Pride and Prejudice and Superheroes

1. PROMETHEUS; OR, THE MODERN SUPERHERO

Mrs Bennet's eyes widened, and she jerked her head as if the manner of delivery of her husband's question had unbalanced her. But this lady was not for being unbalanced during, at least to her, such an important conversation. "He is single, my dear, to be sure! Oh, my dearest dear, do consider the gravity of such a serendipitous event. A single man of large fortune. It is said, four or five thousand a year! Thus, what a fine thing for our eligible handsome girls!"

"How so? How can it affect them?" Mr Bennet's grin gave away the fact that his questions were merely rhetorical. At least he thought so. But his game was: would his wife reach the same conclusion.

"My dear Mr Bennet," replied his wife, "how can you be so tiresome? You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them."

"Must I?"

"You must!"

"Wife, you deliver a veritable militia of exclamatory rhetoric. Does each sentence you utter need to end in a sign of exclamation?"

"You are no better," retorted Mrs Bennet. "Your sentences end in question marks with unceasing repetition."

"Touché, my dear. And not being one to disappoint, let me continue with my questions. Is marrying one of our girls Mr Bingley's design in settling here? After all, is it not a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife?"

"Design! Such slum! How can you talk so! Do not try to befog me. For most surely, is it not very likely that he may fall in love with one of them? And we do have five to choose from. What man can resist at least one fine diamond in the first water when offered a handful? So, my dear, I put it to you, that you must go to him as soon as he comes."

"I see no occasion for that. For you know nothing of the feelings or views of Mr Bingley. So what right do you have to consider him the rightful property of one of our daughters? You and the girls may go, or you may send them by themselves. Hmm, perhaps the former will be better, for as you are as handsome as any of them, Mr Bingley might like you the best of the party."

"My dear, are you insulting or flattering me? of beauty, but I do not pretend to be anything extraordinary now. When a woman has five grown-up daughters, she ought to give up thinking of her own beauty."

"Indubitably so. But in such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think of. Every norm has its exception. And in this, you are an exception. I did not so readily and prematurely marry you solely for your intellectual conversation."

Mrs Bennet hesitated, as if wondering, not for the first time, whether or not her husband had just paid her a compliment. But Time waits for no woman. So she said with a great sense of urgency, "But, my dear, you must indeed visit Mr Bingley when he arrives at the neighbourhood."

"It is more than I engage for, I assure you." Mr Bennet took once more to scrutinising his scholarly tome.

"But consider your daughters," said Mrs Bennet in cloying, pleading tones. "Only think what an establishment it would be for one of them. Sir William and Lady Lucas have 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. I beg of you to bear in mind that all our neighbours, the Longs, the Lucases, have daughters or nieces to marry off. Mr Bennet, marriage is on a par with war. Men die in battle; children die by never being born. You do see that, my dear, don't you?"

"A most elliptical conclusion you deliver. But I say, you are surely over scrupulous. I dare say Mr Bingley will be very glad to see you; and I in my part will send a few lines by you to assure him of my hearty consent to his marrying whichever he chooses of the girls—though I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy."

"I desire you will do no such thing! Lizzy is not a bit better than the others. She is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so good-humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving her the preference. This is a moral mistake."

"Lizzy's sisters have little to recommend them," replied Mr Bennet. "Are they not all silly and ignorant like other girls? A hat to them is a chapter of worthwhile conversation. A dress or new hairstyle is a roman-à-clef. And, struth, a Meryton Ball is worthy of a conversation to fill every page in this humble library. But, my dear wife, there is no doubt Lizzy has something more of quickness than her sisters. An ordinary man will never satisfy her, no matter the riches. Nay, Elizabeth has a free mind and only a superhero will do. She wants a Prometheus to bring fire to her heart and soul."

"Mr Bennet, how can you abuse your own daughters in such a dishonourable and demeaning fashion? Even in your complimenting of Lizzy, you exhale a bag of moonshine. You think love will conquer all. One cannot live on love alone. To be in love and in a financial state of dibs-not-in-tune, is a Hell on Earth where a quick and certain death is your only relief. You take delight in vexing me and have no compassion for 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 deep consideration and dutiful constancy these past twenty years at least."

"Ah, you do not appreciate my suffering," moaned Mrs Bennet, letting out a long, weary sigh.

"Nevertheless, I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men of four thousand pounds a year come into the neighbourhood."

"My dear Mr Bennet, it will be of no use to our family if twenty such men should come, since you will not visit them. And your favourite daughter will see not a single—what did you call it—ah, yes, a single superhero in any of them. I'm sure of that. Pride comes before a fall. And with no marriage in our society and in our particular circumstances, with respect to the heir of our estate, Mr William Collins, such a fall will be an interminable voyage to the depths of Hell."

"I will say this, and you can depend upon it, my dear wife, that when there are twenty tip-top toffs, I will visit them all. And Lizzy, in her turn, will fly from the depths of Hell to the clouds of Heaven if one of them be a superhero, a superhero not just of the physical, but, more importantly, of the heart and soul. I know my indomitable Lizzy."

Mr Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had not been sufficient for his wife to understand his character. Her mind was less difficult to develop. She was a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. Consequently, when discontented, she fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her daughters married; its solace was visiting and news. True, Mrs Bennet wanted to win the war. No attack or ambush was beneath her. She was sure of one thing, that a passive nature would only result in a life where the entire Bennet family ended up living in their library. And, furthermore, a life where on the death of Mr Bennet, the survivors would be tossed out from the library to live out their days in some hovel either far away from anywhere, or in the slums of East London close to the inaccessible centre of everywhere.

Mrs Bennet waddled towards the exit door of the library sombrely, with a tear in her eye, leaving Mr Bennet to pore over what she saw as his insignificant scholarly books.

As she exited the library, she mumbled quizzically under her breath, "Superhero, indeed ..."

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I hope you enjoyed this Chapter. I welcome any votes, comments or constructive criticisms (style, spelling, grammar and punctuation errors).

T. J. P. CAMPBELL.