said Darcy, "than the appearance of humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an indirect boast."

"And which of the two do you call my little recent piece of modesty?"

"The indirect boast, for you are really proud of your defects in writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity of thought and carelessness of execution, which if not estimable, you think at least highly interesting. The power of doing anything with quickness is always much prized by the possessor, and often without any attention to the imperfection of the performance. When you told Mr. Bennet this morning that if you ever resolved on quitting Netherfield you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of panegyric, of compliment to yourself - and yet what is there so very laudable in a precipitance which must leave very necessary business undone, and can be of no real advantage to yourself or anyone else?"

"Nay," cried Bingley, "this is too much, to remember late in the day all of the foolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honor, I believed what I said of myself to be true, and I believe it at this moment. At least, therefore, I did not assume the character of needless precipitance merely to show off before the ladies."

"I dare say you believed it; but I am by no means convinced that you would be gone with such celerity. Your conduct would be quite as dependent on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as you were mounting your horse, a friend were to say, "Bingley, you had better stay till next week," you would probably do it, you would probably not go - and, at another word, might stay a month."

"You have only proved by this," cried Elizabeth, feeling a little annoyed at Mr. Darcy speaking of his friend in such a way in front of Jane, "that Mr. Bingley did not do justice to his own disposition. You have shown him off now much more than he did himself."

"I am exceedingly gratified," said Bingley, "by your converting what my friend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my temper. But I am afraid you are giving it a turn which that gentleman did by no means intend; for he would certainly think the better of me, if under such a circumstance I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as I could."

"Would Mr. Darcy then consider the rashness of your original intention as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?"

"Upon my word I cannot exactly explain the matter; Darcy must speak for himself."

"You expect me to account for opinions which you choose to call mine, but which I have never acknowledged. Allowing the case, however, to stand according to your representation, you must remember, Miss Elizabeth, that the friend who is supposed to desire his return to the house, and the delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering one argument in favor of its propriety."

"To yield readily - easily - to the persuasion of a friend has no merit with you?"

"To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of either."

"You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence of friendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often make one readily yield to a request without waiting for arguments to reason one into it. I am not particularly speaking of such a case as you have supposed about Mr. Bingley. We may as well wait, perhaps, till the circumstance occurs, before we discuss the discretion of his behavior thereupon. But in general and ordinary cases between friend and friend, where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of no very great moment, should you think ill of that person for complying with the desire, without waiting to be argued into it?"

"Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject, to arrange with rather more precision the degree of importance which is to appertain to this request, as well as the degree of intimacy subsisting between the parties?"

"By all means," cried Bingley; "Let us hear all the particulars, not forgetting their comparative height and size; for that will have more weight in the argument, Miss Elizabeth, than you may be aware of. I assure you that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not know a more awful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening when he has nothing to do."

Mr. Darcy smiled; but Elizabeth thought she could see that he was rather offended, so she checked her laugh - evidently Mr. Bingley was far from defenseless against his clever friend. Miss Bingley resented the indignity Darcy had received, and harangued her brother for talking such nonsense.

"I see your design, Bingley," said his friend. "You dislike an argument, and want to silence this."

"Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. If you and Miss Bennet will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very thankful; and then you may say whatever you like of me."

"What you ask," said Elizabeth, "is no sacrifice on my side; and Mr. Darcy had much better finish his letter."

Mr. Darcy took her advice, and did finish his letter but, after enjoying such a lively dispute with this attractive young woman, he kept it in mind that it would just be a deferral. It might be worth initiating a few more disputes simply to see the fire in her eyes as she rose to the occasion.

Miss Bingley smiled to herself as she sat back to continue to watch Darcy at his correspondence, believing Miss Elizabeth had shown her behavior as impertinent and contrary during the last exchange. 'She obviously has not the least idea how to please a man,' Caroline reflected smugly.