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It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.
Suddenly, Mr. Bennet addressed her directly. "I hope Mr. Bingley will like it, Lizzy." He referred to the hat she was employed in trimming.
"We are not in a way to know what Mr. Bingley likes, since we are not to visit him at Netherfield." Mrs. Bennet sounded resentful.
Kitty coughed. "Mamma, Mrs. Long promised to introduce him."
"I do not believe Mrs. Long will do any such thing. She has two nieces of her own. She is a selfish, hypocritical woman, and I have no opinion of her." The sharp severe tone to Mrs Bennet return shook Elizabeth.
"No more have I, and I am glad to find that you do not depend on her serving you." Mr. Bennet said whilst nodding in agreement.
Mrs. Bennet did not reply. Instead, she scolded one of her daughters. "Do not keep coughing so, Kitty, for Heaven's sake! Have a little compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces."
"Kitty has no discretion in her coughs, she times them ill." Mr. Bennet complained.
"I do not cough for my own amusement," replied Kitty fretfully. "When is your next ball to be, Lizzy?"
Elizabeth was aware of their gaze upon her.
"In two weeks tomorrow," Mrs. Bennet answered when Elizabeth did not. "And Mrs. Long will not know him herself. She does not come back till the day before; so it will be impossible for her to introduce him."
"Then, my dear, you may have the advantage of your friend, and introduce Mr. Bingley to her."
"Impossible, Mr. Bennet, impossible. I cannot do the introductions when I am not acquainted with him myself. How can you be so teasing?"
"Indeed, two week's acquaintance is certainly very little. One needs to know a man longer than that if one is to know him at all." Reclining backwards, Mr. Bennet stretched his arms open wide and smiled. "And if we do not venture to know him, somebody else will. All of the mothers are seeking the best marriage for their daughters."
All the Bennet women in the room stared at the man. There must be some point for him to state as a matter of fact that which they all knew. Every mother was indeed seeking the very best match for their daughters, and eligible gentlemen seemed in short supply.
After a minute of suspense, Mr. Bennet leaned forward. "What do you say, young Mary? For you are a young lady of deep reflection, I know, I'd like to hear your thoughts."
At eighteen years, in order of age, Mary was the middle of the five Bennet daughters. Seemingly struck silent, she wished to say something sensible but knew not how.
"While Mary collects her ideas let us return to Mr. Bingley," Mr. Bennet continued.
"I am sick of Mr. Bingley." Mrs. Bennet sighed with a shrug of her shoulders.
"I am sorry to hear that; but why did not you tell me that before? If I had known as much this morning, I certainly would not have called on him. It is very unlucky; but as I have actually paid the visit, we cannot escape the acquaintance now."
The take of breath was audible, the astonishment, palpable.
It took a good minute or two before anyone spoke and Mrs. Bennet did so with a smile. "I knew it. I had expected it all the while. I was sure you loved your girls too well to neglect such an important acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am. And it is such a good joke, too, that you should have gone this morning and never said a word about it till now."
Elizabeth thought she detected a hint of insincerity in Mrs. Bennet's words. The mother wanted to be in control of the daughters' fates. Mrs. Bennet did not appear content to leave their fates in the hands of her husband.
With a broad smile on his face, Mr. Bennet rose from his chair and walked towards the door. "Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you choose," he said as he left the room.
"What an excellent father you have, girls! For your sakes, girls, your father and I would do anything. Lydia, my love, though you are the youngest, I dare say Mr. Bingley will dance with you at the next ball."
"Oh!" said Lydia stoutly, "I am not afraid; for though I am the youngest, I am the tallest." Lydia was a proper fearless fifteen-year-old.
They spent the rest of the evening in conjecture. How soon would Mr. Bingley return Mr. Bennet's visit? When should they ask him to join them for dinner at their home in the village of Longbourn?
Every woman and girl joined in this conversation.