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For Want of a Dowry | Chapter Five

Chapter Four

Chapter Five (Part 6 / 22)

For the Bennets at Longbourn, not much was materially altered by the residence of their new neighbors. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had deigned to call on them the day following Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy's visit, which Jane felt all the compliment of, and Elizabeth, the impertinence. Mr. Bingley's sisters had claimed grave headaches the morning when their brother and his friend called to explain their absence. While Jane was satisfied with that answer, Elizabeth was suspicious. She knew the sisters to think the Bennet sisters beneath them and could only amount their civility as the most particular desire of the brother.

The daffodils from Mr. Bingley's friend, however, were the source of much interest and reflection not only within the family but throughout town. A report had circulated of Mr. Darcy showing up on the Bennet's doorstep, drenched from rain, pristinely exquisite bouquet all the way from Denmark in hand, and begging for an audience with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Elizabeth suspected Lydia as the culprit of this rumor.

After exasperatedly explaining to a very amused Charlotte Lucas that the truth of the matter had been much duller ("it wasn't even raining!"), Elizabeth did take into consideration the reason the flowers had been brought. They had been beautiful, she had grudgingly admitted to herself. Yellow was a favorite of hers. She was also much less practiced at receiving flowers from gentlemen than her sister Jane. Even more so, she was less practiced at accepting so glorious a bouquet. He must have sent an express to a hothouse in London, she realized after consulting a botanical book in her father's library. It simply didn't make sense. He was as disinterested in her as she in him, so why had he put on a facade suggesting otherwise?

Elizabeth resolved to put him out of her mind–easier said than done, as following the Great Daffodil Distraction (as she now privately called it), he always ended up within a short distance of her at gatherings. He attended her conversations silently, soberly, and without a hint of a suggestion that he might partake.

It was at one such soiree at Lucas Lodge that they both were in attendance that she commented on her tall shadow to Charlotte.

"What can Mr. Darcy mean by listening to my conversations?"

"That is a question which Mr. Darcy only can answer," replied Elizabeth's friend.

"Well, if he does it any more, I shall certainly let him know that we see what he is about," Elizabeth said pertly. "He has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid of him."

Soon after, he approached her, but without any indication that he would do more than observe. Charlotte gave her friend a significant look. Elizabeth took the challenge.

"Do not you think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself extraordinarily well when I was teasing Colonel Forster for a ball?"

Mr. Darcy looked stunned at being addressed but recovered quickly.

"Certainly. But the subject must be one that always renders a lady eloquent."

"You are severe upon us!" Elizabeth cried with false indignation.

"It is her turn to be teased," Charlotte said quickly, "I am going to open the instrument, Eliza, and you must know what follows."

"You are a strange creature by way of a friend! If my vanity had taken a musical turn, you would have proved invaluable. But as it is–oh, very well, dear Charlotte." She shook her head with an indulgent smile and allowed herself to be led to the pianoforte.

The whole room quieted, and every head turned towards Miss Elizabeth in apparently the most remarkable anticipation. Half a minute into the performance, Darcy understood why. Though she played but a simple folk song, neither complex in music or lyrics, it was performed with genuine passion and sweetness he had not seen in the first circles. Only in Georgiana, the thought, unbidden, came to him. He blinked it away.

Upon the completion of her tune, Miss Elizabeth was promptly implored by the room for another. She demurred gracefully, curtsying and returning to Miss Lucas's side. Darcy was disappointed. At least while playing, he had reason enough to look at her.

"--Some of us cannot afford to be choosy when it comes to the matter of approving our daughters' husbands, but I for one, Lady Lucas, will never experience that. It is highly gratifying, you know, to have five such ladies of beauty and accomplishment under my care."

Mrs. Bennet was audible before she was visible. Darcy ducked beside a pillar, choosing his dignity over the pleasure of watching Miss Elizabeth.

"It must be so agreeable, then, Mrs. Bennet, to have them all un-married yet," Lady Lucas was saying, rather frostily.

A laugh that could only be attributed to the Bennet matriarch. "Yes, indeed, Lady Lucas. Why my girls have already turned away any number of proposals already–Jane most of all. And why shouldn't she? With her beauty and temper, she would grace the arm of a Duke and bring no inconsiderable fortune to the match. Ah–but, on that score, perhaps it is better to remain silent."

"Indeed," snapped Lady Lucas. Darcy heard them shuffle past. He stepped out from his hiding place, a sense of unplaceable forlornness washing over him. Here was Mrs. Bennet's reason for not throwing her daughters at his feet: she did not believe they needed him. Or Bingley, for that matter. But how? He understood Bennet's estate yielded only £2000 per annum–a respectable number, to be sure, but nothing near enough to provide impressive dowries for five daughters.

His eyes found Miss Elizabeth's figure, who happened to be facing him. She was talking animatedly to Miss Lucas and the eldest Mr. Lucas, without a sliver of a hint of her quiet observer.

Is this why she seemed impervious to the allure of 10,000 a year? He had not gotten the right of her character: she was just like Miss Bingley. She was a mercenary–nay, a social climber. She would (and could) settle for no less than an Earl, which Darcy reminded himself, he was not.

He firmly resolved at that moment to despise her, and her stupid, scheming mother and her small, amount-unknown fortune she possessed. While it is little effort to decide the direction of one's heart, it is much more to hold fast to such convictions, a lesson that Mr. Darcy, Master of Pemberly, was in short order of learning.

Author's Note (April 7, 2022) Whew. Many thanks to all of you who reminded me of Uncle Gardiner's keen understanding of business matters. I have thus increased the girls' fortunes (see my note in Chapter Three. Mrs. Bennet would be even more appreciative than I, as you've more than tripled her girls's dowries! Please bear with me as I update the previous chapters accordingly. Assuming that each girl gets £2150 at birth invested with a 10% ROI, compounded annually with a monthly contribution of £15, here are the girls' updated dowries: Jane, age 23, would have £34,334, and £1373/year. Elizabeth, age 20, would have £25,324 and £1012/year. Mary, age 18, would have £20,600 and £824/year. Kitty, age 17, would have £18,555 and £742/year. Lydia, age 15, would have £15,005 and an annual income of £600.

Chapter Six

#regency romance #pride and prejudice #fitzwilliam darcy #elizabeth bennet #mr darcy #regency #fanfiction #fanfic

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For Want of a Dowry | Chapter Four

Chapter Three

Chapter Four (Part 5 / 22)

The house was unassumingly plain. By no means uncared for, it had a certain sense of economy and, while not grand, had an elegant sort of charm to it. Just beyond the back of the estate, Darcy could see a prettyish sort of wilderness that had a lovely aspect. He fussed with the bouquet of yellow daffodils he had delivered from town that morning. He had never before given flowers to any women except for his sister and late mother and hoped that it would remain an uncommon practice. The damned things made him sneeze.

“Where did you get those at this time of year, Darce? Must have cost a fortune.”

Darcy nearly blushed. “From a London hothouse.” He failed to mention that he had chosen the flower as the color had reminded him of the dress Miss Elizabeth had donned for the assembly.

“And why did you not share the blasted idea with me?” Bingley cried, looking put out. “I rather wanted to make a good impression.”

Darcy chose not to dignify that with a response. They were shown into a small parlor by a stout, stern-looking housekeeper. Mrs. Bennet and one of her younger daughters–Darcy could not recall her name or order beyond being younger than Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth–sat stiffly beside one another.

“Mr. Bingley,” the Bennet matron said, rising with seemingly real difficulty, “how do you do? A pleasure, I’m sure. And I see you’ve brought your friend. How charming.” She sat immediately back down, and the girl who had just started to rise hurriedly collapsed beside her.

“Er–yes, madam, I–that is, Darcy–Mr. Darcy and I were hoping to call on your family this morning and express our–uh–gratitude for your warm welcome to the neighborhood last night. I also wished to call on your very amiable daughter, Miss Bennet, nearly as much as Mr. Darcy was desirous of paying his respects to Miss Elizabeth.”

Darcy felt that his friend was laying it on a bit thick as the young Miss Bennet’s mouth dropped open in a rather foolish-looking gape. Mrs. Bennet, however, did not look in the least bit moved.

“Is that so? Well, what you can have to say to them, I’m sure I don’t know, but far be it from me to deprive my daughters of forming new friendships. Hill?” Her head swiveled to the housekeeper, who bobbed in a short curtsy and vanished out the side door.

“I believe you know my daughter, Mary,” Mrs. Bennet said, gesturing to her somber companion. “You made a remarkably handsome couple for the set you stood up with her, Mr. Bingley.” Handsome, thought Darcy, was something of a stretch. The young lady, by no means hideous, was very plain and as grave as a stone.

“An honor I hope to have repeated again soon, Miss Mary,” Bingley said warmly with a smile Mary barely returned.

The door swung open. Bingley and Darcy turned. Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth stepped into the room. One lit up in delight and the other’s face twisted into a confused grimace, which quickly smoothed over into a passive expression. Only Bingley shared in Miss Bennet’s visible joy at the reunion.

“Miss Bennet! And Miss Elizabeth, I can’t tell you how pleased we are to see you all again. Isn’t that right, Darcy?”

Darcy gave a jerky nod of the head. He was gazing at Miss Elizabeth, who was resolutely avoiding his eye.

Miss Bennet spoke quickly. “Won’t you both sit and join us? It is so delightful to welcome you to Longbourn.” She swept her hand to the remaining seats and sat neatly on the other side of her mother. Miss Elizabeth remained standing.

Darcy coughed. He wished Miss Mary would stop staring. Bingley took care to tread on his toe and sat opposite Miss Bennet.

“I…I brought these for you, Miss Elizabeth.” He brandished the daffodils like a sword, faltering when he saw a collection of red and pink wildflowers limp in her hand. She looked down at the assortment in her hand and up at him.

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” She said, not making any effort to accept them, “They are very…tolerable.” She smiled archly at him, at last meeting his eye. Hers were a rich walnut color that looked almost golden in the pale light of late morning. He blinked, transfixed.

“Aren’t you going to hand them to Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy?” Miss Mary asked with great interest.

“Hush, child!” Mrs. Bennet said snappishly. “Elizabeth, dearest, do sit down.”

Miss Elizabeth made to walk by him, and before he could lose his nerve, he bowed to her and offered the daffodils out. She looked very much startled but took them with good grace. Then, with a wry smile, she pressed her own multicolored assortment of by no means hothouse-grown wildflowers into his hand, gave a pert curtsy, and took her seat.

Feeling rather caught off guard, Darcy sat opposite her, beside his friend, who beamed and launched into admiration of the charming neighborhood, society, and very agreeable Bennet family whom he would not mind knowing better.

With Bingley ensconced in engaging the Bennet women in lively conversation, Darcy felt relatively safe to observe the first women of his acquaintance to whom he had ever presented flowers. Sitting, he could not see much of her figure or form, but he recalled with some mortification that it had been light and pleasing–not fashionably plump, as her sister Miss Bennet was, but still womanly shaped from the swell of her bosom. Her dark hair was swept up in a practical bun for the day, but several chocolate curls had come loose to frame her face. He decided that, on the whole, she was a very handsome woman indeed–very much more than he gave credit for. He was thinking on her features with some complacency when he was most disagreeably drawn back into the conversation.

“--I’m sure we’d both be delighted to escort you into the village, right, Darcy? Darcy?” Bingley was asking.

Darcy started. “Remind me of the topic?”

“Miss Bennet mentioned that she and her sisters were making baskets to take to their tenants today, and I thought it a marvelous idea if we were to escort them. After all, it does no harm to establish ourselves in the surrounding areas of Netherfield.”

“I am sure, Mr. Bingley, that your friend is a might too busy and important for trifling little visits into a village of no real importance beyond its occupants,” Mrs. Bennet said, raising an eyebrow at Darcy.

“Not at all, madam, I assure you,” Darcy replied stiffly, gripping the flowers Miss Elizabeth had given him tightly in his hand.

“There!” Bingley cried, glancing nervously at his friend, “It’s settled. We’ll all walk through the village, from where Darcy and I can depart back for Netherfield.”

Miss Bennet smiled joyously, Miss Mary less so, and Miss Elizabeth not at all. They all stood. Darcy noted that the matron and Miss Elizabeth stood about a head below the others.

“Let me send for my other daughters,” Mrs. Bennet said sweetly. “It is customary, you see, Mr. Bingley, for all my girls to give the gifts to the tenants.”

“Certainly, Mrs. Bennet! How charming.”

Mrs. Bennet gave Bingley a thin-lipped smile. “Elizabeth, dear, do come with me to fetch your sisters.”

“Mama?”

“Come along, dear.”

Mother and daughter left the room, and Darcy and Miss Mary were left to fend for themselves in the midst of a shy conversation that had begun between Miss Bennet and Bingley. The former was left to consider, with some surprise, that the latter’s mother had still not forgiven him.

Down the hall, Elizabeth’s mother crowded her into a small room and shut the door.

“Mama!”

“Hush, Lizzy, we haven’t much time. Now, tell me, are you quite alright with this arrangement?”

“You mean walking? I’ve never been bothered before by it, have I?”

“By Mr. Darcy, dearest. Are you sure you’re quite comfortable to spend the hour and a half in his company? I couldn’t think of an excuse to dispose of him without injuring the friend against us. Hateful man!”

Elizabeth shook her head, smiling. “I think I can manage less than two hours, Mama.”

“Do try and endure it as best you can, darling. Feign a headache if you must. And–” her mother’s eyes narrowed, “do keep me apprised of Mr. Bingley and your sister’s progress.”

“Jane seems to like him very much.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. Well, there’s not much romance in trampling through the mud with one’s sisters and one’s dour friend, is there? I must send a note to your Aunt Gardiner and see if she can take Jane in for the winter. Heaven knows she’ll have much better prospects there.” And with that happy thought, Mrs. Bennet patted her second daughter on the shoulder, scooped the daffodils from her arms, and hurried from the veritable closet she had chosen as her one-on-one space.

Once Kitty and Lydia had been located, pelisses donned, and an offer to carry all the baskets gallantly offered by Mr. Bingley, the party set out.

As a consequence of Elizabeth’s routine long walks, she could match pace easily with the long-legged Mr. Darcy, while the more delicate Jane fell back and with whom Mr. Bingley stayed. The younger girls skipped ahead, arms free of the tiresome baskets they were used to carrying.

After watching Mr. Darcy struggle to balance the half a dozen baskets hanging from his arms for a little while, Elizabeth spoke up. “It seems to me that you require assistance, Mr. Darcy.”

“Not at all, Miss Elizabeth.”

“You are veering off course.”

She observed with great amusement as he realized her words were correct and nearly cursed, trying to steady himself.

“Let me take a basket, Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley need never know.”

Darcy smiled in spite of himself. “Never have I had a lady extend such gallantry to me.”

“That will not do,” Elizabeth cried, “for gallantry must stem from a more altruistic origin than my offer does. I must reject this honor of gallantry, sir.” And, with the sweetest smile, she gently detangled a basket from his arm and looped her own hand through it.

“There,” she said, cheek dimpling, “Now, the debt of your beautiful flowers have been discharged. You are free from me, Mr. Darcy. We may part this day as equals, as equals we must be, for mutual disinterest and indifference must ensure a common advantage.”

With a bell-like laugh, Miss Elizabeth trotted after her sisters, basket swinging merrily from her arm. In his pocket, the surely-crumpled wildflowers she had bequeathed upon Darcy earlier felt hot against his heart, and he could not but help feel the sourness of disappointment at her absence.

Author’s Note (April 6, 2022): Thank you for your interest in my little story, For Want of a Dowry! I wanted to address a couple notes people have left me on this piece. Firstly, as to the Bennet girls’s dowries, I spent a good chunk of time considering who and how much would be contributed, using the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission tool, Investor.org, to calculate exactly how much each girl had by the Meryton Assembly. As stated in P&P, the Bennet girls will live off a four percent (4%) income of £1000 (pounds) upon their father’s death (£40 per annum). I took a little liberty with that: my iteration of Mrs. Bennet wheedled her husband into setting aside that money on each girl’s birth and an extra £500 (1500 altogether). Assuming that FWD (For Want of a Dowry) Mrs. Bennet is more frugal than her canon counterpart, I had her give 2 pounds per month toward each girl’s dowry (or £24/year). This would come out of her own inheritance of £4000 in the four percents (equal to £160/year), so by the time Lydia was born, she would be giving her girls £120 a year in total (and have £40 for herself, which, I am almost positive that something in my math or historical knowledge is inaccurate, and I am happy to correct (as I have already done per one guest’s comment about having servants) if there are any glaring errors. For the most part, though, this is meant to be written entirely for fun, so please pardon my stretches of truth and imagination in crafting my little what-if? variation on Pride and Prejudice.ironically is the same amount the girls in canon could have expected to have). I then presumed to have Mrs. Bennet convince Mr. Bennet to lay out £5/month for each girl’s dowry (£60/year). This did not seem much of a stretch to me, as in P&P Volume III, Mr. Bennet mentions to Lizzy that by giving Wickham and Lydia £100 per annum in his lifetime, he’d hardly be £10 worse off a year, considering her board and pin money costs before her marriage. Finally, I could easily imagine Mrs. Bennet convincing her brother and brother-in-law, Uncles Gardiner and Phillips, to each give a pound (£1) each month (or between the two of them, £24/year for each girl, equal to their mother’s contribution) to each of the sisters. Altogether, that’s £9 per month (£108/year) for each Bennet daughter. Assuming a compounded interest rate at a conservative 4% (the standard in canon), here is where each girl stands at the Meryton Assembly, including what they should expect to live off of their interest if they married at the age they were at the start of the novel. Jane, age 23, would have £7650 and live off around £300/year. Elizabeth, age 20, would have £6500 and live off £260/year. Mary, age 18, would have £5800 and live off £230. Kitty, age 17, would have £5480 and live off £220/year. And Lydia, at age 15, would have £4860 and live off £190/year. Even Lydia’s income, if she were to marry in the next chapter, would have almost five times as much as would have in canon.

Next Part (Chapter Five)

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For Want of a Dowry | Chapter Three

Chapter Two

Chapter Three (Part 4 / 22)

“My God, Darce, now you’ve really done it.”

Darcy blinked. Very rarely did Bingley have such an exasperated tone in conversation with him.

“What have I done?”

“Gone and ticked off the mother of Miss Bennet, who I was rather hoping to get to know better.”

“Oh, please, Charles. The fact that the woman gave Mr. Darcy the cut direct is not exactly indicative of a well-ordered mind. It seems to me that you have avoided the most inconvenient of acquaintances.” Darcy could feel the intensity of Miss Bingley’s stare on him but kept his eyes trained on the inky blackness of the twilight through the large window in Netherfield’s largest parlor.

Even though he was almost entirely turned away, Darcy could see Bingley’s uncharacteristic frown. “She gave you the cut direct?”

“Yes,” Darcy said, unconcerned.

“You are aware she is one of the principal families in the neighborhood I now reside in, yes? What could you have possibly done that was so bad?”

A tense pause. Darcy turned to face Bingley et al.

“Do you remember the–er–discussion we had about one of Miss Bennet’s sisters?”

Bingley’s face went white. “You mean to say that she heard you calling her daughter ugly?”

“No, and I didn’t call her ugly; I called her tolerable,” Darcy said before amending, “I believe the younger Miss Bennet might have overheard us.” He remembered clearly catching the lady’s dark, glittering eyes and then flushed at the recollection. He had known that she could hear them, just as he had known it was impolite (not to mention dishonest) to say.

“Good lord,” Bingley said, looking almost amused, “It’s that natural Darcy charm, is it?”

“Well, I don’t see what’s so wrong with being called tolerable,” Miss Bingley sniffed, walking nearer to Darcy, who stiffened uncomfortably, “It must be considered a compliment, especially coming from you, Mr. Darcy.”

“Yes, definitely, Caroline,” her brother said, now unmistakably amused. “I’d like to imagine you would be perfectly composed and flattered if Darcy called you tolerable.”

Darcy refused to take the bait. Miss Bingley shot daggers at Bingley and then Mrs. Hurst, who snorted and immediately staged a coughing fit.

“Well, anyhow,” said Bingley hastily, moving to stand between his two sisters and glancing desperately over at the slumbering Mr. Hurst on the settee, “There’s nothing for it, Darce. You’re going to have to apologize.”

Loud protests from Miss Bingley drowned out Darcy’s “I beg your pardon?” both of which were ignored by their host.

“Look, you’ve slighted the sister of a lady I’d like to be better acquainted with,” Bingley said in an un-Bingley serious way, “Not to mention, she’s very well-liked by the whole neighborhood: I heard not one bad report about her, except for her protectiveness toward her sisters which reveals an affection towards her family that is very pleasing. In any case, I can hardly live in a place where my presence is a painful reminder of an insult to one of the principal families, can I?”

Darcy knew his friend was right. He also didn’t want to make Bingley’s stay in the country, no matter how short-lived, unpleasant because of an oversight on his part.

So, to the protestations of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, who saw groveling beneath them, agreed to call on Miss Elizabeth and her sisters the following day.

“He’s just what a young man ought to be, Lizzy,” said Jane the morning after the Meryton assembly. The eldest Bennet sisters were employed in overseeing the arrangement of baskets for their tenants and finally had a moment alone to discuss the previous night’s engagements. “Sensible, good-humored, lively–and I never saw such happy manners!”

“He is also handsome,” Elizabeth said, smiling, “which a young man ought likewise to be if he possibly can. His character is thereby complete.”

“Lizzy!” Jane brought her hand to her mouth, covering an indulgent smile, and looking away from the basket she was supposed to be approving, “I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. I did not expect such a compliment.”

“Did not you? I did for you. Compliments always take you by surprise and me never. But what could have been more natural than asking you a second time? He could not help but notice that you were about five times as pretty as every other woman in the room. Yes, I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a stupider person.”

“Dearest Lizzy, how you like to jest.”

“Truly, Jane, I am not. I would have been greatly affronted, you know, if he hadn’t asked for your hand the second time. The first, of course, was most gallant of him. He asked me one time too, you know, and it’s been said I’m only tolerable. The second showed a real preference.”

“It was very wrong of Mr. Darcy to say that, Lizzy. Not to mention, wholly without basis.” Jane’s features were contorted with genuine sympathy, and Elizabeth wished she hadn’t brought it up at all.

“Ah, well,” Elizabeth grinned, hoping to convince Jane that her equilibrium had been entirely recovered after the insults of the previous night, “Now I have the advantage of knowing at least one man in my acquaintance that is not desirous of the money I’d bring to the match. Not that it is a match for 10,000 a year!” she raised her voice in an imitation of the shrill gossipers from last night.

“I hope you are not speaking of that odious man, Miss Lizzy.” Their mother had bustled into the room carrying a load of wildflowers the younger girls had gathered that morning.

“Only in passing, Mama.”

“Pray, do not mention him at all! I will never recover from the insults of last night.”

“One would think,” Elizabeth said in a slightly raised tone, “That you had been the receiver of the slight.”

“Oh my dear, no, but I was paid the greatest insult! To have one’s daughter called ugly–why, I have never been so offended in my life.”

Jane made a meaningful look at Elizabeth and busied herself with dispersing the flowers in the baskets.

“I found it rather refreshing, Mama,” Elizabeth said, maintaining a perfectly straight face, “To meet a man who was not immediately in pursuit of my dowry. At least now we can begin our acquaintance on equal terms without care to the trivialities of money.”

“How can you think that Elizabeth, when–,” Mrs. Bennet’s eyes narrowed. “You are speaking in jest.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Pray do not tease your mother like that. She is but an old woman, merely trying to get her five daughters well-matched and settled before she departs this earth.”

“You are hardly an old woman, Mama,” said Jane with a gentleness Elizabeth would not have had, “and you are in perfect health.”

“Oh my dear, you are too kind. When a lady has five grown-up daughters, however, she ought not to make pretensions to any sort of youth.”

“You could have had only four grown-up daughters if you had waited a year or two for Lydia to enter society,” Elizabeth snapped, unable to contain herself.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Miss Lizzy,” her mother responded in kind, “What was the point of keeping her in? She was so lonely in the schoolroom and jealous of you all for your parties and balls. Now at least I know she won’t do something foolish such as trying to sneak out.” And from that, Elizabeth suspected her mother still blamed her for the events of last year when Lydia had, in fact, tried to sneak out to an assembly her sisters were all in attendance.

“She could still do something foolish such as elope,” Elizabeth retorted brazenly and was gratified by Jane’s shocked gasp.

“She could,” Her mother admitted, “but as with all of you, the money is not to be settled upon her without the express approval of one or both of her parents–or until she reaches her majority, which is safely half a dozen years away.”

“Very clever,” said Elizabeth with asperity, “If only you could be certain that if Lydia did happen to fall in love at an age past her majority, that the subject of her heart would be a very wealthy, very titled man.”

Mrs. Bennet’s eyebrows raised. “Of course, I can’t be certain of that, Elizabeth. No one can. I can only be certain that my daughters will not be denied an offer of marriage on account of a lack of money. We may not be of the first circles or even extraordinarily wealthy, but no one will accuse my girls of not being cared for.”

A bit of silence followed that incredible speech. Elizabeth stared at her mother, openmouthed. Jane recovered first.

“No one could accuse you of that, Mama,” Jane said gently, reaching out her open hand to take one of her mother’s. “You have been generous indeed in your care for us.”

Their mother sniffed. “Of course I have. How many other mothers do you know that forfeit so much of their own money for their daughters? Now, girls, really–do hurry up with those baskets so we might distribute them on time.”

The eldest Miss Bennets watched their mother go, purpose and verve in her step.

Jane shook her head and arranged vegetables and bread in the basket before her. Elizabeth picked up a cluster of flowers tied together with a bit of twine.

“Poor Mama,” Jane said quietly, “Always so caught up in ensuring our future security, she cannot enjoy her own. We won’t be so very poor entering the marriage state, will we?”

“No, indeed,” Elizabeth said, arranging the flowers in the bouquet she was holding, “With the initial £2000 Mama and Papa settled on us plus the 150 our Uncles gifted us invested at the time of our birth, we’d have over six times what Mama had when she married Papa–provided we all marry around your age, dearest. But with the combined 15 pounds a month between Uncles Phillips and Gardiner and Papa and Mama–well. If you were to marry your Mr. Bingley tomorrow, you’d be bringing just over 34,000 pounds to the marriage, assuming an average return on investment of ten percent.”

Jane blushed in her Jane-like way. “He’s not my Mr. Bingley, Lizzy.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth could not help but smile, “I think he is. Or he very soon will be.”

The two sisters smiled at each other. Then, “How did you calculate my settlement so quickly?”

“Oh.” It was Elizabeth’s turn to blush. “I did it last night after the assembly. I’ve never felt that I’ve had a sister so close to the precipice of marriage, and I wanted to see what Mama’s efforts had amounted to in that quarter.”

“Lizzy!” Jane laughed, “How perfectly wrong of you.”

“Capital offense!” Elizabeth joked, twirling the bouquet around her wrist.

Mrs. Hill, the longtime housekeeper of Longbourn, materialized at the door.

“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” she wheezed, from having run down the stairs, “Two gentlemen here to call on you.”

“Two?”

“Yes, Miss Elizabeth, a Mr. Bingley and a Mr. Darcy.” Mrs. Hill spoke with a hint of disdain, no doubt having heard the tragic tale of the slights of last evening.

A look was exchanged between the sisters. “Tell them we’ll be right up, Hill,” Jane said, grabbing Elizabeth’s hand. In her other, the bouquet of flowers remained, quite forgotten.

Elizabeth and Jane ascended the steps, minds racing with possibilities, yet neither could have fathomed the truth of the matter.

Author’s Note (April 7, 2022)

This section was updated on the above date after a prudent observation by multiple readers: it makes sense that Uncle Gardiner would have recommended the investment of the girl’s dowries. In addition, I’ve thrown in 5 pounds per month for each girl from Mr. Bennet and an additional £1 per month from Mr. Gardiner, which rounds it out at a nice £15/month (£180/year). I’ve also updated the initial amount from 1500 to 2150, assuming that Uncle Gardiner contributed £100 and Uncle Phillips £50 to each girl on their birth. Mrs. Bennet persuaded her husband to put down another £500 on each girl, which puts us at 2150 pounds as the initial sum. The historical return on investment rate is a respectable 10 percent, so I used that as the average. That, of course, more than tripled the dowries, which makes the story so much more interesting. Thanks, everyone!

Chapter Four

#pride and prejudice #jane austen #elizabeth bennet #mr darcy #fanfic

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bluecoffeemondays · 2 years

Text

For Want of a Dowry | Chapter Two

Chapter One

Chapter Two (Part 3 / 22)

Chapter Two

They arrived fashionably late. In Darcy’s mind, it bordered on offensive. Still, he abashedly rejoiced at not having to spend any more time in the company of total strangers than was strictly necessary. So he withheld his guidance on the propriety of entering an assembly a whole hour after it had started, and it was with a slightly soothed mind that he entered the dance hall behind his friends. They need only stay for a half-hour.

“Ah, Mr. Bingley.”

A short, squat man wearing the fashions of two seasons approached with the eagerness of someone who knew he was inferior to his neighbors. He grinned excitedly and bounced up and down on the balls of his well-worn boots.

“I have the distinct honor of welcoming you and your party to our humble little gathering, Mr. Bingley. I know it is not much compared to the finery you must be accustomed to, but it is certainly a…” at this point, Darcy refused to subject his ears to the outrageously sycophantic groveling the strange little man dove into and turned away.

He watched, with ill-disguised impatience, the proceedings before him, ignoring the curious murmurs and stares. Across the room, a flurry of motion caught his eye. A fair young lady in a cream-colored frock was practically sprinting through the crowd. In an instant, her arm was snatched, seemingly out of thin air, by another lady, and the culprit was forced to halt. This one looked older and wore a pale yellow dress that contrasted very prettily against her dark curls. The younger of the two, who was a full head taller than the other, caught Darcy’s eye. She gasped and tugged on her companion’s arm, bending down to say something, flinging her hand in his direction. The shorter woman raised her gaze to meet Darcy’s and–

Before remembering who had just been making their acquaintance, he whipped his eyes from hers and turned back to Bingley’s party.

“--and there is really nothing that can compare to the splendor of St. James. Why, when I was introduced there myself, I had the honor of meeting a person no less than Earl Howe, who was all affability and politeness that his noble birth bequeaths him. I say, sir, your–”

“Thank you, Sir Lucas, for your kind welcome,” Bingley said quickly, smiling so affably that one could not be offended by the interruption. “My sisters, you already know from calling on us last week. This is Hurst, Lousia’s husband–” Hurst gave a short bow which Sir Lucas returned, smilingly, “and this is Darcy, a dear friend of mine, from Derbyshire.”

There was no alternative, so Darcy deigned to return Sir Lucas’s bow. “Mr. Darcy from Derbyshire–you can’t be the Darcy from Pemberly mentioned when I was presented at St. James’s Court?”

Darcy bowed again. “The very same.”

“Oh! But this is too fortuitous; I was just saying to Lady Lucas–”

“I was hoping, Sir Lucas, that I might have the honor of an introduction to your eldest daughter,” Bingley said, shooting Darcy a nervous smile.

“Indeed! There she is, over there, in the pink.” Sir Lucas gestured over to a cluster of young ladies whereabouts there happened to be two ladies in pink. “No, no, not Miss Kitty, the taller of the two.” Bingley’s party looked. There was a cluster of around half a dozen young women, including the two Darcy had spotted earlier. The girl in the egg-shell dress looked properly chastened and was standing, long elegant neck bowed, in apparent reverence to the shorter lady in the daffodil dress. The young lady in pink, evidently not Sir Lucas’s eldest daughter, had the fair coloring of the youngest of the bunch and was just as handsome. The same could not be said of Sir Lucas’s daughter, who stood awkwardly, wearing a fuchsia frock that did nothing for her sallow complexion. It did not help that she was standing next to perhaps the prettiest girl Darcy had seen thus far in a sky-blue dress that brightened her golden curls and gave the overall impression of a sun against a brilliant horizon.

Bingley stared at this vision in cornflower blue. Darcy frowned and leaned over, knocking a little harder than strictly necessary into his friend.

“Er, yes. Miss Charlotte. Please, Sir Lucas, lead the way.” Darcy watched as Bingley was shown across the room to homely Miss Charlotte in the offensive pink dress. Miss Bingley, who had been quiet until now, sidled up to him with a grim smirk stretched across her face.

“Shall we be quite safe here, Mr. Darcy, do you think?”

He gave a curt nod. On his right, Mrs. Hurst was cajoling her husband into leading her onto the dance floor. Miss Bingley inched closer, twisting her tall figure towards him.

“You did promise me a dance tonight, Mr. Darcy. I have quite the perfect memory, you see.” She said with a flourish, mouth stretching wide into a smile as he held out his hand.

They danced. Darcy felt hot under the intent stares of the entire room and could hear murmurs of “10,000 a year!” and “half of Derbyshire!” whichever way they spun. Miss Bingley snorted, and Mr. Darcy shared her disdain. How garishly gauche of this small town to discuss the personal financials of a stranger–and a gentleman, no less.

The song ended, and they made their bows to one another. He could see in her eyes the hope he would request her hand again but disappointed her with his silence. Instead, he offered his arm to her sister, who had followed them off the floor, which she delightedly accepted.

While Mr. Darcy led Mrs. Hurst out to the center of the room, Elizabeth watched as her new neighbor, a Mr. Bingley escorted her dear friend Charlotte Lucas back to her side. She had never seen her friend as happy as she now was, having been singled out by the handsome new man as his first dance partner. Elizabeth could barely conceal her own broad grin for her friend’s triumph. Poorer and plainer than the Miss Bennets, Charlotte had the disadvantage wherever she was introduced while in company with her prettier friends. Elizabeth thought it entirely unfair: Charlotte was a lovely woman who had cleverness and a care for others that so many of her peers lacked. Also, thought Elizabeth irritably, it wasn’t Charlotte’s fault that long, lean figures with little in the way of curves hadn’t been in fashion for a while now. With her willowy frame and warm fawn coloring, Charlotte always reminded Elizabeth of the woodland nymphs and naiads from Grecian legends.

“Miss Lucas, would you do me the honor of introducing me to your beautiful friends?”

Elizabeth grimaced. Probably unintended by the beaming Mr. Bingley, who now stood diagonal to herself, his use of the word “beautiful” in reference to the Bennet sisters in the proximity of Charlotte always needled their friend. Indeed, Charlotte’s face had drawn in a smidge, but with good humor, she obliged.

“Mr. Bingley, these are the dear friends I was telling you about, Miss Bennet–” Jane curtsied, cheeks coloring prettily, “Miss Elizabeth,” Elizabeth gave a shallow curtsy, “Miss Mary, Miss Kitty, and Miss Lydia” in turn, Elizabeth’s three younger sisters bobbed in greeting, Lydia, who was tall and coltish still, a little clumsily.

“A pleasure,” Bingley cried, bowing to each sister. “Miss Lydia, Miss Lucas informed me this is your first assembly out–how are you enjoying it?” He spoke to the youngest Bennet, but Elizabeth could see his eyes kept darting back to the oldest.

Lydia blinked owlishly. She sent a furtive glance to Elizabeth, who nodded in encouragement.

“Very good, sir. Although, no one ever says how hot it gets in the ballroom. They’d be better off knocking down the walls and letting us waltz out in the pasture. At least then you could hop in a trough if you got too warm.”

“Lydia,” Mary Bennet hissed, looking positively aghast, “hold your tongue.”

She needn’t have worried. Mr. Bingley roared with laughter, startling nearby people on their way to the dance floor.

“Too right you are, Miss Lydia,” Mr. Bingley said, grinning. “I’ve often thought the same.” Then, shooting another conspicuous look at the eldest Bennet sister, he said, “I hope to have the privilege of dancing with each of you this evening, as I’ve rarely seen such an abundance of beauty and good humor. Miss Bennet, are you engaged for the next?”

Only Jane looked surprised at this query. “No, sir, I am not engaged,” she replied quietly. Mr. Bingley was smiling so hard that Elizabeth thought it was a miracle they hadn’t heard a tooth crack.

With some reluctance she returned the small smile Jane had given her as she was escorted onto the dance floor, standing near one of Bingley’s sisters and his tall friend, Darcy.

John Lucas, a younger brother of Charlottes’, approached with a toothy grin and his friend, one of the Goulding men.

“There you are, Charlotte. It was a real treat watching you dance with our new neighbor–how did you find him? Father says he is all kindness and cheeriness.”

“I liked him well enough,” Charlotte murmured, a ghost of a blush dancing across her cheeks.

“More than well enough, I’d rather think, Charlotte,” Kitty Bennet said, her voice alight with mirth. “And why not? So handsome and good-humored–”

“Kitty,” Elizabeth said, her voice light but full of meaning. She could tell her friend liked this Bingley more than she was inclined to let on and wasn’t about to let Charlotte’s tender sensitivities be injured by a sister of hers.

“That is to say, I rather hope he keeps his promise to dance with us all. What fun, don’t you think?” Kitty finished somewhat awkwardly.

“In the meanwhile, you had better dance with us, Miss Kitty,” Mr. Lucas quickly. “Miss Lydia, might I have the next?” He bowed very formally and with a somberness that made Lydia giggle.

“Why, of course, good sir!” Lydia said happily and let herself be whisked onto the dance floor.

“I guess you’re stuck with me, Miss Kitty,” Mr. Goulding said with a wry smile. Kitty grinned and accepted his proffered arm.

It was all very neatly done, Elizabeth thought: Mr. Lucas, a childhood friend of the Bennet girls, would be an inoffensive dance partner for Lydia, and Kitty, slightly older and out two years longer, had the advantage of dancing with almost whomever she pleased without fearing the wrath of–

“Elizabeth Bennet!”

Charlotte, Mary, and Elizabeth turned at the sound of the familiar voice. Mrs. Bennet was storming towards them. Beside her, Elizabeth felt Mary mutter something very close to “Oh heavens,” and back away into the surrounding cluster of onlookers, Charlotte on her heels.

“Mama?”

“What on earth possessed you to permit this?” Mrs. Bennet thundered.

“Permit what, Mama?” Elizabeth asked innocently.

“All…this!” Mrs. Bennet flapped her arms looking very much like an angry bird.

“Mama, I haven’t the pleasure of knowing what you are referring to.”

“Oh, you do try my nerves, Miss Lizzy. You know very well my specific instructions for the night: Kitty may dance with the Lucas men only, Jane with the Lucases, the Gouldings, and the Purvises, and Lydia with no one!”

“What of Mary and me?” Elizabeth asked curiously.

“Mary wouldn’t leave the wall if it kicked her,” Mrs. Bennet said dismissively, “and you have far too much sense to take a fancy to any of these men.”

“Well, Jane could hardly refuse our new neighbor,” Elizabeth volleyed back, ignoring the slight against her middle sister. “And we’ve known John Lucas since we were in leading strings. He’s not going to seduce Lydia.”

“Watch your tongue, child. You have no idea how far men will go when there is money to be had.”

“We are hardly wealthy, Mama. Besides, the men in this neighborhood know very well what you think of them.”

“Don’t be so contrary, Elizabeth; it’s not becoming. You know what I mean.”

Elizabeth smiled and did not say anything more.

“Now, about this Bingley fellow,” her mother began, her eyes wrinkling in concentration, “They say he has 5000 a year, which is nothing to sneeze at, of course, but no property! No estate to his name! No, no, Jane will do better. Now, about his friend–well. I would be very well pleased if Jane could snag him. They would make a handsome couple, besides.

“Mama, people will hear you,” Elizabeth warned, watching as the aforementioned friend of Bingley’s swept past them with his partner.

“He has 10,000 a year, and owns half of Derbyshire, they say. Of course, I was rather hoping that Jane would hold out for a titled gentleman, but I wouldn’t have your father say nay to offer from him.”

“Once you’re done charting Jane’s future,” Elizabeth said irritably, “you might turn your attention to the fact that the friend isn’t the one so taken with Jane. I think Mr. Bingley seems quite pleasant.”

“Oh, pleasant to be sure, my dear, but you wouldn’t want Jane with someone so untethered, would you? Always jumping from one place to the next and all for lack of a proper house.”

“He might very well buy one. That does seem to be his intention given that he is currently at Netherfield and not, say, jumping around from place to place.” At that moment, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley’s sister, a Mrs. Hurst, spun past them. Mr. Darcy shot her and her mother a look of the deepest loathing, which Elizabeth returned in kind. Her mother remained painfully oblivious.

“Of course, darling, but Jane would do much better with someone firmly settled. Perhaps I will ask her dance partner to introduce her to his friend at the end of this set.”

Knowing there was nothing for it, Elizabeth sighed and walked away, dodging one of the Grant brothers, who considered once a month to be a sufficient amount to bathe.

She sat out the next. Mr. Bingley had swapped partners with Mr. Goulding and was now chatting affably with Kitty, though he never seemed to be very far from Jane and Mr. Goulding. Mr. Darcy had left Mrs. Hurst to her husband and was now stalking almost angrily down the length of the room and came to stand not very far from Elizabeth.

My, but he was a dour man! thought she, looking at him from the corner of her eye. She figured it was his purported wealth that made the other Bingley sister, Miss Bingley, follow him around the room almost as closely as her brother followed Elizabeth’s sister. Miss Bingley looked positively affronted when Mr. Grant bowed before her but, to Elizabeth’s delight, could not refuse if she wanted to stand up with Mr. Darcy again.

The set ended, and the hapless Mr. Grant led Miss Bingley to the floor while her brother claimed Jane’s hand again. Elizabeth watched as he said something to her sister and then moved towards Darcy, who was but a few yards away.

“Come, Darcy,” said he, “I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing and stalking about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.”

Darcy replied: “I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable.” He paused, and there was a hint of grim satisfaction as he continued, “Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room, whom it would not be a punishment to stand up with.”

Elizabeth smiled to herself. There went her mother’s great plan to engage Mr. Darcy to Jane.

Bingley looked offended. “I would not be so fastidious as you are,” he said with no real bite, “for a kingdom! Upon my honor, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life, as I have this evening; and,” he said almost as an afterthought, “there are several of them you see uncommonly pretty.” His gaze turned toward Jane. Darcy’s eyes followed his friend’s, narrowing as he replied:

“You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room.”

Elizabeth’s smile slipped. Familiar though it was to play second fiddle to Jane’s beauty, the bluntness of Mr. Darcy’s proclamation still packed a sting.

“Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld!” Mr. Bingley cried, which returned part of Elizabeth’s good humor. “But there is one of her sisters sitting down behind you, who is very pretty, and, I dare say, very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.”

“Which do you mean?”

Elizabeth hastily withdrew her gaze as both men swiveled to examine her.

“She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me” said the taller of the two.

Mr. Bingley had a very uncharacteristic frown on his face as he retreated, but, Elizabeth noted, was quickly replaced by a brilliant smile upon his return to Jane’s side.

Elizabeth felt a hot anger wash over her briefly but, as she was not made for ill humor, stood and was almost immediately entreated to dance by Mr. Lucas, who had just brought Lydia off the dance floor.

Quickly, the story that Miss Elizabeth Bennet had been slighted by Bingley’s friend had circulated around the room, and within half an hour, the offender had been given the cut direct by her mother. Not handsome enough, indeed.

Next Chapter (Chapter Three)

#pride and prejudice #jane austen #elizabeth bennet #mr darcy #fanfiction #fanfic

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