Page 1 of Love Among the Shadows
PART I
One
September always came with mixed feelings for Elizabeth Bennet. On the one hand, the month brought new faces to Hertfordshire, most of whom were friendly—though occasionally, some were decidedly not. On the other hand, September, being the harvest month, meant fewer balls to attend. It wasn’t that Elizabeth disliked balls; she might have enjoyed them more freely if not for her mother’s incessant declarations that every gathering was a golden opportunity to secure husbands of good standing.
Elizabeth was not opposed to the idea of marrying a good husband, but she had one steadfast rule: if she were ever to marry, it would be for love, not merely for ‘good standing.’
That particular September morning, Elizabeth had just returned from her customary walk, her cheeks rosy from the brisk air, when she was summoned directly to the drawing room. There, her younger sisters, Catherine—whom they all called Kitty—and Lydia, were positively beaming as they clustered around Mrs Bennet, who appeared to be in a state of great excitement.
“Mama said Netherfield is rented at last!” Kitty exclaimed, her delight uncontainable.
“And it’s to a Mr Bingley!” Lydia added, her tone reverent as though speaking of royalty. “They say he has five thousand a year and—” she paused dramatically, “—he is single.”
“That,” Kitty giggled, “is the most important part.”
Their father, comfortably reclined on the sofa with a book propped before him, raised his eyes at thispronouncement. “One might think,” he began dryly, “that for young ladies so consumed by the idea of marriage, you might first master the art of completing a sentence without giggling.”
Elizabeth hid a smile, while Kitty and Lydia both cried out in protest.
“Papa!” Lydia exclaimed, her hands firmly planted on her hips. “You should be happy for us. Why, Mr Bingley could marry one of us before the end of the year!”
“Marry one of you?” Mr Bennet arched a brow, his tone deceptively mild. “That would indeed be a miracle. He has not yet seen you in a temper, Lydia, or heard Kitty’s attempts at playing the pianoforte. I daresay, the man should be advised to hire additional footmen simply to carry the burdens of his regret.”
Mrs Bennet, unable to contain herself any longer, interjected with a dramatic huff. “Mr Bennet! How can you be so unkind to your own daughters? You know perfectly well this is Jane’s opportunity! She is the most beautiful of them all, and Mr Bingley will surely fall in love with her at once.”
Elizabeth smiled at this assertion. She had no doubt her sister’s beauty would charm even the most indifferent gentleman, and she sincerely hoped Jane would marry well. Jane deserved a husband of kind character, and Elizabeth could only wish her happiness without any of their mother’s theatrics.
“Well,” Elizabeth said lightly, a teasing smile playing on her lips, “it seems Netherfield’s new tenant is already the most important man in Hertfordshire, and he hasn’t even arrived yet.”
Lydia sniffed, undeterred. “It is only a matter of days—or weeks at most—before he does. And Mama can never tell who he might favour. Perhaps he will like Jane best, or perhaps,” she added with a toss of her head, “he will prefer me, for I am as beautiful as Jane.”
Elizabeth was unsurprised by Lydia’s assertion. Their mother had never been shy in declaring Jane the most beautiful of her daughters, nor in assuring Lydia that she was equally lovely. It was a claim Lydia embraced with unshakable confidence.
“And yet,” Elizabeth replied with deliberate sweetness, “I cannot think what poor Mr Bingley will do if he must choose between two such paragons of beauty. How dreadful it will be for him.”
Lydia rolled her eyes. “You are always mocking, Lizzy. Just wait until Mr Bingley arrives, and we shall see who laughs last.”
Mrs Bennet, seizing the opportunity, sighed dramatically. “Elizabeth, you must not jest about such things. Mark my words—Jane will win his heart, for no man can resist her sweetness and beauty. If Mr Bingley does not fall in love with her, I shall truly despair of all men.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly as the room dissolved into chatter. Kitty and Lydia speculated eagerly about Mr Bingley’s age and appearance, while Mrs Bennet alternated between extolling Jane’s virtues and lamenting the preparations needed for her daughters’ prospects. Mary, the middle daughter, made no effort to join the conversation, appearing far more interested in a volume on gardening.
Amused yet thoughtful, Elizabeth could not help but feel a flicker of curiosity. While she cared little for her mother’s matchmaking schemes, the arrival of new neighbours always promised intrigue. Perhaps, after all, September would bring more to Hertfordshire than harvests.
***
Two weeks later, Elizabeth’s curiosity would at last be satisfied at the Meryton Assembly—a much-anticipated gathering thatserved to welcome newcomers into Meryton society and promote a sense of community before the onset of winter.
Mrs Bennet, as was her wont, spent the two days preceding the event in a state of relentless excitement, fretting over how her daughters would appear at what she called “such an important event.” Her primary focus, naturally, was on Jane. She hovered over her eldest with relentless determination, insisting that if Mr Bingley were to be taken by her beauty, she must look absolutely perfect.
Elizabeth, accustomed to her mother’s ways, was not surprised by the number of dry remarks her father delivered during these preparations. Nor was she surprised when Mr Bennet declared his intention not to attend. He preferred his literary pursuits to such social spectacles, despite possessing an excellent command of conversation when it suited him.
On the day of the event, the assembly itself was almost exactly as Elizabeth remembered it from the previous year. It was an evening filled with food, merriment, music, and the mingling of old and new faces. Among the old, her dear friend and neighbour, Charlotte Lucas, was her favourite. They spent most of the evening together, exchanging wry observations and indulging in light gossip about the crowd.
Sir William Lucas, Charlotte’s father, was a tradesman who had been knighted before settling in Meryton, a distinction that earned him considerable respect in the community. This status ensured that most newcomers had either already paid their respects to the Lucas household or had received a visit from Sir William himself. As a result, Charlotte was well-informed about the new faces in town and was able to provide Elizabeth with a succinct account of their origins and peculiarities.
There were six in total, tenants who had recently taken up residence in Meryton or its surrounding areas. Each brought with them some measure of intrigue.
Among them was Mrs Clara Holloway, a widow of three years, whose dignified manner and ever-present pug made her a subject of admiration. There was Mr Geoffrey Penrose, a bachelor of few words, whose six unruly dogs were already infamous in the area. There was also Mrs Amelia Hart, a reserved young mother of two, who stood quietly near the refreshment table. Charlotte explained that she was known for her exceptional skill in crafting pastries, earning a modest living by selling her confections. However, she noted that whispers followed Mrs Hart—rumours of a youthful elopement with a man who had abandoned her with two children before fleeing with another woman. Despite the persistent gossip, Elizabeth observed that Mrs Hart carried herself with quiet dignity.
