Mr. Darcy Came to Dinner

Also by Jack Caldwell

PEMBERLEY
RANCH
THE
THREE
COLONELS

MR. DARCY CAME TO DINNER – A Pride & Prejudice farce

Copyright © 2013 by Jack Caldwell

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any format whatsoever.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarly to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

For information, address Jack Caldwell, P.O. Box 592, DeForest, WI, 53532.

http://webpages.charter.net/jvcla25/
http://whitesouppress.com/
http://austenauthors.net/

ISBN: 978-0-9891080-0-3

Layout & design by Ellen Pickels
Cartoon design by Elaine Eigel

Dedication

To Barbara,
the joy of my life.

* * *

In Appreciation

To Debbie Styne, Ellen Pickels, and Mary Anne Mushatt,
for their endless hours editing this work.

To Moss Hart and George S. Kaufman,
for showing me the way.

To Jane Austen,
for her genius.

I could not have done it without all of you.

Chapter 1

Elizabeth Bennet was not having a good day. Her sister Lydia’s intention of walking to Meryton had not been forgotten even though there was company for dinner. Every sister except Mary agreed to go, and their cousin Mr. Collins was to attend them at the request of Mr. Bennet, who was most anxious to be rid of him for an hour or so. Elizabeth would much rather
not
go, but she obeyed her mother’s entreaties and set off on the excursion with the others, discontentment filling her mind.

At twenty years of age, Elizabeth was the second of five daughters born to an obscure country gentleman from Hertfordshire. She was of middling height with a light and pleasing figure and was complimented frequently on her rich brown curly hair, sparkling eyes, and excellent teeth. She would be considered the beauty of her family if not for her eldest and youngest sisters.

Jane, the eldest, possessed all that a lovely English rose could possibly want — save fortune and connections — and Lydia, while very young and very silly, was vivacious, usually in good spirits, and womanly for her age. The middle two sisters — poor Mary and Catherine, who went by the name of Kitty — were overlooked in comparison to their siblings. Mary took refuge in her books while Kitty parroted Lydia’s antics.

Elizabeth overcame her shortcomings in appearance by sharpening her mind. She prided herself on her discernment and wit, and many a pretentious person was the unknowing subject of her condescension. This was an occupation she shared with her father, who was as misanthropic as his favorite daughter was otherwise sociable and friendly. From Mrs. Bennet, Lizzy, as she was known to her family, inherited little save good looks and a jolly countenance.

Alas for our heroine — for Elizabeth Bennet is the heroine of our tale — she had no brothers, and her father’s modest estate of Longbourn was entailed upon the son of a cousin. Because of this state of affairs, Mrs. Bennet’s failure to produce a male heir resulted in that lady’s obsession with making fine marriages for all her girls. While it would be well that the Miss Bennets find happiness in the matrimonial state, the primary motivation for their mother was her own house and board should she survive her good husband. A vision of starving in the hedgerows was her constant nightmare.

Therefore, when said cousin arrived to repair the breach between the Collins and Bennet families, Mrs. Bennet was determined that the young man would marry one of her girls. In that way, Mrs. Bennet could realistically expect to remain mistress of Longbourn until the time came for her to receive her heavenly reward.

You, gentle reader, knowledgeable in the ways of the world, might wonder at Mrs. Bennet’s reasoning. Surely upon Mr. Bennet’s demise, her son and daughter would establish the mourning widow in the dowager cottage. Such an idea never occurred to Mrs. Bennet. A daughter of hers, tossing her mother out of Longbourn? Unthinkable! This denial only fueled the good lady’s fixation.

The Reverend William Collins of Hunsford was a tall, heavy looking young man of five and twenty with a grave and stately air, formal manners, and a rather empty head. He could read and write — useful talents for someone in his profession — but he lacked the intellectual capacity to understand fully what he read or wrote. He learned as little as possible at university, and it was only due to a fortunate chance that he enjoyed a somewhat prosperous living in Hunsford rather than earning his bread as a missionary in some faraway place such as Africa or India. Lady Catherine de Bourgh was his patroness, and such was the man’s gratitude that others might wonder whether he had exchanged worship of the Almighty for glorification of the mistress of Rosings Park, Kent.

Now established as a vicar, Mr. Collins was determined that, since he was the heir to Longbourn, it was only right that the next lady of that estate should be chosen from the daughters of Mr. Bennet. Such was his generous object in visiting Hertfordshire, and his plan did not vary on seeing the ladies. His first choice was the eldest, but a quarter-hour’s
tête-à-tête
with Mrs. Bennet before breakfast disabused him of that notion as the general expectation was that the lady would soon receive an offer from a very respectable gentleman of five thousand pounds per annum! Mr. Collins had only to change his favor from Jane to Elizabeth — equal next to Jane in birth and beauty — and it was soon done, even while Mrs. Bennet was stirring the fire.

Lizzy, as one might imagine from reading the earlier description of the lady, was not at all happy about this turn of events. Dutiful daughter she might be, but loyalty had its limits. Nothing could be further from her notions of an agreeable companion for her future life than this vainglorious, simple-minded, fool of a minister, but her veiled protests to her mother went unheard and unheeded.

This situation was but one ingredient in Lizzy’s stew of discontent. Company was invited to dinner that evening: the agreeable tenant of neighboring Netherfield Manor, his disagreeable relations, and his haughty guest. Mr. Bingley was by all accounts a complying and pleasant man with happy manners and generous conversation. He also had the excellent taste apparently to be enchanted by Miss Bennet, a situation that had much to recommend it.

His sister, Mrs. Hurst, was condescending and ill informed, while the other sister, Miss Bingley, was obnoxiously superior. What was especially insufferable about these two ladies was their hypocrisy. They believed their brother’s income of five thousand pounds from the Funds entitled them to look down upon the family of Mr. Bennet and his modest two thousand a year even though the Bingleys’ roots were in trade. Old Mr. Bingley worked himself to death on the docks of London to make the money that would ensure his progeny became part of the gentry. Of Mr. Hurst, little could be said; he was more interested in cards and brandy than in partaking of the other delights of country society.

Mr. Darcy was another matter altogether. It was whispered he was the owner of a fine estate in Derbyshire, which brought him ten thousand a year, and counted among his relations earls, bishops, and judges. A darkly handsome man of eight and twenty, he was tall and well-formed and surely would be in the dreams of every maiden in Meryton if he had proven to be as open and friendly as he was rich. Unfortunately, it was not two days after his arrival at Netherfield that the whole of Meryton declared the gentleman to be proud and disagreeable, well above the common folk of Hertfordshire.

It was enough that Lizzy had to share dinner with her unctuous cousin, but three hours at table with the Superior Sisters and Mr. Tolerable — for she had overhead an ungracious remark from the gentleman at the last assembly dance — was almost more than she could endure.

A third vexation was Mrs. Bennet’s nerves. The lady of the house was in an uproar, dashing about as if the Prince Regent were due at the door any moment. To be fair, Mrs. Bennet might be a pickle short of a peck, but there was no better table set in Hertfordshire than at Longbourn. She soon decided that the presence of her darling daughters and hateful cousin — she would not forgive the man his existence until he was her son — was a distraction that could no longer be borne. She must have peace and quiet if she was to prepare a masterpiece that would cause Mr. Bingley to fall upon his knee and claim Jane for his own.

Thus was Lizzy’s state of mind as the party rambled the miles to Meryton on a fine November day. In pompous nothings on Mr. Collins’s side and civil assents on that of his cousins, their time passed till they entered the village. The attention of the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by him, and their eyes immediately wandered up the street in quest of officers; nothing less than a smart bonnet or new muslin in a shop window could recall them.

However, the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man of most gentlemanlike appearance whom they had never seen before, walking on the other side of the way with an officer of their acquaintance, a Mr. Denny by name. The civilian’s appearance was greatly in his favor. He had all the best part of beauty — a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. All wondered who he could be, and an introduction was soon entreated. The gentleman was a Mr. Wickham, a native of Derbyshire, lately from London, who had accepted a commission in the militia that very week.