Suddenly Mrs. Darcy

Chapter One

                The excitement rendered to our household by the arrival in the neighbourhood of Mr Bingley and his party had been great. I have wondered since whether over-excitement caused by his leasing the nearby manor at Netherfield Park was at the root of what then took place. Whatever the truth, the introduction of a rich and single gentleman, ready to smile and dance, had quite kicked up the dust of our lives. Excitement would have ensued whether or not he had a preference for my sister Jane. But as it was, he had taken immediate notice of her beauty and goodness, and our mother was in raptures. The rest of Mr Bingley’s party had been the fly in the ointment from the start. His sisters, Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst, were ladies of fashion, more pleased with themselves than what they saw. His friend Mr Darcy was as haughty as he was disagreeable. It was said he was very rich, but this seemed to one and all to be small consolation for a sour disposition. They looked at us and our little community and found us wanting. I found each of the sisters and Mr Darcy studying me on occasion but did not particularly wonder at their reasons. I was too thrilled for Jane, and I was invigorated, as we all were, by the prospect of things happening.

                When Jane took ill at Netherfield Hall, I had an opportunity to see more of our new neighbours. The news reached our family that Jane was abed with a fever after she had taken supper with Mr Bingley’s sisters, so I walked across the fields to her aid. I am a strong walker and think nothing of three miles on a familiar path when my sister is poorly at the other end. I detected some reticence at my appearance from the ladies of the household and Mr Darcy, but I did not think on it. During my stay, I had a number of uncomfortable exchanges with Mr Darcy and often found him glancing in my direction. He and I communicated only by way of disagreement, and I began to feel that our being together in the same room was a punishment for everyone else present. Any discussion between us seemed to descend inexorably into an argument. We were discordant notes trapped briefly in the same tune. We were not friends, and I did not seek his approval any more than he sought mine. Apart from this reflection, I did not think about him at all. Blessedly, Jane was recovered in three days, and we were home.

                No sooner did Mr Bingley and his household establish themselves at Netherfield than the regiment arrived among us and quartered themselves at Meryton. Suddenly, our village was crawling with redcoats, and all of us, particularly my younger sisters Kitty and Lydia, were in raptures. In this way, Mr Wickham came to be among us. He was, I thought privately, the handsomest officer of the regiment and very agreeable. His easy manners put all at leisure with him, and his conversation flowed naturally. I was quite taken with him and flattered he always sought me out. In one of our earliest conversations, he had told me of his connection to Mr Darcy and their growing up together on Mr Darcy’s family estate in Derbyshire: Mr Darcy as son and heir, and Mr. Wickham as the son of old Mr Darcy’s steward. Mr Wickham had played as a child with Mr Darcy, but in adulthood, Mr Darcy had done him a great wrong. Mr Darcy’s father was godfather to Mr Wickham and favoured him greatly. The old man funded his godson’s education and planned for him to enter the church. However, when old Mr Darcy died, his son refused to honour his father’s request that Mr Wickham have a living within his gift. Such injustice had forced Mr Wickham into the military life, but he was as sanguine as he was charming and seemed to rise above the spite of Mr Darcy. I admired him greatly and could not be in his company enough.

                To this ferment was added the visit to Longbourn of our cousin Mr Collins. Older than his years and lengthy in his conversation, Mr Collins is a clergyman who shall inherit Longbourn on our father’s death. I have never troubled myself with the origins or mechanics of the entail. It is simply a fact of our lives that, when our father dies, our home shall become the property of a distantly related stranger. His arrival at Longbourn was to disabuse us all of any mystery or romance that may previously have attached to him. He had not been with us for ten minutes before we were all assured he talked far too much and thought far too little. He flattered where flattery was neither necessary nor welcome. In relation to his parish patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, we were left in no doubt of her wealth, prestige, and condescension towards him. He had spoken in his letter to my father of looking to make amends to us for the injury he would ultimately do us by inheriting our home. I was, therefore, alarmed and disquieted to find him on a number of occasions looking in my direction, tilting his greasy head, and creasing his face in a smile.