The next in both age and beauty, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, was unfortunately of the affliction of sightlessness. For a man of my station, to reject a wife because of this condition may seem to lack Christian charity, but I was also concerned about whether she would be able to perform the duties of a clergyman’s wife, which frequently included visiting parishioners, assisting with the poor, and such other things as from time to time my noble patroness might suggest as suitable duties. I might add, based on the insistence on frankness that is the hallmark of my patroness, that I also found Miss Elizabeth frighteninglyimpertinent, and at the very least, three or four times as clever as I am. Not being a man to overstate my accomplishments, and while admitting a true cousinly respect for Miss Elizabeth, I felt no need to spend every day of my life shackled to someone who would talk circles around me even without the use of her eyes. In the interest of fairness, I must concede that that previous thought was unworthy of me, and uncharitable towards my cousin. I in fact endeavoured to remove such unworthy verbiage from this missive, but when my cousin became aware of the language, she laughed until she cried, and insisted that should I remove it from my final clean copy, she would… well, it is best not to elaborate too much on her threat.
As it was, I came to the third in line. Much to my liking, I found a woman of plain and unassuming beauty, not overly forward or pretentious, diligent and thoughtful in her reading of religious texts, and of no mean accomplishment on the pianoforte. Thus, my attention turned towards Miss Mary Bennet, and much to my delight, the young lady did not appear displeased.
My eldest cousin, Miss Bennet, was taken ill one night during a visit to friends at a nearby estate, Netherfield Park. She was obliged to stay overnight and returned in her father’s carriage the next day. Miss Bennet thought herself to have recovered most of her equilibrium, but she had not recovered quite as well as she maintained and was thus obliged to spend the next three days abed.
Upon her recovery, we were informed that the neighbour, one Mr Bingley, planned a ball at Netherfield a fortnight hence. Having been thus apprised of a ball, and in possession of five daughters—at least four of whom still had the use of their vision—my cousins all determined it an absolute necessity to visit the shops in Meryton. They must prepare for said entertainment through the acquisition of such female accoutrements as aredeemed essential to the proper operation and enjoyment of a ball. While I felt a certain amount of guilt about abandoning their father, Mr Bennet, the gentleman was effusive in his forgiveness. He assured me he would prefer I escort his daughters into the local village of Meryton, and thus hither we journeyed.
As was my extreme privilege, Miss Mary was upon my arm the entire mile into the village, and our conversation was all that could be hoped. We had a very liberal discussion regarding Fordyce’s sermons and other religious texts of which she could claim much more than average knowledge—or even my knowledge in some cases. Much to my delight, she had several very practical and thoughtful questions about the parsonage, its position with respect to Rosings, how often we attended Rosings for tea or supper, the disposition of my gardens, the schedule of worship, the number of parishioners, and… well, suffice it to say the mile disappeared in a trice.
The eldest Miss Bennet, whilst still looking a bit peaked but insisting on her good health, moved rather slowly. Since she assisted her next younger sister, Miss Elizabeth—who, as I previously mentioned and lamented, was absent the use of her visual facilities—we all found the pace appropriate and satisfactory.
Upon entering the village, my two younger cousins, Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia, espied some militia officers with whom they were acquainted. I had been told the young girls were rather loud and vulgar, but they seldom were in the presence of Miss Elizabeth, who seemed to exert a calming influence on them. They were everything demure and polite as they crossed the street to meet and give solicitations to a pair of militia officers, Lieutenants Denny and Sanderson.
After appropriate greetings were exchanged, the aforementioned officers set out to introduce a new acquaintanceto the area, one Mr George Wickham, who, it transpired, was to join the militia henceforth. He was a very gentlemanly looking man, possessed of what my younger cousins assured me was the most handsome mien, and who certainly possessed good manners and condescension in abundance. He chatted quite happily with the group, was in fact surprisingly quite enamoured with my cousin Miss Elizabeth, and talked to her nearly to the exclusion of everybody else. She, being naturally of a social disposition, was quite disposed to talk to the gentleman in her turn for quite some minutes.
I watched the man curiously, trying to imagine what his particular interest might be, when a pair of horses approached. All in the group turned to notice the riders, and I had the supreme pleasure of being introduced to Mr Bingley by my cousin Miss Mary. Mr Bingley, it transpired, was the potential intended for the eldest Miss Bennet. Another man accompanied him, and whilst I was unacquainted with the gentleman at the time, I later learned he was Mr Darcy, nephew of my patroness. I would later introduce myself properly to the great man and hope he would not look upon me as lacking in manners for not having made myself known to him sooner.
While I am not the most observant creature, it took no great level of discernment to see a reaction between Mr Wickham and Mr Darcy. My dear Mary suggests I describe it as Mr Wickham turning white with fear and Mr Darcy turning red with anger. I trust you will understand in your infinite wisdom that while such language is not beneath a man of the cloth, it is more descriptive in the literary than the literal sense, as it seems unlikely the actual colouration of either gentleman changed significantly. Be that as it may, even a man such as myself, not particularly gifted in nuance, could detect great animosity between them. None in the group were enlightened, however, as Mr Darcy simply turned his horse and rode away without a word.
For his part, Mr Bingley looked intently at Miss Bennet, whilst she made a great show of examining her boot, the bottom of her dress, the state of the lane, Miss Mary’s boots, Miss Lydia’s boots, the officers’ boots, the horses’ hooves, or just about anything in the village with the exception of Mr Bingley. Since I had already settled quite happily on my cousin Miss Mary, I had no particular concerns. As a cousin, however, I thought it incumbent upon me to wonder at the peculiar manner of my eldest cousin’s near engagement, as it was difficult to see any signs of affection whatsoever. Yet as my Mary pointed out, it might be best were I not to worry overly much about things of which I had no understanding. I had to own that this may very well be considered excellent advice, particularly as I had much more important concerns to attend to—including, not insubstantially, my renewed conversation with the most interesting woman of my acquaintance. I endeavoured to flatter myself that she might be a lady positively disposed to learned discourse and possibly some arrangement of a longer-lasting nature in the not distant future.
Our discussion continued for some minutes after the horsemen’s departure, with Mr Wickham making himself more gentlemanly and agreeable to all assembled. The spectre of the gentlemen from Netherfield was gradually banished, and even Miss Bennet’s countenance improved after they departed.
We had all been invited for games and a light supper at the home of my lovely cousins’ aunt, Mrs Phillips, and thence we went straightaway. The officers accompanied us, and when they indicated a polite intention to depart, Mrs Phillips was quite convincing as to the suitability and desirability of their staying for the evening. Gradually they were persuaded to acquiesce to her kind invitation, primarily, I might add, through the kind arguments of my cousin Miss Elizabeth, who, as you may know,is a mixture of a kitten and a bulldog (thank you, Miss Mary, for that fine analogy).
Once inside the room, I had the supreme pleasure of Miss Elizabeth requesting I stay close by her for the duration of the evening, and was even more heartily pleased by her insistence that Miss Mary do likewise. Among Miss Elizabeth’s fine qualities, I believed at the time that subtlety might be lacking, but I was to learn the folly of my ways.
Miss Elizabeth quickly captured the attention of Mr Wickham, and after some time started talking of Mr Darcy. Mr Wickham described at length his long association with said gentleman, and even delineated a longstanding dispute with him over his father’s will. Far be it from me to disparage the nephew of my patroness, but I knew that notallpersons of such elevated birth were perfect. Mr Wickham had truth in his eyes, his countenance, and his voice; I could not doubt the veracity of his words, nor could Miss Mary.
Miss Elizabeth, who at that time did not appear overly enamoured of Mr Darcy, gasped in surprise, and proceeded, through astute questions, to ascertain the exact nature of the living denied. She gathered Mr Wickham’s opinion on the will that allowed the son to disregard the wishes of the father, and even substantial details of the denied living, including the village’s location, the parsonage’s relative size, and the lost income. She was a most careful and diligent conversationalist, and the entire story was pulled from the gentleman forthwith.
At the close of this telling, Miss Elizabeth was so overcome with the tragedy that she felt required to reduce the melancholy feelings thus engendered by asking her sister Miss Bennet to come hither and hear the principal of the same story again. I was at that time beginning to worry about the sagacity of my fair cousin. She was widely reported as the cleverest of the Bennet sisters, and in fact cleverer than any man of her acquaintance,so I was quite surprised when she found she needed to apply to Mr Wickham once again regarding the value of the living, the location of the parsonage, and several other crucial details. I could only surmise she desired the entire story whole and complete in her mind, that she might in some way endeavour to assist the clearly set upon man.
Such was her diligence to this task; she even determined to ask Miss Mary to join her and hear the most important aspects of the tale once again. In common with my humble self, Miss Mary is so self-effacing and modest that I do not believe Mr Wickham had noticed either of us for the entire course of the evening, and he was quite unaware of our combined presence earlier in the narrative. I began to truly appreciate my Mary when she endeavoured to ascertain Mr Wickham’s opinion on certain doctrinal matters. I grew concerned about the man’s qualifications for orders, as we found him quite unable to answer theological questions so basic any child of six should be able to answer them easily… and yet, Mr Wickham was unable to answer clearly or succinctly; in fact, he could not even answer them consistently.
This went on for a bit longer, and ultimately Miss Lydia was applied to hear the story yet again. Being a thoroughly amiable and respectable young lady, despite her young age she was quite distraught by the story. So incensed was she that the lady absolutely required every detail and asked Mr Wickham many questions, her ire and sympathy rising with every answer, as the most casual observer might clearly see in her countenance.
At long last, it came time for the officers to return to their billet, and I was left to await the Bennet coach. As I prepared to ask Mrs Phillips to call for it, Miss Elizabeth voiced what we had all half-thought, though she possessed the full picture.
“That man is evil!”
Everyone gasped at the starkness of the assertion for someone we had known but a few hours, then asked her to continue.
“He went out of his way to tell the private business between himself and Mr Darcy on afirst meeting. That was a frightening breach of basic good manners which made me instantly suspicious. Then everything from the date of the supposed denial to the location and size of the parsonage to the value of the living changed with every telling. He could not answer the simplest doctrinal question. It was all lies, start to finish.”
We all started murmuring assent, and the volume of agreement increased as others perceived what Miss Elizabeth had seen and added their observations.
Miss Elizabeth asked, “Lydia, are you wearing your red dress?”
“Yes, Lizzy.”
Consternation appeared on Miss Lydia's face, a look I had never before witnessed.
“How did you feel when he looked at you?”
Miss Lydia ducked her head in embarrassment. “Now that you mention it, I did not notice at the time, but now I feel a need to roll in the mud to get clean.”
“As I thought.”
