Chapter Text
The clock struck thrice at Longbourn as the last specks of dawn were washed away on the horizon, the early hour ensuring all creatures great and small were still enjoying a peaceful rest. All, that was, except the matron of the aforementioned great estate.
“Miss Lizzy! I have been looking all over f- what on earth have you been doing child?”
Far from requiring an answer, Mrs Fanny Bennet proceeded to launch into a speech berating her daughter, the coherence of which was varying- however Mrs Hill, who was called somewhere in the middle of these effusions, would tell you she had managed to make out something about dirty petticoats and rebellious daughters.
Upon the arrival of their housekeeper, little Elizabeth Bennet, seeing her mother’s distraction, made a beeline for her father’s library, dirty petticoats in tow. Her father never seemed to mind the mess she made, so long as she stayed far away from his favourite reading chair. The fact there was always a good book or three to hold her interest was increasingly becoming a further incentive for her to weather the time until her mother’s nerves settled somewhere among the tall bookcases.
This remained true, if her father’s chuckle upon her entrance was any indication.
“I would ask what has happened to distress your mother so this time, “ a quick glance at muddy shoes, “but I hazard I could make a pretty accurate guess”
“It doesn’t matter for I ran away before she could finish telling me. ” Elizabeth laughed as she plopped onto her favourite chair. The book she had been reading for the past week- Ritson’s Robin Hood- lay open on the arm of the chair, and she picked it up, flicking to where she had last read.
They stayed like this for a while, until the loud exclamations of Mrs Bennet lost some of their vehemence, then stopped. At some point her father ordered a few scones be brought to them, and they broke their fast together as they read. By the time Mr Bennet put down his book, she was sure it was nearing lunchtime.
“I suppose, my dear,” He began, making Elizabeth look up from her book, “now is as good a time as any to inform you of the reason why your mother was, perhaps, a little more overzealous than usual”
“I hadn’t noticed” She had, however, noted his particular choice of vocabulary (she had asked him what overzealous meant the previous week and had made sure to remember it. It had all been worth it now that she felt all the more the equal of her father for not needing to interrupt him for clarification)
“In any case, it would seem Netherfield park has been let at last, and the new tenants have just arrived today.”
“We are to have neighbours?” This peaked her interest. Mr Carstairs, the sole occupant of Netherfield Park, was an old man of five and sixty, a lifelong bachelor who chose to devote his time to his artistic pursuits in Bath and London, merely treating the estate closest to her father’s as a retreat for the duration of a month or two before heading on his way again. Though the master wasn’t home, the faithful servants and tenants remained, leading to Netherfield itself having a prosperous but overall too clean and shallow air about it. It was altogether too dull.
Most important of all, Mr Carstairs had no children. Could this neighbour be any different?
“So your mother would not stop reminding me.” Mr Bennet huffed, lips twitching lightly, “As much as I would like to refuse her, I thought it would be easier on my peace of mind if I gave in. Provided you promise to behave, I would have you come along. I have also asked Jane, so do not fear that you be lacking in company your own age, although from what Mrs Bennet tells me that will not pose a problem for long”
Excited, if slightly puzzled, Elizabeth immediately nodded her consent and ran upstairs to call the nursemaid.
———
In the end, she was ready long before it was time to leave, fidgeting impatiently in the new, clean dress she had been made to put on- one of her best.
This is taking so very long, I am sure Papa won’t be cross if I go play while I wait.
Predictably, Mr Bennet did not comment on his second eldest’s appearance some time later, only ushered them all into the carriage to set off for Netherfield. Elizabeth had only seen Netherfield up close but a few times in her young life, having had no enticement to visit anything other than the grounds until now, and she had to admit it looked pretty grand. Certainly nothing compared to the land around it, but she did wonder what kind of people would live here in old Mr Carstairs’ stead.
All three of them were shown into the drawing room by a liveried servant, and a tall, serious looking man moved to greet them. Mr Bennet shook hands with him as introductions were performed. Elizabeth curtsied as best she could after her sister as she was introduced to Mr Darcy, he in turn pointing them to the other two occupants of the room- a young boy, his son, who was stood with his back pressed to the wall in one corner of the room, and his governess.
Immediately her gaze was drawn to the younger Mr Darcy. His father had spoken his name too quietly for Elizabeth to hear, so it would be up to her to familiarise herself with him. He was rather slim and lanky in the way only boys just growing into their bodies could be, dark eyes observing the room beneath his curly, perfectly groomed hair. Elizabeth thought he looked quite pretty, in the way she thought a favourite tree pretty when she walked by it, or perhaps a favourite book cover.
One thing was for certain, however. He looked positively miserable. Scanning the room and frowning like a wet kitten, hugging the wall as if any one of its occupants would jump him at any time. The look was complete when his nose scrunched, seemingly in disgust, and Elizabeth was all too curious not to approach him.
The closer she got, the more she observed the difference in their statures. For all her 8 years of age, Elizabeth was aware she was just slightly shorter than the other 8 year old children in the neighbourhood, but he looked giant. Now in front of him, she began with the most pressing of her queries.
“You are very tall”
The boy looked startled, and looked down.
“I… suppose?”
“Why are you so tall?”
“Because I have grown”
This was in no way satisfactory, so she continued, “How old are you?”
His little shoulders drew back with pride “I am 10”
“My friend, Little John, is 10, and he is not nearly so tall as you are”
“Little John?”
“Yes I call him that on account of my favourite book- and him being so small, of course.”
The boy did not seem impressed “And you, I suppose, are Robin Hood?”
Elizabeth looked up, eyes alight, “Precisely! Have you read the book?”
He nodded slightly, “I thought my sister might enjoy hearing me read it to her”
“Ritson‘s?”
“Of course”
Though it was unladylike, Elizabeth near squealed with excitement. She had all but exhausted telling her sisters and the local children about her latest fixation, none of which had even read the book, and here was finally someone other than her father, someone her age, she could discuss it with.
“What did you think?”
Here, her new friend’s eyes seemed to finally light up some. “Well I rather liked when-“
“-Master Fitzwilliam!”
The boy, Fitzwilliam, startled at this, bowed to her briefly, and stiffly turned to walk to where his governess had called him, his face blank once more. Elizabeth frowned at this. She did not appreciate being interrupted mid conversation, and honestly thought it rather rude to be dismissed so easily. However in the same instant that she had decided to go express this opinion, she saw her father call her to his side.
Elizabeth briefly deliberated. On one hand, she wanted to see why her conversation had so abruptly been put to an end. But on the other, her father had trusted her by taking her along with him, and she was sure that were she not on her best behaviour she might not be allowed the privilege again. Defeated, she moved to join him.
Mr Bennet had been discussing something of farming with the old Mr Darcy, the son and his governess standing a little behind them. They were far enough away that they could have a hushed conversation without disturbing the gentlemen, but close enough that her keen ears could catch onto some wisps of their conversation.
“-Remember Young Master, you must be careful in choosing who you associate with. They will be a reflection of your character and consequently of the Darcy name.”
“Yes Mrs Wells, I understand,” Master Fitzwilliam began, “I must not associate with anyone beneath me. Particularly not children who read novels and wear dirty skirts.”
Children! Beneath him?! All previous reservations forgotten, Elizabeth stomped until she was standing in front of him, fists clenched by her sides.
“I think you are the rudest boy I have ever ever ever had the mis-for-tune to meet!” She said, perhaps a bit too loudly, “And you are not pretty at all!”
With that she walked away from him and back to her father, and so she did not see his startled expression as he watched her retreating back.
Everything else passed in a blur. Vaguely she recognised her father concluding his conversation with the elder Mr Darcy and making his excuses, retrieving her and Jane- who had sat quietly through the entire thing- to their carriage until Elizabeth found herself in Longbourn’s entryway. Now with her anger somewhat subsided, she began to fear she had misstepped gravely. Mr Bennet took her hand and lead her into the library for the second time that day.
“Now my dear, tell me, what on earth did that young Darcy say to infuriate you so?” The mixture of amusement and incredulity in her father’s voice did nothing to alleviate Elizabeth’s feelings. She took a deep breath and told him all that had occurred at Netherfield. Hearing her account, Mr Bennet’s demeanour softened slightly, and he took his favourite daughter onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her.
“Come now Lizzy, I hadn’t thought you so missish as that!” He began, and though his words were in jest, his voice was gentle, “Mr Darcy seems haughty enough, for all that he is able to carry an intelligent conversation, and I dare say his son will be just like him. We need not concern ourselves with their good opinion. And just think! Of all the folly to be observed in our new neighbours. I am sure in a fortnight we shall be well able to laugh at it all together.”
This did make Elizabeth feel slightly better, feeling her initial reaction validated. Yet there was still some uneasiness she could not shake, even as her father shot her a quick smile and shooed her upstairs to prepare for her studies and dinner, apparently exhausted from his fatherly duties. It still nagged at her later, as her and Jane were going to bed. Why was it that the words of her beloved parent could not eliminate those spoken by a near stranger? Why did she let it bother her so? Many a time she had sworn to any and all who would hear that she did not care what people thought of her, even if they called her unladylike. And yet- she was not sure what to make of it. As her eyes finally succumbed to fatigue, she thought she only knew one thing for certain.
She hated Fitzwilliam Darcy