What Jane Austen Didn't Tell Us!: The Backstories of Seventeen Characters in Pride and Prejudice

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Introduction

WHAT JANE AUSTEN DIDN’T TELL US! is not a novel—rather, we present seventeen portraits of Pride and Prejudice characters with their own motivations, complexities and conflicts, victories and defeats, comic and even tragic elements, before they appear in the classic tale.

Why did we write this book?

Because the characters Austen created are real to her readers. We’ve read what happens to them in the novel and want to know more about them—to understand what made these beloved characters who they are as the curtain rises in the drawing room at Longbourn.

So many questions to answer!

Was Fitzwilliam Darcy a quiet child, or could he have been a chatty, fun-loving boy? How did the proud Darcy become friends with Charles Bingley, the son of a tradesman? What kind of childhood upbringing could produce an awkward, fawning figure as the Reverend Collins? Or his opposite, the imperious Lady Catherine de Bourgh? Jane Austen didn’t tell us these things ... With great reverence for her artistry, we’ve attempted to imagine them. Please turn the page and enjoy our efforts.

Editorial Note

While this book is meant for the enjoyment of the general reader, a few items of Austen scholarship have crept in. Perhaps the most notable is the spelling on the name of the Bennet sisters’ aunt, Catherine Philips. When Pride and Prejudice was first published in 1813, the name was spelled Phillips and has remained so in most subsequent editions. However, there is strong evidence that Austen had actually used Philips, which led the renowned scholar R.W. Chapman to follow that spelling in the definitive Oxford Illustrated Jane Austen six-volume collection. As an editorial decision, we attempted to honor the author’s original intention in this matter.

There was also a question of how to base the dates used in our reconstructions of the characters’ lives. A first draft of Pride and Prejudice, then titled First Impressions, was offered for publication in 1797 and declined. For purposes of our collection, the action of the novel begins shortly before Michaelmas (September 29) of 1813, the year Pride and Prejudice was first published. At the time, Michaelmas was one of the days used to mark the quarters of the financial year, and would serve as the starting date for the lease of a property—such as Netherfield Park.

Please know if any details turn out to diverge from the historical track, it is not from lack of diligence but from honest mistakes by the authors and editors.

Elizabeth Bennet

by the Editors and Meg Levin

They are all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of quickness than her sisters.

—Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

Miss Elizabeth Bennet, her petticoats six inches deep in mud, pulled the wriggling piglet away from her eleven siblings busy nuzzling Bessie, Mr. Bennet’s prize Berkshire sow. Leaning forward, she reached for Bessie’s left ear. Surely, now she was almost three and a half, Nurse must help her conjure a beautiful silk purse for Mama. Bessie seemed to have no objection, and Nurse was the wisest person in the whole world, except for Papa.

Unfortunately, the piglet shoved itself underfoot, sending Elizabeth into a tumble. Her older sister Jane arrived just in time to scream at the apparition rising from the muck. Nurse hurried to the scene to find one child tear-stained yet spotless—and the other covered in a thick coating of mud.

Hurriedly cleaned but still smelling strongly of pig-wallow, Elizabeth tried to explain things to her parents. Mama may like Jane best, she thought. But once she hears about my wonderful gift ...

However, Elizabeth was doomed to disappointment once again. Mrs. Bennet found the exploits of her second-born inexplicable, almost as maddening as the roar of laughter from her husband as he heard the tale. Nurse, however, smiled in relief. That laughter was the first natural sound to come from the master in many weeks.

The house had been strangely silent since the birth of Baby Catherine, known as Kitty. Despite the safe delivery, her mistress, ordinarily so voluble, remained preoccupied and distracted. This baby brought no joy to Longbourn, except for Jane, who loved peeping into the cradle to smile and coo at her. Elizabeth found the infant dull company. And hearing her father complain about the new arrival and the lack of an heir made Elizabeth worry: If Papa does not like Kitty, should I?

On one of her father’s rare visits to the nursery, he paused for a moment and said, "My dear Mrs. Bennet, what a smiling picture you make in your white gown, dandling your newest darling on your knee while our eldest gazes on in raptures. You quite put me in mind of Mr. Romney’s Countess of Warwick and her Children—but exceeding them in beauty."

Then he scooped up Elizabeth from where she was playing on the floor. But so much perfection is not for the likes of us, eh, Lizzy? Ruffling her hair as he led her away, he added with a chuckle, We are better suited to Bessie and the stables.

Holding onto his strong hand, Elizabeth thought: Does Papa not think that I am pretty, too?

But when he hoisted her up in front of him on his favorite bay, she forgot her complaint as Orion became the shared throne from which they together surveyed the magical landmarks of their kingdom.

Mr. Bennet spoke to his daughter as they rode: Look, Lizzy, that field is planted with wheat. Here is the blacksmith’s shop. Over there is Abel Smyth’s farmhouse.

Faster, Papa, faster! she pleaded.

Smiling, he urged the horse into a trot. Elizabeth cried out with glee.

But then—disaster!

On a deserted stretch of road, Orion stepped into a fox’s hole and broke his fetlock. The horse crashed to the ground, screaming in pain. Mr. Bennet was barely able to leap free of the falling animal. He managed to protect his child, clutching her tightly against his chest, but broke his own leg when he landed.

Elizabeth saw blood gushing from Orion as he thrashed on the ground; her father was white-faced and unable to stand. This is my fault, she thought.

Papa, I am sorry, she wailed.

He clenched his teeth, saying as evenly as he could, Lizzy, calm yourself. I want you to walk back around the bend.

No! I shall not leave you, she insisted.

Realizing she was paralyzed with fear, he softened his voice. You are a brave girl, and you must fetch some help.

The horse screamed again in pain, causing Elizabeth to throw her arms around her father. Please, he said grimly, walk around the bend and run up to the first person you see. Tell them to come at once.

Tears fell from her darkened eyes as Elizabeth grasped his meaning. Trembling, she jumped up and ran as fast as her pudgy legs would carry her to bring aid.

Afterwards, Mr. Bennet praised her to everyone. Lizzy is my brave girl, he would repeat often.

While Mr. Bennet recovered from his leg fracture, he often invited Elizabeth into his library. She sat on the floor, her arm gently wrapped around his injured leg, as he read his favorite Robinson Crusoe to her.

The accident forged a special bond between father and daughter. It also left Elizabeth, usually so courageous, with an enduring dread of the saddle. She never rode if she could avoid it, even when her mother and sisters made sport of her. Instead, she became a great walker on her travels about the estate.

Normally mothers read aloud to their children before they learned to read for themselves. Mrs. Bennet mistrusted female education but did enjoy the fashion periodicals. So, before learning to read their letters and primers, her daughters discovered the larger world in the form of sleeve lengths, bonnet-styles, and coiffures.

When Elizabeth and Jane were five and seven, their father encouraged word and song play to sharpen their ears for the rhyme and meter of poetry. One spring day, the girls were with him in the garden when Mrs. Bennet and Nurse came out to fetch the children for their dinner. Mrs. Bennet heard Jane rhyming star and far and remarked, I never bothered my head with such things at their age.

Yes, her husband responded, you prefer to keep it unfurnished. Puzzled, Elizabeth asked what unfurnished meant.

It means empty, her father replied.

Gleefully, Elizabeth chanted: Empty head, empty head, Mama has an empty head.

Miss Elizabeth! Nurse scolded. You should not say such a thing!

Surprised, Elizabeth looked at her father. But, Papa...

Mr. Bennet, not meeting her eyes and with a strange expression on his face, said, That will do, child. Go in to dinner at once.

Over her shoulder, Elizabeth saw her mother glaring at her father, but his eyes remained on his book.

In due course, another daughter, Lydia, joined the family, so that along with studious Mary, there were now five Bennet girls to occupy Mrs. Bennet and alternately plague and amuse their father.

Some years later, Nurse placed young Lydia on a rug spread on the grass. The older girls were nearby, playing Princess and Pirate, a game Elizabeth had invented. Elizabeth, the fearless pirate, heard Lydia cry out and turned to see a large red fox menacing her, ready to wrest a sweet from her tiny fist.

Avast, ye beast! Elizabeth leapt from her crow’s nest in the beech tree and dealt the enemy’s snout a hard blow with her wooden sword. The vixen slunk away.

Jane rushed the young ones to the safety of the house and told their parents of her sister’s bravery! Mr. Bennet smiled fondly at his intrepid child, but her mother seized Elizabeth by the shoulders, saying, You are too boyish, Miss, and will surely come to no good stabbing wild animals. I am at my wit’s end! What must I do to teach you to behave like a young lady? Your sister Jane does not charge about with toy swords. There shall be no dinner for you, Lizzy, and I forbid you to go anywhere near another tree! Mrs. Bennet collapsed, exhausted.

Blinking away tears, Elizabeth retreated. When Jane reached for her hand in sympathy, her sister snatched it away. She refused even to taste the treacle tart her older sister smuggled to her from the dinner table.

By morning, Jane approached Elizabeth gingerly: Mama is afraid you will not marry if you do not change your ways. She paused. But I want to help you.

Why do I have to marry? Elizabeth demanded.

It is the way of things—what girls must do, Jane replied. Do you not wish for a lovely home, a good husband, and sweet children?

Elizabeth stayed silent. She was unsure what she wanted but knew it would be different from everyone else’s dreams.

More serious worries invaded Longbourn in the days that followed. Lydia started crying whenever she swallowed her food, and in quick succession all of the Bennet girls developed cases of the putrid sore throat. Even Mr. Bennet succumbed to the disease. Though light-headed and ill, Elizabeth could see a different side of her mother, nursing the family even though she was worried and exhausted. Luckily, all the victims regained their health and thrived.

As Elizabeth grew older, she took to the habit of long walks in the countryside, especially when life at Longbourn became too stifling. To escape her sisters and her mother’s endless litany of corrections, Elizabeth especially enjoyed visiting neighboring Lucas Lodge.

Despite the cacophony and confusion created by so many children, it was a harmonious home. Elizabeth grew very close to Charlotte, the oldest daughter of Sir William and Lady Lucas. She was a full seven years older than Elizabeth, yet each was attracted by the other’s intelligence and humor.

Like Jane, Charlotte possessed a balanced temper. But to Elizabeth’s eyes, her friend seemed remarkably clear-headed, trying to conduct her life with no romantic illusions.

When Elizabeth complained about her mother’s preference for Jane, Charlotte said, Does any girl find it easy to have a beautiful sister?

Everyone loves her best! Elizabeth said.

And why do you love her, Lizzy? asked Charlotte.

Elizabeth paused. She knew it was not only Jane’s beauty that attracted everyone, but also her sweet temperament. Jane saw the good in everyone, which Elizabeth, with her more critical mind, found impossible to do.

Mrs. Bennet approved of their friendship: I daresay Charlotte is a very nice girl. She is a fine choice of companion, Lizzy, for as she is so very plain, your looks will always show to great advantage, she added with great relish.

Her mother was already preparing her strategy for next month’s Assembly in nearby Upper Garvie, which first involved persuading her husband to attend. It will be the first time our Lizzy dances, Mrs. Bennet said in her sweetest voice. Do come and support our daughters, Mr. Bennet.

Looking up from his breakfast, he replied, A ball is something every woman is eager for—and every man over forty contemplates with dread.

Sixteen-year-old Elizabeth kept her voice—and her disappointment—to herself. This is to be my coming-out, she thought. Cannot Papa see how I look forward to it?

But Elizabeth’s melancholy thoughts were soon lost in the excitement of preparations, for her mother knew to a certainty how to dress with style. Always, Mrs. Bennet’s daughters would have everything necessary to shine at the ball. And this one would put Elizabeth on an equal footing with Jane, who had been out for two years.

Elizabeth remembered her envy when Jane, dressed in a beautiful new gown, made her entry into Society. Her Aunt Gardiner had sent the garment from London for Jane’s special occasion, and Elizabeth assumed that she, too, would receive a similar costume to wear to her first ball. When a small package arrived from town, she wondered how a gown could be contained in so little space. Alas, her aunt and uncle had sent their niece an exquisite leather-bound book designed for use as a personal journal. Vexed beyond endurance, Elizabeth tore the pages from the lovely book, regretting her temper only after she had reduced the gift to shreds.

Later, she begged her mother: Please, please. Jane had a new gown, why cannot I have one?

Her gown is perfectly fine for you to wear, Lizzy. Do stop acting like a child.

Oh, no! Now she would have to make do with Jane’s gown, altered to fit herself.

Stubbornly, Elizabeth decided not to be deterred from enjoying her first ball. She only wished to spend the entire night dancing and taking pleasure in the company, for rumor had it that John Masters would be there.

At the last moment, Jane could not attend, confined to her bed with a painful earache. All the better chance to shine at the ball, Elizabeth thought. Then, ashamed of such selfishness, she brushed it away quickly—something she had discovered helped her change moods.

Instead, she thought of John Masters. The young man was renowned throughout Upper Garvie for his skill with a chaise and four and his tall, striking figure. Elizabeth confessed to her friend Charlotte that Masters put her in mind of the bronze Apollo in her father’s library.

She could scarcely believe her good luck when a flurry of activity at the entrance to the ballroom resolved itself into John Masters. Elizabeth was glowing as the young man led her to the floor for the first dance, just as she had dreamed! He was an accomplished dancer and knew just how to address a young lady: You are remarkably light on your feet and dance so well that it is a pleasure to be your partner. Elizabeth blushed prettily.

Smiling broadly at the end of the dance, Masters indicated he would certainly call at Longbourn soon. Flattered, Elizabeth replied, You will be most welcome, sir. My parents are pleased to entertain our neighbors.

There were other very acceptable partners during the evening—everything conspired to ensure that Elizabeth’s first ball was delightful. When they returned home, her mother remarked, You looked your very best tonight, Miss Eliza, you enchanted the local swains.

Her father greeted his wife’s comments with a loud Ahem! and a quiet peck on Elizabeth’s cheek.

And so Elizabeth was forced to acknowledge there were times her mother knew just the right words to set one up!

True to his word, Mr. Masters paid a visit to Longbourn the day after the ball, riding up to the house on his majestic mount, Conqueror. He is bee-u-ti-ful! cried Lydia, spying from an upstairs window. But the younger girls were not invited into the drawing room where Mrs. Bennet received him with great courtesy. Mr. Bennet, forewarned of the possibility of the visit, had fled to the home farm.

Oh, Mr. Masters, Mrs. Bennet began, you and Lizzy made such a handsome couple last night. I am so glad you were her first partner.

Mr. Masters carried flowers that they assumed were for Elizabeth, but when Jane, feeling better, entered the room, Masters bowed and presented her with the blossoms: I had hoped to have the first dance with you, Miss Bennet. In your absence I was most honored to partner your sister.

Elizabeth could scarcely believe this was happening. It was my coming-out, yet it was Jane he wanted to dance with, Jane he wants to please now. This is insupportable!

She felt a flush rising to her cheeks. We saw you arrive on quite a beautiful animal, she said, surprised at the steadiness of her voice.

Masters gave her a proud smile. Yes, Conqueror is quite my favorite. We are inseparable.

How wonderful, at least, that you are steadfast in some things. Then, looking at neither her sister nor her mother, Elizabeth rose abruptly and left the drawing room.

Alone in her room, she threw herself on the bed and pounded a pillow. How could he humiliate me so? I was the one he danced with. I should have received the flowers, for the sake of politeness if nothing else!

Rising to her feet, she strode about the small room, picking up objects only to put them down again until a knock at the door brought her to a halt. The door opened slowly and Jane looked in, her expression anxious and distressed.

Lizzy? Have you caught my indisposition? You left us so suddenly, and Mr. Masters left soon after. Mama made your excuses to him.

Elizabeth whirled to face Jane. How can I ever be happy when I am always in your shadow? What man will notice me while you are nearby?

Jane, stunned by this utterly unexpected assault, burst into tears. "I was not even at the ball last night! Mr. Masters is at fault—he is the one who has offended you. She took a deep breath. Dear Lizzy, I love you. I would do anything in the world for you. I hope you know that."

Elizabeth now found herself sobbing on Jane’s shoulder. He insulted me, Jane, and I took it out on you with foolish jealousy.

They sat for a moment in silence. Then Elizabeth said somberly, I may always envy you your beauty, Jane, but never again will I hate you for it.

When Elizabeth related what had happened to Charlotte Lucas, her friend frowned in thought. Mr. Masters was less than serious in his intentions to either of you—and quite ungentlemanlike. Most young men must find a rich girl to marry, for even among the wealthy, younger sons must shift for themselves.

But in books, heroes do find true love with women who are poor but beautiful, Elizabeth argued.

In your novels, perhaps, Lizzy. But not in life.

That is so unfair! Elizabeth fumed. There must be true love in this world, else our greatest poets would not write of it.

Her friend remained unconvinced. Sorely disappointed, Elizabeth walked slowly back to Longbourn, to find Mrs. Bennet in ecstasies! A letter had arrived from her London relations!

Mrs. Bennet’s brother, Edward Gardiner, earned a handsome income from the cloth trade in the Metropolis. He had married an educated woman, whom Mrs. Bennet regarded as a sister. The families often exchanged visits, but this letter contained a special invitation for both Elizabeth and Mary, the family musicians, to a much anticipated concert by a renowned female pianist and composer.

A smiling Jane embraced her sister. Recent disappointments were forgiven and forgotten. Mr. Masters, Upper Garvie, and Charlotte’s disheartening sentiments all sank beneath this evidence of Mrs. Gardiner’s generosity. Mary practiced her scales harder than ever. Elizabeth could think only of London and the novelty of the grand performance to come.

However, her impatience was unexpectedly diverted. While accompanying his wife and daughters to their customary Sunday service, Mr. Bennet, ready to doze through the sermon, listened instead with unusual interest to the visiting vicar. Astonished, he recognized the booming voice of an old schoolfellow, Everard Twill, coming from the bald-headed clergyman before him.

Mr. Bennet eagerly revived his old friendship, and the Bennet ladies soon took to visiting with the Twills, temporarily in residence at the Vicarage. Anne Twill, an orphan, lived with her uncle and his wife, helping with their eight children, and Elizabeth particularly enjoyed her company. They soon found much common ground in literature, agreeing that the Castle of Otranto was too absurd for words but that Pamela was quite satisfying.

By the time the Twills returned to their home in Winchester, the young women promised to correspond and were soon Elizabeth and Anne.

Several months later, the post brought disturbing tidings. Anne wrote in some distress that despite her five years spent assisting her uncle’s wife, that lady had now decided to give the favor of the position in her household to one of her own relations. Without the support of the Twills, Anne’s only hope was to seek a husband.

On hearing the