Chapter 1

Chapter One

E lizabeth Bennet looked up from reading on her bed in her uncle Gardiner's London home when Jane entered, and she knew instantly Miss Bingley's visit had not gone well. Jane's face was awash in disappointment. Elizabeth had hidden herself away when that lady had finally returned Jane's call, but now Elizabeth wished she had stayed in the room to support her sister.

"Was Miss Bingley not in better spirits than when you called on her four weeks ago?" she asked.

When Jane had called in Grosvenor Street, she was hurried from the house, but not before Miss Bingley told Jane that Bingley was so much engaged with Mr Darcy that she scarcely saw her brother. That Miss Bingley had not deigned to return Jane's call until a month had passed told Elizabeth all she needed to know about that lady's character and her true feelings for Jane.

"It was humiliating, Lizzy," Jane said, covering her face with her hands. "I have been entirely deceived in Miss Bingley's regard for me."

Elizabeth put an arm around her. "I am sorry for the pain she caused you. She was very wrong in singling you out as she did and then treating you poorly."

"It was evident that she had no pleasure in seeing me. And she said not a word of wishing to see me ever again."

"Bingley might defy his sisters and call on you." Elizabeth was not sad to see the end of Miss Bingley's friendship, but perhaps Jane's relationship with Bingley could be restored. "Although he might not even know you are in town."

"He knows of my being here," Jane said, dropping her hands and striving to be composed. "I am certain, from something Miss Bingley said when she persuaded me he had no intentions toward me." Jane sniffed and took a deep breath to calm herself.

Elizabeth shook her head over it. "There is a strong appearance of duplicity in all this. Is he attached to Miss Darcy, or does his sister only wish it to be so? If he is, Bingley's character sinks under this, to be sure. But it would not surprise me if Miss Bingley and Mr Darcy are to blame for the way he left you."

"We cannot think like that. I will endeavour to banish every painful thought about him—and Miss Bingley, of course—and think only of what will make me happy. Like how happy I am that my aunt convinced you to come to town this winter too." Jane gave her an affectionate hug before returning to the drawing room.

Although she put on a calm face, Elizabeth was certain that Jane still pined for Bingley.

She was glad that her sister would no longer be duped by Miss Bingley, but Bingley was now in the custody of his selfish friend. Mr Darcy would never suffer him to call on Jane. As she went downstairs with her sister, Elizabeth felt renewed irritation at Mr Darcy and Miss Bingley, and an acute sadness for Jane's disappointed hopes.

When they entered, her uncle rose with an amused look in his eye. "Well, girls," he said, holding out a large piece of paper, "I have got my hands on the infamous advertisement."

A handbill first printed a week ago had excited London's curiosity, although most people had yet to read it for themselves. All week it had been talked of while visiting or when meeting friends at the shops, with questions of "Have you read it yet?" and "Is it meant to be taken seriously?" flying from everyone's lips.

The girls exclaimed their astonishment and ran to their uncle, eager to read the shocking advertisement for themselves.

Elizabeth took it and read aloud, "A New Matrimonial Plan. A respectable man of business possesses an establishment where persons of all classes have an opportunity of meeting with proper partners. Every person of either sex who desires to enter into a treaty of marriage is first to subscribe a certain sum depending on their class. All ladies and gentlemen are then to describe themselves as they may choose."

Mrs Gardiner laughed. "How absurd! And how are people to describe themselves? Are they to announce their fortune, or rather their personal attributes?"

"Do not laugh, because you are pretty much right. There are five tiers of ladies and five tiers of gentlemen." Elizabeth read aloud the ladies' examples provided.

"First Class: I am twenty years of age; heiress to an estate in the county of Essex of the value of 30,000, well-educated and of domestic habits; of an agreeable disposition, and genteel figure.

Second Class: I am thirty years of age, a widow, in the grocery line in London—have children; of middle stature, fair complexion and hair, temper agreeable; worth 3,000.

Third Class: I am tall and thin, a little lame in the hip, of a lively disposition; twenty years of age, live with my father who, if I marry with his consent, will give me 1,000.

Fourth Class: I am twenty years of age; mild disposition and manners, allowed to be personable.

Fifth Class: I am sixty years of age; income limited; active and rather agreeable."

"What happens after the single people describe themselves?" Mrs Gardiner asked, frowning.

"Why do you sound cross?" Elizabeth asked. Her aunt looked dubious, but said nothing. "Well, I think this is a marvellous undertaking."

"But why?" Jane asked. "What good could come of such a thing?"

"Because being proposed to by an odious man who said I could do no better than him made me think women ought to have a little more influence over who proposes to them."

Everyone avoided her eye, but they all knew the story of Mr Collins's terrible proposal and how desperately Mrs Bennet had wanted Elizabeth to accept it.

When the silence became awkward, Elizabeth continued to read. "It then says that ‘subscribers are to be furnished with a list of descriptions in the class of their choosing, and when one occurs likely to suit, the parties may correspond through their office, and if mutually approved, an interview may be afterwards arranged.'"

"Wait, this is a serious plan?" cried Jane. "I thought it was a satire, or a mere joke."

"It is legitimate as far as anyone can tell," Mr Gardiner answered. "The handbill has circulated in a few places, and there is a business at the direction mentioned."

"I think it sounds like a horse auction," muttered Mrs Gardiner.

"No, my dear," said her husband. "There is nothing shameful about it. Besides, friends and parents make matches for their dear ones all the time. This method just gives the people who want to wed more say in the matter."

"But they are appealing to strangers, Edward," her aunt said, "rather than a mutual friend."

Elizabeth sat on the sofa, staring at the advertisement. What did anyone truly know about a new man who appeared in the neighbourhood? Were they not strangers too? Bingley had seemed devoted to Jane, but his friends had persuaded him to give her up. And even Wickham's apparent partiality for Elizabeth had subsided: she had learnt from her mother's letters that he was now the admirer of someone who recently inherited ten thousand pounds.

And Mr Darcy was behind both Bingley's abandonment of Jane and Wickham's need to marry for money.

As much as Elizabeth was ready to blame the proud Mr Darcy for anything, it was not his fault that Mr Collins suggested she should be grateful for his proposal since she was unlikely to receive another. Mr Collins was a pompous fool, but she knew there was some truth to what he had said. She had no money to tempt a worthy suitor, her father would not take her to where she might mix more with the world to find one, and her mother would throw her at any man with a purse and a pulse.

She and her sisters were victims of her father's neglect and her mother's manoeuvrings, and there was little chance a worthy man in want of a wife would ride into Meryton. This matchmaking endeavour might be the reassuring proof she needed that there were respectable men capable of loving her and Jane. And, if not, then it would at least be amusing to read the descriptions of eligible gentlemen.

"Jane, what do you think? It might be worth trying." Elizabeth grinned. "We could both do it!"

"No, absolutely not," Jane said, turning pink. "It would mortify me."

"What? Why? It is no worse than Mamma pushing you at every single gentleman with a fortune and telling them what an angel you are. This way, you could write to a gentleman who appeals to you, one who is genuinely considering marriage." It might be just the thing to raise Jane's spirits and show her there were admirable men other than Bingley.

"I am not considering marriage now, Lizzy."

"Nothing says that we must marry any of the men we read about, or even meet anyone we correspond with. So long as we go in with an open mind and are honest, it could be diverting. And if we ever arrange an introduction and decide we might suit, well, who could say anything against that?"

"But what about one's family connexion to verify these men's status, their character?"

"Who vouchsafed for Bingley, or for Wickham?" Elizabeth asked. "Mr Collins is a respectable man, but he still insulted me dreadfully when he proposed." Jane sighed but made no reply. Elizabeth turned to her aunt. "May I try this matchmaking endeavour?"

"But who knows what sort of men might subscribe. What would your parents say to the scheme?"

Elizabeth laughed. "My mother wants us to find husbands, and my father would merely laugh at us for trying this manner of finding one."

"My dear," her uncle said, sitting near to his wife, "it is a reputable business, if a little unconventional. The list is kept private, after all. And who else will help Lizzy, or any of our nieces, find eligible young men?"

It was mortifying, and it was true. There was no one to introduce them to wider circles, and they had no fortune to attract anyone's notice, and they travelled no farther from home than Cheapside.

Mrs Gardiner gave her a long look. "It is not that the matchmaking service is inherently disreputable. But I worry about dishonest men, ones who have no intention of marrying, or who lie about their prospects." Mrs Gardiner held out her hand, and Elizabeth crossed the room to take it. "And I worry about you breaking your heart."

She might not have looked at Jane, but Mrs Gardiner's tone said that she did not want another niece longing for a man who proved false. "Oh, I would laugh myself out of any little heartbreak," she cried. "You know that I would. Besides, it is all anonymous until we decide to meet—if we do at all—and then my uncle can investigate the gentleman until you are satisfied."

If Elizabeth corresponded with a man who was respectable, with a decent competency, and who showed greater constancy than Bingley, she could prove to Jane that there were other worthwhile men who would consider marrying a woman of their circumstances. For the sake of improving Jane's spirits, she could write to a few men to show her sister that there were loyal and respectable marriage-minded men in London.

Elizabeth could see her aunt wavering. "Edward, would she have to go to this office in Bishopsgate?"

"No, it said that personal attendance was not necessary," Mr Gardiner answered. "A statement of facts and payment is all that is required at first, and I can arrange that."

Her aunt finally smiled. "If your uncle will investigate any man you wish to meet, you may subscribe and choose one from the list. I will not have you writing to a dozen men at a time and then meeting all of them." Mrs Gardiner laughed. "Your mother would encourage you to meet them all. But choose wisely, Lizzy, because I can only countenance you meeting with one gentleman."

Elizabeth hugged and kissed her aunt. She did not actually have to meet with anyone. She only had to write to a respectable man for a little while to prove to Jane that there were worthy men in the world. Gentlemen who were more faithful than Bingley and not under the sway of arrogant, selfish men like Mr Darcy.

Fitzwilliam Darcy sat to the side in Brooks's Great Subscription Room, watching other men gamble. It had been an hour since he had grown tired of cards, tired of exchanging the same coins back and forth. The card tables were tedious for him with no conversation.

He took a slow sip of his port, intending to make this glass last the rest of the evening. Bingley was still at a table. It was good to see his friend cheerfully occupied. For all of January, Darcy had had to encourage him to be social.

The concern that Bingley still had thoughts of Jane Bennet pressed on Darcy's mind. Miss Bingley had said she was in town, and until he could be certain his friend had moved on, it was best to keep him from meeting Miss Bennet. Bingley might be compelled to marry her if he believed she came to town because she loved him—and not because her mother had sent her after a wealthy man.

Darcy rolled his glass between his hands, staring into the ruby liquid. Every time he considered his friend's autumn in Hertfordshire, he thought of the lovely and lively Elizabeth Bennet. Elizabeth's situation was just as unsuitable as her sister's, but time and distance had not been the aid in forgetting her that he had hoped.

It seemed to him that Elizabeth had gained more charms between the moment he first laid eyes on her and the time he first spoke with her; and from then on, he was entirely under her spell. She was handsome, kind, witty, and he held a great respect for her. She seemed at ease with anyone and was clever and well-informed.

And she had no trouble arguing with me. He laughed fondly into his glass at the memories of her time at Netherfield.

Had he stayed in Hertfordshire a week longer, he might have offered his most fervent affections, and devoted himself to her for the rest of his life. But he could not forget her lower situation in life or her deplorable relations.

It was a shame, really. While he was in no hurry, he was twenty-eight and would like to be married. He had even attempted to be more in society since he had returned to town. But every woman he had encountered this winter failed to compare to Elizabeth, and he still thought of her constantly.

Raised voices and laughter drew his attention from his distracting thoughts of a pair of pretty dark eyes. A small group crowded near the fireplace, looking at a sheet of paper they passed between them. He considered getting up to join them to learn what was so amusing, but then he saw his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam stride in from the cold.

Darcy hailed him from the sofa with a wave, and Fitzwilliam gestured he would get a drink and join him. On his way back, he stopped to speak with the men by the fireplace. They exchanged several words, a few smiles, and after hearty laughter, the group broke apart, and one of them handed Fitzwilliam the paper.

"What do you have there?" Darcy asked as his cousin settled in next to him. "They were having a long laugh over whatever it is."

"It is the handbill," he said, smiling. "Have you read it yet?"

Darcy sat up. "I thought it was all a joke?"

Fitzwilliam shook his head and handed it to him. "It is a legitimate enterprise."

He read the handbill to himself until he got to the part that explained how to describe oneself. "And how does one do that?" he asked contemptuously. "Fortune and connexions first, and personality and appearance, after? Or perhaps no need to bother with the latter once you announce your income?"

His cousin gestured to the paper. "They give examples of how to describe yourself."

Darcy read through them. The first-tier example described an affable, affectionate young gentleman, stout made, well-educated with an estate of five hundred per annum and ten thousand in the three per cent consolidated annuities. Fortune and status descended from there until the fifth tier of man was mentioned as being twenty-five, a mechanic, industrious, of sober habits and of respectable connexions.

He lifted his eyes. His income was twenty times higher than the first tier's example, and his invested wealth was more as well. Darcy scoffed as he read the last line. "‘All letters to be post-paid.' Well, they must be, with all the letters flowing in to be distributed to their selected desperate and lonely." He tossed the handbill to the table.

His cousin started. "Desperate and lonely? I thought this would be perfect for you."

Darcy coughed on his drink. "Perfect for me ?" he rasped, still choking on his port. "Why would you think that a list of bachelors and spinsters registering a catalogue of their allegedly beautiful qualities to be fitted with a husband or wife would be perfect for me?"

Fitzwilliam snatched up the handbill. "You hate the season, do you not? But you want to marry. You do not actually want to sit alone in Pemberley for half the year while all your friends marry and have children?"

"In theory, yes." Darcy avoided his eye, and also tried to avoid thinking of a charming and beautiful girl in Hertfordshire. "But there is quite a leap from expecting to marry—as any independent man of means would—to submitting myself to this humiliation to hurry the process."

"Why is it humiliating? It is all kept private; it is just systematised matchmaking."

He shook his head. "Matchmaking is the sort of thing done amongst friends, sisters, parents, even the vicar. Not as a business."

Fitzwilliam shrugged. "This just gives the individual more power in a similar process."

"That may be true for the woman, but men need no further agency. They can pursue a woman at will."

His cousin leant forward. "I know it is irregular," he said. "But I thought this was not a bad idea for someone like you."

Darcy blinked slowly. "Someone like me?"

Even in the evening lamplight, he saw Fitzwilliam turn pink. "Well, you are far better with the written word than…you know." He gestured vaguely. "And you do not enjoy small talk or dancing, let alone flirting."

Darcy set down his glass with a clang. "Yes, it is a miracle that I can string words together to anyone in a skirt."

"I am sorry to offend you, but I truly thought this would appeal to you. You said yourself that marriage should be more than a strategic tool to ensure family fortunes remain intact, that you won't marry our cousin Anne because you want a true partnership with someone you can have a clever conversation with."

Elizabeth's lively manner and one of her impudent speeches flashed through his mind. "You actually expect me to find a woman to love, the woman who will be the most important person in my life, through a subscription agency?" He plucked the handbill from Fitzwilliam's hand. "It is scarcely better than putting an advertisement in the agony column."

"Is it so odd?" Fitzwilliam recoiled under the look Darcy threw him. "Well, yes, it is odd, but there is nothing clandestine or improper about it. Like you said, it is better than the agony column, and one can get to know a woman without the pressure of an anxious mother or fearing what could be misconstrued by merely crossing the room to hear a woman's performance."

He felt the truth of it and shifted in his chair and pretended to read the handbill again. "Well, it, it is just not the sort of thing for wealthy or for well-disposed persons. I suppose it is useful for someone who has no one to introduce them into the world. In fact," he went on just as Fitzwilliam opened his mouth to argue, "it is just the sort of thing useful to a man of dissolute character." Wickham would probably write to every woman with a fortune and misrepresent himself to them all.

"But you are not such a man, so who cares?"

He cast about in his mind for a reply. "Or it is intended for a low woman trying to raise herself."

"Any woman does the same thing dressing for a ball, and with society's tacit approval. At least by going through this agency, they are candid about it."

"If it is such a grand idea, why do you not try it?" Darcy asked smugly, certain that he had turned the tide of this debate.

"Oh, I intend to." Darcy felt his mouth fall open. "Not to find a wife, but I knew before I got my hands on that advertisement that I would have to subscribe to get you to do it. Just don't tell my father. He still holds hope of marrying me off to the wealthy daughter of Lord Stewart. She is taller than I am, and three stone heavier. And I am not certain she bathes."

"So a stranger off the subscription list would be a marked improvement for your prospects."

Fitzwilliam laughed and took a drink. "Maybe it would be. And maybe I will fall in love before you do."

"You cannot fall in love through letters," he cried. "It is not sound; you know it is not sound."

"I say it is, and the only way you can prove me wrong is to write to a few women and then feel nothing for any of them, no inclination to meet any of them, no inclination to know any of them better."

"Absolutely not," Darcy said, reading through the handbill again. He wanted to marry, but it was far too soon to think that someone with his wealth and connexions, and, if he was being honest, his age and appearance, would have trouble meeting and earning the affections of a worthy woman. He had only not met her yet.

The thought that he had perhaps met her, and had left her in Hertfordshire because of her embarrassing family, pressed heavily on his mind. He knew that he loved Elizabeth even then, but he still left. Darcy sighed and avoided his cousin by staring harder at the advertisement.

"It is an institution that unites people seeking matrimony," Fitzwilliam said gently. "You eventually want to get married, you do not want to marry Anne, you hate parties, and you excel at writing long letters. They may as well have personally invited you to become a subscriber!"

He had to forget Elizabeth Bennet, and pouring himself into spending a month or so getting to know a correspondent would at least be a distraction. And for the sake of appeasing Fitzwilliam, he could write to a woman, and with that came the added pleasure of proving to his cousin that no one fell in love through letters.

"You will do it?" his cousin asked eagerly. Fitzwilliam knew him well; he must have seen the agreement in Darcy's eyes. "Subscribe for the season, that is all I ask. Write to a few women to learn if any of them might suit you."

"One," he mumbled. "I will write to one." He could not imagine the effort it would take to know several women at a time through a series of letters. Heaven forbid he mistake a Susan for a Sarah and write to the wrong lady.

"One at a time?" Fitzwilliam's voice lilted hopefully. He agreed with a nod. "Excellent! We can go to Bishopsgate Street on Wednesday. You might be married before the season is over."

"Are you wanting to lay a wager?" Darcy teased. "That I shall find a wife through this matchmaking business before you do?"

"Oh no, I will not take that wager," he cried, shaking his head.

Darcy smirked and crossed one leg over the other. "Then you have little faith in the business, after all."

"No," his cousin said firmly, setting down his glass. "I won't take that bet because you are going to meet your future wife from that list, and I would not have her hate me or you when she learns about us wagering over ever finding her."