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Chapter One

Posted on Sunday, 31 December 2006

“My dear Mr Bennet, “ Mrs Bennet exclaimed almost breathlessly as she entered her husband’s study – without knocking, Mr Bennet observed indignantly. Things had come to a pretty pass if a man had no place where he was safe from female intrusion, and in his own house, no less. “Have you heard the news?”

Mr Bennet denied ever having heard any news worth knowing from his wife’s mouth.

“Oh, stop being so vexatious,” Mrs Bennet said, though in reality not taking much offence at her husband's comment. Mr Bennet was hardly ever serious, as she knew. “You know my poor nerves cannot stand it! But let me tell you what I have just heard from my sister! The most delightful piece of news it is too! I must tell the girls as well – they will be very happy to hear it!”

“Will they?” Mr Bennet asked dryly. “Dear me! It must be an excellent piece of news indeed.”

There was nothing for it, he had decided, but to let his wife get rid of whatever it was she wanted to tell him. The sooner she had done so, the sooner she would leave him in peace.

“Only think, Mr Bennet! My sister Philips has had a letter from her son!”

Mr Bennet took leave to inform his wife that this was not really news. Mrs Philips’ son was a faithful correspondent, and apart from those weeks when his letters had gone astray for some reason or other, Mrs Philips had received a missive from him every week. In those weeks she had not, Mrs Philips, a doting mother, had given way to the worst fears and had suffered a Spasm or two. Those were usually the weeks when Mr Philips chose to visit his brother-in-law in Longbourn, in the safe knowledge that Mr Bennet’s library was a safe haven of male company. Well, had been, at any rate.

“Oh, that is not the piece of news I wanted to relate,” Mrs Bennet said dismissively. “But, my dear, he is going to return at last! Harry Philips is to return to Meryton!”

Mr Bennet, somewhat acidly, said that he did not see why Harry Philips should do any such thing. What excitement could be found in Meryton for a young man who had – quite literally – seen the world?

“My sister believes he wishes to settle down at last,” Mrs Bennet said, in the tone of one who had kept the best piece of news to the last. “What a fine thing for our girls this will be!”

“Oh, and how can it affect them?” Mr Bennet asked. Not even more than twenty years of marriage had enabled him to follow his wife’s trains of thought. Though he suspected that whenever marriage was concerned, his wife’s thinking became quite straightforward. Apparently she was planning the marriage of one of her daughters to their Cousin Harry. Why she did so he did not know – none of them had ever shown any inclination in that direction. Nor had Cousin Harry.

“How can you be so troublesome, sir?” Mrs Bennet exclaimed, giving her husband an indignant glare. “Of course he must marry one of them!”

“I see,” Mr Bennet said. He supposed that somewhere in his wife’s brains her statement made sense. “I hope Mrs Philips will inform him of the fact. Otherwise it would be quite embarrassing, would it not, if he offered for.... shall we say, Miss Lucas?”

“Charlotte Lucas!” Mrs Bennet almost shrieked. “Surely not! I must say I think better of my nephew than that! Why, such a plain, dowdy creature! Charlotte Lucas, indeed! Next you will say he will take a fancy to Mary King!”

“Stranger things have happened,” Mr Bennet muttered. From what he had seen of her, he had come to the conclusion that Mary King was a taking little thing, and one had to take her fortune into consideration as well. A promising young lad like Harry Philips would not fail to do so, Mr Bennet supposed. Ten thousand pounds were worth some consideration, after all.

“And why, I ask you, should he take a fancy to either Charlotte Lucas or Mary King when he has such a lovely cousin as our Jane? I am sure he will not even look at either of them when our Jane is near.”

To soothe his spouse’s ruffled feathers, Mr Bennet admitted that his daughter Jane was an uncommonly pretty girl, and that she was more likely to catch her Cousin Harry’s eye than any other girl.

“But I am afraid, my dear,” he pointed out, “that Jane’s rather delicate health might put him off. The climate in India cannot do her any good, as he will be able to inform you. He will not take a wife who will be carried off by some fever or other the moment she sets foot in Calcutta, and, to be honest, my dear; it is not what her parents should wish for.”

“Oh, he might just as well take Lydia then,” Mrs Bennet said, after having given the matter some two seconds’ worth of thought. “She is a stout girl – never had an illness that I knew of! She will do very well!”

“Lydia is not yet sixteen,” Mr Bennet said. “She is unlikely to catch any grown man’s fancy, if you ask me.”

His wife’s silliness had polluted his library for long enough, he decided.

“Mr Bennet, how can you speak of your own children so unfeelingly?” Mrs Bennet protested. “I am sure I never saw a more unnatural parent!”

The unnatural parent had, by that time, had quite enough of Mrs Bennet’s conversation and made an effort to get rid of her. He did so by informing her that the girls were, so far, still ignorant of the felicity in store for them, and that she had better go and let them know immediately. Mrs Bennet, realising that her daughters might be more interested in their Cousin Harry than their father was, left the study and went into the parlour, where she found three of her five daughters attending to their morning tasks.

Kitty and Lydia had gone shopping in Meryton, which made Mrs Bennet observe that they had been shopping a great deal lately, and that she wondered there could be anything worth buying left in any shop. This led her to the topic of shopping in general, and she spent some ten minutes telling her daughters that she thought it very shabby of her husband not to take them all to London regularly, as some other gentlemen she could name did. How was one to take the shine out of all the other young ladies at the assemblies if one had to make do with what was to be had in the local shops, she wondered?

“But maybe, my dears, you will not be dependent on your father’s generosity for much longer,” she finally said, and continued to regale Jane, Lizzy and Mary with the exact details of their cousin’s letter.

“He will arrive here in two or three weeks, I daresay. You do remember your Cousin Harry, do you not, Jane?” Mrs Bennet gave her eldest daughter an expectant look.

“It has been a long time,” Jane admitted. “I am afraid if I met him somewhere I would be hard put to recognise him. What about you, Lizzy?”

Elizabeth Bennet smiled, and said, “It would be very much the same with me, Jane. Luckily we will meet him in his father’s house, so recognising him will not be all that difficult.”

Harry Philips was his parents’ pride and joy, but what Lizzy remembered of him was not at all complimentary. He had been a wearisome and arrogant boy, who had tried to lord over his cousins whenever they had met, and had made it very clear to them that he thought girls too inferior to be worth his notice. One had to make allowances, Lizzy supposed, for their difference in age, for Harry Philips was eight years her senior. He had left Meryton at the age of eighteen to attend University in Cambridge, and that had been the last she had ever seen of him. He had returned once, but on that occasion his Bennet cousins had not met him – Mary had had the measles and the entire household had been quarantined for three weeks. Had it not been for Mary's suffering, Lizzy would have been almost happy that her sister's illness had prevented a reunion with their least favourite cousin.

When he had finished university, Harry had gone to London to complete his training as a lawyer. But all the while he had made it clear to his family that he wanted to see the world, and was not going to stay in London – or in England, even – for his entire life. So no one was taken by surprise when he accepted a highly prestigious position in India.

Mrs Philips had taken the news hard. Harry was her only child, and she could not reconcile herself to the thought that he would be out of her reach for a considerable amount of time. Who was to take care of her precious son when she was not there to do so? Harry had informed her that a young man of four-and-twenty could very well look after himself, and had boarded the ship to Calcutta the following morning. Lizzy had not blamed him. If anything, she had envied him the opportunity to get away. She did wonder why he was going to come back now, however. Had she had that chance, she would have stayed where she was. Though, to be honest, she might miss her family a great deal. Perhaps this was why Cousin Harry wanted to return – he missed his family. She had to admit that it was a point in his favour if this was indeed so.

“He has made his fortune then,” Lizzy said, smiling. It had always been some sort of running joke among the Bennet sisters that Cousin Harry would, one day, return in the possession of a considerable fortune. In the case of Mrs Bennet, the joke had been taken seriously – she had never doubted that her nephew had only gone to India to accumulate immense wealth. What other reason could a young man possibly have to put himself into such grave danger as illness and elephants?

“I should say so,” Mrs Bennet said. “Your aunt Philips will not tell me the exact amount he has made, but I have reason to believe that he has been very lucky in his ventures. Your uncle Gardiner once said he should be very surprised if the boy had not gained thousands! You must admit that your uncle Gardiner does know what he is talking about when he talks about business.”

Lizzy said that she had never doubted her uncle’s business sense. She then expressed her hope that her cousin would survive the long journey in good health, and turned her attention back to her needlework. She did not find Cousin Harry all that interesting. He was welcome to come back to Meryton, but that was as far as her sentiments in that matter went. She did suspect that her mother had plans regarding him and one of her sisters, but that did not bother her too much. If any of her sisters wished to oblige her, fine, but if not, Lizzy did not doubt Mrs Bennet would come to terms with her disappointment sooner or later.

The letter informing her of her son’s impending return had put Mrs Philips into a frenzy of activity. Everything had to be perfect for the reception of her long-lost son. Mr Philips took a more pragmatic view of the matter. He did not expect Harry to stay very long – ten to one some business had taken him to England, and he would return to India when he had accomplished it. Even if that was not the case, he would hardly remain under his parents’ roof forever. Which was very proper, Mr Philips told his brother-in-law. It was not good for a young man of Harry’s age to be tied to his mother’s apron strings forever.

“It is all I can do to keep quiet,” he once confided to Mr Bennet. “My wife really thinks Harry will come back for good. I hate to disappoint her – she’ll be disappointed soon enough when he tells her he only means to stay for a couple of weeks. Keep her happy while you can, is what I’m saying. As long as they’re tolerably happy they’ll leave you alone.”

Mr Bennet agreed on this very sensible course of action, and offered his guest a glass of port. Mr Philips, who was fond of a glass of port or two, gratefully accepted the offer, and then the gentlemen leaned back in their respective armchairs and enjoyed the comparative peace and quiet in Mr Bennet’s library.

Lizzy half expected a fattened calf to be slaughtered in celebration of the return of Mrs Philips' only son, but nothing of the sort happened. Firstly, Cousin Harry did not arrive when everyone expected him, but almost a week earlier. Secondly, the years spent in India seemed to have done him good. He was not at all like the Harry Lizzy remembered. The Harry Lizzy had known would have expected nothing less than the slaughter of a fattened calf and a grand celebration to welcome him. The new Harry expected nothing of the sort – instead he asked his mother to put herself to as little trouble as possible.

Elizabeth happened to be present when he arrived in his parents’ house. Mrs Bennet and her daughters had come to visit Mrs Philips, officially because Mrs Philips required their assistance in the preparations she deemed necessary for her son’s impending arrival. In reality, Mrs Philips did not expect them to do any work at all. Her nieces, she felt, were nice enough girls, and she was always happy to see them, but while Jane and Elizabeth were, without doubt, very dependable and useful, she did not trust any of the younger ones to perform any household tasks to her satisfaction. Since she felt it was unfair to expect the two eldest sisters to work while the younger ones were gossiping in their aunt’s parlour, she had decided not to ask any of the girls – or their mother - for help. What she wanted, she informed them, was moral support.

“I only hope dear Harry has not grown too grand for us,” she sighed. “What if he were ashamed of us?”

“If that were the case, aunt, he would hardly come to visit you,” Elizabeth said soothingly.

“So your uncle keeps telling me,” Mrs Philips said. “I suppose he is right, but I cannot help but wonder – after all the things he has seen, or the people he has associated with, he will find Meryton very flat I fear.”

“You do not think he will feel above the company to be had here, do you sister?” Mrs Bennet exclaimed. “I must say I would think very ill of him if it were so!”

Jane, who always thought the best of people, merely said, “But why should he, Mama? His behaviour in all those years has not given us any reason to suspect that he feels above his connections here.”

Lizzy wondered whether Jane had been blind during her childhood.

“No, his letters were always most affectionate and entertaining,” Mrs Philips admitted.

“You see, aunt, there is no reason for anxiety,” Jane said calmly, and took another sip of her tea.

Suddenly, there was a commotion outside in the street, and when Mrs Philips looked out of the window to see what the fuss was about she gave a shriek of surprise.

“Good lord, I think he is here already!” she exclaimed. “And not a thing fit to eat in the house, and his room is a terrible mess! Lord, he does travel in style! Only think, girls, he came in a chaise-and-four!”

This sent Kitty and Lydia to the window as well, each of them hoping she would be the first to catch a glimpse of their cousin. So they did, but since he was unaware of the interest his arrival had excited inside the house he was discussing something with the coachman and had turned his back towards the house. The only things Kitty and Lydia were able to determine, therefore, were that their cousin was rather tall and slender, and that he was wearing an elegant driving-coat with many capes.

Mrs Philips excused herself, and went outside to welcome her son. Mrs Bennet turned to her daughters and expressed her satisfaction that they should by chance be in their uncle’s house when their cousin arrived.

“We will be among the first people he meets here,” she said. "Nothing could be more fortunate!"

Lizzy replied that while she felt privileged indeed she still thought they should leave as soon as possible to give their aunt and cousin an opportunity to speak to each other in private, since they had not met for years.

“Oh, but it has been much longer since we met him,” Mrs Bennet insisted. “We are family too, Lizzy! He must be quite pleased to meet us as well as his mother.”

Lizzy doubted that, but since her mother showed no intention of leaving any time soon there was nothing she could do. She therefore leaned back, sipped her tea, ate a biscuit and waited for her aunt to return to them.

She heard her cousin laugh as he approached the parlour with his mother, and he was still smiling when he followed her into the room.

Lizzy had to admit that his smile was pleasant, and his manners were agreeable too. She could not detect any sign of arrogance either. Mr Harry Philips was at his most affable, it seemed.

“You must know,” Mrs Philips said to Mrs Bennet, “I had no idea Harry would arrive so soon. Do you know what he did? He wrote he would arrive later than he actually did, because he knew I would fret and worry if he was late, which he was likely to be. Is this not charming?”

“And thereby you have established my reputation as a liar,” Cousin Harry said laughingly. “Which I am not, I assure you. I am merely well acquainted with stories about travel to and from India at this time of the year, and calculated my journey accordingly. The fact that I arrived earlier surprised me as much as it did you, Mama. It was a pleasant surprise, however, and I hope you will forgive me for not letting you know I was here immediately the moment I set foot in England.”

He went on to greet his aunt in a very respectful manner, and then asked his mother to introduce him to his cousins.

“I know we were acquainted before I left for Cambridge,” he said with a disarming smile, “but you will admit that you have grown up ever since, and I had rather not offend any of my cousins by giving them a wrong name.”

Aunt Philips introduced him to them, and Lizzy was pleasantly surprised by his manners. He said something kind and flattering to all of them, without appearing too smooth-tongued to be pleasing.

“Cousin Elizabeth,” he said when his mother re-introduced him to Lizzy. “I do remember you – you were the girl who would have taken part in most of my pranks if I had not stopped you.”

Lizzy smiled. “I tried to, at any rate.”

“And you were mortally offended whenever I told you I would have none of it,” he continued. “To say the truth, I was often in sympathy with your feelings on these occasions.”

“Still you said you did not need little girls to hang on your sleeves,” Lizzy laughed.

“Unpardonable of me, I know,” he said, grinning. “But I knew it was the surest way to send you off in a temper. How old were you then?”

“I was ten when you left us,” Lizzy said.

“Almost a young lady then. No wonder you detested me – young ladies do not like being called little girls. I do hope time has healed your wounds though – I promise you I will take great care not to be odiously patronising.”

“I never hated you,” Elizabeth pointed out. “I merely did not relish being treated like an inferior little girl.”

“That should put my mind at rest,” Cousin Harry said. “There is no reason for me to treat you like that now.”

He then turned to Mary, and since he was acquainted with the scholarly turn of her mind he did not find it difficult to find some topic of common interest to talk about with her. Kitty and Lydia were won over in a different manner – he mentioned that there were presents for them on their way.

“My luggage has not arrived yet,” he said, “but once it has I will be able to give you some trifles that will give you some pleasure, I hope.”

“Trifles?” Lydia exclaimed, her eyes aglow with excitement. “What do you mean, cousin?”

“Oh, I thought it would be considered rather mean of me if I were not to bring any presents with me,” Harry said. “Meanness is the one fault I do not wish to be accused of.”

“You bought presents for us?” Lydia asked and, when her cousin nodded gravely, shrieked, “Only listen, Mama! Cousin Harry has bought presents for us!”

“This is too kind of you, my dear boy,” Mrs Bennet said graciously. Her nephew was in a fair way to becoming a favourite with her.

“When will your luggage arrive?” Lydia asked eagerly.

“Not before tomorrow, I think,” Harry replied. “I am afraid you will have to be patient, dear cousin. But as soon as it does arrive I will personally call in Longbourn and give you your presents.”

With this promise, Lydia had to be content. Cousin Harry sat down next to his mother, gratefully accepted her offer of refreshment, and gave his anxious parent a faithful report of his journey and his state of health. Lizzy, feeling that they really ought to leave to give their aunt and cousin an opportunity to speak in private, tried to hint her mother away, but did not succeed until half an hour later.
Her mortification was great. She was certain that their cousin would resent this piece of incivility, and that he would think them vulgar and encroaching. He was quite different from what she had remembered of him, but then she had to admit that he had probably learned a great deal in those ten years she had not seen him. Harry Philips had turned out to be a handsome, well-mannered and charming young man, and Lizzy had to admit that she liked him. He was one relation one did not have to be ashamed of.

Chapter Two

Posted on Saturday, 6 January 2007

Harry Philips kept his promise. Two days after his arrival in his father’s house in Meryton, he called in Longbourn to meet his uncle Bennet and give some presents to his aunt and cousins. Elizabeth had not expected much generosity on his part, but was pleasantly surprised. Cousin Harry had put himself to considerable trouble and expense to buy suitable gifts for his entire family. Perhaps Aunt Philips was right and Cousin Harry had indeed acquired considerable wealth during his stay in Calcutta.

There were shawls made of the finest cashmere wool for each of the Bennet ladies, and several bales of silk and muslin that would make the most beautiful gowns imaginable. Unpacking their presents would have been perfect felicity, Elizabeth thought, had it not been for Kitty and Lydia, who started quarrelling over their shawls – each of them thinking that the other’s shawl was prettier than their own. The simple solution would have been to swap them, but Kitty and Lydia did not do simple solutions, for fear that one might gain the advantage over the other by doing so. In vain did Elizabeth hope that her mother would intervene – Mrs Bennet was much too absorbed with her own gifts to even notice her two youngest daughters’ ill-bred behaviour.

So it fell to Elizabeth’s lot to draw their attention to the fact that their cousin was still present, and that their conduct was extremely unbecoming. This finally roused Mrs Bennet from her happy reflections on what she was going to do with all that splendour, and drew her censure on Elizabeth’s head. One did not, Mrs Bennet said, argue with one’s sisters in the presence of a guest, and besides she took leave to point out that she was very well able to restrain her daughters, thank you very much.

Lizzy blushed furiously but did not inform her mother that, apparently, she was not able to do so. She merely gave her cousin an apologetic smile, and was surprised to see a glint of amusement in his eyes. He did not seem to resent Kitty and Lydia’s behaviour, and Lizzy was glad. He did not deserve to be offended in return for his kindness.

“I hope your gifts are to your taste,” he said.

Kitty and Lydia, giving their argument a break, told him that they were indeed.

“I have never seen anything more beautiful,” Jane said, holding up her new shawl. “How did you know what we would like?”

“I confess I did not,” Harry said with a smile. “I had help.”

“It must have been someone very much acquainted with ladies’ tastes,” Mrs Bennet said. She did not sound overly pleased, Lizzy thought.

“Naturally she is,” Harry laughed. “I always ask Mrs Morgan for assistance whenever I buy presents for my female relatives. Mrs Morgan is married to a good friend of mine.”

“Is Mrs Morgan a young lady?” Lizzy wanted to know.

“She is about my own age,” Harry said. “Her husband is a couple of years older.”

“Do you often see Mr and Mrs Morgan?” Lizzy was curious to hear more about her cousin's life in India.

“I am often invited to their dinner parties,” Harry said, “and since Mr Morgan works in the same law practice as I do we meet frequently. He is the one to blame for my journey to Calcutta.”

“How so? How can anyone be to blame for that but yourself?” Lizzy asked. “If we wish to talk about blame, that is.”

“We got acquainted in Cambridge,” Harry said, “and after his studies Frederick Morgan went to India to join his brother’s law practice in Calcutta. When business was going very well and they decided they needed one more man to help them out, he remembered me and offered me the position. I was only too glad to oblige.”

“Why did you want to go to India in the first place?” Lizzy asked.

“I have always been curious to see something of the world,” he replied. “As a boy, I could think of nothing better than to read travel journals and the like – hoping I would be able to see the things I read about one day.”

“And did you see them?” Jane asked, smiling.

“I certainly did,” Harry said. “That and even more.”

By that time, Kitty and Lydia had calmed down, and Lydia asked her cousin whether he had ever seen any elephants.

“I have,” Harry said.

“What do they look like?” Lydia demanded, while Lizzy and Jane were still recovering from their astonishment that Lydia knew such things as elephants even existed - and that they were to be found in India.

“They are huge,” Harry said. “And their strength is awe-inspiring.”

“Have you seen tigers too?” Lydia asked eagerly. Lizzy was impressed. Had her youngest sister studied the Indian fauna? And here she had thought Lydia had hardly learned to read. She had never come near a book if she had been able to help it, at any rate. Books were a waste of time, in Lydia's opinion. Lizzy did not quite agree with that point of view, although even she thought one could read too much - Mary was the living proof of that.

“I am glad to say that I have never encountered a live specimen,” Harry said. “Nor would I care to.”

“Oh, but why not? Only think how exciting it would be,” Lydia exclaimed.

“The excitement would be very brief,” Harry said. “I am not yet tired of life, Cousin Lydia, so I try to stay away from giant kittens that would have me for breakfast if they could.”

Soon after that, Harry took his leave and returned to his parents’ house in Meryton. He had promised his father to spend some time in his chambers with him, to become acquainted with the family business. Right now, he had no ambition to take over from his father, but seeing how much it meant to him to have his son around he had given in. So he was in his father’s office, taking random volumes out of his father’s bookcase and listening to his father’s descriptions of his principal clients. Those descriptions did not contain any news for him – he had been acquainted with most of his father’s clients ever since he had been a boy, and though his father would have admitted him into his confidence and discussed their business with him, Harry stopped him. There was no need to discuss one’s clients’ business with anyone wholly unconnected with it, he said, and being the attorney’s son was not connection enough to justify such a course of action.

“That reminds me,” Mr Philips said, not minding the rebuff, “I wanted to ask you why exactly you have come back to England. Your mother thinks you came to settle down at last, but I did not believe that for a moment.”

Harry laughed. “How very much like my mother to assume such a thing,” he said. “She is a dear soul, but what should I live on if I did settle down, as you choose to express yourself? Did she think of that?”

“She thought you had made enough money to do so.”

Harry laughed. “As if! I do not deny that I have made a great deal of money, but considering I should have to buy a place of my own, I do not think my income would be sufficient to support a family in a proper style. So no, I have not come home to settle down, much though it may disappoint my mother.”

“I never believed so,” Mr Philips said.

“If I happen to find a pretty girl who is willing to follow me to India, I might change my mind, naturally,” Harry said laughingly.

“Is there anyone in particular you have in mind,” Mr Philips asked, giving his son a questioning look.

“No, there is not. I am only naming possibilities, not likelihoods,” Harry said. “Setting up my nursery is not my principal business right now, rest assured.”

“Then what is?”

“Father,” Harry said, raising an eyebrow. “Not five minutes ago I asked you not to discuss your clients’ business with me. Why should I advise you to do one thing and do the opposite myself?”

“It is on a client’s behalf you came to England then?”

“Quite so.”

“Why did the client not ask someone already in England to act for him? Sending someone here from India must have slowed matters down!”

“Hardly. Sending me here takes less time than sending letters here and back. I will be able to get to work before an English attorney had ever been acquainted with my client’s affairs. Besides, the gentleman in question is a bit of an eccentric. He does not trust anyone he is not personally acquainted with, so the thought of employing an English attorney whom he has never met is repugnant to him.”

“I see,” Mr Philips said. “Will said client’s business keep you here long?”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Harry said. “But I believe it will take some time – several months, certainly.”

“This is good news indeed,” Mr Philips said. “Your mother will be pleased to hear it.”

“I thought she wanted me to stay for good,” Harry said with an amused smile.

“Her disappointment will be easier to bear if she knows that your stay will be a long one,” Mr Philips said.

“I suppose so,” Harry said. He did not believe his mother would be able to cope with her disappointment – he was rather more certain that she would banish the unpleasant facts from her thoughts until there was no use ignoring them any more. The Gardiner women, his father had always said, were not known for their good sense. Fond as he was of his mother, Harry had to agree.

It was also quite evident what his mother’s plans for his future were. Not only did she want him to marry but also did she have a very precise notion of who his future wife had to be. Without doubt she and her sister, Mrs Bennet, had cooked up the idea between them. Harry did not wonder at it. With five daughters to be married off, Mrs Bennet must consider every bachelor of suitable age in the neighbourhood as fair game. He did wonder which of the Bennet sisters was, according to her mother and his, destined to become his wife. Harry suspected that Mrs Bennet was not over-particular, as long as he took one of her daughters off her hands. His mother, he supposed, liked the two eldest best. So did he, coming to think of it. Jane was a sweet, beautiful girl, though a bit lacking in spirit, and Elizabeth was pretty and had good sense. A Bennet rather than a Gardiner, he supposed. As for Mary, he did not know enough about her to judge her yet, and he believed there was nothing worth knowing about the youngest two. But even though he liked the two eldest Miss Bennets well enough, he had no notion of marrying any of them. He would have to give his mother and aunt the occasional hint, he supposed, but was afraid that hints were not enough where they were concerned. Even plain speaking would fail to make an impression on them, though it would greatly mortify his cousins and, therefore, had to be avoided. The poor girls had enough on their plate with a mother like Mrs Bennet.

At the dinner table in Longbourn, Mrs Bennet failed to amuse her husband with her minute description of the gifts her nephew had bestowed on them. When she started to sing the praise of her new shawl for the third time, he finally lost his patience and informed her that he wished his nephew had never set foot in England.

Mrs Bennet giggled. “How droll you are, my dear,” she remarked. “But you must admit that it was very sweet of dear Harry to bring presents for us all.”

“He did not bring any for me,” Mr Bennet said.

“He did,” Elizabeth said. “There is a large jar of snuff and a beautiful enamel snuffbox waiting for you, Papa. Cousin Harry wished to see you and give it to you himself, but he had to leave before you came home. There is a note, too.”

Mr Bennet owned he was gratified to have been in his nephew’s thoughts after all, and equally satisfied that Harry had refrained from buying clothes for him but had given him something useful instead.

From Cousin Harry, the conversation soon turned towards another, equally interesting subject. Their neighbour Mrs Long had called on Mrs Bennet this morning, and had had the most amazing piece of news for her – Netherfield Park had been let at last. Netherfield was a fine house, but since the death of its previous owner it had remained empty, for his heir preferred to live in London.

Many of the neighbours had hoped that a family would finally take up residence there and enliven the local social life, and at last it seemed as if their prayers had been heard. Mrs Bennet had one very good reason to take lively interest in the matter – according to Mrs Long’s report, the new resident of Netherfield Park was a young man, in possession of a considerable fortune and, what a stroke of good fortune it was for her daughters, single.

“He is to take possession before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to be in the house by the end of next week,” Mrs Bennet announced.

“What is his name?” Mr Bennet asked, though not betraying an overpowering interest in the matter.

“Bingley. He comes from the North of England, Mrs Long says. A single man of large fortune; four or five thousand a year!” There was that greedy glint in his wife’s eyes that Mr Bennet knew very well – from then on, he felt, he would have no influence on the course the conversation would take. The course itself was inevitable.

“What a fine thing for our girls,” Mrs Bennet exclaimed. Mr Bennet looked at his daughters, who, contrary to their mother’s expectation, did not look suitably impressed. Jane and Lizzy looked embarrassed, Mary looked grave, and Kitty and Lydia merely giggled.

Mr Bennet refrained from asking why Mr Bingley’s wealth was any of their business. Mrs Bennet took leave to inform him even without encouragement.

“You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them.”

“Is that his design in settling here?” Mr Bennet asked. Some twenty years ago he would have been amused by his wife’s statement, but he had long ago stopped being amused by anything she said or did. He did derive some amusement from teasing her, however, and made use of every opportunity to do so.

“Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he may fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon as he comes!”

“I see no occasion for that,” Mr Bennet said. “You and the girls may go, or you may send them by themselves, which perhaps will be still better, for you are as handsome as any of them. Mr Bingley might like you the best of the party.”

Mr Bennet took a sip of wine and watched the effect his words had on his wife. There was a slight blush, and a look of gratification in her eyes, but he had not managed to distract her from the topic at hand. Blast.

“My dear, you flatter me,” she said. “When a woman has five grown up daughters, she ought to give over thinking of her own beauty.”

“In such cases a woman has not often much beauty to think of,” Mr Bennet pointed out.

Mrs Bennet returned to the subject nearest to her heart at the moment, ignoring the compliment her husband had paid her. “But, my dear, you must indeed go and see Mr Bingley when he comes into the neighbourhood!”

“It is more than I engage for, I assure you.”

“But consider your daughters! Only think what an establishment it would be for one of them! Sir William and Lady Lucas are determined to go, merely on that account. Indeed you must go, for it will be impossible for us to visit him if you do not!”

By this time Mr Bennet was heartily sick of the topic and, after having informed his wife that surely Mr Bingley would be happy to make Mrs Bennet’s acquaintance even if her husband had not called on him, he told her that he would send Mr Bingley a letter to assure him of his consent, should he choose to marry whichever of his daughters he chose.

But Mrs Bennet was not one to give up quickly, and her constant reproaches made him lose his appetite for his dinner. He was glad when the repast was over and his wife and daughters retired to the drawing room. The rest of the evening, he decided, would be spent in the library with a bottle of port and a good book. Mr Bingley had not even arrived in Hertfordshire yet, but one of his neighbours already wished he had never thought of taking up residence there in the first place. Mr Bennet suspected he was not the only one.

Harry Philips and his father were able to fully sympathise with Mr Bennet – though they did not know Mr Bennet shared their suffering. Like her sister, Mrs Philips knew no other topic all evening but the new tenant of Netherfield Park. She did not have any daughters to marry off, but she took a lively interest in the fortunes of her nieces, and the arrival of an eligible young man in the neighbourhood would also benefit her son. Most of her neighbours, she said, would fall over themselves to throw their daughters in Mr Bingley’s way, and there would be balls and parties aplenty. Perhaps, she thought, the gaieties to be expected would make her son stay in Meryton longer than he intended. He said that he was not going to stay above six months, but that was nonsense. If life in Meryton turned out to be pleasant and entertaining, why should he ever think of leaving?

She did not hesitate to inform her son of just that, and it was all Harry could do to remain silent. He knew his mother did not understand that his first and foremost purpose in coming back to England was attending to his client’s business and not visiting his parents or winning the favour of their female neighbours. There were some things one just did not argue about. He knew he would never make his mother see his point, so there was no use in quarrelling with her.

“I hope you will call on Mr Bingley to welcome him in the neighbourhood,” Mrs Philips said.

“Well...” Harry began. He wanted to tell his mother that, by Michaelmas, he would be in London to see his client’s uncle’s man of business to determine what was to be done with the property that had been left to his client. She would not listen, however.

“It will be extremely uncivil if you do not,” she said, giving her husband and son an accusing look. Harry decided to be diplomatic.

“If I am in Hertfordshire when he arrives, I will pay him a visit,” he promised.

“Good.” Mrs Philips gave her son a grateful smile. Mr Philips gave him an indignant stare of the “whose side are you on” kind.

“It is very important to give Mr Bingley a good impression of the family,” she continued.

Harry doubted whether neighbours of all kinds storming Netherfield Park would give Mr Bingley a favourable impression of Hertfordshire society in general but chose not to say so.

“We must consider my sister and her daughters,” Mrs Philips said. “If Mr Bingley thinks their connections vulgar, none of the girls will be able to win his good opinion.”

Harry felt heartily sorry for Mr Bingley, whoever he was. The only chance Bingley had of escaping Mrs Bennet’s pursuit, Harry felt, was gambling his entire fortune away on ‘change. He was not likely to do so, so the chance was a slim one. Knowing his aunt as he did, Harry did not for a moment think that a bad character or unprepossessing looks would make Mr Bingley any less eligible for one of the Bennet girls. Mrs Bennet wanted her daughters married, and she cared not to whom. One could not help but feel sorry for the girls.

Chapter Three

Posted on Monday, 15 January 2007

As he had foreseen, Harry was not in Hertfordshire when Mr Bingley took possession of Netherfield Park. He spent the entire month of September in London, where he and a certain Mr Crawford were to sort out his client’s business.

His friend Mr Morgan had, before he had embarked to England, lost no opportunity to remind him of the importance of this task – Mr Nathaniel Peabody, as everyone in Calcutta knew, was one of the most lucrative clients their practice had, and Mr Morgan dreaded nothing more than losing his patronage.

Mr Peabody had, contrary to his expectations, inherited his uncle’s property, and not being inclined to travel he had employed Harry to wind up his uncle’s affairs in England. His requirements were not easy to achieve, however. Harry was to sell whatever property was un-entailed, and to find a tenant for his uncle’s entailed estate. Mr Peabody had a very exact notion of what sum the sale and lease of his uncle’s property was likely to fetch, and would certainly not settle for anything less. Harry knew that he had a hard task before him.

After he had visited Mr Crawford in his chambers in London, Harry found the task even more difficult than he had anticipated. Mr Peabody’s uncle had, apparently, neglected his duty as a landowner and had left his estate in a sad condition. As it was, Mr Crawford had informed Harry, it would be hard, if not impossible, to find a tenant willing to pay the lease Mr Peabody had in mind. This was bad news indeed, and Harry began to feel that his stay in England would last longer than he had foreseen. In a letter to his client, he informed Mr Peabody of this circumstance.

Dear Sir,
There are some unexpected problems regarding St Katharine’s Priory, your late uncle’s estate in Kent. In his later years, he does not seem to have spent much time there, and accordingly did not invest any money in the upkeep of his property. In consequence, the place is in a pitiful state – necessary repairs have been put off, and no improvement of any sort has been made. Mr Crawford assures me that, while the place remains as it is, it will be nigh impossible to find someone willing to pay the lease you thought to achieve. My suggestion is that either we will undertake the necessary repairs before trying to find a tenant, or that we will find a tenant who is willing to undertake the repairs at his own expense – in return for a substantial rent reduction. Please make your decision known to me as soon as possible, so I may make the necessary arrangements. I will go down to Kent soon and make a list of all the required improvements – it may help you to decide upon our further course of action.

I have already met two gentlemen who are interested in buying your uncle’s hunting box in Leicestershire. The first is Lord Stowe, who, according to my information, is a very wealthy gentleman and well able to pay the price you ask for the property – though, at present, he is still wishful to keep the price as low as possible. The other is a Mr Judbrooke, who is determined to outbid every other buyer – but my inquiry into his financial matters has not been successful yet. Until I know more about his circumstances, I do not consider him a serious applicant.

Let me assure you that I will do my utmost to resolve matters exactly according to your wishes. I may be obliged to stay in England for longer than we had planned, however, in order to accomplish this.

Yours, etc.
H. Philips

Harry immediately went to St Katharine’s Priory to see what was to be done there. The report he sent Mr Peabody was not a very cheerful one – things were worse than he had, from Mr Crawford’s less than favourable description, suspected. No repairs had been undertaken on the building for years, and only the most pressing ones before that. Making the Priory habitable would include replacing the entire roof, and some of the windows. Harry was not sure whether there was a way to get rid of the damp that had, meanwhile, settled in the entire building. One thing was certain though. No one in their right mind would lease St Katharine’s Priory in its present state.

Since he could not expect a reply from Mr Peabody any time soon, Harry saw no reason why he should not go back to Hertfordshire for a spell. His mother had written him several letters, urging him to come back, especially now that Mr Bingley had taken possession of Netherfield. Harry could not possibly imagine what Mr Bingley’s arrival had to do with him, or why Mr Bingley should desire his presence in Hertfordshire when he did not even know about his existence, but decided to humour his mother. He would be able to pass his time pleasantly back home – in her letters, his mother had informed him of the gaieties to be expected in consequence of Mr Bingley’s arrival; the most imminent was the Assembly in Meryton, although the assembly had not been planned merely for Mr Bingley’s benefit. Everyone had been looking forward to the event for weeks. Harry’s aunt and cousins had talked of little else – well, one had to be fair, his aunt and his youngest cousins. Jane and Elizabeth had discussed it too, but they had still been capable of other thoughts, and Mary had only looked up from her book to announce that she expected little pleasure from the event and that she would infinitely prefer to read a book to going to a ball. Harry had been surprised at first upon hearing that announcement, and had even doubted her sincerity, but upon getting to know her better he had found out that she had been serious after all. She did not look like the kind of girl who attracted many admirers – and attending a function only to be ignored could not be a very enjoyable pastime. Considering that, it was no wonder that Mary preferred reading to dancing. Mary was much more likely to find a book than a dancing partner.

Mrs Philips eagerly expected her son’s return, and told her nieces that Harry had “promised to attend the assembly in Meryton”. He had done no such thing, but nevertheless Mrs Philips was certain that he could not have failed to understand her hints. She had mentioned the assembly several times in each of the numerous letters she had sent him, so surely even the worst idiot would realise what was expected of him – though her husband had said that it would serve as a good reason to stay away from Meryton at least until the assembly was well over, if not forever.

Mrs Philips had ignored her husband’s comment. Someone his age, she thought, could not enter into young people’s interests as well as she could. He only associated with gentlemen who, like him, had left their fiftieth year behind them, and therefore could know nothing about the things young men wanted to do. Why, young people loved to enjoy themselves, and surely her son was no exception? What better way to enjoy himself was there for a young man than an assembly, where he could laugh and dance and meet pretty young ladies? She could not think so ill of her own son as to believe that he would shun such a tempting prospect.

When, on the day of the Assembly, he had still not arrived in Meryton, she did begin to doubt him however, and became nervous. So nervous, in fact, that her husband seriously considered retreating to the library in Longbourn, and only the thought of six females running all over the house preparing for a ball kept him where he was.

“Where can he possibly be?” Mrs Philips wailed, after another look out of the window had proved unsuccessful – no Harry was in sight.

“Did he say he would come?” Mr Philips asked.

“Why yes, he …. no, he did not. Not really.”

“Then what makes you think he will?” Mr Philips said.

“I was sure he did not want to miss the assembly,” Mrs Philips said sullenly.

“Perhaps he still has some business to attend to,” Mr Philips said. “Do not forget that he did not come back to England just for fun.” He had meant to placate his wife, but had achieved quite the opposite.

“And why should he have gone away in the first place?” she demanded. “Was there nothing to do for him here? Could not you have taken him on? Is there no room for your own son in your practice?”

“You know very well that I did offer him just that,” Mr Philips said. “He was not inclined to accept the offer, and I must say I believe he was right. A young man must make a name for himself.”

“He did not have to go all the way to India to make a name for himself,” Mrs Philips said indignantly.

“He did not have to, but he chose to do so,” Mr Philips said and added, in a murmur, “Would I had gone with him.”

“I beg your pardon?” Mrs Philips demanded.

“Nothing, my dear,” Mr Philips said.

With an indignant huff, Mrs Philips left the room and went upstairs to dress for the ball. Mr Philips leant back in his armchair with a sigh of relief.

An hour later, Harry arrived. Mrs Philips, alerted by the sound of a carriage stopping in front of the house, opened her bedroom window to look outside and upon perceiving her son alighting from the carriage, immediately ran down the stairs to receive him.

“Harry! You came after all! I knew you would!” she exclaimed as her son entered the house.

“Good evening, mother,” Harry said, looking significantly at the maidservant who showed a great deal of interest in what Mrs Philips said. “I see you are already dressed for the ball – you look very becoming, if I may say so.”

“What in Heaven’s name took you so long?” Mrs Philips demanded, unmindful of the maid’s presence in the room. It was Harry who sent her about her business.

“One of the horses cast a shoe,” Harry said, once the maid was out of earshot. “It took us some time to get to the nearest village, and even more to find the blacksmith. On the whole, I think I lost three hours.”

“Poor you! How vexing it must have been,” Mrs Philips said. “But you are here now – and just in time too! Make haste, or we will miss the entire ball!”

“The ball,” Harry repeated mechanically. “Of course. To be honest, mother, I am not really in the mood for…”

“You will not stay at home,” Mrs Philips said sharply. “I was so looking forward to the assembly!”

“I see no reason why you should not go, mother,” Harry replied. “Never mind me – go to the ball and have fun while I will try to get some sleep.”

“This is out of the question,” Mrs Philips said. “Either we will all go, or we will all stay at home.”

Harry sighed. There was no way out for him, he realised.

“Fine,” he said. “I will be ready in half an hour. Why don’t you and my father go to the assembly ahead of me and I will join you there?”

Mrs Philips gave her son a suspicious look. “You are not going to spend the evening at home, are you?”

“I promise I will come to the ball,” Harry said.

Mrs Philips nodded assent, and Harry went to his room to unpack his evening gear and get ready for the ball. He only hoped he would not fall asleep during the assembly. Taking his fatigue into account, the risk was not a small one. Hopefully the evening was worth the sacrifice of a good night’s sleep.

When Harry arrived at the assembly rooms an hour later – washed, shaved and correctly dressed - the dance was already in full swing. His mother was sitting on the other side of the room with his aunt Bennet and another lady whom Harry recognised as Lady Lucas, their former neighbour. His cousins, as far as he could discover, were all dancing, apart from Mary, who was sitting next to her mother watching the goings-on on the dance floor with a sour expression.

As Harry walked towards his mother and the Bennet ladies to greet them, a young man standing at the end of the set with a fashionable-looking young lady caught his eye. The young man’s countenance looked forbidding, though the young lady was, apparently, at her most amiable. She talked incessantly and simpered, and Harry wondered whether she was blind or merely dim-witted. Or perhaps, he thought, she was not well enough acquainted with her partner to read his expression as well as his friends did. Harry was.

His first impulse was to accost him and ask him what he was doing in Meryton, of all places, but he decided not to. One did not interrupt a man who was supposed to make himself agreeable to his dancing partner – no matter how disinclined he was to do so. Harry suspected that the interruption would have been a welcome one, and grinned appreciatively, imagining the situation. Still, he decided to wait until the dance was over and speak to his old university friend later. Darcy was a high stickler, and no matter how much he might have wished for someone to relieve him, he would still think it a very ill-bred thing to do and was very likely to give anyone who tried to do so a heavy set-down.

So Harry went over to his mother after all, was introduced to all her friends, and asked his cousin Mary for the next two dances to escape the curious looks and impertinent questions the ladies subjected him to. Mary was in no mood to rescue him, though – she informed him that she had no intention of dancing that evening.

“What does that mean, you have no intention of dancing?” Mrs Bennet demanded sharply. “Of course you will dance, Mary. Never mind what Mary says, dear Harry. She will be happy to dance, I am sure.”

Harry felt sorry for having brought reproach on Mary’s head. Had he known what the outcome would be, he would have asked some other girl to dance with him and would have left her alone.

“Mama, I would much rather not,” Mary protested. Harry bowed, and turned to Miss Maria Lucas, who had also been sitting down with her mother and who was delighted to have got herself a partner for the next two dances when so many other young ladies had to sit down.

Their conversation was not of a sort that offered Harry much amusement, but Maria Lucas was a pretty girl, and though she was still very young and naïve, she was a pleasant partner on the whole. Artlessly, she told him how she had spent the evening so far, and informed him that though everyone was quite taken with Mr Bingley, his arrogant friend Mr Darcy had failed to make a favourable impression on Meryton society.

“Only think what he said to Mr Bingley,” she said indignantly. “He said Miss Bennet was the only handsome girl in the room – and he called Miss Elizabeth Bennet only tolerable and refused to dance with her! Within her hearing, too!”

“That was certainly very bad of him,” Harry said, wondering what had made his friend act so unguardedly. It was not his usual way.

“His manners are insufferable,” Maria Lucas continued. “I do wonder why he came here when he dislikes our company so much – he should have stayed at home instead of coming here and slighting perfectly amiable girls.”

“My cousin Elizabeth took it hard, I understand?” Harry asked.

“Oh no. What I mean is – you know Miss Elizabeth. She merely laughed and made fun of him. I wish I could do such a thing. If anything of the sort happened to me I should be so mortified!”

“But surely no one would make the mistake and call you merely tolerable, Miss Maria,” Harry said with a laugh. Maria Lucas blushed at his praise, and changed the topic. By the end of the two dances, Harry thought he knew more about the Lucas family than he had ever wished to know. He took Maria Lucas back to her seat and offered to fetch her some refreshment – an offer that was accepted eagerly.

In one of the rooms adjoining the Assembly Room, the landlord of the inn had set up tables with food and drink for the guests, and Harry went to one of the tables to get a glass of lemonade for Maria Lucas. The waiter handed him the glass, and Harry was about to return to the Assembly room when he met his friend Darcy in the doorway.

“So I was not mistaken after all,” Harry said, grinning at his friend. “It is you! You are busy making friends, I have been told.”

“Still as impertinent as ever,” Mr Darcy merely replied, shaking hands with his university friend. “What brings you here? Last time I heard of you I was told you were making a hit in India.”

“So I was, but I have come back to attend some business matters and am staying with my family right now. – I suppose you have already met my cousins, the Bennets?”

Darcy grimaced. “I have,” he said curtly. “Thanks to Mrs Bennet everyone in this room has been informed about my annual income.”

Harry could readily imagine that. “But that saves trouble,” he said, laughingly. “None of the tradesmen will doubt your ability to pay your bills now. You will get credit everywhere.”

“How convenient,” Mr Darcy said bitterly. “Honestly, I do not know what made me allow Bingley to drag me here.”

“So the celebrated Bingley is your friend?” Harry asked. “I have heard about nothing but him for weeks.”

“Then it is about time that you should meet him,” Darcy said. “He is an excellent fellow, you will like him.”

“I suppose so, since everyone else does,” Harry said with a laugh. “Are you staying at Netherfield with him? I might call on you tomorrow, if it is not too inconvenient.”

“Not at all. Do come – there is a great deal we must talk about,” Darcy said, and with a mock bow Harry took his leave of his friend.

Maria Lucas and the Bennet ladies greeted him with looks of astonishment.

“You … you are acquainted with Mr Darcy?” Maria Lucas asked.

“Oh yes, I am – he used to be a very good friend of mine in my Cambridge days,” Harry replied.

Maria Lucas blushed furiously, and stammered, “In that case I should not … should not have spoken about him … the … the way I did.”

“I see no reason why you should not have, Miss Maria,” Harry said soothingly. “I am his friend, but not blind to his faults. I know he is terribly high in the instep sometimes, but the best of good fellows nevertheless.” He turned to his cousin Elizabeth who was giving him a darkling look.

“Though I understand why some of you may not agree with me,” he said. “If it is any comfort to you, Cousin Lizzy, I know for a fact that Darcy would be horrified if he knew you had overheard his unkind words about you. He is not in the habit of insulting harmless damsels at assemblies.”

“Oh, I am quite sure he did not know I had overheard him,” Elizabeth said, with dignity. “And I can safely say that I do not mind what he said. Whatever Mr Darcy may think, I do not need him to add consequence to my person.”

“No, certainly not,” Harry said with a laugh. “Will you dance with me, Lizzy? I am not sure whether it will add to your consequence, but I do hope it might add to your enjoyment of the evening. What do you say?”

Elizabeth readily complied, and Harry led her to the set. He was glad to see that she did not seem to take Darcy’s unguarded words too seriously – that they had not hurt her overly much. But Darcy, he thought, was in a fair way to making himself odious in the neighbourhood, and he could not allow that. Fine, Darcy had never been good at making friends – he felt uncomfortable in such gatherings as this and hid behind a forbidding manner to hide his feelings on such occasions. But it would be a great pity, Harry thought, if people in Meryton took Darcy in dislike because of that. They should give him another chance. Perhaps, he thought, his friendship with him would help.

Chapter Four

Posted on Friday, 9 March 2007

Harry waited almost until noon before he set out in the direction of Netherfield. He did not know when exactly the Netherfield party started their day and did not wish to intrude upon their breakfast. They had not left the Assembly too late, but since they had only just arrived in the neighbourhood it was quite likely that they still kept Town hours and that an early visit would be frowned upon. Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley being fashionable ladies, it was more than likely that they would frown upon his visit anyway.

This fear turned out to be unfounded when Harry arrived in Netherfield. The butler opened the door and, upon Harry’s inquiry, said that he would find Mr Darcy in the billiard room with Mr Bingley and Mr Hurst. Harry followed the butler across a grand entrance hall and down a corridor, and was ushered into a large room the most prominent feature of which was a large billiard table.

“Mr Philips to see Mr Darcy,” the butler announced, and closed the door behind Harry. Darcy looked up from the billiard table and greeted Harry with a smile.

“There you are, then,” he said. “We had almost given up on you.”

“I said I would call on you, did I not?” Harry asked.

“You said you might call on me, so I was not at all certain,” Darcy said. “I thought maybe you had forgotten.”

“Forgotten to call on one of the best friends I ever had? Thank you, Darcy, for your confidence in me,” Harry laughed.

Mr Bingley, whom Harry already knew by sight but to whom he had not been introduced yet laughed along with him. The other gentleman, who according to local gossip was Mr Bingley’s brother-in-law, gave him a scrutinising look, no doubt assessing the style and exact cost of his coat. Mr Hurst himself was without doubt a gentleman of fashion – even Harry, to whom such things did not mean much, was able to see that his suit had been made by a first-class tailor, and Mr Hurst’s supercilious smile told him that he did not think Harry a suitable acquaintance for his brother-in-law, probably because his tailor was not first-rate but only hard-working and decent. Harry did not mind. He was quite sure that he and Mr Hurst had nothing in common anyway, and so he could well do without a friendship with the gentleman.

Once introductions had been made, Darcy led Harry out of the billiard room into the library, where they would be able to talk without interruption.

“So, how are things in India?” Darcy wanted to know, handing Harry a glass of claret.

“I cannot complain,” Harry said. “Morgan did me a good turn by suggesting me for the position in his brother’s practice. My income is not quite as high as yours, but I am doing well – better than I would have done, had I stayed here.”

“And still you came back,” Darcy said.

“Business matters,” Harry said and laughed. “You do not believe I missed being tied to my mother’s apron strings, do you?”

“Not after seeing you with your mother,” Darcy admitted.

Harry sighed. “I suppose she means well,” he said. “But I will have to find lodgings in London before long, or there will be a serious breach between my parents and me. There is only so much time I can spend with them without each of us getting on the others’ nerves. Do you know what I mean?”

“No, I don’t,” Darcy said curtly. “My parents are dead. There is only my younger sister left, and she is a darling.”

“Lucky you. I suppose if I had any brothers or sisters things would be easier for me.” Harry sighed.

“Not if you are responsible for them, as I am.”

“Your sister causes you a great deal of trouble then?” Harry asked. For a moment it seemed as if Darcy was going to confess something, but in the end he merely said, “Nothing I cannot handle.”

“I am glad to hear that,” Harry said. “Have you seen anyone of the old crowd lately?”

“I met Ferndale in Town the other day,” Darcy said. “He did ask me what had become of you, but since I did not know much there was nothing I could tell him that he did not already know. Have you had any news from him or the others?”

“In India? Not very likely, is it? I might as well live out of this world.”

“True. So you do miss England after all.”

“Honestly, I do not,” Harry said. “The worst thing that could happen to me is being stuck in a place like Meryton. I have not had the heart to tell my parents yet, but I suppose I must, sooner or later. I have no intention of remaining here.”

“The sooner you tell them the better, then,” Darcy said.

Harry nodded. He knew that very well for himself, only he was not certain how to approach the matter. His father had worked hard to keep his grandfather’s law practice going – for his son, as he had often pointed out. He would be greatly hurt to find out that his son did not appreciate his efforts as he should. But Meryton was not the kind of place where Harry wanted to spend the rest of his life. He had ambitions.

“You never contemplated living in London, then?” Darcy finally asked.

“Oh, London is a fine place in its way,” Harry said. “I admit I enjoyed living there. But in London I was just one of the crowd, nothing out of the ordinary. I went to India to make a name for myself, and a fortune – and things are going well. You know I am ambitious, Darcy. I have only just started to make my way in the world, and I fully intend to go as far as I can.”

Darcy smiled. “You have always been keen to do so,” he said. “So some things never change.”

“Not I, certainly.” Harry laughed. “But unlike others, I want to make my fortune by hard work and do not expect others to make it for me.”

“No rich heiress you could marry, then?” Mr Darcy asked, grinning.

“No man works as hard for his money as the one who married it,” Harry said. “I always keep that in mind. To some, marrying for money may look like the easiest option, but it always turns out to be the hardest.”

“I wish everyone thought that way,” Darcy said earnestly. “It would make my life easier, certainly.”

“I quite forgot,” Harry said and added, mimicking his aunt’s voice, “Ten thousand a year, and very likely more! – You must have a horrible time of it in London.”

“Not only in London, I am afraid,” Darcy said curtly. “Even here.”

“Every man must have something to make his life difficult,” Harry said. “I’d like to have your problems.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Darcy said. “You would not want them, believe me.”

Harry gave his friend a searching look. He looked as if there were many things worrying him. But Harry knew his friend well enough to know that it would be useless to try and get anything out of Darcy that he did not wish to tell. Darcy did not like people prying into what was no business of theirs. He would confide in him in the end, Harry was almost certain, but he would do so in his own good time. There was no point in pressing him.

After a short period of silence, Harry asked, “How did you become acquainted with Mr Bingley here?”

“Oh, he is a club acquaintance of mine,” Darcy said. “We met a couple of years ago in London.”

“I have heard only good things said about him,” Harry said.

“All of them true, you will find out,” Darcy said laughingly. “He is a very kind, liberal character and makes friends very easily. Sometimes I envy him his ability to do so. Yesterday evening I did, as you may have noticed.”

Harry laughed. “If you had set out to make friends you might have to admit to failure,” he said. “I could name several people who think you insufferably arrogant and rude.”

“Not rude!” Darcy exclaimed. “I was certainly not rude!”

“Weren’t you?” Harry grinned. “I wonder what my cousin Elizabeth Bennet would have to say on that matter.”

“The local Beauty’s sister?”

“Exactly. She overheard you saying she was tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt you.”

“She heard me say so?” Darcy asked, taken aback.

“Well enough to be able to tell all her friends about it,” Harry said. “And there are a few, I can tell you.”

“So people in Meryton think I am insufferably conceited?”

“I am afraid so.”

“Fine,” Darcy said. “Perhaps that means I will not be invited to any future functions?”

“A vain hope, I am afraid,” Harry said. “Everyone will invite Bingley, and so people will invite you to please him.”

“And here I thought I could have some peace and quiet for a change,” Darcy sighed. “I will have to apologise to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I did not mean to insult her, Philips.”

“I know,” Harry said. “But it will be quite a task to convince her of it, be warned. Once she takes a notion into her head it is hard to make her change her mind.”

“Thank you, you are all kindness,” Darcy said dryly. “You know how to cheer your friends up.”

Before returning to Meryton, Harry went back to the billiard room with Darcy and joined a game of billiards with Mr Bingley and Mr Hurst. Bingley seemed eager to be on friendly terms with Harry, and after half an hour of playing billiards and talking he invited Harry to dine at Netherfield the next day. Harry was glad to accept the invitation – it would not only give him an opportunity to dine away from home but also would he be able to spend some more time with his friend Darcy. He therefore thanked Mr Bingley, told him he was honoured and would be happy to dine at Netherfield, and finally took his leave.

“A dinner at Netherfield!” Mrs Philips exclaimed in awe, as if Harry had been invited to Carlton House to dine with the Regent. “This is most unexpected!”

“So it is,” Harry said. “If it had not been for Darcy, however, I do not think I would have been invited.”

“Oh, him,” Mrs Philips snorted ungraciously. “Is he really a friend of yours?”

“I am afraid so, Mother,” Harry said.

“I suppose one meets all kinds of people in Cambridge,” Mrs Philips said.

“Quite so,” Harry said dryly.

“I cannot help but wonder at you,” she said. “What made you strike up a friendship with such an arrogant man?”

“He is not arrogant as a rule,” Harry said. “He certainly was not in Cambridge.”

Mrs Philips ignored Harry’s remark and asked him whether he would drive her to Longbourn in his father’s gig.

“There are a few things I must tell my sister before someone else does,” she said. “The most delightful news! Harry, a militia regiment will be quartered in Meryton! A militia regiment – can you imagine?”

“Hardly,” Harry said dryly.

“Oh, do not be so provoking,” she said. “Send word to the stables to have the horse put to!”

“If you wish, Mother,” Harry said, and did as he had been told.

In Longbourn, he was treated to the simultaneous squeals of delight his cousins Kitty and Lydia uttered, while their sister Lizzy rolled her eyes at them and Jane, too shocked at her sisters' behaviour to say anything, just looked unhappy. At one point, Lizzy’s eyes met Harry’s. He gave her a wink, and she smiled in return. Harry took this as an invitation and sat down beside her.

“I did not suspect that the possibility of soldiers being quartered here would make anyone happy,” Harry said.

“You are not well acquainted with my youngest sisters yet,” Lizzy said. “Their purpose in life is to make the acquaintance of as many young men as they can manage. Red coats are a bonus. Once the soldiers have arrived, Kitty and Lydia will think they have died and gone to Heaven.”

Harry laughed. “They are still young,” he said. “It is the prerogative of youth to take pleasure wherever they can.”

“Quoth the greybeard,” Elizabeth laughed.

“I am a greybeard, in comparison to them,” Harry said. “You are not pleased so easily, then?”

“I have no objection to meeting new people,” Elizabeth replied. “But I wait until I do to make up my mind about them. A gentleman’s coat may have whatever colour he prefers to wear, it will not influence my opinion of him.”

“While his conduct will.”

“Naturally.”

“I spoke to Darcy this morning,” Harry said. “I told him you had overheard what he had said yesterday.”

“Why did you do that?” Elizabeth exclaimed, her eyes kindling.

“I felt he should have a fair chance to make amends, that’s all,” Harry said. “So I thought someone ought to tell him he had offended you.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I do not need any apology from him,” she said. “He only stated his opinion. Every man is entitled to do so.”

“Yet it rankled, did it not?” Harry asked.

“It did,” Elizabeth admitted. “But not much.”

“Still, he owes you an apology and he is fully aware of it,” Harry said.

Before Elizabeth could answer, the door opened and the butler announced Lady Lucas, Miss Lucas, Miss Maria Lucas and Master William Lucas. They had come to discuss the Meryton Assembly with the Bennet ladies, and Mrs Bennet received them cordially. Harry suspected that her cordiality had a great deal to do with the fact that Lady Lucas was ready to sing Jane’s praise. Between them, Mrs Bennet and Lady Lucas determined that Mr Bingley was more than half in love with Jane already, and agreed that it was only a question of time until he would make her an offer. As for Mr Darcy, they did not hesitate discussing him, even though they knew that Harry was well acquainted with him.

“My overhearings were more to the purpose than yours, Eliza,” Miss Lucas said. “Mr Darcy is not so well worth listening to as his friend, is he? Poor Eliza! To be only just tolerable!”

“I beg you would not put it into Lizzy’s head to be vexed by his ill-treatment,” Mrs Bennet said. “He is such a disagreeable man that it would be quite a misfortune to be liked by him.”

“Unfortunate me,” Harry muttered. Elizabeth coughed, but her cough sounded almost like a giggle.

“Mrs Long told me last night that he sat close to her for half an hour without once opening his lips.” Mrs Bennet continued.

“Are you quite sure, Ma’am?” Jane asked. “Is there not a little mistake? I certainly saw Mr Darcy speaking to her.”

“Aye, because she asked him at last how he liked Netherfield, and he could not help answering her, but she said he seemed very angry at being spoken to.”

“Miss Bingley told me,” Jane said, flying to Mr Darcy’s defence, “that he never speaks much unless among his intimate acquaintance. With them he is remarkably agreeable.”

“I do not believe a word of it, my dear,” Mrs Bennet said dismissively.

“But you may safely do so, Ma’am,” Harry said. “Miss Bingley is quite right. Among his friends, Mr Darcy is very good company.”

“If he had been so very agreeable he would have talked to Mrs Long,” Mrs Bennet insisted. Harry realised it would be useless to argue with her, and refrained from doing so.

“But I can guess how it was, everybody says that he is ate up with pride, and I daresay that he had heard somehow that Mrs Long does not keep a carriage, and had come to the ball in a hack chaise,” Mrs Bennet said.

Harry could not keep silent any longer. “Then why did he befriend me? The fellow who had the room next to his, whose parents would not have been able to pay for his education in Cambridge, had it not been for a generous scholarship?”

Mrs Bennet shrugged. “He may have found you useful,” she said.

Harry shook his head, and turning his back on her went to the window to look out.

Miss Lucas, sensing Harry’s anger, said, “I do not mind his not talking to Mrs Long, but I wish he had danced with Eliza.”

“Another time, Lizzy, I would not dance with him if I were you.” Mrs Bennet said.

“I believe, Ma’am, I may safely promise you never to dance with him,” Elizabeth said. “Simply because I do not think he will ask me to.”

Miss Lucas, noticing that Harry was still looking out of the window and trying to ignore their conversation, said, “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 favour, should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a right to be proud.”

Harry wondered whether this was really Miss Lucas’ opinion, or whether she was just trying to pacify him and win his favour by taking up his friend’s cause.

“That is very true,” Elizabeth said with a smile, “and I could easily forgive his pride if he had not mortified mine.”

Mary took the opportunity to embark on a lengthy sermon which no one really cared to listen to. Having clarified the differences between vanity and pride to her satisfaction, Mary took up her book again and was soon lost to the company assembled in her mother’s drawing room.

“If I were as rich as Mr Darcy,” young Master Lucas cried, “I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of foxhounds and drink a bottle of wine every day.”

“A brilliant idea,” Harry said, laughing. His aunt gave him an indignant glare.

“Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought,” she said to young Master Lucas, “and if I were to see you at it I should take away your bottle directly.”

Harry wondered how many bottles of wine his uncle drank per day. It had to be three at least, or how else did he cope with such a wife as Mrs Bennet? She did not even think it beneath her to quarrel with a boy of thirteen, and was still doing so when he and his mother were taking their leave. Harry was thankful that he, at least, was not obliged to live in Longbourn. He was not sure how he would be able to stand it.

Chapter Five

Posted on Sunday, 15 April 2007

When Harry came to dine at Netherfield Park, he was introduced to Mr Bingley’s sisters, Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst. Both of them were very polite, but also extremely supercilious in their manner. Mrs Hurst, like her husband before her, gave him a look-over, no doubt to assess the quality of his clothing and, from her assessment, to draw conclusions as to his financial status. In other words, she tried to determine whether he was worth her notice.

Miss Bingley seemed ready enough to be acquainted with him at first, when her brother mentioned his university friendship with Mr Darcy, but there was a slight look of revulsion in her face when his kinship to the Bennets was mentioned.

“Indeed?” she said. “We have had the honour of Mrs Bennet and her daughters’ company this morning, have we not, Louisa?” There was a faint hint of irony in her voice.

“We have,” Mrs Hurst said, and went on to praise the two eldest Miss Bennets, Jane especially, pointedly excluding the rest of the family. Even though Harry could somewhat understand her attitude, he could feel his hackles rising.

Luckily no comment was expected of him. Mr Bingley was eager to join the discussion, and to share his opinion of Jane Bennet with the present company. According to him she was an angel, possessing every womanly virtue, and Harry wondered whether such enthusiasm was destined to last. It was early days yet, of course, and Bingley and Jane had not met very often so far, but if things went on in that vein it would be only a question of time until Jane would move into Netherfield as its new mistress – or until she would have her heart broken.

Harry liked Jane, and he wished her all the best for her future, and marriage to an amiable man like Bingley and a home like Netherfield were indeed good things to have. But Harry also knew his aunt, and doubted she would be content with standing aside and watching things develop. She would want to take an active part in these proceedings, so that she would be able to say it had been her efforts that had secured an eligible husband for her eldest, and Harry was afraid that these efforts might well ruin everything. There was only so much a man could take, even an amiable one like Bingley.

The ladies’ presence certainly dampened the spirits at the dinner table. Mrs Hurst made polite conversation with Harry, although with an air that said she would much rather scrub floors, and Miss Bingley was too busy trying to gain Mr Darcy’s attention to be able to do anything else. Harry found her attempts amusing, and was equally amused by Darcy’s manoeuvres to evade her questions. Somehow Darcy always managed to have his mouth full when Miss Bingley opened her mouth to say something – an accomplishment it must have taken him a while to bring to perfection.

“Have you heard from dear Georgiana lately, Mr Darcy?” she asked, casting a sidelong glance at Harry to see whether he was suitably impressed with her intimate friendship with Darcy’s sister. She did not pause to reflect that if their friendship had really been as intimate as she wanted to imply, she would not have to rely on Miss Darcy’s brother for news from her.

“No, I have not,” Darcy said curtly.

“I daresay she is very busy,” Miss Bingley said.

“Probably.”

Neither Darcy’s abrupt answers to her questions nor the fact that she had to wait for each and every one of them seemed to put Miss Bingley off. What had been amusing at first soon turned into a nuisance, Harry thought, and he was glad when the ladies retired to the drawing room. The company became more convivial then.

During the following days, Harry often had he chance to observe his cousin Jane in Bingley’s company. The gentleman’s preference for her was obvious, hers for him less so. She listened to whatever he had to say with perfect composure and many a smile, but if she indeed felt partial to him she did not show it to the world at large.

One evening, the Bennets were entertaining a large party at Longbourn, and Harry was one of the guests. He did notice that everyone’s eyes were on Bingley and Jane, as they were seated at one of the card tables next to each other. That was only natural – the people of Meryton always took more interest in their neighbours’ affairs than in their own, unfortunately – and he also noticed the looks of approval that Elizabeth gave her sister from time to time.

Elizabeth was sitting with her friend, Miss Lucas, away from the crowd, and from what Harry could see they were engaged in a lively discussion. Harry himself was talking to Darcy when he realised that Elizabeth was trying to attract his attention. Most people in Meryton still thought Darcy was intolerably proud, and would not talk to anyone, so there were few people who would attempt a conversation with him. Right now the prevailing sentiment was surprise – several people had seen Darcy smile at something Harry had said; a feat no one had thought him capable of before. In a week or two, Harry thought, he would have succeeded in changing the local population’s opinion of his friend.

Elizabeth, seeing that she had at last got her cousin’s attention, beckoned to him to join her. Harry excused himself and walked over to see what she wanted.

“We need your help in an important matter,” she said when Harry had sat down next to her. “Charlotte and I were having an argument, and we need a gentleman’s point of view to decide which of us is right.”

Harry laughed. “You seem to put a great deal of confidence in my judgment,” he said.

“You are generally held to be a clever man,” Elizabeth replied. “Naturally I will withhold my decision on that until I have heard your answer to our question.”

“That is, will I agree with your or not?” Harry laughed. “If I do, I will be the cleverest fellow in the county; if I do not you will never have seen a creature as stupid as myself. - But I am willing to take the risk; what is it that you want to ask me?”

“We were discussing a question of etiquette, if you will,” Elizabeth said. “I said it was a good thing for a young lady not to wear her heart on her sleeve, that she should not show her preference for a certain gentleman too clearly. My friend Charlotte here disagrees – she thinks a lady had better show more affection than she feels in order to secure his. What do you say?”

“Is there any case in particular you were discussing?” Harry asked, though in fact he did not need to do so. They had obviously been talking about Jane and Bingley.

“No, we were not,” Miss Lucas said hurriedly. “It was a general argument, not related to any case in particular.”

“It is difficult to give you a general answer,” Harry said. “Though I must say I disagree with Miss Lucas – why should a lady wish to secure a gentleman’s affection if she feels none for him?”

“I did not say she should pretend affection where there is none,” Miss Lucas protested. “I said she should show more affection than she feels, with the purpose of encouraging the gentleman. There are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement.”

“True, but even a little encouragement will go a long way with a gentleman in love,” Harry said laughingly.

“Provided he already is in love,” Miss Lucas conceded. “But what if he is not?”

“When he is not, I am afraid encouragement alone will not do the trick,” Harry said. “Or do you mean to suggest that we have a choice in the matter of falling in love?”

“We have,” Miss Lucas said, undaunted. “As much as we have a choice in the people with whom we associate.”

“If this were so,” Harry said, “there would be no unhappy marriage. We would all fall in love with perfectly eligible partners, who will be kind to us and do everything in their power to make us happy. I have found this to be a very rare occurrence, in reality.”

“Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance,” Miss Lucas said. “If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other, or ever so similar beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always contrive to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards 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. It is the same with love, I think. Once married, you will be free to fall in love with your partner at your leisure; it may keep you busy for a year or two.”

Elizabeth laughed. “You make me laugh, Charlotte,” she said, “but it is not sound. You know it is not sound, and that you would never act in this way yourself.”

Harry heard the conviction in Elizabeth’s tone, but did not agree. He felt that this was exactly how Miss Lucas would act, given the chance. All she needed was an eligible gentleman showing sufficient interest, and she would do her best to secure his affection in the very same way she had described. He was also pleased to hear that Elizabeth disagreed with her friend in this subject. Growing up under her mother’s aegis had not done away with all principle even in matters of the heart.

He kept a close watch on both Jane and Elizabeth in the days to follow – acknowledging that though Jane showed no signs of falling in love she was undoubtedly doing so, and denying to himself that he took any interest in her sister.

Elizabeth was a very pretty girl, he had thought so right from the beginning, and her lively and unaffected manners were very pleasing. Harry found her uncommonly attractive, in spite of what Darcy had said about her. Darcy’s words had not lowered her in Harry’s esteem, but then Harry and Darcy’s taste in women had never run in the same direction anyway, so Darcy’s opinion of a young woman was insignificant.

For a while Harry wondered whether he should try to get rid of this growing attraction he felt for her. It was not at all a welcome feeling – firstly, it would be years until he could safely think of marriage, especially if the woman he was going to marry had almost no fortune, and the prospect of having to wait for someone in particular for years did not at all appeal to him. Secondly, he had other things to think of right now, he should be pondering Mr Peabody’s affairs and not the colour of Elizabeth Bennet’s hair or the way her eyes sparkled when something amused her. She had somehow managed to detach his mind from his responsibilities, and Harry did not like the way things were progressing. Yet he could hardly draw himself away from her when he had to go to London on business, and found himself on his way back to Meryton almost immediately after having accomplished his duty in Town. This was not at all a good sign, he thought.

His mother greeted Harry with the latest Meryton news when he arrived at home – the militia regiment had arrived, and the officers were an excellent set of men, she assured him, hoping that he would befriend them. Sir William Lucas was planning a large dinner party for the next day, and the whole family was to dine with the Bennets that evening – surely Harry would come along? His aunt would be greatly offended if he did not! She had made such a point of inviting him, in case he should be at home!

Harry nodded, promising to come along even though he had wanted to make it an early night tonight. His comfort was that both Elizabeth and Darcy would be at the dinner party with the Bennets, and the fact that his aunt was a fantastic hostess, whatever else could be said against her.

The dinner party was pleasant on the whole, even though Kitty and Lydia were behaving in a much sillier way than usual because of the two young officers who had been invited - a Mr Carter and a Mr Denny.

Bingley spent as much time as he could with Jane, and Darcy, for some reason unknown to Harry, kept watching Elizabeth’s every move that evening. The moment Harry had convinced her to play a game of chess with him, Darcy materialised next to him and closely examined their game, not going away until Bingley and the rest of his party left. This highly uncommon behaviour in Darcy puzzled Harry, and he decided to speak to him about it. Elizabeth beat him to it, however.

It was at Sir William Lucas’s the following evening, where a large party were assembled.

Elizabeth was sitting with Harry, talking about the changes the arrival of the regiment would make, when suddenly she realised that Darcy’s eyes were on her.

“What does Mr Darcy mean,” she asked, her eyes kindling, “by listening to my conversation with Colonel Forster?”

“That is a question which Mr Darcy only can answer,” Harry said with a smile.

“But if he does it any more, I shall certainly let him know that I see what he is about,” Elizabeth said. “He has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid of him.”

“Afraid of him? There is no need of that, certainly,” Harry said. “But if his conduct bothers you, I will ask him what he means by it.”

Darcy, who had probably noticed they were talking about him, approached them, and Elizabeth immediately confronted him in spite of Harry’s protest.

“Did you not think, Mr Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?”

Harry saw the expression of astonishment at being thus addressed in Darcy’s face, and almost gave a sigh of relief when he saw the glint of amusement in Darcy’s eyes a moment later. He had not taken offence.

“With great energy,” Darcy said. “But it is a subject which always makes a lady energetic.”

“You are severe on us,” Elizabeth said.

After a short pause, Harry said, “It will be your turn soon to be teased, Elizabeth – Miss Lucas is going to open the instrument, and you know what follows.”

“The two of you are very strange creatures by way of friends,” Elizabeth said. “Always wanting me to play and sing before anybody and everybody! – If my vanity had taken a musical turn, Mr Darcy, those two would have been invaluable, but as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best performers.” She threw Darcy a challenging glance, but Darcy refused to pick up the challenge.

When Miss Lucas did indeed join them a few moments later to entreat her friend to play for the assembled company, she rose with a resigned sigh and said, “Very well, if it must be so, it must.” She turned to Darcy once more. “There is a fine old saying, which everybody here is of course familiar with – Keep your breath to cool your porridge – and I shall keep mine to swell my song.”

Miss Lucas followed Elizabeth to the pianoforte to turn the pages for her, and Harry and Darcy were left by themselves.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet is a very opinionated young lady,” Darcy said as he sat down next to Harry.

“True. Spirited, as well,” Harry said. Darcy agreed.

“I am afraid she does not like me,” Darcy sighed. “Even though I did apologise for what I said about her the other evening.”

“Probably it affected her more than she lets on,” Harry said.

“Probably,” Darcy said.

They were listening to Elizabeth’s performance then – she had a lovely voice, and though her skill was by no means outstanding, her performance was greatly applauded when she finished. Her sister Mary took her place at the pianoforte next, and Elizabeth walked over to where she had sat before. Darcy, taking the hint, immediately rose and took up position at the mantel, from where he had an excellent view of the entire room. Unfortunately Sir William Lucas had had the same idea, and soon Darcy found himself drawn into a highly unwelcome conversation.

Having finished a sonata or two, Mary gave in to her younger sisters’ pleading and started to play a country dance. Kitty and Lydia were the first to round up partners – they were dancing with Denny and Carter. Bingley secured Jane’s hand for the dance, which was hardly surprising, and Harry felt obliged to ask Miss Lucas. It would not do for the host’s daughters to sit out the first dance of the evening.

They were standing at the end of the set, waiting for their turn, when Harry overheard the scene which took place between Sir William, Darcy and his cousin Elizabeth.

“My dear Miss Eliza,” Sir William exclaimed, “why are you not 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.” He then grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and would have given it to Darcy, had she not immediately withdrawn it.

“Indeed, Sir, I have not the least intention of dancing,” she said. “I entreat you not to suppose hat I moved this way in order to beg for a partner.”

Darcy, probably thinking that Elizabeth took exception at the way her hand had been solicited, very properly asked her for the honour of her hand for the dance, only to be denied for a second time.

Sir William again tried to persuade her, but without success.

“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,” was Elizabeth’s only reply to that.

“He is indeed – but considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance; for who would object to such a partner?”

Elizabeth smiled archly, curtseyed and walked over to her mother and aunt to sit down with them. Harry noticed the look Darcy gave her – he was not offended, it seemed, though not particularly pleased either. Sir William went off in search of another reluctant gentleman, and Miss Bingley accosted Darcy, no doubt to make some cutting remark about the present company.

Whatever Darcy said to her, it was not what she had expected, if the look of astonishment in her face was any indicator. She kept talking to Darcy, however, not realising that her witticisms did nothing to recommend her to him.

Once the dance was over, Harry went to sit with Elizabeth, and talked with her under her mother’s watchful eyes until it was time for him to go home. The episode with Sir William and Darcy had not discomposed her overly much, she was quite as ready to laugh as usual, and Harry found himself rather more attracted to her than before.

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