I must apologize, for even I know the proper way that a story must unfold. I have thrust my family before you, and given you no history to justify them, despite the importance of the action. For without history, can you care about what has occurred in our lives? I have let the breaking of important news from the outside world get ahead of the information to explain why we are this way, within, and it will not do. No, it will not do at all. Whatever my flaws, and my tendency to be second or third, or even fourth, in everything, I will attempt to tell you of my life in the best way that it could be told.
I was born the fourth of five daughters to Mr. Nathaniel and Mrs. Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn estate, in Hertfordshire, England, in the year 1793. My father was born the only son who inherited the estate and was given the role of a gentleman. Our mother, however, was not a gentleman’s daughter, or a ‘lady’ in the proper sense, but she was a great beauty in her youth. Her catching our father was quite the success for her, and I dare say that there probably was much love in the case—they were in love when I was a child. However, as it is quite apparent now, their love has sunken into a place of aggravating indifference on both their parts. Sometimes, it is even open disdain. Being two people of such different worlds, dispositions, and levels in life, would naturally lead to one of two outcomes: a passionate romance or an eventual mistake.
Mentally and verbally, our father was Mother’s superior. But she had him beat with her vibrancy of youth and confidence. One was all mind and the other was all spirit. Their different natures, which naturally could have augmented each other, only clashed. I know they were once in love, however. That was fact!
I say this due to the number of us. If a man and woman rise to the occasion of having five children, then clearly, they attempted to have children very often, until that opportunity became impossible to them.
The first of us to be born was Jane, who was my aunt’s namesake. Being born first, she already had the distinction through rank, but no, fate desired to give her more. She was born very beautiful and stayed that way from every day that I have known her. Even as children, I never recalled one day of my life where she was not lovely, on the exterior. On the interior, she followed the same journey as the rest of us. She was lively and rambunctious as a child, was spirited in her early teens—to the point where she was self-willed, insecure, hated herself for not being the sort of girl she wanted to be (as many of us are wont to do in our teenage years), until she turned fourteen. That was the time I recall as The Great Change. Her spirits calmed to serenity, her mind broadened to a universal kindness, and her spirit manifested into the most obliging creature. Her beauty was therefore complete.
Two years later, Elizabeth was born. For reasons beyond present explanation, this is when the favoritism between our parents became very unique. Ever since she was a little girl, Father was partial to her, and Mother took a dislike. Seeing that one parent favored her, she naturally clung to Father. This led to him often taking Elizabeth under his protection, introducing her to his library, bestowing his mental powers and wit on her impressionable mind, and she actively took in everything he administered. Elizabeth was not merely his daughter; she was also his pupil. As she aged, so did her position in his eyes. She graduated from the role of student and took on the part of being his chief friend in the household. His wit and cleverness became her chief quality and they both had the same twinkle in their eyes. Despite not being as beautiful as Jane, Elizabeth was awarded the role of being the second most beautiful. Of all us sisters, her character was the most consistent throughout our lives.
The next came Mary and me. Despite being two years apart, I mention us both, because despite our difference of character, our situation was the same. Mama had her favorite with Jane. Father’s favorite was Lizzy. Therefore, when Mary and I were born, there was no more room in their hearts for true tenderness toward us. They loved us, but in an obligatory sort of way. Very quickly, Mary and I learned of our being lesser in everyone’s eyes, when compared to Jane and Lizzy. At first, Mary and I both railed against this in our childhood and were very similar in our declarations for attention. However, soon Mary deserved an outlet for her frustrations and even found her solution: being a woman of study and accomplishments. What she lacked in importance to the world, would be repaid with her making herself known as the most accomplished woman in the county. She threw herself into her studies and found her identity there. As children, we were the best of comrades, but when she discovered herself and all her activities were ones that made her solitary, she left me behind. No longer did we do things in pairs, but were separate, where a river ran between us. Secretly, I’ve been angry at her ever since for it. Fortunately, I was given a younger sister, and that was where my future rested.
When I was two years old, Lydia was born. Since she went to the midwife soon after and wouldn’t return till she was around a year old, I didn’t get to hear her utter one full sentence until I was three years old. At that point, Mary and I were close comrades, and Mary doted on me as her idolizing little sister. This helped, because Lydia was the youngest, and therefore, Mama naturally favored her as the baby of us. Her maternal powers were bestowed on Lydia to their fullest height, and there was even less room for Mary and me. We were nothing more than the middle. Although, as time grew, and Mary turned away from me to pursue her studies, I stayed on the same path; I wanted my parents to love me as much as they loved my other sisters. I still wanted to be doted on, adored and cherished. What child wouldn’t? And I was determined to get it in the best way that I could. Soon, I saw my answer in my youngest sister, Lydia. Mama doted on her, in the way that I wanted her to embrace me—so the answer was simple. I had to attach myself to Lydia. In doing so, in making myself Lydia’s chief ally, her most intense confidante, Mama would have no choice but to notice me as well and always care for me.
And I was right. Soon, Mama began to notice me more, for she saw us both as a pair. Often, she mentioned Lydia’s name first, but my name soon would follow, and she cared more for my existence. I was loved, by association. If anyone thinks that I am horrible for this, then I ask this of you… who doesn’t want to be loved? Who doesn’t deserve to be loved? So, I did so, in the most innocent way that I could procure it. And my method did prove right in the end because Lydia was the perfect companion for me. We both were high-spirited, had a love for life, and were not afraid to bicker and argue one moment, then love each other in the next. She had become my best friend, and thus, in a roundabout way, I, Catherine Bennet, was allowed to find my place in the world.
* * *
While it sounds like I found the most ideal life that I could possibly obtain, it was not so. After all, society laid claims to us, and to our parents. Our parents needed to have a son, or else when they died, we would be homeless. Father’s nearest male relation died with both men hating each other, and he left behind a son, Mr. William Collins. Since our father’s estate was entailed away to the male line, Mr. Collins would inherit Longbourn when our father passed away, and we would be destitute.
Since we were very young, it had been pressed on our minds that we had to marry well, to save the family.
Since they were married, it was pressed on our parents that they had to produce a male heir, to save the family.
So far, both aims were not fulfilled, and the latter never could be now. This loss of having a son clearly strained our parents’ relationship, and personally, I believe that is when my parents began to stop loving each other.
But we daughters still could marry, and this was the chief concept that our mother based her life around. Any possibility of this aim being fulfilled was temporary relief for Mama, and Father quickly stopped caring.
This was the portrait of us five Bennet sisters.
Jane was the perfect beauty.
Elizabeth was the remarkable one, charming in every way.
Mary was the studier.
I was the changeable companion.
Lydia was the favorite child.
We were all united by blood, sisterly affection, and one other thing:
We all needed to save the family.
Quite frankly, that was too much of a weight to put on any young person, be they man or woman. We were aware of our failure to ease Mother’s guilt.
No child should have to feel like a failure all because of that.
And I didn’t want to be a failure at all. So, I would succeed where I could. I would be happy.