Chapter Text
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a husband or wife.
The same proved to be true - or at least those living in the town of Meryton believed it to be so - for the gentleman who had just let Netherfield Park, and had subsequently sparked a buzz of romantic hopes within the young men and ladies (those who were so inclined, at least) of the ton. A Mr Todd Anderson, apparently, who had brought his sister and a mysterious friend with him, and earned four or five thousand a year.
Charles Dalton could not be less interested if he tried. His family were currently discussing the matter with great enthusiasm- his mother was in raptures, Lydia and Kitty were giggling and scheming over the mere mention of an amiable man, and Neil was listening with his usual mixture of polite attention and genuine interest. Their father had scarcely looked up from his newspaper and Meeks hadn’t ceased in the repetitive trill of his scales up and down the keys of the pianoforte. Charles hadn't even looked up from his book.
"Charles, dear," his mother tried, grasping at his forearm.
"It's Charlie, Mama," he muttered instinctively, despite his mother never listening to this request. True to form, she hardly seemed to hear him.
"Charles, my dear boy, you wish to marry, don't you?"
"Under duress, perhaps." Charlie idly turned a page.
Papa barked out a laugh from behind his newspaper. Neil, ever polite, covered his budding smirk with his palm. Mama let out an irritated huff and narrowed her eyes, used to Charlie's flippant attitude. He could feel her hard stare burn into his cheek. He sighed and closed his book with a snap.
"Mama, you know I have no interest in marriage. If am amiable man or woman should come along and turn my head then so be it, but I will not seek out a husband or wife of my own volition."
"Oh," Mama fluttered. "Well, be that as it may, Mr Dalton, will you not at least visit Mr Anderson? For you know it would be improper for any of us to visit him without you having done so first!"
"I still do not understand why you must visit him at all."
"You know full well I wish for Mr Anderson to marry one of our children, Mr Dalton! Only think what an establishment it would be! Sir William and Lady Danburry are determined to go, merely on that account, for in general, you know, they visit no newcomers. Indeed you must go, for it will be impossible for us to visit him if you do not!"
"You are over-scrupulous, surely, my dear," Papa said. "I dare say Mr Anderson will be very glad to see you, and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my hearty consent to his marrying whichever he chooses of the children: though I must throw in a good word for my little Charlie."
"What did I just, say?" Charlie threw his hands up in exasperation. Neil laughed good-naturedly. Even Meeks' lips twitched as he continued his scales.
"I desire you will do no such thing," Mama said crossly. "Charlie is not a bit better than the others, and I am sure he is not half so handsome as Neil, nor half so good-humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving him the preference."
"They have none of them much to recommend them," replied he wryly. "Kitty and Lydia are silly and ignorant, much like other girls - Steven Michael is somewhat of an acquired taste, I must admit, and Neil - well, Neil hardly counts, for he is not my son, if he is as good as. No offence, dear boy."
"None taken, sir," Neil laughed, quite used to Papa's affectionate ribbing. He and Charlie exchanged a grin. The two had been as good as brothers since Neil was only two years old, when he moved to live with the Daltons on the occasion of Mr and Mrs Perry's - Mama's sister and her husband - sudden deaths. Charlie could not possibly consider them cousins, as Neil was surely the person he loved most in this world, far surpassing his supposed true sisters and brother. And he - and Neil - both knew that Papa did not see him as any less of his son than Charlie himself.
Papa continued. "Yet Charlie has something more of quickness than his brothers and sisters."
Charlie nodded to his father in over-pompous thanks, and Papa winked warmly.
"Mr Dalton, how can you abuse your own children in such a way!" Mama squawked indignantly, moving behind Neil to rub his shoulders soothingly. "You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion of my poor nerves."
"You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these twenty years at least."
"You do not know what I suffer," Mama sighed wearily, settling into a cushioned chair beside Neil.
"Well, my darling," Papa finally folded his newspaper and set it beside him. "I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men of four thousand a year come into the neighbourhood."
"It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come, since you will not visit them!"
"Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I shall visit them all." Papa stood from his chair, took a step forward, and pressed a kiss to the crown of Mama's head. She pursed her lips, but did not say more.
Neil, sensing the subject was to be shifted, returned his gaze and attention to the embroidery in his lap. Charlie picked up his novel and began to sift through the yellowed tome for his page. Kitty and Lydia continued whispering to each other about Mr Anderson. There was the shuffling of papers and Meeks began playing one of his usual pieces. The sitting room was quiet for several long moments.
"Meeks, have you still got my yellow thread?" Neil asked, glancing up from his embroidery. Meeks paused in his playing and hummed thoughtfully beneath his breath.
"I think it is in my mending basket, by my bedside. I will get it for you." The pianoforte stool creaked obnoxiously as Meeks stood and made his way upstairs.
"Thank you!" Neil called, leaning onto one side of his chair to peer around the doorframe.
"Yes, yes," Meeks responded dismissively, halfway up the stairs by now.
"I wish you would not call him that horrid name, my dears," Mama scrunched her nose. "Steven Michael is a perfectly acceptable name."
"He hates it, Mama," Kitty piped up. "He much prefers Meeks."
"And you do remember how meek of a little thing he was, do you not, my dear?" Papa said fondly, a smile gracing his lips. "He would not speak to a single soul besides you, and Neil, and Charlie."
"Oh, but it is so improper!" Mama fretted, hands flapping.
"We do not call him so in public, Mama," Neil assured her, ever one to keep the peace. "It is only the name which he prefers within the privacy of Longbourn."
"Well, I suppose that is not so unseemly. But only amongst ourselves," she held up a knitting needle threateningly. The family nodded its assent. Charlie even raised his hands in mocking surrender, earning giggles from Lydia and Kitty. Meeks returned from upstairs, passed Neil his borrowed thread, and resumed his earlier position. The sound of sweet, lilting pianoforte music slowly swept the Dalton family, and the sitting room of Longbourn reassumed a state of contented quiet.
~
Charlie chewed on his lip, carefully threading his sewing needle through first the trimming ribbon and then the base of the hat. He had always found sewing and its similar crafts incredibly tedious, but there was an upcoming ball, and his hat was in dire need of a new ribbon - the old was fraying tremendously.
Papa peered at his project over his shoulder. "I hope Mr Anderson will like it, Charlie."
Charlie sent him an unimpressed look in lieu of reply or millionth reprise of his distinct disinterest in marriage, earning a rumble of playful laughter.
"We are not in a way to know what Mr Anderson likes," Mama sniffed, folding lace napkins into neat squares. "Since we are not to visit."
Charlie sighed, setting his hat aside for a moment. "You forget, Mama, that we shall meet him at the assemblies, and that Mrs. Long has promised to introduce him to us."
"I do doubt whether Mrs. Long would do any such thing, with two nieces of her own. I know I would not, if in her position. Yet she is somewhat of a selfish, hypocritical woman, is she not? Indeed, I have no opinion of her."
Charlie and Neil exchanged a wry look. No opinion, indeed.
"No more have I," Papa agreed airily, backing away from breathing down Charlie's neck and instead taking his usual place in his usual chair. "I am glad to find that you do not depend on her serving you."
Mama nodded toward him primly, resuming her napkin folding. How dreadfully dull.
Kitty, upon whom particularly windy days wore poorly, released a small, dry cough into her handkerchief. It took two more hoarse little sounds before Mama could not contain herself.
"Must you cough so, Kitty, for Heaven's sake! Do have a little compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces."
"Kitty has no discretion in her coughs," Father said gravely, eyes gleaming. Lydia giggled into her half-mended stockings. "She times them ill."
"I do not cough for my own amusement," Kitty defended stonily, narrowing her eyes at Papa's teasing. She turned to Charlie. "When is to be the next ball, dear Charlie?"
"Tomorrow fortnight," he answered mechanically, working at a particularly stubborn pin on his hat. The ordeal of trimming it was growing to be so frustrating he might as well abandon the idea of a hat altogether.
Mama let the lace napkins fall to the tablecloth, scoffing incredulously. "Yet Mrs. Long does not come back till the day before, so it will be impossible for her to introduce him, for she will not know him herself!"
"Well then, my dear," Papa picked up the day's newspaper with a rustle. "You may have the advantage of your friend, and introduce Mr Anderson to her.'
"You know very well, Mr Dalton," Mama pointed an accusing finger at her husband. "That this is impossible. Impossible, when I am not acquainted with him myself. You are so teasing!"
"True, a fortnight's acquaintance is certainly very little. One cannot know what a man really is by the end of a fortnight. But if we do not venture somebody else will - and after all, Mrs. Long and her nieces must stand their chance - and, therefore, as she will think it an act of kindness, if you decline the office, I will take it on myself."
The room seemed halted for a moment in collective bewildered pause. Charlie thought he might have seen Meeks and Lydia blink in unison. Mama, in all her usual outspoken glory, seemed struck silent for a long passing moment. She blinked too. Charlie could not help the grin growing on his face.
"What?!" Mama finally shrieked. Meeks jumped, Lydia let out a startled giggle, and Kitty another dry cough.
"Shh, Kitty," Charlie teased softly. She poked her tongue out at him.
"What can be the meaning of that emphatic exclamation?" Papa cried with falsified surprise - as if he had not specifically designed the dramatic affair for such a reaction. "Do you not consider the great vitality of our forms of introduction, and the stress that is laid upon them? I am quite astonished at you, my dear. What say you, Meeks? For you are a young fellow of deep reflection, I know, and read great books and make extracts."
"I wish I had the means to say something extremely sensible, Papa," said Meeks solemnly, adjusting his spectacles. "Indeed you have struck me speechless for the moment."
"Well, while Meeks is adjusting his ideas, let us return to Mr Anderson!" Papa declared grandly.
"I am almost sick of Mr Anderson," cried Mama, rubbing her temples wearily. Neil placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, exchanging a glance with Charlie, who could do nothing but grin - he had a great suspicion what his father's joke was, and found it exceedingly hilarious.
"I am sorry to hear that, but why did not you tell me so before? If I had known as much this morning I certainly would not have called on him. It is very unlucky, but as I have actually paid the visit, we cannot escape the acquaintance now."
The collective astonishment of the room was palpable. Charlie let out a sudden loud laugh, leaning against Neil in his mirth, who too was beginning to grin. Meeks had a soft, pleased smile, and Kitty and Lydia were giggling happily and exchanging eager looks at the prospect. But it was Mama's reaction which was the most enthusiastic of all.
She leapt from her chair and began peppering every part of Papa's face she could reach with kisses. "How good you are, my dear Mr Dalton! You love your children too well to neglect such an acquaintance. Oh, how very pleased I am! To think, you jester, that you should have gone this morning, and never said a word about it till now!"
"Now, Kitty," Papa said from around Mama's fervent kisses. "You may cough as much as you choose."
"Oh Mr Dalton!" She swatted at his arm playfully, planting one last kiss on his forehead before returning to her seat with a spring in her step. It seemed infectious. Lydia was wondering aloud what she would wear when they met Mr Anderson. Kitty had returned to her mending with renewed fervour. Meeks was carefully sifting through his sheet music - no doubt for a suitable piece to play for Mr Anderson. Even Charlie, who had no interest in Mr Anderson whatsoever, found himself excited, even if just for Neil's sake. The possible happiness of such a beloved brother was a happy prospect indeed.
"What an excellent father you have, girls, boys!" Mama exclaimed happily. "He despises making new acquaintances, and yet he does so for your sake! Lydia, my love, I dare say Mr Anderson will even dance with you at the next ball!"
"I am the tallest," Lydia responded smugly, thus sparking a heated argument about who indeed was the tallest Dalton child. Meeks measured Kitty and Lydia using the flat edge of his book, while Mama fretted and fluttered and Papa simply chuckled behind his newspaper. Neil smiled fondly at the scene as he leaned on the fist of his hand, disposed to optimism as he was. Charlie grinned and made a biting comment about Lydia being up on her toes. As he laughed alongside Neil and his father, Charlie felt with certainty that the introduction of Mr Anderson into their lives could only be a very good thing.