Jane Bennet the Fifth

By Jeanette D

Chapter 1

Posted on Monday, 8 August 2005

At the close of the 17th century Richard Bennet, the master of Longbourn, lost his beloved wife, Jane Lucinda. This hurt the man deeply, but he took his solace in his two children, his son Montgomery Bennet and especially his daughter, Jane Lucinda, Jr. But soon his long life began to come to a close, and he saw that he would join his dear Jane soon, he decided that their should always be a Jane Bennet in the halls of Longbourn, and he made an irrevocable change in his will-that the estate could only be inherited by a male, or by a girl named Jane. His line of reasoning was that his male descendents would be smart enough to name their eldest daughters Jane, in case that there were no male children. So old Richard Bennet patted himself on the back for his cleverness, and passed on quietly in his sleep.

When Mr. Montgomery Bennet's second child arrived as a daughter, he named her Jane Lucinda III, more out of respect for his father and love of his mother and sister than the stipulation in the will. After the next generation, it became something of a tradition, so when the eldest child of Richard's great-grandson Edward was revealed to be a girl, the current master of Longbourn named her Jane Lucinda Bennet V. This was more out of respect for his sense of humor than tradition, for he found the reason for the tradition very amusing indeed. This turned out to be a wise decision, because four children later, the Bennets had not yet had a son.

When hope had failed of having a son, Mrs. Bennet did not despair so terribly; even if her younger daughters did not have much, her eldest had quite a fortune! An estate of two thousand pounds a year, and a family fortune of twenty thousand was all to go to her, which made Mrs. Bennet quite pleased indeed. She also decided, early on, that she should save as much as possible, for more money to go to her eldest, and enough to give to her younger daughters. Through investments and her brother's connections in trade, she and Mr. Bennet were able to keep their daughters in fashion, and bring the family fortune to thirty thousand. Jane, it was assumed, would help her sisters, since the condition in her father's will did not allow more for them.

It soon came to be a few weeks before Jane's twenty-first year of age, and she had not yet decided to marry. Since she was, comparatively, one of the wealthiest girls in the neighborhood, she had had her share of suitors, and her share of proposals, but had accepted none of them. She thought all of the gentlemen very amiable and good-tempered; but she did not pretend that she loved them, and was very polite when turning them down.

Mrs. Bennet was not so anxious when she reflected on this; of course her daughter had a right to be choosy, but she was worried about the selection of wealthier men in the neighborhood. The men who had shown interest were not the sort Mrs. Bennet would have liked; attorneys and doctors, but Mrs. Bennet began to get nervous that Jane would be an old maid by the time a wealthy gentleman came into the neighborhood- but lo and behold, by Michelmas, Mr. Bingley arrived! And this Mr. Bingley had five thousand a year! This of course made Mrs. Bennet quite ecstatic, and if he would have her, she could die quite happily.

On the morning of the Netherfield assembly Elizabeth Bennet sat embroidering with her sister, and was musing about this Mr. Bingley who had come into the neighborhood. If this Mr. Bingley fulfilled all of her mother's hopes, that was a good thing to be sure; but what of Jane's wishes?

"Jane?" Jane turned her head to acknowledge her sister, "What exactly is it you hope for in a husband?" Jane cocked her head in surprise.

"Why, Lizzy," she asked, "Why do you ask?"

Elizabeth smiled a little, "Well, with all this speculation of Mr. Bingley, I wondered what you hoped he would be like?" Jane's mouth opened in surprise, then she began to laugh.

"Well I'm not sure what I hope for in Mr. Bingley, but in a husband..." She trailed off, lost in thought, " I hope for amiability, generosity, ease in good company ... and a man who..."

"Who?" Elizabeth was very curious now, and she urged her along.

She pierced her fabric with the needle, and looked down at her hands. Her long, graceful fingers twisted themselves nervously, "Lizzy, I should hope ... I should truly like ... to marry for love."

"And so you shall; you of all of us shall not have to worry; you are free to marry for love, for you have all the money!" Jane chuckled nervously, but Elizabeth knew why she was cautious. Of all of their sisters, she was given the most attention because she was the richest, and the other sisters were neglected as, technically, they were to inherit nothing. She had long ago realized that the gentleman's attentions to her were not all genuine, and while her sweet disposition could not think ill of them, she could not keep herself from suspicion, and while Elizabeth thought this was a justified feeling, Jane thought it was a terrible vice. Elizabeth could tell that the vice weighed on her sister's heart terribly.

Jane hurried to change the subject, to cover her nervousness. "And you, Lizzy, what do you hope for in a husband?"

Elizabeth looked up and bit her tongue in mock thoughtfulness, "Tall, dark, handsome, and very rich!" The two sisters laughed and the conversation was very nearly forgotten.

Three miles away, in an estate called Netherfield, two gentlemen were playing billiards, and the dark haired man was winning. He knocked the five and three ball into the right corner pocket, and stood up to gauge how much force was need to knock in the eight ball. His companion still had the eleven, the thirteen, the nine, and the ten. The first couple of his share had been knocked in when the balls were broken.

"I say, Darcy," said the blonde, dejectedly, "This is quite possibly the most crushing defeat I've ever had."

"Bingley, my friend, you cannot become good at any game unless you practice; and I never see you pick up a cue unless you are challenged to a game. It is probably why you are challenged to billiards so often. You should learn to turn this game down; as the gentlemen of London learned long ago not to challenge you to cards. They lost too much money playing against you."

"Yes," Mr. Bingley sighed, "I am afraid you are quite right. Cards are so much easier to play..." Mr. Bingley thought to change the subject, he wasn't a man to talk about his own talents, "I've heard there were a great many reputed beauties in the neighborhood. I hope you aren't going to be as much of a bore at the assembly next week as you are in London gatherings. You tend to be so reserved at such things."

Darcy groaned, "Don't you ever tire of women fawning over you for your money?"

Bingley grinned mischievously, "Why do you think I keep your company? You draw all the attention!" Darcy chuckled a bit at that, and Bingley continued, a bit more seriously, "I know not all women are genuine, but it is no excuse to be uncivil."

"I find it best not to give encouragement."

"Yes Darcy, but remember, you are the only one that is able to propose! Now, there is supposedly a family of five sisters not three miles away--"

"Bingley, I am not interested in hearing how many ladies are going to be ingratiating themselves to me on Saturday." With that, he knocked the eight ball into the centerpocket and left the room, leaving an exasperated Bingley. He began to retrieve the balls from their hiding places in the pockets, and line them up on the table for another game. He reflected thoughtfully on the previous conversation.

"I know Darcy cannot stand such false behavior," he thought, "But doesn't he think that the ladies here might be little different? They might not be as obsessed with money as the ladies in town." He winced as he thought of his sisters. Bingley knew that Darcy was getting very close to knocking Caroline upside the head one of these days. He wished he could stand up to his sisters more often, but he had always been the boy in the middle, and tended not to speak up.

"I have to agree with father, Mrs. Rogers spoiled Caroline..." Charles Bingley's mother had died when Caroline was quite young, and the elder Mr. Michael Bingley had never thought of remarrying. Instead he hired a Governess, Mrs. Rogers, who he did not realize had such mercenary ideals. "He would have let her go, had Caroline not thrown such tantrums." He shook his head. He had rather not think about his family, and though he loved them all, he wondered if there were a family any stranger. "I'm due to visit Aunt Maria ... won't that be a joy ... I think I've got Darcy beat when it comes to senile aunts ... Lady Catherine doesn't think that St. George and Queen Guenivere live in her coach house..."

With a few more parting mumbles, Charles Bingley headed upstairs to bed, and passed a parting glance at Darcy's room, wondering what his friend was thinking...

Inside, Darcy was staring out at the Netherfield grounds thinking of the events of the previous months. The memory of Wickham's most recent sin was too fresh in his mind.

"The b******! Of all atrocities to commit, he would manipulate a girl who trusts him as she would a brother!" He was sure he had something to do with what led him to Mrs. Younge in the first place. The recommendation had come from the butler from his London townhouse, whom Darcy later had to release when he was caught stealing Darcy's mother's best silver service. If that shouldn't have made him suspicious, he could only scream at himself for being so blind.

He had long been reminding himself that now was the time to finally start thinking about a wife; to find someone who could be a mother to Georgiana. He had, in fact been observing the ladies of the ton to see if any of them caught his eye. But he could not stand the sycophantic women who agreed with his every word simply due to his landed name and vast fortune. All of these virtues seemed to be epitomized in the form of Miss Bingley, whose hopes in landing him as a husband were obvious. Did he want that sort of mercenary behavior to rub off on Georgiana? He needed to find a woman whose mind was not about money or fashion, who could teach Georgiana what life should really be about.

"Is Bingley right? Could I find such a woman here?" He doubted that. In all likelihood, poorer women are most likely worse, as they are more desperate. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, and made ready for bed. Nevertheless, he would keep an eye out.

"But no dancing, not if I can help it." He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, and made ready for bed.

Over the next week it was almost unbearable at Longbourn. If not for Jane's company, the long week of rain would have driven Lizzy mad. With out an opportunity to walk and clear her head, the buzzings of her sisters in her ears was stockpiling within the cavity between, 'til she could scarcely think!

On the very last afternoon before the Assembly, the goings-on were climaxing:

"Mama, why does Lydia receive a new gown? I do not see how she has grown very much-she is still only as tall as me!"

"Yes, yes, Kitty, but she has grown in other directions, and you are still the same!"

"There, Kitty, she said it her self: I have grown far more womanly than you!"

"Just because your chest is larger than mine means that you are more of a woman-Mary acts as if she is near forty already and she has no chest to speak of!"

"I care not..." cut in the older sister, "I know that those of higher mind think little of measurements of the flesh; and I also know that if I had a bosom as large as Lydia's it would get in the way of my practice at the pianoforte."

"That must be why Lizzy never practices-her arms must never be able to reach around to the keys!" the mother and three sisters burst into giggles, and Lizzy thought it best to leave the room before they pulled out the measuring tape. She evacuated to her father's library. At the exasperated look on her face, he gave a little smirk and inquired as to the reason for the interruption.

"You had best not ask. As a male you may be uncomfortable with the discussion."

"Lace and shoe roses?"

"Not quite, Papa." Lizzy turned to a newly-purchased parcel of books and picked up the volume on the top. Her eyebrow raised at the title,

"Origin of the Species? What is this about?"

"It is a new scientific work by a fellow name Darwin. It's causing quite a controversy-those who believe it say it renders the Bible obsolete."

"You are not a man of science, my good sir, why start now?"

"Read it, Lizzy, and you shall see where the controversy lies. She flipped it open to the first couple of pages and started to read. When she looked up from the astounding words, she saw that the rain had stopped, and took the book outside to finish.

Chapter 2

Posted on Wednesday, 7 September 2005

On the night of the Assembly she stood with Jane, Charlotte Lucas, and her mother, as she and her sister were without partners. Kitty and Lydia were dancing with two nameless boys, and Mary sat speaking, or perhaps lecturing, to their Aunt Phillips. Their mother was agonizing over why Mr. Bingley could be late.

"Oh where could he be? I hope he has not had trouble on the way! Oh dear! What if the rain has washed out the road? Or what of highway robbers? Good heavens above, can he be dead?" But just before Mrs. Bennet was about to give herself an aneurysm so she could go and scold Mr. Bingley for not living long enough to even meet her daughter, lo and behold in walked the man himself!

Lizzy stood on her tip-toes for a moment, just to get good look at him. He looked like a very pleasant man, with a very sweet, broad smile and kind eyes. His hair was a sandy blonde and seemed to have a natural curl; and he was quite tall compared to the local men at the Assembly, though not as tall as the man who stood beside him.

She raised a humored eyebrow at the other gentleman. He was very handsome indeed; with dark hair and deep eyes, but he looked on at the local company with a thinly veiled look of contempt. "He stands so stiffly, as if bound to a lamppost."

Mr. Darcy stared out rather blindly at the assembly, rather unaware that he looked as if he was reliving the most vulgar nighttime gathering since the young men in his college dormitory had performed an impromptu Titus Andronicus in the University courtyard. He barely remembered; it involved a few pigs, lots of ale, and quite a lot of real blood. Only the pigs made it out without a scratch.

Suffice to say, Fitzwilliam Darcy had had an unpleasant day. Going over his letters, he first read Georgiana's. She made out in words as if she was perfectly fine, but he noticed the droop of her capitals and lettering, meaning she was the opposite-- perfectly miserable. He had tried to convince Bingley to let him go to Town to see her, which Charles had been perfectly willing to do. But of course Miss Bingley had overheard, and said "Why not bring Georgiana here? It would be wonderful to have her-- we would much prefer her over what is sure to be tedious company!"

And of course, Miss Bingley would not be dissuaded, objecting in the loudest terms possible that Georgiana should come here if she is not in good spirits; the country air and the company of her close friends, the Bingley sisters, would improve her very quickly. Darcy agreed just to shut her up, and went upstairs to write a letter to Georgiana, telling her to join him. He missed her too much, and didn't want to leave Bingley alone with his irritating sisters and a large estate on his inexperienced hands. He and Georgiana would just have to suffer Miss Bingley, and comfort themselves with each other and Charles.

That afternoon he tried his best to escape Miss Bingley, but she had finally figured out the layout of her labyrinthine new home, and now knew the best places to find him. Her almost incessant company had given him an intense headache; maybe one of the migraines physicians spoke of these days. It had not gone away, and now he was in a loud, booming assembly. So he continued to stare out into the assembly without any real notion of where he was and the expression on his face. He barely realized he was following Bingley and a very red-faced man.

"And you, sir! Have you come eager to dance as your friend has!"

The noise was loud and shrill. His mind could barely register it as a coherent sentence. "Thank you, madam. I rarely dance."

"Well, then let this be one of the occasions, then! For I doubt you'll ever find--" He didn't listen to the shrill sound any longer. He made his way out of the room for some fresh air.

He wasn't sure how the next few hours passed. Darcy just tried to reconcile the noise in the room and the throbbing pain in his head. He remembered dancing with Bingley's sisters and then standing to the side near some chairs when Bingley approached him.

"Come Darcy, I must have you dance. I won't have you standing about in this stupid manner..."

Darcy remembered arguing. He remembered saying something very cutting, and Bingley walking away. And then, like a burst of clean Derbyshire air amid this smoke and wine and sweat, a woman walked past. A beauty with chestnut hair and lively eyes. And then the migraine was gone.

He watched as she walked over to another woman whom she spoke to for a moment, and then they burst into lively laughter. He briefly wondered what was so humorous.

That night after her evening chat with Jane, Lizzy couldn't help but lay there boiling with anger. Who did Darcy think he is? Tolerable? She didn't pretend she was any great beauty, but not handsome enough to tempt him? She'd made light of it earlier, but in reality there was a deep sting. Her mother's comments throughout her life had left more wounds then she'd ever wanted to admit. But she had never thought to hear such insults from a complete stranger! She drifted off to sleep eventually, but it was a restless night.

Not three miles away, Darcy stood against the mantle of Netherfield, wondering who the young woman who walked past him was. That horrible migraine had passed just as she walked by.

"I heard Eliza Bennet described as a great local beauty. What say you Mr. Darcy?"

"Elizabeth Bennet?" Darcy thought. He wasn't sure-- that loud, tall girl in her teens who would dance with anything with legs? "I should as soon call her mother a wit."

"Oh, Mr. Darcy you are too cruel!"

"Well, I hope no one has anything to say about Miss Jane Bennet." Bingley sat back into his chair and sighed. "The most beautiful creature I have ever beheld."

Miss Bingley rolled her eyes. "You've said that several times tonight, Charles."

"A rather lucky creature," mused Mrs. Hurst. "to be inheriting her father's estate. It's not very grand from what I understand, but it stands at two thousand pounds a year. She would never have to marry." Louisa almost sounded wistful.

"I thought there was some sort of condition to the will. Something she or her father was required to do?" asked Caroline.

"Well, her grandfathers were noted eccentrics, from what I understand." inserted Mr. Bingley. "And I doubt you could hold that against her."

"Of course not, Charles!" reassured his younger sister. "I find her a lovely girl." Caroline then rolled her eyes, "But the mother!"

Mr. Bingley couldn't respond to that. He glanced up at Darcy, who was staring thoughtfully into the fire. His friend was certainly acting strange tonight.

"Ready to turn in, Darcy?"

"Er ... yes. I am quite fatigued." The two friends left the sisters to chatter and Mr. Hurst to snore.

"You, know Darcy, I'm rather disappointed. I thought you were going to make an effort to be sociable. There were many pleasant young women... some uncommonly pretty."

Darcy's mind flashed back to the beautiful woman who walked past him, who snapped him out of the migraine. "What makes you think I didn't think so?"

Bingley turned and looked at him as if he'd grown another head, and then did his best impression of his friend and repeated what Darcy had said in reference to the second Miss Bennet, who had then walked past to join her friend Charlotte Lucas. Darcy looked substantially horrified.

"I said that?"

"Yes, you did! Do you not recall?"

"I do not! I had the worst of headaches this evening ... I barely even realized I was at a ball!"

"Then, why did you even bother to come? I would have been able to keep Caroline happy enough on my own."

They had reached Darcy's room, "If I had not been there to attract all the attention, you would not have had the time to enjoy Miss Bennet's charms. Good night, my friend."

"Good night, Will." Mr. Bingley shook his head. Fitzwilliam Darcy needed to learn how to care for himself before others.

Fitzwilliam Darcy sat in his room in blissful quiet. He had no idea he had behaved so abominably. And the vision who had walked past-the second Miss Bennet, apparently, whose name he did not know; he had insulted her hideously and she had probably heard! He felt like an oaf. Darcy drifted off to sleep eventually, but it was a restless night.

Bingley shut the door behind him. He leaned back and rested his head against the door, sighing in happiness. Jane. Jane Bennet. Jane Lucinda Bennet. Jane Lucinda Bennet the Fifth. That was his angel's name. He must have met her merely hours ago, but he felt as if he'd known her all his life. He chuckled when he recounted the story of her name. She had told him when he inquired why she was the fifth Jane Bennet.

"My grandfathers were noted eccentrics," She had said, "and the rest family can be quite singular as well" She had blushed, as if embarrassed.

"I know the feeling," Mr. Bingley had replied. "I have an aunt who confuses me with Sir Galahad quite often." And then they had laughed and spoken no more of mad family, but spent the most wonderful evening together.

"I don't think I've ever met anyone so ... perfect in all my life."

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