Never Mind!

by Nicky Roth

  Summary

  Sometimes life can be a right bitch and just on the day Elizabeth Bennet is due to return to uni, her father suffers an accident that might leave him paralysed. Not a good state to be in as a farmer.

  Putting her studies on hold, Elizabeth takes care of the farm and her family for the time being and at first, her life is far from exciting, as one might expect. - That is until a certain Charles Bingley buys Netherfield Park to turn the run down place into a conference centre, bringing his best friend and obnoxious sister as well as his mother and step-father with him. From there on, life will never be the same when with the help of some meddling fools, the proverbial shit hardly ever stops hitting the fan and pretty much everybody involved is in for the craziest ride of their lives.

  Special Thanks

  to my hubby and son for bearing with me during the process of writing this.

  I couldn't have done this without you and most certainly couldn't have done this without you and still come out sane. Or at least as sane as I ever was, and that wasn't all that much to begin with ;)

  N. Roth

  (aka Mum, aka Wifey Dear)

  Note: The characters of this story are merely fictional. Any resemblance to real, living people are unintentional! N. R.

  Never Mind!

  A modern Pride and Prejudice - Comedy

  by

  Nicky Roth

  Chapter 1:

  Ancient gentry, so to speak

  It is a truth universally acknowledged, that at one point or other in life, people do doubt their earthly existence, wonder about its purpose and if every dull experience one had could have possibly been all there was to be had.

  Under normal circumstances, this usually happens at a time when at a crossroads in life. A time when one is wise enough to realise that the path towards the end is constantly drawing nearer. Most commonly this time arrives at the age of fifty or so, when the children leave the house, the passion of married life has faded into a distant memory, that is, if it had been there in the first place, and the first grey hairs make an appearance and thus is aptly called Mid-life Crisis.

  With Elizabeth Bennet it was different. She was neither anywhere close to fifty, nor had she had, at the age of twenty-one, any children to look after, or at least not any of her own; or yet achieved very much aside from a decent bachelor's degree. No, that was all before her, and still, as her life changed in the blink of an eye, she had felt just as trapped by circumstance as any of her parents' generation could feel upon realising that they were needed no longer, or at any rate not so much anymore.

  And again, there was a great difference, for Elizabeth was needed very much at present, too much even. Still doubting her existence she did quite a lot... - And seriously, how could she not feel as if life passed her by somehow? It very decidedly did. What life anyway? She didn't really have much of one. Not anymore.

  Her crossroads had been when her father had been trapped underneath a malfunctioning dump trailer he had intended to bring in for repair. How exactly it had happened, no-one really knew, but it had happened. Much to the shock of his whole family, needless to add. It was not that he had died, no, so much tragedy, though for their neighbours it would have been so much more deliciously morbid to gossip about, had been spared the Bennet-Family, but for the time being, he was bound to a wheelchair and being a farmer, that was not exactly a good place to be in.

  Elizabeth Bennet had then been just about to leave for the new semester at university where she studied for a master's degree in biology and a bachelor's degree in agriculture when the accident happened and had gone outside to bid her father farewell, bags all packed and ready. His cries for help had chilled her to the bone, but at the time she had managed to stay perfectly calm, had called 999 while holding her father's hand and stood by when Mr Bennet was rushed into hospital in an ambulance. Only then had she walked back to the house to tell her mother and sisters of what had happened.

  Mrs Bennet had dissolved into hysterics immediately after receiving the news, unable to take matters into hand while her older sister Jane had been in London in the middle of her examinations to become a paediatric nurse, not a good time to disrupt her. Mary, her middle sister was working hard for her A-levels and could hardly spare any time, and Kitty and Lydia, her two youngest siblings were too young and silly to be of much use. Though at least, it should be mentioned that Kitty had tried to help as best as she could with taking over kitchen duty, however, this ended in yet another disaster when she served them undercooked chicken, making the meal a rather shitty experience, so to say.

  In short, Elizabeth had to step in, whether she wanted it or not.

  With a trembling voice, she had called her uni and asked for some time off, for how long she knew not. The result was, that she now had unlimited leave, though that term was a bit misleading. Unlimited was, after all, not quite as unlimited as the term might generally suggest, but at least for the next two years, there was no need to worry,with regards to her education. Otherwise, she had very much to worry about.

  Her mother had taken to bed for a week, most of the time sedated by Dr Jones their GP. Francis Bennet, more commonly known as Fanny, was a high strung woman at the best of times, but now she had a field day with complaining about her “poor nerves”, hogging all the attention her unfortunate husband actually deserved. Not that he took notice since he had been put in an artificial coma, but never mind.

  So, for Elizabeth, there was little else to do other than to take the very trailer which had almost cost her father's life and bring it in for repair, take over the ploughing and sowing of the crops as well as looking after the animals. - Not exactly the life she had pictured for herself, but who else was there to manage the Longbourn Estate while Tom Bennet could not?

  Longbourn, her family home was an old estate comprised of Longbourn House surrounded by a little park, these days a little overgrown, but hey, and the adjoining farm a couple of hundred yards away, both of which had been owned by her family for literally generations. They were ancient gentry, so to speak. No title though.

  The farm itself was well kept, for Mr Bennet, often tired of the hubbub within his home, spent as much time there as he possibly could and he actually took great pride in what he was doing.

  Most days he might be a far cry from his ancestral country squires, who had little else to do but socialise, but if Thomas Bennet wanted to, he could be the perfect gentleman. His education was excellent. He had studied philosophy and English literature at Cambridge, no less, and had left with two master's degrees, though neither had been of much use for him, truth be told.

  When he was not working in the farmyard, he still loved to read, and over it often forgot the time, but his greatest amusement he found in the follies of the people around him, with his wife being a seemingly endless source for his entertainment, as were the many hapless people from town that spilt into the countryside over the summer weekends.

  'Hey, Lizzy, look at all those people from London coming here on a Sunday afternoon to snivel around the countryside wrinkling up their noses at us country folk - what they don't realise, is that it is us who feed them. We could well live without them, but they are dependant on us and too stupid to realise it!' he would often say, when once again there had been a knock on the door from people who either got lost on the winding roads around Meryton, despite their high-tech GPS, to ask their way, or who decided that a Sunday afternoon is the perfect time to buy some eggs, preferably for cheaper than in the shops.

  In short, he was practical, intelligent and sported a very sarcastic sense of humour.

  Elizabeth very decidedly took after him. There was no point denying it.

  Mrs Bennet was an altogether different matter though. She was not exactly a sensible woman, b
ut even in her mid-forties, she was actually a very pretty one with her thick brown hair cut into a practical but cute bob, her heart-shaped face, pouty mouth, almond-shaped eyes and her still excellent figure. It was as if all the efforts in creating her had gone into her exterior, while the interior had somehow stayed unfinished.

  At the best of times she was short-tempered, often out of spirits, most of the time a nervous wreck and for the rest all excitement for one thing or another.

  Her purpose in life was to win the Victoria Sponge Competition, nag her daughters, usually about completely irrelevant stuff, while she hardly ever bothered to do so over school work, and find them husbands. Yep, find them husbands. - So she could have grandchildren. Fanny Bennet loved babies. They were always so cute, weren't they? Whether it would make her daughters happy was secondary as long as they were fertile. Well, they did live on a farm and perhaps breeding pigs and cows had left their mark over the years. Baby animals were cute, too, after all, and hence in Mrs Bennet's case that might have very well been so, for she had always been easy to impress.

  At this point, several months had passed since that fateful day, and currently, Mr Bennet was down in Cornwall to recover his health, though Elizabeth sometimes had the sneaky suspicion that he simply preferred the peace and quiet there to the boisterousness of his own home to get better. She could hardly fault him for that.

  September had come, the crops had been brought in and sold for a good price, Jane had returned home for a couple of weeks, and thus far all was well. One could almost say things were back to normal. Or at least as normal as things usually were at Longbourn House.

  It was rather late one Friday evening in mid-September when Fanny Bennet arrived home after her weekly Bridge Club meeting and found her daughters all sitting on the thick rug in front of the telly surrounded by a mountain of pillows, cushions and blankets, watching “Sense and Sensibility”. - One of the very few movies they all liked.

  'Girls, I have excellent news!' Mrs Bennet cried out, barging into the room, almost stumbling over the half-empty bowl of popcorn inconveniently standing in her path.

  All but Lydia, who was too busy swooning over Mr Willoughby on the screen, glanced up at her expectantly and with some bewilderment.

  'Netherfield Park has been sold at last!'

  'Really?' Elizabeth inquired, raising a sceptical eyebrow. 'And who was crazy enough to buy that old hutch?'

  'Old hutch?! Really, Lizzy, it is the grandest house around - and it has just been bought by a young businessman from somewhere up north, Bingley is his name if I remember correctly. You know I am not very good with names. Anyway, he intends to turn it into a conference centre, isn't that great?'

  'It used to be the grandest house around, about two hundred years ago, Mama. Why do you think it has stood empty for so long? Because its substance is crumbling and the gardens are completely overgrown, that's why. I am not quite sure whether I should pity this man or think him immensely stupid.'

  'Well, it is conveniently close to London,' Jane remarked quietly, 'which might have induced him to purchase. The location certainly is an advantage, you have to admit it.'

  'Yes, but that is pretty much the only advantage. He will have to invest millions to get that house back into shape.'

  'Is he cute?' Kitty piped up out of the blue.

  Elizabeth could hardly help to roll her eyes. Of course, that would be the only thing her sister would be thinking about. At seventeen Kitty had hardly any interest in anything aside from fashion and boys – and fashion. Oh, and boys, of course.

  'Who?' her mother asked startled for a moment. 'Oh, Mr Bingley you mean. I don't know. Monica only told me that he was very wealthy - owns a whole chain of these things.'

  'Well, if that is the case,' Elizabeth could not help remarking in a dry tone of voice, 'he must be considered extremely handsome, for is not a well-cushioned bank account the sexiest and most attractive part of any man?'

  'Lizzy, how can you talk so? I am sure he is very amiable and handsome,' Jane scolded her mildly, though the corners of her mouth twitched suspiciously.

  'Yes, and he will arrive here in a shining suit of armour and ride a gleaming white horse, and will be adored by everyone... - Oh come now, how many amiable successful businessmen have you met, Jane?' Elizabeth asked back, usually not quite as optimistic as her oldest sister.

  'Many, I believe.'

  At that answer, Elizabeth could not help shaking her head, if only very slightly.

  Sometimes Jane was too good to be an actual human being. She pointedly refused to think badly of anybody, which, though admirable, was not always a wise thing to do.

  'At any rate, we are to meet him next Friday at the Harvest Ball at the Old Assembly Hall,' Mrs Bennet chirped happily, plunking down amongst her flock of daughters. 'Monica says he wants to get to know the people around here since he would be doing business with them.'

  'Oh please, Mum, don't tell me you want us to go again this year,' Lydia wailed, and for once Elizabeth was d'accord with her.

  Said Harvest Ball was a much-cherished tradition. - Among the older population of Meryton and the surrounding villages.

  It was held by the Farmer's Wives Association, of which Fanny Bennet was the second secretary, and though they desperately tried every single year, none of her daughters had as yet managed to escape this event. It was not so much the music, not even the ballroom-dancing that made them want to run, but the fact that it was held in costume. For that one night every year, time would be turned back two hundred years and they would all wear Regency attire, silly curls and all. The people around here were very particular about that, though why the dances comprised mainly of two-steps, foxtrots and cha-cha-chas, was beyond Elizabeth. It was not as if any of these dances had been invented by then and a waltz at that time had been deemed a very scandalous affair if she remembered it correctly.

  'Oh, but don't you want to see Mary dance?' Mrs Bennet asked sweetly, knowing that they would not let their sister down, even though she was bound to make a fool of herself once again.

  Mary was the plainest of the five sisters and as if to compensate for that fact, she worked not only very hard at school but also at public display. She sang in the choir, though her voice was weak and no matter how loud the others sang, one could always distinguish her slightly off-chord soprano like a single mosquito in an otherwise quiet room. And then there was the Morris Dancing, which in this instance was what their mother had been referring to.

  Now was there anything more embarrassing than to hop around with bells around one's calves or ankles wielding sticks and handkerchiefs? Probably not. But Mary was determined to do it.

  Ah, well, never mind.

  Chapter 2:

  I DO NOT DANCE!

  'Bloody hell, I look like a poodle!' Lydia yelled staring at her image in the mirror.

  There was little use denying it. She did look like a poodle.

  'Perhaps the micro curlers were not such a good idea after all,' Mrs Bennet stammered, looking at her youngest daughter from underneath her lace cap which hid her own modern hairstyle at least to an extent.

  After a moment of contemplation, however, she smiled: 'Oh, well, but never mind, I think it actually looks very historically accurate. You will be the belle of the ball, my dear.'

  Elizabeth bit her tongue to swallow her remark about fashionable cress heads, knowing the tantrum that would surely follow if she did say it out loud.

  Having naturally curly hair, Elizabeth was lucky to have escaped the curlers of doom, but to pin up her thick long hair in a decent fashion would be challenging enough as it was. At least it was still damp from her shower, which made it slightly easier. Still, it took her a good fifteen minutes until she was happy with how she looked, or at least as happy as she could be, considering that all she actually wanted to do was plunk down on the couch in her room and read.

  It had been a long day on the farm though Jane had helped her with mucking out the stables while Kit
ty and Lydia had tried to turn their plain bonnets into something more exciting by glueing brightly coloured rhinestones onto them. The result was pretty. Pretty tacky.

  Elizabeth's back ached and her hands were swollen from the hard work and she felt as if even after her long hot shower she still smelled of manure. At least that odour went very well with the ghastly perfume her mother had drenched all their dresses in. A constant waft of eau de terrible drifted around the six of them with every step they took. Elizabeth was sure that this evening would not end without the one or other fainting fit from their respective dance partners.

  Jane was probably the only one who really looked lovely in her outfit of light blue muslin. It hugged her graceful figure in a way that was nothing short of breathtaking and her golden blond hair was draped in soft curls around her face and then tied into a neat braided bun atop her head. Kitty didn't look all that bad either, but her gown was slightly too short to hide the bright neon-pink ballerinas she was wearing, each sporting a sparkly playboy-bunny.

  At last Elizabeth slipped into her own dress, a soft rose-coloured affair with some delicate white flowers embroidered at the hem. Jane had made it for her three years ago after she had outgrown her old costume and it fit like a glove. Jane was good at such things as making dresses, she had all the patience for such fiddly work Elizabeth lacked. Okay, she didn't look all that bad herself, but wearing a dress felt decidedly weird and her discomfort showed.

  From all the sisters, Mary was the only one who really looked forward to the ball, though the dress she wore was far from flattering her short and chubby figure, let alone her complexion. Mint-green was a risky colour for someone so colourless and pasty-faced. Mary would not wear the gown for long, however, and her Morris Dancing costume had gone into the family van long before they had even started to get ready. Now it blocked two whole seats as they crammed into the remaining bench, for they had promised to pick up Monica Long, along the way.