There was once a truth, universally acknowledged, that a man in possession of good fortune must be in want of a wife.
However, it had been some years since that truth had held much merit in England, and now it was staff free of disease and a trusty firearm at the hip that was the want of all good men, regardless of their fortune. A plague that dragged the dead from their graves, and put the light of the devil in their eyes, had a tendency to do such.
Of course, little is known on the views and feelings of any man when he first enters a neighbourhood, but the truth has a habit of fixing itself in the minds of surrounding families to the point where it needn't matter much what he think, or what truth he followed.
In the rural country the older truth still tended to be found in abundance amongst the mothers who wished for nothing more than for men with good fortune to marry their daughters. Men, who had either a shotgun or flintlock pistol at their side, a hardy stomach for dispatching the slow-moving dead when they appeared, and a large enough fortune so that their daughters could indulge in the fineries and delicacies they had enjoyed in their own youths.
"My dear Mr Bennet have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?" asked the wife of her husband.
When he responded that he had not, a certain eagerness overtook her.
"But it is" returned she, disregarding the disinterest in Mr Bennet's eyes, "Why I heard it myself from Mrs. Long when she came by"
Knowing his wife well enough, Mr Bennet did not seek to respond, and instead let her prattle.
"She said it has been taken by a young man of large fortune, five thousand a year, from up North of England where the attacks are still so dreadful as you know, and he was so delighted upon seeing the place on Monday, that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately and should be in possession by Michaelmass" her giddiness, had he not long since grown weary of it, might've instigated some sense of amusement from him.
"Up North? Then he cannot be of such great a wealth or sense" Mr Bennet mused, "If he has spent his days in a place where the earth practically churns from the dead leaving graves"
"He's travelled down here has he not?" Mrs Bennet replied, "And if you are so critical of his wealth, I must inform you dear Mr Bennet, that he arrived in a chaise and four"
"Very well, what is the gentleman's name?"
"Bingley"
"And I assume he isn't yet married" the statement was sure, "The North is no place to start a family"
"Indeed, he is" Mrs Bennet beamed, "and what a wonderful thing it is for our daughters that it is such"
"How so? I cannot fathom how this has any bearing on our daughters"
"How tiresome you can be my dear" she griped, "surely you know I intend for one of our daughters to marry him, after all you said it yourself, the North is no place to start a family and he has quite likely move to Netherfield to do just that!"
"So that is his design in settling here?"
"As far as I am concerned, it will be" her determination was evident, "It is very likely he will fall for one of our daughters, provided you give them the chance"
"You expect me to make his acquaintance"
"Of what else do you believe I expect of you"
"I see no reason for me to meet the man. You and the girls are more than capable of going, or rather perhaps it best if you send them alone, you are quite their equal in appearance and I wouldn't want for Mr Bingley to take a shining to you instead of them"
"You both flatter me and strike terror in my heart, I have had my fair share of beauty and though it has waned with age, I am no more capable of fending off the dead now than I was capable then" Mrs Bennet huffed, "and no daughters of mine will carry some pistol, for they would surely need it were they to go on their own, as if her father were not around to protect them"
"What ill would it do for them to get bit?" there was something of a smile to his voice, "Cures exist"
"Our daughters, bit by undead, how deeply you wound me my dear" Mrs Bennet spoke, "And you are very well aware that cures are sporadic, and differ from every being"
"May that be so, I am very well sure there will be a treatment found quickly, before this plague reaches its thirtieth year"
"Enough of the plague, we speak of our daughters now!" Mrs Bennet stated, "You simply must speak to Mr Bingley, for I know very well that Sir William and Lady Lucas both have the intention to do so for their daughter Miss Charlotte Lucas"
"I am quite sure Mr Bingley would receive you and our daughters with equal graciousness, and I will gladly send him several lines stating my permission for him to marry any of ours. Though I would be inclined to put in a few good words for my little Lizzy"
"You will do no such thing; She is no better than the rest, and I would even go as far to say that she is worse after you took the liberties to give her a flintlock and teach her to shoot"
"Would you have rather I had trusted Lydia or Kitty? There is not a bit of good sense between them, and Jane, bless her soul, is far too kind to even think of pulling the trigger"
"Mr. Bennet, how can you be so scathing towards your own blood? You have no compassion towards my fraying nerves"
"I have high respect for your nerves, they are old friends whose visits have doubled since the plague arose"
"Oh, you have no clue what I suffer, trying to save five daughters before my time is gone!"
"It is in your nature to survive it, and I am sure there will be many young men of substantial fortune who will come to the country, especially with how quickly the dreaded disease spreads in London"
"Twenty could arrive, but it'd be for nought if you refused to introduce us" the woman huffed, "and I would much rather they marry men with solid homes and land, than some people who own no more land than those living in a rookery1"
"I assure you, Mrs. Bennet, they'd be quite willing to buy estates if they knew it was to win your favour, and our daughters"
Mr. Bennet was a quick-witted gentleman, equally clever as reserved, who had found himself newly married on the cusp of the apocalypse. If anything, the emergence of the disease which dragged the unwilling dead from their graves and spun a bloodlust into their empty veins, served to fully reveal his wife's character to him. She was of the nervous sort, with her unease only increasing with her failure to conceive a son, and continued to busy herself in social affairs despite the structure already beginning to crumble under the weight of such a horrid plight.
Nevertheless, her half delusions were steadfast, and made her solely focused on finding suitable matches for her daughters while she still had the means to.
1. Rookery; regency slang for the slums found in London, called so because of the way in which the bird, the rook, built its nest.
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Putrid Pride and Prejudice
Romance"There was once a truth, universally acknowledged, that a man in possession of good fortune must be in want of a wife. However, it had been some years since that truth had held much merit in England..." The Regency period sees its social structure c...
