dawn
There wasn’t very much to do in the countryside. This is not to say that there weren't a great many respectable hobbies to idle the hours away with, only that pleasures were often few for those not in possession of grand fortunes. Many spent their time going for strolls, reading, taking up instruments, attending work, or gossiping, but generally those out of a job had nothing more to do than sit around all day and wait for something to happen, and nothing constituted a cause for excitement more than a wealthy bachelor stopping by for a visit.
This circumstance was likely due to the universally acknowledged truth that a single man in possession of a fortune must be in want of a wife, no matter how happy he may be in his bachelorhood in actuality. This truth is so fixed in the thoughts of the surrounding families that the search for a wife soon becomes the primary purpose for his visit in their minds, and every eligible daughter in the neighbourhood must prepare to compete in the mad scramble for his affections.
That very such conversation was occurring in the kitchen of the Longbourn estate not long after the news of a gentleman’s arrival first reached the village. The idea of a possible marriage to one of their daughters spread through the women of the town like wildfire, and one Hope Lupin wasted no time in reporting back to her family on the news.
“My dear Lyall,” the lady began, settling down at the table with a cup of tea as her husband attempted to read the morning’s paper across from her, “have you heard that Netherfield Park has been rented at last?”
Lyall distractedly replied that he had not.
“But it has,” returned Hope, “for I have just heard the news of it doing my shopping in town!”
Lyall made no answer, merely flipping a page.
“Do you not wish to know who has taken it?” she asked, a bit put-out by her husband’s indifference.
Lyall sighed and set down his newspaper. “I suppose. It seems as though you want to tell me, in any case.”
Hope wrung her hands together nervously at his dismissal, but the news was too important to wait and his words were invitation enough.
“My dear, you must know, I have heard that Netherfield is taken by a young man of large fortune from London; He is to stay here, in Hertfordshire, at least for the autumn.”
Lyall removed his spectacles and wiped a few smudges off the thin lenses with the front of his shirt contemplatively. “I see. And what is this fellow’s name?”
Hope seemed pleased with her husband’s newfound interest. He always came around in the end. “I believe he is called Potter, dear.”
“And is he married or single?”
Hope smiled, sipping her tea. “Single, I hear. Not yet twenty-and-one.”
“And his fortune, it is immense, is it?”
“Truly. Quite enough to save us.”
Lyall replaced his spectacles, fixing his wife with an odd look. “Save us from what, dear? We’re hardly turned out onto the street.”
Hope carefully set her teacup down on the saucer, running a finger along the brim. “No,” she replied carefully, “But not far from it.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
Hope sighed deeply at her husband’s kind foolishness. She loved him dearly, but he was hardly acquainted in worldly suffering as she was and was thus often estranged from the harshness of reality. It seemed it was always Hope’s duty to be sure that there was food on the table and a roof over their heads. In this case, however, she really had no choice but to trouble him with the gravity of their state of affairs.
“Lyall, the meagre stipends sent by each of the children’s families were enough to survive on when we received them, but now they’ve grown up and our savings won’t last much longer. Surely one of our lovely daughters will be enough to tempt this Mr. Potter? Naught but the most advantageous marriage could allow us to keep this sanctuary’s doors open, my dear, as I’m very well sure you know.” She was not, in fact, sure of this, but she rather preferred to give her husband the benefit of the doubt.
Lyall pondered this for a moment. He supposed his wife was right. All four of their wards were twenty years of age now, well old enough for marriage. The arrival of this Mr. Potter could not have come at a better time.
Lyall folded his newspaper and stirred from the table, the day’s duties newly fixed. “Do you believe marriage to be his intention in settling here?”
Hope stirred her tea thoughtfully, spoon clicking against the porcelain. “I hardly think a visit to the countryside holds the answer to a heart’s intentions, but there is still a chance he may fall in love with one yet, is there not?”
Without another word, Lyall fetched his coat, kissed his wife on the cheek, and was out the door.
—
Lyall was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr. Potter. He returned after a pleasant tea with the young man to the anticipatory faces of his wife and children, all well aware of the presence of an inhabitant at Netherfield by this time. Lyall, in high spirits after the visit and desiring to tease them, slowly shed his coat and hat and sat down by the fire wordlessly, pretending to relax unaware of their interest.
Mary cleared her throat impatiently, but to no avail. Lyall did not even glance at her.
“Well?”
“Well what, my child? Whatever could you mean?”
Remus laughed at his sister’s distress, though he was eager to hear the news as well. “Don’t leave us in the dark, Father. How did your meeting with Mr. Potter go?”
Lyall still said nothing, gazing into the fire and enjoying their attention. At last, he broke the silence with a question thrown over his shoulder to the daughter of his hovering nervously near the doorway.
“When, may I ask, is the next ball scheduled to be, my dear Marlene?”
“I believe,” she replied uncertainly, stepping further into the room, “it is to take place to-morrow fortnight, Father.”
“I see.” Lyall stood to leave, much to his family’s chagrin. Just as he was nearing the stairs, he turned around. “Then I shall introduce you all then, for I have made his acquaintance, and he is a lovely fellow.” He then turned once more and left for good.
The five sat in astonished silence at this display, the quiet only broken by a chuckle from Lily. “What an odd sense of humour that man has!”
As if a spell had been broken, the room interrupted into chaos at this. Mary sprung to her feet and began to dance about in glee, apparently preparing for the ball to come, and pulled Marlene along to dance beside her. Hope clapped her hands together joyously, and Lily and Remus laughed and amused themselves with the silliness of their beloved sisters.
“What an excellent father you have, children,” said Hope fondly when the cheerful tumult had died down a bit. “This may save us from a great deal of hardship.” She winked, beaming at each of them in turn. “Not to mention it’s a good bit of fun anyway.”
Marlene twirled like a giggling, rhythm-challenged ballerina to accentuate this point, hair floating up into a hazy halo around her as she spun. The sight reminded Remus of the mane of a lion. Hope made her way over to the girl as she finished her pirouette, running gentle fingers through her daughter’s hair with a teasing glint in her eye.
“Marlene, such divine hair you have, just like spun gold,” she remarked. “I daresay Mr. Potter will be plenty pleased to dance with you at the next ball!”
Marlene laughed, pulling a face and pretending to be sick. “And I should reject him! I’m not in the practice of dancing much at balls anyway, I much prefer to stand back and observe.” She nudged her sister Mary playfully, raising an eyebrow. “But I’m sure Mary would oblige him, she never ceases to dance at balls. I heartily doubt Mr. Potter could resist her charms!”
Mary threw her head back, laughing, finishing her own performance with a curtsy to an imaginary audience before slumping back down onto the settee. Her head landed in Lily’s lap, and she dramatically swooned, pretending to faint. “As if any man could resist Lily’s beauty! Alas, I daresay he’ll hardly know any of the rest of us exist once he catches sight of her!”
Lily rolled her eyes at the compliment, trying not to laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, Mary. I wouldn’t be surprised if every young man in town was completely smitten with you.” Lily winked at Marlene across the room, amused by the familiar sight of the girl now perched on the edge of her piano bench. “Lennie could be too, if she could tear her eyes away from her precious piano for long enough to hold a conversation with a man.”
Marlene chucked a pillow at her, but Lily dodged the projectile artfully. Turning over her shoulder to smirk at her only brother, Lily remarked, “Remus, what do you think of all this? Mr. Potter coming to town and all that business? Going to make friends?”
Remus grinned back cheekily. “Well, I certainly hope he’s better company than you lot.” This time, Remus did not have the forethought to duck when three pillows came hurtling his way.
—
The very most that Hope and the others were able to draw from Lyall by way of description of Mr. Potter was that he was quite young, wonderfully handsome, extremely agreeable, and, to crown the whole, he certainly meant to be in attendance at the very next ball. All six agreed that nothing could be more delightful. Mary believed that to be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love, Remus and Lily were interested in the prospect of a newcomer to town, Lyall and Hope were entertaining aspirations of Mr. Potter marrying one of their three daughters and distributing funds to the family, and Marlene was pleased by the thought of going into town and buying new ribbons and dresses with Mary.
“If I can see but one of our daughters happily settled at Netherfield,” said Hope to her husband one day, “and all the others free as birds, I shall want for nothing.” Lyall did not disagree.
It was not long before Mr. Potter returned Lyall’s visit, and sat about ten minutes with him in his library. The four were somewhat more fortunate than they expected in their investigation of the man, for they had the luck of glimpsing his arrival from an upper window. The most Mary and Marlene could tell with the naked eye was that he wore a brilliant blue coat and rode a black horse.
Lily, however, was peering out the window through a pair of binoculars and observed Mr. Potter quite well. When she finally lowered the device and Mr. Potter had disappeared from view, her cheeks wore a dusting of pink. Remus quirked an inquisitive brow at her, their other sisters still too distracted trying to catch a final sight of the gentleman to notice. Lily allowed a small, embarrassed smile.
“He’s very handsome.”
She said it quietly, only loud enough for Remus to hear. Remus was rather shocked by such an admission, truth be told; Lily occasionally engaged in such trifles for her sisters’ entertainment, but he never thought her to be particularly interested in any suitors before. “Is he now?”
“Drat, he’s gone inside,” Marlene grumbled, straightening up and dusting off the knees of her trousers (for she expressly refused to wear dresses except on exceptionally special occasions). “Did you get a good look at him, Remus?"
“Not exactly,” he replied, prompting an annoyed huff from Marlene, “but I think Lily did…”
Marlene's attention snapped to Lily immediately. “Really?!”
Mary was just as interested as her sister. “And? Go on then, tell us what he looked like!”
Lily shot Remus a death glare, fiddling with the binoculars in her lap as a nervous habit. “Er. Well. He was handsome, just as Father said.” Mary and Marlene still looked at her expectantly, so she exhaled and muddled on. “And tall, I suppose. Shorter than Remus, but still tall. Unruly dark hair. Spectacles. Nice smile. I don’t know.”
Mary and Marlene seemed to find Lily’s answer far more funny than it was meant to be, falling over each other and cackling like madmen. Remus tried to look sympathetic, but he found her reaction just as funny as the others did. It was only that Lily was by far the most well put-together of any of them, hardly saying or doing anything worth poking fun at, and so they had to take their chances when they could.
It was at that moment that Hope strolled into the room, nearly dropping her sewing basket at the sight of Lily’s face. “Lily, Good Heavens!” Hope cried, clearly suppressing laughter of her own. “You’re blushing something fierce! Darling, have they been torturing you? Mary and Marlene, you lay off! Leave our Lily alone!”
“We can’t help it!” Marlene retorted happily, still giggling. “Lily’s in love!”
“Oh shut it, I am not!”
“Are too,” declared Mary, delighted at the idea of her sister being the one besotted for once. Mary considered herself an expert at flirtation, though there was hardly a man in all of Hertfordshire who actually excited her fancy. It was just fun to get caught up in the moment of something and imagine a different life for yourself, despite quite liking the one you had. Mary always got bored with the idea of domestic happiness after too long, but those first few days of subtle glances and loaded words were one of life’s greatest joys. It was high time for the reserved, level-headed Lily to have some fun of her own.
“So are you really interested?” teased Remus with mock sincerity. “Scheming to secure his affections at the ball, are you?”
Lily folded her arms over her chest, fighting back her own amusement. “Oh come off it. He’ll hardly look my way. Besides, you three are anticipating the ball as much as I am, don’t pretend.”
Mary laughed and replied something undoubtedly witty, but Marlene wasn’t listening anymore, smile fading slightly as her mind wandered elsewhere. It had been happening more and more often lately, the melancholic, wistful feeling she got every time the subjects of marriage or possible suitors were brought up among her sisters. She loved her siblings, she really did, but a tiny seed of resentment on the topic had been building slowly for years, always choosing to spring out at the most inopportune moments. There was nothing wrong with being interested in that sort of thing, Marlene knew that, but the trouble arose when she felt forced to admit to herself that she had no particular inclination in that area and likely never would. Any description of the feelings of love or affection for the opposite sex — concepts she grasped purely from Mary’s stories or the novels she read — felt so foreign to her as to be almost comical. Marlene felt doomed that she would never marry, and, however unfounded her fears may have been, was secretly convinced that she would be shunned from society if she ever expressed her disinterest in men or the topics of marriage, even from her own family.
Her sisters would both marry one day and go off to live with their husbands and one day children, their lives happy and fulfilled, and Marlene would march into old age alone, forever the sorry shame of the Lupins. The mere ward they loved as if their own, the unweddable daughter. How she wished she could be the one to inherit the orphanage, so that Remus could go off and do as he liked and it wouldn’t seem so pitiful to be a spinstress if she had children to look after. Remus didn’t seem particularly interested in marriage either, but Marlene supposed it was only natural that he would meet a nice woman one day and long to settle down. Marlene was the only unnatural one.
Mary cheerfully prodded Marlene in the side, effectively stirring her from her thoughts. “Lennie, are you listening? Shall we go down to the ribbon shop to-morrow? We need to get Lily all gussied up if we want her to steal Mr. Potter’s heart away at the very first sight.”
Marlene nodded, trying to regain her enthusiasm for the event. A ball was always good fun after all, regardless of whether or not one was attending with the intention of procuring a husband. “Emerald green, I think,” she replied. “To offset the hair. It’s sure to catch Mr. Potter’s eye.”