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Fred

Chapter one The golden apples

"Papa!" said Lizzy, as she ran from the portico to embrace her father as he got down from the post-chaise.

"Yes, Lizzy! Here I am—a day late, but in one piece. Did I worry you? I did not think one day's delay worth a letter."

"We were not very worried, Papa. We thought perhaps you had departed late and spent one night at an inn?"

By this time, Lizzy's less fleet elder sister, Jane, had arrived in her sister's wake to kiss her father. "You had no trouble with the carriage, I trust, Papa?"

"No, Jane, no carriage trouble, or any unnecessary stops, Lizzy. I departed Oxford a day late. That is all."

"Ah! Your first surmise was right, Lizzy!" cried Jane. "You found the company convivial, Papa?"

"It was certainly good to see one's old friends," said Mr Bennet as his footmen retrieved his luggage from the boot of the chaise, "even on so sad an occasion."

Mr Bennet paid off the post boy and with the help of his cane, mounted the steps of the portico. By this time his wife had made it as far as the vestibule.

"Thank goodness, you have come, Mr Bennet! Mrs Hill made your favourite pork pie yesterday, but we did not touch a morsel when you failed to arrive. All our efforts would have gone to waste if you had not appeared today, for it would not have done to keep it a second night!"

"Well, I anticipate the pork pie!" replied Mr Bennet wryly, knowing his treat had only eventuated on the expectation of the largesse he was expected to dispense. "Right now, I could certainly do with a cup of tea."

"It will be in the parlour, as soon as you sit down, Mr Bennet. You cannot say I have not had tea on the table whenever you have wanted it!"

"No, my dear," said Mr Bennet. "I cannot say that."

Mr Bennet had journeyed to Oxford for the funeral of his friend, Mr Pickering, who had died an untimely death from a cancer. Mr Pickering and Mr Bennet had been fast friends from the time they shared rooms at Magdelan in Oxford. They had almost become brothers when Mr Pickering had become betrothed to Mr Bennet's sister, Sempronia; but in the end it had come to nothing. Mr Bennet had never forgiven his sister for breaking Mr Pickering's heart. As much as his sister's callous behaviour had pained Mr Bennet, it had not weakened his relationship with Mr Pickering. They had remained fast friends, even after Mr Bennet's elder brother had died in an accident and Mr Bennet had inherited Longbourn, forcing him to give up the fellowship he had just been awarded. Mr Bennet's inheritance had been a double-edged sword*. Longbourn had made him far richer than he had ever expected to be, but it had also robbed him of the scholarly existence he had loved. Instead, he had lived vicariously through his weekly letters to his friend. Mr Pickering had eventually stood as godfather to Mr Bennet's second child, Elizabeth, and that was why Mr Bennet had stayed on for a day longer after his friend's funeral and the reading of the will.

Mr Bennet delayed the inevitable questions regarding the outcome of his journey that were hanging on his wife's lips by relating an amusing anecdote of an altercation he had witnessed at a coaching inn that morning. Knowing his second eldest daughter to share his fine appreciation of the ridiculous, Mr Bennet had been treasuring it for several hours, and now dispensed it in fine narrative style.

Not five minutes later, Mrs Hill, who had kept her kettle on the boil all afternoon, bustled in with tea. She was followed by the Bennets' third daughter, Mary, who had abandoned copying an extract from a book of sermons upon hearing the tinkle of the tea tray. She gave her father a perfunctory kiss before taking her place at the table.

"Where are Kitty and Lydia?" asked Mr Bennet.

"Oh! They have gone to Meryton to choose some new ribbons to furbish up* their gowns," said Mrs Bennet. "Mr Bingley arrived today with the invitations to his ball!" she added, giving a beaming nod to her beautiful eldest daughter, Jane, who had quickly riveted Mr Bingley's attention soon after the eligible young gentleman had arrived at Netherfield, the country estate he had leased for the year.

Mr Bennet frowned. No doubt Kitty and Lydia were now giggling over ribbons in the local haberdashery, accompanied by several handsome officers of the local militia being queried for their learned opinion on the subject. "Well, it is their loss," he said, "for now they will have the news second hand." He then took a leisurely sip of his tea.

"Well, Mr Bennet?" prompted Mrs Bennet indignantly. "Do not keep us all waiting! If Mr Pickering has given Lizzy a few guineas, it may be sufficient to make up a silk gown for the ball, for she only has her best muslin. Come now! This might be her last chance to snare Mr Darcy and his ten thousand a year!"

"Mother," said Lizzy. "I do not wish to 'snare Mr Darcy'. I have no wish to marry an odious man, regardless of his riches."

"I am glad you are of that opinion, Lizzy," said Mr Bennet, "and I wish your aunt Sempronia had been of a similar mind, for I am sure she would have been much happier with poor Mr Pickering. However, your will need not be put to the test. You are to be a great heiress."

"What do you mean, Papa?" asked Lizzy, sure her father was joking. She had only met Mr Pickering twice in her life and knew he lived very modestly in Oxford. She had received a guinea from him every year on her birthday since she was ten years old and dutifully wrote one page to him each year in thank you.

"I beg your pardon. I thought I was speaking plain English," retorted Mr Bennet, smiling. "Mr Pickering had a small estate in the north—in Manchester, to be precise. When we were at Oxford together, it was a small apple orchard that barely earned him enough money to cover his expenses at Oxford. That is why he chose to share rooms with me rather than get his own. After I left university for Longbourn, Mr Pickering's brother needed a larger site to expand his cotton mill, so they went into partnership and knocked the apple trees down. Over the years, Mr Pickering lived very modestly on his fellowship and allowed his brother to invest his share of the earnings in return for a larger stake. The enterprise is now worth a considerable sum, and Mr Pickering left his part of it in trust* for you, Lizzy, as his god-daughter. That is why I was a day late. There were some formalities to be gone through in setting up the trust."

"An heiress, Mr Bennet?" exclaimed his wife. "Just how much is a mill on a small apple orchard worth?"

"Ten thousand a year, Mrs Bennet. Lizzy is to have ten thousand a year."

Mrs Bennet jumped to her feet, upsetting her teacup.

"We are saved, Mr Bennet!" she cried and then promptly fainted.

Footnotes

*double-edged sword — something that has both favorable and unfavorable consequences

*Furbish - to give a new look to : renovate —often used with up. 1st known use 14th century.

*trust—by English law, as a woman, Lizzy cannot own property, that is why a trust is set up. Males manage the estate on Lizzy's behalf.