Pooches and Prejudice, Chapter 1

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Chapter 1

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a lady who sits on a sofa must be in want of a lapdog.

It doesn’t matter what else that human is doing. If she sits down, I’ll jump up and work my way onto her lap. I know my presence is always welcome. In my family, sometimes they even argue over who gets to hold me!

I came to live with the Bennet family when I was a puppy, ready to romp and wag my tail and spread cheer. They pretty much give me free rein of their house, and so I think I must be the happiest dog that ever lived.

During the day when my mistress, Mrs. Bennet, sits on her settee, I cuddle up on her lap and she pets me, and I provide great comfort to her.

When she stands up to attend to some human business, I trot down to the kitchen in search of food, warmth from the oven, or any little rodents that may be down there.

One day, while I was down there, Henry, the man who brings baskets of food to the kitchen, set a basket atop the split door that leads out into the garden.

“Have you heard the news?” he asked, tossing me a bone. “Netherfield Park is let at last.”

“Aye, that great house a few miles yonder? Do you know anything about the people who are moving in?” asked Cookie.

“Probably another snooty family with a lot of servants,” snarled Prunella. “Another group of swells looking down their noses at us just because Longbourne house ain’t so grand as Nether-regions Park.”

“Now, now, Prunella, no need to be so negative. I’ve heard it’s merely a young, unmarried gentleman who is coming to the country. He’ll probably just bring his friends, who already have their own valets and servants, and they’ll all go on hunting parties together, which means if Mr. Bennet joins them, that we’ll have roast fowl and pheasant,” James, the footman, says.

“Aye, and I do enjoy cooking for people besides the family,” says Cookie.

This set my mouth watering. When Cookie roasts a pheasant, it is one of my favorite meals, because I know there will be a tasty dish of boiled gizzards waiting for me. Mm-mm, my favorite!

Just then, I hear “chomp-chomp-chomp” outside in the garden. I know that noise. It can only belong to my nemesis, whom I’ve nicknamed Hare Brain. He has come to nibble on our cabbages. I can’t let him get away with that.

Mr. Henry has opened up the half door to bring his basket in, and so I charge out the open bottom half, barking madly, to let Hare Brain know he’d better scatter, and fast.

When I’ve done my duty, I saunter back inside. Cookie has placed my breakfast in a bowl on the floor. I love her so much! I happily gobble up the crusty bread heels, porridge scrapings, and cold bacon.

When I finish, the servants are cleaning up from breakfast, so I head up the stairs to see what is going on up there.

My human sisters are all busy. Jane and Lizzie sit by the fire, mending some clothes. Mary dutifully practices her scales on the pianoforte. Kitty and Lydia are discussing a dance move they recently learned, and they are slowly walking through the steps.

I go and I sit between Jane and Lizzie. I jump up onto the sofa next to them. Lizzie sets down her work, smiles, and scratches behind my ears. Ah, I love that so much!

My mistress, Mrs. Bennet, enters the parlour and flops down on a chair. Sensing her worry, I jump down, cross the room, and sit beside her feet, whimpering softly. She reaches down to pick me up and set me on her lap. She sighs loudly.

“Is something the matter, Mama?” asks Jane.

“Only that your father is once again determined to see us all ruined. He will not visit a new neighbour even though he knows it is his duty, and we cannot even speak to the man unless your father makes his acquaintance first.”

Jane and Lizzie look questioningly at each other, Mary pauses her practicing, and Kitty and Lydia immediately stop dancing and surround their mother.

“Do you know the new neighbour’s name, Mama?” asks Kitty.

“It is Mr. Bingley.”

Lizzie asks, “Father rarely takes the trouble to visit new neighbours. Why should this particular circumstance bring about our ruin?”

“Because, Miss Lizzy, he is a single man, which means he may be looking for a wife to be the mistress of Netherfield Park. If he meets the other ladies in our neighbourhood before he meets us, he may already be in love or engaged by the time we even make his acquaintance!”

I lick Mistress’s hand. She begins to stroke my back, a bit too hard.

“Oh, no!” cries Lydia.

“There, there, Mama. If he is in the neighbourhood, we are certain to meet him and gain an introduction through any of our acquaintances. Do not despair,” says Jane.

Lizzie adds, “Besides which, who is to say that he would fall in love with the first eligible lady he meets here? We know nothing of his character or intentions. Let us not marry him off to Harriet Harrington before we have even met him!”

“Oh, do you think the Harringtons have met him? Oh, dear! And to think, he has not even seen my beautiful daughters!”

I agree that my sisters are all beautiful, so I bark my approval. The girls all laugh.

“Do not put the cart before the horse, Mama. We will meet this man at the right time that God has ordained,” says Mary. She is so wise.

“I suppose you are right, girls. Thank you for your comfort in this trying matter. What would I do without you all here to talk things through with?” wonders Mistress.

“Well, whenever we meet this Mr. Bingley, we can see if he is handsome or not. He may not even be worth our time,” Lydia asserts. “Now, Kitty, let us practice that pousette once more. I think we almost had it.”

The girls all return to their tasks, and Mistress relaxes, gently stroking my back. I lay my head on her knee and doze off to the sound of Mary’s pianoforte practice.