Everyone knows one thing for certain: a single man with a large fortune must be looking for a wife.
When a rich man moves into a new neighborhood, the families living there do not care about his feelings or his views. They only believe one thing: this man belongs to one of their daughters.
"My dear Mr. Bennet," his wife said to him one day, "have you heard that Netherfield Park is finally rented?"
Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.
"But it is!" she said. "Mrs. Long was just here, and she told me all about it."
Mr. Bennet did not answer.
"Don’t you want to know who has taken it?" cried his wife impatiently.
"You want to tell me," he replied, "and I don't mind listening."
That was all the invitation she needed.
"Well, my dear, Mrs. Long says that a young man with a huge fortune from the north of England has taken the house. He came down on Monday to see the place and loved it. He is moving in soon, and some of his servants will be there by the end of next week!"
"What is his name?"
"Bingley."
"Is he married or single?"
"Oh, single, my dear, of course! A single man with four or five thousand pounds a year. What a wonderful thing for our girls!"
"How can that affect them?" Mr. Bennet asked.
"My dear Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "how can you be so annoying? You know I am thinking of him marrying one of them."
"Is that why he is moving here?"
"Nonsense! But he might fall in love with one of them. That is why you must visit him as soon as he arrives."
"I don't see any reason to do that," Mr. Bennet said. "You and the girls can go. Or you can send the girls alone. That might be better, because you are just as beautiful as any of them. Mr. Bingley might like you the best!"
"My dear, you are being kind," she said. "I was beautiful once, but a woman with five grown-up daughters should stop thinking about her own beauty. But you really must go and see Mr. Bingley."
"I cannot promise that," he said.
"But think of your daughters! Sir William and Lady Lucas are going just for that reason. If you don't visit him, it will be impossible for us to visit him."
"You worry too much," said Mr. Bennet. "I’m sure Mr. Bingley will be happy to see you. I will send a note with you to say that I give my permission for him to marry any of the girls—though I must say a good word for my little Lizzy."
"Please don’t do that!" his wife cried. "Lizzy is no better than the others. She isn't as beautiful as Jane, and she isn't as funny as Lydia. But you always prefer her."
"None of them are very special," he replied. "They are all silly and ignorant like other girls. But Lizzy is a bit smarter and quicker than her sisters."
"Mr. Bennet, how can you speak about your own children like that? You love to upset me. You have no sympathy for my poor nerves!"
"You are wrong, my dear," he said calmly. "I have great respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you talk about them for at least twenty years."
Mr. Bennet was a strange mix of clever jokes, secrets, and sudden changes of mind. After twenty-three years of marriage, his wife still did not understand him. Her mind, however, was easy to understand. She was not very clever, she knew very little, and her mood changed often. When she was unhappy, she imagined she was sick. The only goal of her life was to get her daughters married. Her only happiness was visiting neighbors and sharing news.