The Tale of Mr. & Mrs. Bennet

By Ney Mitch

The Bennet sisters of Longbourn have experienced many Christmases. However, many Christmas Pasts before them, their parents were young, single, and had their own happily ever after to find. But they are not alone. For there are three Gardiner children, and each have a part to play at one significant Christmas where their lives change forever. Here is the love story of Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Bennet, Aunt Philips, and Uncle Gardiner, when they were young, and everything was just beginning!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melange Books, LLC
• Release date: Nov 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798886530629

Ney Mitch

Ney Mitch has been a long-standing Jane Austen enthusiast, having written forty novels that were inspired by her various works. Since stumbling on Miss Austen’s books after graduating from college, she has always dabbled in Austen inspired literature, ranging from writing works for teens to adults.Originally, her desire was to adapt Jane Austen’s writing in away to help young adults connect with her, however over time, she has spread her aims to other genres and styles.Having received her BA Degree at Desales University, she is a writer, both literary and dramatic, as well as being a Historic Reenactor.

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Introduction & Character Description

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This tale takes place in England, in the year 1783, under the reign of King George.

In this novel, Mrs. Bennet and her sister were originally from Meryton and Hertfordshire, but since their mother died when they were young, their father sent them to live with relatives while he ran his business as a solicitor. At a young age, they went to live with their cousins, the Thorpes, on the estate Briony Park, to be companion to their cousin, Lydia Thorpe. While their brother grew up in Meryton, both sisters remained at Briony Park, and haven’t been back to Hertfordshire since they were children.

Below is a character description, for lack of a better phrase, of ‘who is who’ from the original tale.

Elizabeth Gardiner – Mrs. Bennet

Jane Gardiner – Aunt Philips

Edward Gardiner – Uncle Gardiner

Miriam – Aunt Gardiner

Nathaniel Bennet – Mr. Bennet

Thomas Philips – Uncle Philips

William Collins – Mr. Collins’s father

Mr. and Mrs. Hill – the Hills who were servants from the original tale.

Mrs. Long – Mrs. Long who had the nieces that Mrs. Bennet viewed as a threat to vying for Mr. Bingley.

CHAPTER 1

Once Upon an Engagement

When living in a great house, one’s estate becomes one’s world. So, when the larger world quite bursts in, making one’s social sphere that much larger, there is always much ado about something.

As a result, nothing stirs more interest than two such items:

First, a ball or dinner party.

Second, an arrival of an amiable company—for something must always be said for novelty.

At such a time of year, nothing could be more agreeable than an engagement party with dancing at the end of it, I remarked, practically dancing around the room.

Yes, Elizabeth, Lydia said, equally as joyous as I was. As she sat at her toilette, brushing her hair, I leaned forward and looked at us both in the mirror.

Grimacing, I pursed my lips.

I wish that I could have been born with curly hair, I groaned, envying Lydia’s curly hair that fell down her shoulders in a beautiful cascade.

I disagree, Lydia replied. You forget the joys of contrast. With your straight blonde hair and my curly raven look, do you know what men call us? The Day and the Night.

I chuckled at that. Ah, believe me, I’ve heard them.

As I looked at us both in the mirror, I could not help but feel the effects of vanity. But who cares? Quite frankly, if a woman is lovely, why can she not feel pleased with how she looks? Lydia Thorpe and I had similar features, from our plump and lovely figures to our dainty but round faces. While my eyes were a striking gray, Lydia’s was a lovely blue.

Look at us, I said, taking in our appearance, as we were wearing nothing more than our shifts, stockings, and corsets, in moments like this, no gown can make us appear to better advantage.

Imagine if we walked downstairs, wearing nothing but this? Lydia laughed.

The shock of it, Lydia and I said together, while I feigned a swoon. Suddenly, Lydia’s face shifted from amused and animated, to serious and sober.

Your face goes from illuminated to somber, I remarked. That will not do. A lovely woman should not look so serious so soon before her wedding.

My dear Elizabeth, Lydia responded, sometimes a wedding leads to serious looks. There is so much to care over. But that’s not what this look is for.

What then?

Lizzy, she said, you don’t have to leave Briony Park after my marriage. I’m sure Mama would love for you to stay on. And Jane should stay as well. When I leave, Mama would love to have company remain.

I groaned inwardly. The inner frustrations of doing what was owing to family, despite that one wants the reverse.

Oh, I do so wish to stay, I uttered, bitter. Believe me, I would. However, Father finds it within his desire to suddenly have us visit him in Hertfordshire. And, since he is most pressing, we ought to finally go. I rolled my eyes. I sound terrible, don’t I?

Never, Lydia replied. It doesn’t matter how much one tries, but it’s not so very simple to feel a spark of affection just because someone is one’s parents. One needs time to develop love.

That is precisely what I believe. While I do appreciate all that he has done, it doesn’t change the fact that Briony has been my home for too long now. What’s in Hertfordshire anyway? I can hardly remember very much about it.

There was a knock on the door, and Lydia and I jumped.

Oh, do come in, Juliana, Lydia said, and surely it was the servant, Juliana, with three bouquets of flowers in her hands.

If you please, Miss Thorpe and Miss Gardiner, Juliana said, cheerfully, these bouquets arrived.

Oh, I said, dashing forward, thank you, Juliana.

Once she handed them to us, she remained in the background, whenever we were ready to get dressed. I handed Lydia her bouquet, and holding mine, I opened the note.

Oh, Lydia said, they are lovely. Who are they from?

When I read the note, I smiled.

Who do you think? I handed her the note, and she read it aloud, taking all the pleasure in having a handsome fiancé who understood romance.

‘To my exquisite bride-to-be, and her constant companions,

Dear ladies, please accept these bouquets, as a kind remembrance of me. And I do hope, pray, that you will remember me, my perfect Lydia, for the first two dances of the evening. And since one’s friends are so dear to you, Miss Gardiner, and Miss Elizabeth, you cannot be forgotten. Therefore, I ask that both Gardiner sisters accept my hand for the third and fourth set as well.

What joy is mine, to dance with one’s fiancée, and her devoted friends.

John Hayter

When closing the letter, Lydia’s cheeks reddened from blushing. Taking note of her expression filled me with a significant amount of comfort for herself, and jealousy, regarding myself. What can one do? It is not easy to see a delightful friend so easily disposed of in marriage, and you are quite left to the wayside of affections and your life changing so terribly.

Bouncing up to Lydia Thorpe again, I leaned over her and began to place the floral ornaments in her hair for decoration.

Lydia, I said, blushing becomes you.

Lydia chuckled.

Take heart, I said, you are marrying one of the most impressive men that ever lived—who understands the importance of a good bouquet.

I want to make him happy, Lizzy.

I’m sure you shall. For he is rich, and you are rich and handsome. What more can there be to fulfilling all one’s source of happiness?

We were interrupted by the sound of horses galloping down the lane.

Is that John? Lydia cried, jumping up from her seat and rushing to the window. Feeling the contagious euphoria, I followed her.

Miss Thorpe and Miss Gardiner? Juliana cried, rushing forward with shawls to wrap around us. Do you both forget yourselves? Don’t be so exposed in front of the window, where you both might be seen.

While she wrapped the shawls around our shoulders, we looked down at the road and we saw two riders, both with satchel bags slung over their shoulders. One of the men was dressed as a gentleman, and the other as an officer.

Looking down, I was able to recognize one of them.

It’s my brother! I cried. It’s Edward.

And sure enough, Edward Gardiner was riding down the lane with an officer beside him, riding a black stallion.

My brother had come to Briony Park.

CHAPTER 2

Death in December

Meanwhile, in another side of the country, in Hertfordshire, a funeral procession was moving along the cemetery.

The reverend, Mr. Burnside, led the throng as the coffin was being held up and carried along the grounds. While the procession was not a long one, for the late Mr. Bennet had not been a very popular sort of figure in the neighborhood, nor was he disliked. Therefore, it was a modest crowd, but genuine, as his son, Nathaniel, helped carry the coffin past other graves that were covered with snow. Eventually, they arrived right next to the plot that was next to his late mother, Mrs. Mary Bennet.

When they arrived at the spot, Nathaniel saw the six-foot hole, dug in the ground, right next to his mother’s headstone.

As the coffin was lowered into the cold earth, Nathaniel stood there, as Reverend Burnside gave a hearty speech at the end of it all. When the ceremony was complete, Nathaniel barely spoke. Never to be one who talked unless he had something valuable to say, he found himself almost mute at that point.

Rather, he flattered himself with his sense of superiority in knowing what everyone else around him was thinking.

Reverend Burnside was thinking about what his servant would make him for dinner.

Mr. and Mrs. Long were immediately contemplating how much Longbourn was worth and how long would be a suitable time before they would begin to throw a relative of theirs at Nathaniel Bennet, as a prospective wife.

Mrs. Cox was hoping that her son would return soon from his time at sea.

Mr. Harvey would wonder when his two daughters would arrive, despite that he would receive little pleasure from the matter. After all, the man barely could stand his wife, so how would two daughters fare better in his esteem?

And if their minds were not so stuffed with their own matters, then naturally, they would be thinking of their new neighbor in their midst. A gentleman of trade who had recently been knighted was now moving to Hertfordshire—therefore, naturally the whole village was astir of their newly esteemed neighbor, who was guaranteed to raise the level of their acquaintance with tales of his presentation at St. James’s Court. Nathaniel Bennet found himself unable to care whatsoever about arrivals, when every acquaintance of his always seemed to be teetering between amusing dimwittedness, to pure crassness.

Either way, Nathaniel Bennet enjoyed the comforts of his deductive powers—anything to distract him from the fact that his father was gone, and he felt alone. Yet, such emotions were not something that a man was regarded to speak about, but only adjust to one’s state of life changing, especially when it was so much to his advantage.

Everyone who had attended approached him at the end, apologizing for his loss.

Thanking them all, Nathaniel thought it best to remain as the gravediggers placed the dirt on his father’s casket until it all but disappeared.

With each bit of earth being piled on, Nathaniel felt the solitude of his situation, the agony of one’s greatest advisor being gone from him, and now aware that he had more cares to care over.

If only his mother were alive!

Truly, for what were mothers, especially one as superior as his had been, when it came to managing domestic affairs? Mothers were the soul of the house. Now he would have to care about all the agonies that taxed a homeowner, of landed gentry. He would have to care.

Well, Reverend Burnside said, tapping Nathaniel Bennet on the shoulder. His attempt to ease the young man, like that of a paternal pastor, was well-meaning, but it only drove the grieving son from out of his own musings and reminded him that he was not alone. Ignorant of this reaction, Reverend Burnside only continued to coax him in the only way that he knew how.

There, there, Mr. Burnside said. There, there…

Mr. Nathaniel Bennet rolled his eyes.

"Thank you, Mr. Burnside. That is of great comfort."

Well, as terrible as it is to be parted from one’s parents, especially one’s father, always remember that he is in a better place.

True. Heaven has been known to be superior to Hertfordshire. One can only hope.

Yes. Yes. And take comfort. Your father was prudent to secure your future for the rest of your life. Thus, doing well by his station. And now you may miss being called by your first name, and Hertfordshire welcomes its new master of Longbourn.

I never liked my first name anyway. There had always been something unnatural about it.

Unnatural, sir? Nathaniel is as true a name as any other.

Natural for other men, but not for me. Sometimes, I cannot help but wonder if first names come so easily to us all. In fact, I think it would make sense for me to have gone my entire life with being called ‘Eh, you!’

Reverend Burnside looked at the new Mr. Bennet, quite perplexed. Then he laughed, releasing the tension of being so wholly out of his element.

Ah, I’ve heard of your familiar tones of sarcasm. You will be your father’s son to the very last. Your jokes will not turn my head. No, I am too smart for that, Mr. Bennet.

Nathaniel Bennet turned to him, a sardonic look in his eye.

Are you certain about that, sir?

Realizing that it would do best to give up, Reverend Burnside once more offered his condolences before he left Longbourn’s new master to himself.

Finally able to be alone in his grief, the young Mr. Bennet took one last look at his father’s grave before he wrapped his coat even tighter around his neck, sheltering him from the cold and he left the cemetery.

Looking around, he saw that the path between the church and Longbourn was empty. The cold, being so very biting, bleak, and harsh, was keeping the average person indoors, and that was precisely to his liking.

When seeing that he would be unobserved, Mr. Bennet felt the need to burst from inside of himself. Giving into a pastime of his, at first, he walked quickly, which turned into a jog, and then it turned into a full run.

Despite the ache in his side, he continued to sprint all the way home. He only stopped when he passed over onto Longbourn’s estate. When seeing his house before him, Mr. Bennet leaned against the nearest tree, collapsed on the ground and finally wept.

With both parents gone, he was duly aware of the emptiness. It was no longer a house, in his eyes, but a reflection of all that came before him. Of all that he had lost because he had no choice but to lose.

Now what was he to do? Where could he go?

In his peripheral vision, he saw a figure.

Turning, he saw one of his servants, Mrs. Hill, standing before him. She was a young servant, recently married, but since she had been a servant since her early teenage years, she already had the qualifications to make herself most valuable in the household.

When seeing her, Mr. Bennet jumped up, quicker than a minuteman.

Begging your pardon, Sir, Mrs. Hill rushed out.

Not at all, Hill, Mr. Bennet said, straightening his coat as he stood.

I did not mean to come upon you in so surprised a way, Mrs. Hill said. For as you can see… He looked at her arms, and he saw some branches.

What do you do there? he asked, going up to her. Doesn’t your husband know to collect the wood this morning?

It wasn’t his fault, sir, Mrs. Hill said, approaching Mr. Bennet. Mr. Hill is inside now, seeing to Mr. Philips’s comforts.

When hearing his friend’s name mentioned, Mr. Bennet’s eyes relaxed.

Thomas is here?

Yes, Mrs. Hill said, standing in front of her new master. He just arrived ten minutes ago, and I noticed that more firewood was required, so I took the liberty of getting it myself, without telling Mr. Hill.

Mr. Bennet walked up to her and took the firewood from her.

My gallantry is not equivalent to giving you both a honeymoon, but it shall suffice. In some manner or the other.

Oh, thank you, Mr. Bennet.

Together, they walked back to Longbourn. As the home grew larger before him, Mr. Bennet grimaced. All this was his, as he was a free, independent man, of a respectable home and steady fortune of two thousand pounds a year. And yet—and yet!

When they arrived, Mr. Hill opened the door immediately.

Master Nathaniel—oh, forgive me, sir, I mean Mr. Bennet.

I do not begrudge you for not recognizing my new title, Hill, Mr. Bennet said as Mr. Hill took the firewood from him. It will take me a little time to adjust to the new change myself. I do not think I will overcome it by next year, but perhaps the year after next will give me sufficient time to undergo the metamorphosis.

I’m certain that it will, sir, Mr. Hill said, giving his wife a special look as she took Mr. Bennet’s coat, hat, and gloves, and walked past them.

Mr. Bennet chuckled.

It was terribly obvious that they were newlyweds.

Mr. Bennet, Mr. Hill said, you have a visitor in the parlor.

No need to inform me, Mr. Bennet said, wiping the air dismissively. Mrs. Hill already did that service.

Mr. Philips declined the tea and preferred to have a large glass of brandy, Mr. Hill said. And you, sir?

Mr. Philips, read my mind, Mr. Bennet answered. yes, I would. At times like this, a man needs a little liquid courage.

Very good, sir.

Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Hill said to him before he walked to the drawing room.

Yes? Mr. Bennet responded.

I’m sorry about your father.

When hearing Mrs. Hill offer her condolences for his loss, Mr. Bennet froze. Perhaps it was the manner in which she said it, or perhaps it was because she was a servant who knew his father well, but he felt as if her solace was the first sincere one. And it stirred him.

Thank you, Hill, he said, gentle. Thank you for your kind words.

Mrs. Hill smiled, and then disappeared into the kitchen.

Mr. Bennet looked at Mr. Hill.

You made an excellent match, Mr. Hill.

Mr. Hill smiled. Thank you, sir, Mr. Hill responded. I flatter myself that I did.

Mr. Hill followed his wife to the kitchen. Mr. Bennet straightened his jacket and walked into his parlor, where he had the only visitor that he would have permitted at such a time.

Thomas! Mr. Bennet entered.

Thomas Philips, Mr. Bennet’s friend and longtime clerk to Mr. Gardiner, the attorney in Meryton, was standing by the fire, drinking from his glass.

Thomas, Mr. Bennet said, good god, friend, you’re looking as hideous as ever.

You flatter me, Nathan, Thomas Philips said, chuckling. Hideous people have a distinct look. I am as unremarkable as morning mist.

I declare, I don’t know anyone who’s had an uglier friend than myself.

Oh, I know someone.

Who?

Thomas Philips pointed to himself.

Me! Since Mr. Bennet was Thomas Philip’s closest comrade, Mr. Philips had been talking of Mr. Bennet, who was well aware of it. Both young men had the beautiful misfortune to be born with a cleverness that was unlike any who surrounded them. As such, it led to them being bound together in the only way that two sardonic individuals could. No cold prudent pictures of perfection for them! No, every scene that they came upon had a sparkle of flaws and imperfection to it, and both men would dig into