The Five Graces of Longbourn Read online

  The Five Graces of Longbourn

  Olivia Kane

  The Five Graces of Longbourn

  Olivia Kane

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  First edition, January 15, 2019

  Copyright © 2019 Olivia Kane

  Written by Olivia Kane

  Chapter 1

  “What if he is so handsome that you prefer him to Mr. Bingley?” Kitty squealed.

  Jane’s eyes widened in astonishment and she flushed as all her sisters turned to her. “Whether I prefer him to Mr. Bingley is not the question, as he might prefer one of you to me. He might notice you, Mary, with your great knowledge of Fordyce’s Sermons or you, Lizzy, with your cleverness or he might think Kitty or Lydia the sweetest and fall in love with you both.”

  Lydia gasped. “I will feel very sorry for you then, Kitty, to have a younger sister married first, for if he falls in love with both of us I shall surely win him. I have never thought of the possibility of being the first married of all of us, but now that I have, what a triumph it would be. Think of it! In a few weeks you might all be attending to me at my wedding, and I will be walking in first to dinner.”

  Lydia’s conceit was in full bloom.

  “I hope he is tall,” Kitty said dreamily. “Tall and not too dark. I much prefer a gentleman with medium-brown hair—the color of Captain Carter’s hair, I think. Yes, I hope he looks just like Captain Carter, whom I believe is the most handsome officer of my acquaintance.”

  “Of course he will be tall, Kitty,” Lydia admonished her, unable to conceive of a romantic suitor who did not tower over them protectively. “But I prefer tall with golden hair, like Officer Wickham. Although Lizzy will be marrying him, I predict.”

  “Lydia, no. Do not marry me off to Mr. Wickham in your mind. Yes, he is charming but we have only met a few times. And I must warn you all; our suitor may not be as handsome or as tall as we are imagining him to be. Those traits are desirable, but we are not hiring a footman to answer the door. Entering into an engagement requires a deeper connection,” Elizabeth cautioned.

  “Bah,” Lydia scoffed. “That is not how it works. I believe a handsome face is all that is necessary to fall in love,” she insisted. “No one falls in love with a frog-face.”

  “For some young women, a handsome face will suffice. Still, I believe it is necessary to examine a man’s character and actions as thoroughly as possible before allowing one’s self to fall in love. There is no such thing as the perfect man. And, I am sure if he did exist, I should never be so lucky as to meet him,” Elizabeth added.

  “Allow?” Kitty repeated incredulously. “Allow? You cannot help whom you fall in love with, Lizzy. It just happens!”

  “In fact, I am sure to fall in love this afternoon,” Lydia announced. “I am helpless where a handsome face is concerned.” She sighed and looked down at her sewing. “Oh bother, I skipped a stitch.”

  Jane shook her head and with a sweet tone backed up Elizabeth’s admonition.

  “Lizzy is right. We must wait and make our judgments based on his manners and on the kindness of his words and actions. I have thought about this and believe that even if he is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, he must show a sensitivity to our situation for me to esteem him.”

  “So you would throw over Mr. Bingley for him!” Kitty exclaimed.

  “Mr. Bingley and I do not have an understanding, and I don’t know if we ever shall,” Jane said matter-of-factly.

  “But did our suitor not already display the depth of character we are looking for by being exceedingly thoughtful in making his intentions known so that we may prepare ourselves for some type of competition for his affections?” Kitty asked nodding at each of her sisters.

  “And his letter to Pappa was so informative! Think how we admired his penmanship and the evenness of his letters,” Mary reminded them.

  “It was a good letter,” Elizabeth admitted.

  “A man cannot help whom he falls in love with any more than a woman can. We must all prepare ourselves for the possibility that he falls in love with one of us at first sight and she with him. We must make a pact that if that happens then no one here lays claim to his heart based on birth order,” Kitty exclaimed.

  Lydia held her hand to her heart. “I promise.”

  Mary chided her. “Your pledge is meaningless, Lydia. I can already tell that you expect his favor. It is Jane and Elizabeth and Kitty who must promise not to resent you. Your promise is not necessary here.”

  “But I do expect him to fall in love with me and for you all to suffer broken hearts,” Lydia insisted. “I cannot help it. For a man to announce his intentions beforehand to take one of us as his bride is one of the most thoughtful gestures I’ve ever heard. I am convinced that he will be as handsome as he is thoughtful.”

  Jane looked up from her needle. Bickering always made her uncomfortable.

  “What Kitty is trying to say is that whomever he is lucky enough to choose, be it me or Lizzy or Mary or Kitty or you, Lydia, we must not let there be any hard feelings or jealousy between us. We must support each other and wish the lucky bride well.”

  A silence fell over the drawing room as the reality of what Jane was asking sunk in. After a few moments of thoughtful silence, Mary stood up.

  “I promise,” she said solemnly.

  “As do I,” said Kitty, standing up and walking toward Jane, taking her hand in solidarity. Lydia sighed dramatically and scowled, as being unselfish was hard for her.

  “Yes,” Lydia sighed.

  “Yes what?” Mary asked, insisting on clarity.

  “Yes, I promise,” Lydia said unhappily.

  “Lizzy? Aren’t you going to promise too?” Kitty asked, a hint of anxiety in her tone.

  Elizabeth remained fixed at the window where she had unconsciously begun the lookout for their visitor. “Of course I promise. But we are getting ahead of ourselves here. A promise may not be necessary at all. He may not sweep us all off our feet en masse,” she warned.

  “Oh, Lizzy!” Kitty threw up her hands in frustration and sat back down.

  “In fact, we may all universally dislike him, as we did with Mr. Darcy who proved to be very disagreeable from the start,” Elizabeth pointed out.

  “That will not happen in this case,” Kitty insisted. “Although how regrettable it is that a man with ten thousand a year is not more pleasant. I urge you, Jane, to at least put some thought into how you will let Mr. Bingley down. You are minutes away from falling in love anew. You must have a plan.”

  Jane opened her mouth to reply but was overwhelmed by the thought of hurting either gentleman. “Oh dear,” she whispered, her expression one of deep concern. “I had not thought of that.”

  Elizabeth steered the conversation away from Mr. Bingley.

  “Kitty, stop. Leave poor Jane alone. I dare say, Mr. Bingley will fight for Jane’s heart should it come to that. But we have had enough of this talk. We must wait and see and not build this poor man up in our minds lest we be disappointed when he arrives.”

  “Lizzy, you are no fun. Of course we will love Mr. Collins and we will all fight for his attention. You really take the fun out of falling in love,” Lydia whined.

  Elizabeth turned back to stare out the window. A quiet settled over the room, magnifying the ticking of the mantle clock. Every minute brought the arrival of the dashing Mr. Collins that much closer. Her heart was just as hopeful that the love of a good man was imminent, but she could not so easily throw her sense of caution to the wind.

  “Let us be prudent and wait and see. That is all I am advising,” Elizabeth added.

  So it was w
ith much anticipation that, an hour later, the Bennet family stood in their drawing room as Mr. Collins’ borrowed coach rolled past their windows and stopped in front of their door. Kitty and Lydia had changed into their newest frocks; Mary insisted he make her initial acquaintance without any artifice on her part. Jane, newly terrified of breaking Mr. Bingley’s heart, had not put much effort at all into enticing Mr. Collins beyond pinching her cheeks, and Elizabeth made even less effort, instead spending her time deeply engrossed in the final chapter of her novel until she was forced to close it and rise in anticipation.

  Mr. Collins had arrived.

  With a great flurry of doors opening and shutting, Mr. Bennet led Mr. Collins into the drawing room. Immediately upon their suitor entering, five hopes were crushed, for the dashing, romantic hero with the shock of thick wavy hair, cleft in his chin, and twinkle in his eye failed to manifest. In his stead stood a heavy young man with a bulbous nose, a disproportionate fullness to his lips, and curly hair that framed his flushed face in feminine ringlets. Beads of perspiration were visible on his brow.

  Elizabeth struggled to stifle a laugh as she considered the fallen faces of her sisters.

  There would be no fight over Mr. Collins.

  Lydia, always impulsive, could not stave off her disappointment with the same mature reserve as her elder sisters. Upon taking in the whole of Mr. Collins, she sighed loudly, turned to look at Elizabeth and blurted out, “Oh for goodness sakes, Lizzy! Why do you always have to be right?”

  Chapter 2

  “The five graces of Longbourn!” Mr. Collins gushed. “I feel I am not out of bounds in describing your daughters as such,” he cried out as he bowed deeply to Mrs. Bennet and then looked each Bennet girl up and down in a very pointed appraisal of their faces and figures.

  “How do you do, Mr. Collins?” Mrs. Bennet greeted him with a practiced civility.

  So here was the man who was to inherit Longbourn upon the death of her beloved husband!

  A ghoul was the word she normally used to describe him in lower moments. However, once his chivalrous intent of marrying one of her daughters was nobly expressed, his existence became slightly more tolerable. Then, in the ensuing days between his declaration and his arrival, his status rose considerably to the point where she now considered him the heaven-sent answer to her many prayers. He had only to select his bride and the preservation of Longbourn would be complete.

  Yet upon setting her gaze upon his thoroughly forgettable form, quick revisions to Mrs. Bennet’s established plans were required. Jane, she immediately decided, would not be throwing off all the advantages that Bingley and Netherfield Park could provide. Instead, one of her other girls would be pushed forward—Elizabeth or Kitty or Mary or Lydia. It didn’t matter which; she would let Mr. Collins have his pick.

  “Please, have a seat,” Mr. Bennet said, motioning his guest toward the interior of the room. Mr. Collins lowered his body like an anchor upon the center of the sofa. The Bennet girls scattered like mice and the quickest was rewarded with a seat on the chair positioned furthest from Mr. Collins. Lydia won, grabbing the solitary wingback angled away from the rest of the room. Jane and Elizabeth successfully landed on the two-seat settee directly across from their visitor. Mary and Kitty, having lost the contest, were resignedly forced to join Collins on the sofa, one on either side. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet took the seats always reserved for them in front of the hearth.

  Once the activity of sitting down was completed, an awkward silence settled upon the group. Jane, Elizabeth, Kitty, Mary, and Lydia made it a point to look everywhere but at Mr. Collins. Mr. Bennet cocked his head to the side and noted the time on the mantle clock. He would allot himself seven minutes to exchange the necessary small talk with their guest before retreating back to the sanctity of his library. Mr. Collins was free to marry any of his daughters, except for his Lizzy. Her future happiness required a partner whose intelligence and wit were a match to hers; Mr. Collins, he could immediately discern, lacked both.

  From her perch, Mrs. Bennet stared with animal intensity at Mr. Collins’ every move. She noted that his gaze went to Jane immediately and lingered there. She also noted a flush to his cheeks when he looked at her pretty eldest daughter. His glances at her remaining daughters were less direct and of a shorter duration.

  “I trust you have comfortable rooms at the Meryton Arms?” Mr. Bennet inquired.

  “Yes, I am quite content there, as it is my way to find contentment wherever the good Lord places me,” he replied.

  “Well I hope the good Lord gave you rooms in the back,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Less street noise.”

  “Yes, He did, thank you. This is a lovely room,” Mr. Collins complimented, his gaze traveling the room’s length and breadth as if calculating its dimensions.

  “Thank you, Mr. Collins,” Mrs. Bennet replied, fully conscious that it was all to be his property one day. “It has long been a source of comfort to our family to gather here in the afternoon and we hope to continue to do so long into the future.”

  “Is that a western exposure I am facing?” he inquired, squinting as he peered out the tall window.

  “Yes,” Mr. Bennet said. “We sacrificed the afternoon sun in here so as not to get it in the dining room in the summer months.” Exposure was a topic he might happily contribute to without feeling indigestion.

  “Then I am in danger of having the sun in my eyes from this vantage point. May I suggest the rearrangement of all the furniture so that this sofa faces north instead? My esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, always arranges her rooms so that no prime seat is subject to the afternoon sun. I have taken her advice in the layout of my own parlor. I sit very comfortably without ever enduring the negative effects of direct sunlight in my face.”

  Mrs. Bennet bristled at the suggestion. “We have draperies, Mr. Collins. Expensive draperies, which can be drawn by the staff should the light become uncomfortable.”

  Mr. Collins was not convinced.

  “Still, in anticipation of the sun hitting my eyes in the next few moments, may I be so bold as to switch seats with you, Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”

  Jane, who was to be the unlucky victim of this change, clutched Elizabeth’s arm in an attempt to prevent any rearrangement of the party. Elizabeth exchanged a quick glance of alarm with Jane while Kitty and Mary lit up at the prospect.

  Trained to seek the comfort of her guests, Elizabeth rose but Jane, who continued to clutch Elizabeth’s arm, stood up just as rapidly.

  “Don’t trouble yourself, Lizzy,” Jane spoke hastily. “I will happily exchange seats with you, Mr. Collins.”

  “But it is no trouble at all,” Elizabeth insisted. “I am happy to switch.”

  “No, Lizzy, I am the eldest. I will switch,” Jane countered.

  “Lizzy, sit down,” Mrs. Bennet snapped. “Jane, you will switch seats with Mr. Collins, please, that’s a good girl.” Jane’s interests needed protection, Mrs. Bennet promptly concluded; Elizabeth had no such need.

  Jane smiled with relief and scurried over to the vacant seat, nestling in-between Kitty and Mary. Both girls inched toward the center and leaned into Jane happily.

  Mr. Collins, whose sole purpose in switching seats was to be closer to Jane, realized too late that he had been outsmarted. He had no choice but to settle next to Elizabeth, who inched as far away from him as the confines of the small settee would allow.

  Satisfied that she had rescued Jane, albeit only momentarily, Mrs. Bennet began her inquiry. “Mr. Collins, tell us about your life in Kent. You have a comfortable home there?”

  “Yes. I live in the parsonage at Hunsford, a living I am granted by Lady Catherine, whose magnificent estate Rosings Park is situated most conveniently nearby. It is with her urging that I traveled here to Longbourn, as she very much wishes for me to take a wife. As the society in the neighborhood surrounding Rosings is very fine, she urged me to seek a partner with lower connections, elsewhere. When I spoke to her of your family and the, sha
ll we say, delicate situation here, she encouraged me to take time off to pursue my future life partner.” He kept his gaze fixed on Jane as he spoke.

  The implied insult spurred Mr. Bennet to vacate the drawing room.

  He stood up and said, “I will leave you here, as I have a meeting tomorrow with my accounts man for which I must prepare. Mr. Collins, one day it will be your sorry fate to have to leave pleasant conversations such as this for the call of duty,” he chuckled, making a small bow and bolting out of the room swiftly before Mr. Collins could formulate a reply.

  Mrs. Bennet silently observed her husband’s speedy exit and turned back to Mr. Collins. His attentions to Jane, while perfectly predictable, required her redirection.

  “Yes, yes, Mr. Collins!” Mrs. Bennet said. “I am sure Rosings Park is very grand; most estates are. We also have beautiful properties in Hertfordshire. Jane will most likely be the mistress of one of them. Netherfield Park, not three miles from here. It was recently let by the most engaging man who has had his eye on my Jane from the moment they met, much to the chagrin of the mothers of other eligible daughters here in Meryton and about.”

  “Oh dear, I am most sorry to hear that,” Mr. Collins stammered, a red flush rapidly spreading across his full cheeks.

  “Yes, it is quite unfortunate for you, Mr. Collins, as your timing is a tad off the mark. Should you have come to Longbourn earlier, you might very well have snared her, but at the present moment I must inform you that Jane is taken.”

  She nodded her head as if convincing herself of the truth. Then she smiled gaily and spoke cheerily, “But I have four other daughters, each considered very handsome in their own way, to tempt you.”

  Ignoring her redirection, Mr. Collins rubbed his chin.

  “Netherfield Park? Although I have no knowledge of it, I am convinced that it must pale in comparison to the spectacular beauty of Rosings. To give you a sense of its grandeur…” he paused for a moment to ensure that he had the attention of the room. Once assured, he went on, “The chimneypiece alone cost 800 pounds. That, I can assure you, is a sum not often spent on construction anywhere, even in Kent. I highly doubt that Netherfield Park can compare.”