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Elizabeth Bennet, her dearest sister, had been turned out onto the streets of London by her last remaining family. Jane was innocent but she was not that innocent. She knew full well what awaited her sister. Even thinking of such a horrific fate had fresh tears streaming down her face.

The Bennet family had been torn apart by two people they had only met a few weeks before the incident. And yet the neighbourhood and community had pounced upon someone they all knew, had known all their lives, believing the lies of Caroline Bingley.

Jane Bennet saw the Rev Ferry approaching, one more hypocritical self-righteous man who had happily believed the lies, and help spread them. A sinner still throwing stones. She stood and rudely walked away from the man. She did not need to hear any of his clearly false honeyed words. He might not be a knave or rake in the physical sense but to Jane he was an emotional rake, spreading nothing but pain to anyone unfortunate enough to have to listen to him. One more in a long line of people in northern Hertfordshire who had shown their true colours.

Her father, a week man, as usual taking the easy path, disowning and banishing a daughter he knew to be innocent.

Her mother, cruel, capricious, self-centred and with a deep well of hatred for one of her own children. Every day Jane’s love for her mother withered.

Her uncle and aunt, here in Meryton. One weak like her father, one a vicious gossip, happy to believe the worst of people, even her closest family, her own niece she had known all her life.

Her sisters, one nothing but a trenchant moralising bore, again happy to condemn someone she had known her whole life, the other two indulged, stupid, each a disaster just waiting to happen.

The Lucas family, happen to strike at the Bennets in their hour of greatest need.

The entire town of Meryton and all the inhabitants, and the families of the surrounding estates, happy to believe the worst of Elizabeth, just glad that it was effecting another family, and not their own.

The Bingleys, brother and two sisters, who all should be consigned to Dante’s ninth and lowest circle of hell, reserved for those who deal in treachery and betrayal. Most pertinently for the Bingleys, within the ninth circle of hell, there was the third round of Ptolomaea, that reserved for hosts who betray their guests. Never had there been a more clear-cut example than Caroline Bingley.

The previous summer, on her 22nd birthday, Jane Bennet had believed the best of people, had believed the best of the world. Even as the evidence mounted during the autumn she had clung to those beliefs, but she now knew she was nothing but a naïve and deluded fool. Suddenly she saw society, her friends, her family, as they really were, not how she wished them to be. It was an epiphany, and one she wished was not necessary.

--

“I am not asking you I am telling you. Uncle Gardiner’s carriage will be here tomorrow to collect me.”

“Jane, you will mind your manners! I am your father, and I do not consent to you going to London.”

Jane stood there, silent and resolute. If there was one thing she was sure of it was that her father would cave to her demands.

“Jane, what has brought on this poor behaviour and insolent attitude?”

“There is nothing here for me at Longbourn, in Meryton, indeed in Hertfordshire. I am going to seek a better life in London. Uncle Gardiner has reluctantly agreed to house me, as Jane Gardiner not Jane Bennet, and will assist me.”

Jane might have been insolent in her attitude but she had said nothing but the truth. There was no future for anyone named Bennet in the whole of northern Hertfordshire. The rest of the day was tedious in its predictability. Mrs. Bennet acted as Jane knew she would, making it all about herself. Which was why she was only given less than a day’s notice. Hysterics, tears, angry demands, Jane was subjected to them all. Yet the following morning, after only brief farewells, she was on the road to London. What Mrs. Bennet never knew was how close she was to being slapped by her eldest daughter.

Jane Bennet was disconcerted to realise that her body, her whole being, relaxed the further and further she got from Longbourn. The Bennet family had become a weighty burden on her slim shoulders. If she never heard the phrase ‘she could not have been so beautiful for nothing’ again, it would be too soon.

--

Paul Philips had married Martha Gardiner, while Thomas Bennet had married Fanny Gardiner. They had both been married using the Church of England marriage ceremony, the only differences being the names of the participants. And both wives had agreed to obey their husbands as part of the service. Yet it was naught but a lie. Thomas Bennet did not care about Philips, he had enough misery of his own, although Martha Philips was complicit in his wife’s behaviour. But he had let her drive away not one but two of their daughters.

Elizabeth was lost to him, he could not even bring himself to think about her situation. Only excessive amounts of port let him sleep at night. And now Jane was gone as well. And he knew she would not be back. And even if she married well, it was clear she would not save Mrs. Bennet from the hedgerows.

He did not know why his memory was jogged at that moment, but suddenly her remembered back to the morning when they found out that Jane was ill. He hung his head in shame as he remembered his sardonic joke at that time. Returning to the present he looked upon his wife.

“Mrs. Bennet, hold your tongue for one minute. I have a question for you. Why did Jane get sick when she visited Netherfield Park?”

There was silence at the unexpected question.

“She was caught in a rain shower and the chill developed into a fever.”

“Why did she not take the carriage?”

This time the silence stretched out.

“Well? I seem to recall something about spending time with Mr. Bingley. Is that not the truth?”

No answer but a nod of her head.