Chapter One
Mr. Thomas Bennet hadscarcely raised the glass of excellent port to his lips when he noticed one of Longbourn’s footmen hovering near the entrance of the cardroom, eyes darting about in search of him. Setting his untouched drink aside, Bennet crossed the room to meet the young man, who offered a hasty bow.
“An express arrived, sir. I rode here straightaway.”
“You had to ride Nellie, I suppose, seeing as the other horses are here with the carriages.”
“Indeed, sir. My apologies for the delay.”
“Nonsense, Jeremy. You did your best, and now may return to Longbourn.”
Seeking privacy, Bennet strode down a hallway until he discovered an empty sitting room. He settled into a chair by the hearth and broke the letter’s seal. As he absorbed its contents, he sank back, the weight of premature responsibility pressing upon him. He had hoped this particular reckoning would not occur for at least another decade. Before he could collect himself, the door opened to admit Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, and Mr. Darcy, none of whom noticed the gentleman hidden by the high-backed chair as they began their candid conversation.
“Jane Bennet must be stopped!” Miss Bingley’s voice cut through the quiet room. “Charles might actually offer for that poverty stricken nobody if we do not intervene.”
Remaining still, Bennet heard Mr. Darcy’s measured response.
“I shall counsel him tomorrow, telling him that Miss Bennet’s pleasant countenance betrays no special affection – that she is equally agreeable to all.”
“I cannot believe he has strayed so far from our goal and dreams. Pray make him believe her indifferent,” Miss Bingley insisted, “lest that scheming mother of hers manages to snare him in the parson’s trap. Never have I encountered a more vulgar, uncouth woman. And the youngest – I daresay she is disgracing herself with a redcoat in the shrubbery even as we speak.”
“You go too far, Miss Bingley,” Darcy admonished. “Unruly she may be, but Miss Elizabeth keeps a watchful eye upon her.”
“Not this evening. Miss Eliza flees her awkward cousin at every turn. I almost pity her. The mother has all but announced their engagement to her companions.”
Bennet stiffened at this revelation, his jaw clenching in a familiar way – half in anger at his wife’s loose tongue, half in self-reproach for having long ago surrendered any attempt to guide her.
“Mr. Collins and Miss Elizabeth are betrothed?” Darcy asked.
From his concealed position, Bennet detected a note of anguish beneath the gentleman’s usual composure.
“According to the gospel of Mrs. Bennet, they are as good as. She has declared that as soon as the banns are read, her second eldest daughter will be led to the altar.” Miss Bingley gavea delicate sniff. “One can only hope the ceremony takes place before the youngest sister is high in the belly with a soldier’s bastard.”
“Miss Bingley!” Darcy said, and Bennet nearly stood to applaud him. He was soon glad he had not revealed his presence, because the insufferable gentleman continued speaking. “While the youngest daughter displays a total want of propriety – a failing her parents have done little to correct – a true lady would never take pleasure over the anticipated fall from grace of a gentleman’s daughter. Any man’s daughter, for that matter.”
“Caroline means no harm,” Mrs. Hurst soothed. “We merely observe that without proper guidance from their father...”
“Indeed.” Darcy sighed. “The Bennet sisters are already disadvantaged by their low connections, and the hedonistic behaviour of the youngest will not recommend them to any gentlemen of consequence. We should return to the ballroom before your brother notices we are missing.”
The whisper of silk and hurried footsteps faded as the co-conspirators retreated down the hallway, allowing the small parlour to fall back into silence. Bennet remained motionless for several moments before unfolding his lanky form from the chair that had served as his refuge. He slipped the black-edged express into his waistcoat pocket and made his way towards the ballroom, where he lingered momentarily at the entrance, taking measure of the assembled company.
To his left, Lydia simpered and giggled with two officers who had become frequent visitors at Longbourn. It did not take a genius to ascertain where the officer’s eyes were directed, as his foolish daughter had scandalously lowered the neckline of her dress beyond the bounds of propriety.
Bennet was forced to concede that Darcy’s assessment ofLydia’s behaviour was not without merit, and the fault lay squarely on his shoulders. After Mary’s birth, he had abdicated nearly all paternal responsibilities in favour of the seclusion of his library, leaving the upbringing of his youngest daughters to a wife who lacked the refinement of good breeding. His jest about Lydia, and by extension her faithful shadow, Kitty, as being two of the silliest girls in England now rang with uncomfortable truth, and he alone bore responsibility for their shortcomings.
Across the room, Mary sat hunched over her books of music, her brow furrowed in concentration. She intended to showcase her sole accomplishment during supper, though the difficult piece she had diligently practiced exceeded her modest abilities.
A wave of shame washed over him. Had he not overheard the derogatory conversation about his family, he would have let poor Mary humiliate herself at the piano, merely to witness the horrified reactions of his friends and neighbours. Of all his daughters, one would think he would have protected her the most.
He continued to canvass the room, settling upon Jane and Mr. Bingley, huddled in a secluded corner as they awaited the supper set to commence. To the discerning eye of a father, the gentle softening of his eldest’s countenance, the almost imperceptible inclination of her body towards the gentleman revealed what others might miss – that Jane’s quiet reserve masked a depth of feeling invisible to casual observers, who might mistake her restraint for mere politeness, such as Mr. Darcy had.
Should Mr. Bingley be convinced of Jane’s indifference, she would bear the brunt of that misunderstanding. The matter rested in Bingley’s hands, and a truly devoted man would stand firm against opposition from friends and relations. Bennet’sensuing sigh was deep and heartfelt. Bingley, he feared, was in short supply of such resolve, and his lovely Jane would pay the price for his lack of resolution.
Mrs. Bennet required no seeking out. As usual, she sat amidst her coterie, and though her voice only travelled to the table’s end, her animated declarations made him wince. Miss Bingley’s assessment had been accurate; his wife was proclaiming that two of her daughters would be wed before the year’s end.
Regarding his wife’s matrimonial aspirations for their second daughter, Bennet would sooner perish than witness his Lizzy bound in matrimony to his idiot of a cousin. He had, admittedly, found considerable entertainment in observing the parson’s awkward attempts to woo his most quick-witted daughter, all the while knowing such efforts were destined to fail. He had found it peculiar that Mrs. Bennet had not steered the clergyman towards Mary, whose disposition seemed infinitely more suited to parsonage life than Elizabeth’s. It seemed that, once again, his sweet Mary was overshadowed by her more winsome sisters.
Upon entering the ballroom in search of Elizabeth, he was astonished to discover her being escorted to the dance floor by none other than Mr. Darcy! And for the supper set, no less! Whatever could induce that gentleman to request her company for nigh unto two hours, when he had infamously declared that she was not handsome enough to tempt him for even an introduction, let alone a set of dances?
