Chapter Text
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”
words by: JustMyName X art by: ThornyWords X
My dearest friends,
Whether you be a clever free spirit, a duplicitous cad, a tedious chaplain, or maybe you are instead a foolish romantic or overbearing mother–or, perhaps , you admit you are more similar to our most beloved misanthrope–Mr. Darcy. In any case, you’ve come to find yourself here, and it is important for me to tell you, first and foremost, that all of you are most welcome, despite whatever faults or virtues you might possess. Secondly, you may expect the statement I have scrawled at the top of this letter to be what you will find in the pages that follow. (It is, in truth, one of my favorite lines, but I shall admit I am quite biased on the subject) The one piece of knowledge you should have before delving into the story transcribed here is that the tale you have come upon on this fine day- is nothing of the sort. It is not a tale of fortunes and wives. No. This story is, at its very heart, a story of friendship.
The only truth universally acknowledged in this account—is in fact- that children do not care if one possesses a good fortune, nor do they heed any real regard for class or circumstance. The only thing children wish for is another agreeable person to share their time with: some good-natured spirit to revel in their laughter as they sink their toes into the earth after a rainstorm, or feel the silk soft coat of their horse’s pink nose against the tips of their fingers, or get lost chasing each other through garden hedges, wrapped up in the innocence of youth and fresh summer dew.
The only thing children desire is a playmate to rescue them from the stuffy confines of their governess’s classroom or delaying the hours before their spiteful father demands a horse stall to be mucked. They wish only to hastily retreat from the lonely walls of an estate with too perfect sisters and no parents to run it, or worse still, the dirty hubble of a cottage where fathers with unforgiving hands and ale soaked lips leave no stone unturned to find their son’s faults or ailments of character.
You see, the children I speak of, were two boys: both born one month apart at Pemberley House, in the year of our Lord, seventeen hundred and sixty nine. They were both healthy and robust babies with strong lungs and clear skin. One was black of hair which grew in shining like that of a raven’s feather, and the other possessed eyes so big and kind his mother told him she could see the whole world inside them.
One Spring day, when they were on the precipice of their sixth birthday, Alonzo and Joyce Byers, were moved, along with their two children Jonathan and William, to work at the main stables of Pemberley. It was there, along the stone wall that Michael had climbed so many times before, that he came upon William, whittling a piece of wood into the shape of a beetle. He asked him to be his friend, to which William happily replied, “Yes.”
From that moment, the two boys were inseparable. They spent that Summer, and the many after it roaming the gardens and along moors, hunting, fishing, and exploring the many abandoned rooms of the large manor. Time passed, and they grew a little older, to which their parents had started to notice that their childhood dalliance was not wavering. Eventually, on the brink of their young manhood, it was downright frowned upon, the closeness of two boys, especially ones of such differing birthrights and standing in society. It was not respectable. The boys could feel how Michael’s family, as well as the rest of the servants, whispered to each other, casting judgmental stares and snide remarks. It did not go unnoticed by Michael and William, how William’s father sank further and further into his cups, to the point where he could not leave his bed.
Then, one not so very special day, a mere six months after the boy’s thirteenth birthdays had passed, William’s father died in that bed, surrounded by his sons and obedient wife (one such who happened to be secretly relieved to relinquished from the shackles of such an unhappy marriage). Lord de Bourgh came to William's mother three days later and informed her they would need to pack up their few measly belongings and vacate the estate as soon as possible, to make way for the new stableman and his family. And before either Michael or William knew how their lives would be transformed, William was whisked away, his mother soon remarried, and he was quickly thrust into a new life. One which afforded him comforts and security he was not used to. His mother had made a love match with a man above her station. Sir James Hopper Bennett had never been one to care much about what people thought of him, nor did he hold any care for following social norms. And he had the money and title to protect him from being completely ousted from polite society.
With her new advantageous marriage, Will and Jonathan gained three new siblings: Eliza, Maxine, and Dustin. Each as rebellious and free-spirited as their father. Will had forever been changed by his dark childhood; there were memories that were too painful, scars he’d always carry on his skin. But there had been one light in all that gray: a boy with pale, freckled skin and eyes as dark as his hair. A boy who had given him words scrawled across a page in haste the day they were forced apart, the page in which he kept stored away, even now, covertly tucked away in his favorite book, a book he kept inside the jacket pocket over his heart.
So please, sit down here with me, and I will tell you the story of how these two lonely boys discover each other again. It starts where we’ve come to expect, in Mr. Bennett’s parlor, on the sunny day a certain house has been let at last.
Your esteemed author,
Jane Austen