Prologue
The afternoon had drawn long and mellow by the time their carriage left the bustle of the Great North Road behind and began to near the familiar turning that would, in another quarter hour, bring them home. The sky had softened into that pale gold peculiar to late September, when the sun no longer blazed but lingered with affectionate reluctance upon hedgerow and field. Dust rose in faint clouds behind the wheels, and the steady motion of the carriage, combined with the day’s exertions, might have coaxed another young lady into drowsy silence.
Elizabeth Bennet was not, however, another young lady.
She sat opposite her father with one gloved hand resting lightly upon the seat and the other curled about the ribbons of a bandbox that contained, as she had already declared no fewer than four times, the prettiest evening slippers ever made by human ingenuity. At her feet rested two smaller parcels; beside Mr. Bennet, an additional box had been wedged with care, though not, she suspected, with any true regard for millinery.
“It is very well for you to look so smug, Papa,” she said, lifting her chin with playful dignity. “You have not been made to carry half your fortune home in satin and tissue paper.”
Mr. Bennet regarded her over the top of the newspaper he had not opened for the last ten minutes. “On the contrary, my dear, I believe I have borne the greater burden. You have only chosen the gowns. I have been obliged to pay for them.”
Elizabeth laughed. “And most handsomely, too. I shall think of your generosity every time I am admired.”
“I see. Then I may expect gratitude to become your ruling principle.” He winked, softening his tease.
“You may expect it to be displayed with elegance and moderation, like a proper accomplishment.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled, shaking his head. “That sounds suspiciously like a promise to forget me the instant you enter the assembly rooms.”
She widened her eyes in a look of perfect innocence. “Never. I shall remember you every time some gentleman bows and requests the honor of my hand, and I shall think, there is Papa’s money, turned into blue silk and trimmed sleeves.”
Mr. Bennet lowered the paper altogether. “Blue silk very likely. But if gentlemen swarm you in numbers, as I am persuaded they must, it will not be because of my purse.”
Elizabeth made a face. “Swarm is a very disagreeable word.”
“It is, however, an accurate one. You are coming out, Lizzy. Meryton has been spared the full effect of you long enough. The neighborhood will never recover.”
“The neighborhood has Jane.”
“Yes and has therefore grown indolent. They have accustomed themselves to admiration. It is time they were made to work a little harder.”
She smiled and shook her head. “You always speak as though I were some dreadful trial to society.”
“You are a dreadful trial to those who prefer dull company.”
She met his gaze. “That is not what I meant.”
“No, but it is what I choose to mean.” Her father smiled kindly, his eyes crinkling in the corners.
Elizabeth leaned back against the cushions, the corners of her mouth still curved. She had always found it easy to laugh in her father’s company. Even in childhood, when her mother fretted and her younger sisters ran riot and Mary improved every occasion by quoting something grave and unnecessary, Mr. Bennet had possessed the rare gift of making the world feel both smaller and kinder. In his presence, every absurdity became bearable; every vexation, temporary.
The carriage rocked over a rut, and Mr. Bennet laid one hand automatically atop the nearest bandbox to steady it.
“You must not crush my bonnet,” Elizabeth said at once.
“My dear, if that object within is truly a bonnet, then fashion has taken an even darker turn than I had supposed.”
She drew herself up. “Mrs. Gardiner declared it elegant.”
“Mrs. Gardiner possesses excellent sense in nearly all matters.”
“In nearly all?” She raised a brow and pursed her lips.
“She encouraged you in the purchase.”
Elizabeth laughed again. “She did no such thing. She was the soul of prudence. It was I who admired it.”
“Then I may hope your admiration will cool before anyone is required to see you in it.”
