Page 3 of Most Truly the Gentleman

Upon that estate resided the Bennets, Mr and Mrs, with their five daughters. To the great dismay of the lady of the house, the estate was entailed upon heirs male, and she had failed to provide so much as one. This, she blamed entirely upon daughters number two, three, and four, who were supposed to have been boys. The first and last, on account of resembling her strongly in appearance, were excused from this duty, as she firmly believed, and often stated aloud, that beauty such as hers really ought to be continued into the next generation.

“Now, girls,” she instructed them in the parlour the day of the assembly, “you must make a good impression upon Mr Bingley and his party so that he will want to marry Jane and save us all from the hedgerows. And it is possible that among his guests one or two of you younger girls might also find a husband!”

“I heard he was bringing twelve ladies and seven gentlemen tonight!” interjected Lydia, the youngest at but fifteen years old, who resembled her mother even more strongly in character than in appearance.

“I heard he is bringing only his five sisters and a cousin,” contradicted Kitty, daughter number four.

“Far too many ladies, in either case,” murmured Elizabeth, the first of the Bennets to disoblige her mother by being born both female and dark-haired, to the eldest, Jane, who was a near exact copy of Mrs Bennet in appearance and her complete opposite in temperament.

Jane sent her sister a laughing glance, but forbore from comment. Lydia and Kitty quarrelled over who had the right of it, while Mrs Bennet loudly exclaimed that she hoped very much there would be seven additional gentlemen tonight. Why, she might get rid of all her daughters, in that case!

“I do hope,” Elizabeth continued under cover of this chorus of squawking, “that Mr Bingley or one of his friends might prove worthy of you, dear sister. To have you happily settled with even a modestly wealthy man would solve a great many problems for the rest of us.”

“As I am daily reminded,” Jane replied softly, this echo of their father’s sardonic wit a trait she displayed only to Elizabeth. “Though I hate to say it, or even think it, I fear that Mama does not rate my happiness as high in the matter as you do.”

“You must remember that to her, to be married is to be happy.” Elizabeth offered this consolation in all sincerity. Mrs Bennet was a lady of mean understanding and scant compassion, but she did seem to really believe herself happy simply because she had married a landed gentleman, though her own father had been a mere solicitor.

“You are right, Lizzy.” Jane seemed much relieved. She was a gentle, delicate soul who hated to think ill of anyone at all, much less those in her inner circle, and yet her natural interest in others had granted her too much perception to walk through life ignorant of their failings. “She does wish me happy, yet she is mistaken in what would lead me to that state.”

“You must hold firm,” Elizabeth advised, not for the first time. “She will beleaguer you into accepting the first man she finds acceptable, if you allow it.”

“Fret not, Lizzy, I may give way too easily for your liking in ordinary cases, but marriage is hardly that. I shall not marry unless the union is the deepest wish of my heart.”

“And what are you two whispering about over there?” Mrs Bennet demanded. They turned their heads to find her regarding them—or rather, Elizabeth—with suspicion.

“Mr Bingley, of course,” Elizabeth answered brightly. “We were discussing what he might be like.”

“Rich, that is what he is like,” their mother replied firmly. “Jane, you will wear your blue silk tonight. It becomes you excellently well. Mr Bingley shall not be able to resist you. Play your hand correctly, my beautiful girl, and you shall be mistress of Netherfield Park by Twelfth Night.”

“What if one of his friends is even richer?” Elizabeth asked innocently. Jane gave her a chiding look, knowing she sought only to provoke.

“Then Jane will catch him, and Lydia may have Mr Bingley! Would you not like to be settled so close to Longbourn, my love?”

“If Mr Bingley is handsome, I suppose it could be agreeable,” Lydia answered carelessly. “But it might be that his richer friend will prefer a lively girl and carry me off to his castle in Lancashire or some such place!”

“Oooh, a castle in Lancashire,” Kitty said dreamily.

“Then I should be the first of us to marry, and I might chaperone all my sisters at parties and get them husbands, too!” Lydia exclaimed.

The youngest Bennets giggled together under their mother’s indulgent eye. Elizabeth leant towards her elder sister. “I was wrong to be concerned that you might be pushed into marriage,” she murmured glumly. “So long as we have the silliest sisters in England, I do not think we have to worry about receiving proposals from anyone.”

2

AN EVENING OF SOCIETY

Colonel Fitzwilliam was determined to enjoy the assembly, despite the long faces sported by Bingley’s sisters and his own cousin, despite the shabbiness of the rooms ill-disguised by a gaiety of flowers and ribbons, despite the evident drunkenness of the musicians struggling to set up on the small dais, despite the unrelenting pain in his wounded leg. He had brushed up against death before, but this time he had stared it in the face and felt its cold breath against his cheek. Now he was out of his bed and off of his crutches, more than ready to be pleased by whomever he met here and to delight them in his turn. He was giddy with life and with an unexpected alteration to his future prospects. Tonight, he decided, was going to be immense fun, even if he had to seize the fiddle from that staggering chap and saw away at it himself.

Their party was greeted with considerable joy and volume by a man already known to Bingley, Sir William Lucas, who was serving as something of a master of ceremonies. They were swiftly introduced to Lady Lucas, Miss Lucas, and Miss Maria Lucas. Bingley did the expected thing and secured the first set with Miss Lucas, whereupon her mother hinted, “I hope you have all come eager to dance! All of the young people of the neighbourhood are in anticipation of dancing with someone they have not known their entire lives!”

Bingley declared his resolve to dance every dance, while Hurst murmured something about his gout and Darcy merely bowed silently and slipped away from the group. When the lady’s eyes turned to him expectantly, Fitzwilliam said with real regret, “Alas, I should have liked to follow my friend Bingley here into every dance, but I was recently wounded on the Continent and am unable to oblige the ladies, unless any of them should prefer to sit out a set with an old soldier.”

Lady Lucas frowned in disappointment but her elder daughter smiled kindly at him. “You will find, sir, that we are short on gentlemen in this neighbourhood, and most of the ladies will be required to sit out at least one set. If you mean to keep us company, I expect you shall be quite as esteemed as anyone who chooses to dance!”

“Then, Miss Lucas, I must ensure my conversation does not rob me of my popularity as soon as I have gained it,” he jested with a little bow in her direction.

Sir William next led them, minus Darcy, to Mrs Bennet, who was eager to introduce her five daughters to their acquaintance. Once again Bingley secured the set of the eldest—as pretty a creature as Fitzwilliam had ever beheld—and once again, Fitzwilliam was required to explain his circumstances to avoid giving offence by not petitioning for the favour of one of the others.

“Well, that is too bad,” the lady replied. “My girls are all excellent dancers, and you should have enjoyed yourself prodigiously with any of them.”