Mr. Bennet trotted along the lane to Netherfield riding his favorite trusty steed, Artax. He was cursing the numerous trees that had been allowed to overhang the lane as he ducked and dodged branches along the way, muttering to himself, “I shall certainly make Mr. Bingley aware of the state of his estate.” While pondering this thought, he was not able to avoid a large branch in his way, which struck him in the face, causing him to fall backwards to the ground. As he sat, shaking his head, he noticed his hat a few yards off. He stood to retrieve it but before he could do so, a badger emerged from a hedgerow, snatched the hat and disappeared with it into a hole in the ground, but not before hissing savagely at the old man. “Blast!” said Mr. Bennet, startled as he stroked his bare head. He was relieved, at least, that the animal had not done more than steal his hat. “Probably a rabid beast,” he muttered to himself. He turned back towards his horse, but stepped into a puddle, thoroughly wetting his shoes and stockings. “Bingley definitely won’t want to marry one of my daughters if I show up hatless and sloshing into his drawing room with wet footwear.” Mr. Bennet screwed up his courage and marched to the badger’s hole, then plunged his arm blindly into the opening. He thought he felt a furry thing scurry away, “good riddance,” he muttered, as he felt around for his felt hat. At last his hand settled upon it and he yanked it back through the hole. He inspected the headgear and saw that it was frayed on the edge of the brim and only one or two small bites had been taken out of it. He placed it back on his head and sloshed forward.

He managed to mount Artax again and continue on his way. As he rounded past the road that led up to Oakham Mount, he heard a rumbling sound and, looking up, he saw, a few pebbles dropping from the summit, he turned away from them but suddenly a large boulder tumbled down the side of the mount and he had to spur his horse forward to avoid it. At last he stopped, out of breath and panicked. “We narrowly avoided certain death, Artax,” he exclaimed.

Mr. Bennet hadn’t noticed that the chase had led them off the lane. Artax whinnied in distress and Mr. Bennet wondered at the cause until, looking down, he saw the horse’s hooves stuck in a mud puddle that was deeper than it looked. “Your hooves, Artax, are at least six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain,” he pontificated urging the horse to break loose. “Come Artax, you can do it, just push forward.” But the horse floundered, causing it to sink ever deeper. Mr. Bennet did not panic until the mud reached his shoes. Then he thought it better to dismount and lead the horse out. He was surprised to find himself in mud up to his chest. He pushed against the horse’s flank to steady himself, which Artax to regain his footing and clamber towards safety, thus causing Mr. Bennet to sink further until he could no longer move. He tried to hang on and let himself be dragged along with the horse, but the reins slipped out of his hands. “Artax,” he cried. The horse looked back at him helplessly and Mr. Bennet thought he could see tears in its eyes. “Arrrtaaaaaax!” he cried again. But to no avail.

The poor beast watched his master slip under the mud. Loyally, he did not leave until the last bubble of breath gurgled to the surface. Sadly, Artax turned back toward Longbourn and hastened to the barn.

~~~~~

Elizabeth Bennet was taking one of her daily walks through the Longbourn garden. As she wandered through the prettyish kind of little wilderness on one side of the lawn, she noticed her father’s favorite steed coming towards her, riderless.

“What’s wrong, Artax? Has something happened to Papa?” As she took his reins, she noticed how muddy his legs were. “Were you in a deep mud puddle? Has Papa gotten lost? Where is he?” The horse whinnied in response.

Remembering that she was no horsewoman, Elizabeht guided Artax to the barn and sent a stable boy to the house to fetch Jane. While another groom wiped the horse down, Jane came hurrying to them. “Whatever is the matter, Lizzy?” she asked, concern furrowing her brow.

“I fear Papa has met with trouble,” Elizabeth responded. “You are a superior rider to myself, so let us mount Artax. He can take us to where our father is so we can help him.”

At once, the groom assisted the sisters onto Artax’s back. Jane sat neatly side-saddle, while Elizabeth was forced to mount astride behind her. “Propriety be damned,” she said. “Let’s go, Jane.”

“Forward, Artax! Show us the meaning of haste,” Jane cried, urging the horse into a gallop.

~~~~~

As the tired horse approached the puddle where his master had met his demise, the two ladies descried a figure standing nearby, looking over the mud and stroking his chin. Noticing their approach, he bowed.

“Good day, ladies,” he said gallantly.

Elizabeth leapt from the horse’s back. “There is no time for pleasantries, sir. We fear our father has met with trouble.”

“Maybe that explains the hat floating in the mud,” the gentleman said.

Elizabeth gasped and immediately began looking around for a stick with which to reach the hat. Meanwhile, the gentleman glanced at the other lady, and suddenly their eyes locked. They knew, but the current circumstances prevented any acknowledgment. Lizzy’s cry of “I think I’ve got it,” interrupted their mutual gaze and Mr. Bingley took charge of the hat retrieval.

As he handed the hat to Lizzy, the gentleman said, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Charles Bingley. I have just leased Netherfield Park.”

“At last,” murmured Jane.

Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Yes, the house has been vacant some time. I am Elizabeth Bennet. This is my eldest sister, Jane Bennet.” She glanced back at the hat in her hands and said, “But where is Papa? This hat has been bitten by a badger, I’d know those toothmarks anywhere.”

“Well, I’ve neither seen a gentleman nor a badger, only that hat in the mud,” replied Bingley in a manner clearly indicating he wished to be more helpful than he possibly could be, which endeared him all the more to Miss Bennet. “ was just walking the lane to survey these trees that overhang it. They almost knocked me off my horse, Dingley, yesterday.”

“Dingley?” asked Jane.

“It rhymes,” said Bingley. “My friend Darcy suggested it. He cannot abide for my horses to have virile names, but he calls all of his Zeus or Thunder or some such nonsense.”

“I like Dingley,” said Jane.

“This Darcy sounds like a real treasure,” said Lizzy sarcastically, “do you suppose he could assist in searching for my father?”

“Is that him?” asked a voice behind her.

“Where?” asked Lizzy, turning to face the voice. She was struck by the handsome features of a tall gentleman riding a noble all-white steed, a dead badger, in one hand. “Whoa Apollo,” he muttered, calming his horse. Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but looked where he was pointing. There, emerging from the mud was a human hand!

Jane let out a blood-curdling scream. “Papa!”

“Indeed,” said Lizzy, sadly. “I recognize his wedding ring. It has the Bennet family crest engraved on it.”

“There might be breath in him yet,” exclaimed Bingley. “Come Darcy let us pull him out.”

“Perhaps, we should escort the ladies home and send some of your estate men to retrieve Mr. Bennet.”

“No!” said Lizzy resolutely. “I shan’t leave my father here!” She began removing her shoes and stockings.

“That won’t be necessary Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy. He then fashioned a lasso from his rope and cast it towards Mr. Bennet, encircling his submerged torso. Then tying it to his horse he urged mighty stallion to pull. The ladies were looking at him curiously. “I learned that from an American,” he said proudly.

Finally, Mr. Bennet was lying before them, devoid of life. The girls collapsed into each other’s arms and wept. Mr. Bingley arranged for a wagon to take Mr. Bennet and his daughters home.

Mrs. Bennet was inconsolable on the death of her husband and blamed herself for sending him on his perilous journey to Netherfield. Mr. Collins arrived at Longbourn before the funeral, to pay his respects and meet his grieving cousins from among whom he expected to choose a wife. He was not long in the house before he discerned that Jane was the prettiest of the sisters, which happily coincided with his intention to choose the eldest. Given the unhappy circumstances of the ladies, he thought it best to relieve their distress by making his intentions known as soon as possible. Thus, the day after the funeral, he sought a private interview with Miss Bennet.

He invited her for a walk in the garden and spoke at length of how unexpected the recent turn of events was for him. He had not anticipated that he would inherit Longbourn so soon. “My own prospects having recently improved,” he went on to explain, “I hope to marry as soon as possible.” As he was thereafter entering on his list of reasons for wishing to marry, Jane heard the pounding hoofbeats of an approaching horse.

She turned towards the sound to see Mr. Bingley on Dingley. He instantly inquired as to her health and that of her family, under their grave affliction. Mr. Collins responded before she could. “Miss Bennet is doing tolerably well. There will naturally be some melancholy occasioned by such a sudden and unexpected event, but she will rally. In fact, I expect she will soon have reason to rejoice. Some good may yet come of this calamity,” he added with a meaningful snicker.

“Forgive me, sir,” said Bingley, dismounting. “I too have lost my father, and I know the grief that she must be feeling.” He took Jane’s hand, as she stumbled through an introduction between the two gentlemen, before she and Bingley walked off together.

Mr. Collins called from behind them, “Miss Bennet, I was not quite finished talking.”

“Never mind him,” said Bingley. “I will make sure you are taken care of.”

Collins, for his part, could see the futility of further pursuit of Jane Bennet. Luckily, when he looked around at the sisters he was resolved. Elizabeth, equally next to Jane in birth and beauty, succeeded her of course. “Well,” he said to himself, “a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do,” and he marched in her direction.

As he approached her and began anew to list his reasons for matrimony, hoofbeats again resounded in the distance. Both Elizabeth and Mr. Collins looked towards the sound to see Mr. Darcy hastening towards them on a powerful black stallion, furrowing his brow. “Whoa Maximus,” said Darcy, as he dismounted. “Miss Elizabeth, allow me to express my sincere sympathy at the loss of your father. I too have lost my father and know the grief you must be feeling.”

Mr. Collins threw up his arms in exasperation. He turned, defeated, back towards the house, cursing his bad luck. But, alas, he paused when heard the melodious sound of a piano. “Mary,” he said to himself decisively. He strode towards the house, but was distracted by the sound of hoofs once again. He looked up and saw a young man dismounting from his horse in front of the house, whom he recognized as Mr. Phillips’ clerk. “Oh, no, you don’t,” said Collins, shouldering his way in front of the man and entering the house first. He quickly found the object of his latest pursuit and said, “My dearest Miss Mary, I too know what it is like to lose a father…”