One
Longbourn, Hertfordshire — September 1811
The first cool evenings of autumn had begun to creep into Longbourn, bringing a touch of smoky heather and fallen leaves to the air, but the Bennet drawing room remained lively, almost stifling with talk and laughter and argument.
Elizabeth had retreated to the window seat with her book, more for the view than the words. Outside, the hedgerows were a soft green dusk, the sky pale in its fading gold, and the breeze rattled the casement ever so slightly. Her true companion, however, was neither wind nor novel but Sophocles, her grey-and-white tomcat, who lay stretched along the ledge, eyes half-shut in inscrutable contentment.
Elizabeth scratched gently behind one of his ears. He opened one amber eye, examined her face as though assessing her honesty, and allowed her the indulgence of continued petting without objection.
“He is the very picture of dignity,” she murmured, with private amusement.
“Lizzy, do stop conversing with that animal!” cried Mrs. Bennet from across the room. “I declare, it is enough to make one ashamed. You will turn positively odd, spending your time talking to a cat when you might be improving your mind or sewing new ruffles for your gown. I am sure gentlemen do not like young ladies who fuss over creatures.”
Elizabeth did not bother to turn. “On the contrary, Mama, I consider it excellent training in observing character. Sophocles cannot flatter, and he cannot lie. I dare say he is better company than most gentlemen I know.”
“Impudent girl,” Mrs. Bennet huffed. “And what would you know of gentlemen? If you spent less time with that ill-tempered brute and more attending to your appearance, you might yet have an offer before Jane!”
At that, Sophocles uncoiled his long, elegant body and turned a slow, imperturbable stare upon Mrs. Bennet. His tail flicked once—then he jumped lazily onto a nearby cabinet and finally settled on Mr. Bennet’s favourite armchair.
Jane, who had been stitching quietly by the hearth, tried to soothe the rising storm. “Mama, he is not so ill-tempered as all that. He is really very gentle with those he likes.”
“He is partial to you, at least, Jane,” Elizabeth observed with a smile. “He has good taste.”
“That’s no recommendation!” Mrs. Bennet declared, only half-jesting, waving her hands in exasperation. “He scratched Mr. Hill last week, poor man.”
“Because Hill tried to remove him from Father’s chair,” Elizabeth said serenely. “One must have some principles, after all.”
At that moment, the door opened and Mr. Bennet himself entered, holding a letter aloft between two fingers with all the solemnity of a royal summons.
“Family assembly,” he announced, in his usual dry manner. “A letter has arrived, and I think it deserves your collective attention. I am confident it contains a wealth of instruction on duty, humility, and the blessed virtue of obedience to one’s elders. All of which we shall enjoy together.”
Elizabeth’s eyes lit with mischief. “A sermon in letter form? From whom, Papa?”
Mr. Bennet sat down, carefully removing Sophocles from his chair, only to have the cat leap lightly onto his lap with a low purr. He adjusted the letter with mock gravity.
“Our dear cousin Mr. Collins.”
A chorus of groans met this announcement.
“Oh!” cried Mrs. Bennet, immediately atwitter. “Give it here! Let me see!”
But Mr. Bennet would not surrender his prize. “No, no. You will hear it read aloud in the proper style. Lizzy, pay attention. This may be your future.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and gave Sophocles a conspiratorial pat. “What do you think, old philosopher? Would you endure Mr. Collins’s company for my sake?”
Sophocles did not answer, but his whiskers twitched in what Elizabeth decided was derision. He then leaped onto Mr. Bennet’s lap and waited with lazy interest.
Mr. Bennet cleared his throat and began to read in pompous, sonorous tones:
“My dear sir,
The long-expected event of my ordination is at last complete...”
He stopped and glanced around. “Momentous news. Do attempt to stay awake, my dears.”
“...and I feel it incumbent upon me to announce my intention of visiting you and your amiable daughters by the end of this week, in order to make amends for any past resentment occasioned by the unhappy entail of your estate...”
Elizabeth snorted. Sophocles startled slightly at the sound, then blinked in disapproval at the letter.
