The novel Pride and Prejudice.

The village of Meryton was alive with the hum of activity, as it often was on crisp autumn afternoons. The market square, flanked by rows of brick shops with their colorful awnings, bustled with chatter and footsteps. Housewives examined bolts of fabric, debating the merits of calico versus muslin, while farmers haggled over the price of feed and produce. Horses neighed, carts creaked, and children darted through the crowd, clutching sticky apples in their small hands. It was a scene of ordinary life, yet beneath the mundane rhythm, undercurrents of gossip and speculation wove themselves into the fabric of the day.

Among the women exchanging tidbits of news near the grocer's, Mrs. Bennet's voice rang out, a little too loud and a little too shrill, betraying her excitement. She was recounting—for perhaps the third time that day—the recent arrival of Mr. Bingley at Netherfield Park. He was young, he was wealthy, and most importantly to her, he was unmarried.

"Five thousand a year, I tell you!" she exclaimed, her eyes gleaming as she clasped her hands. "And he's already so taken with dear Jane. Mark my words, he will not leave Netherfield without proposing."

Elizabeth Bennet, standing nearby with her younger sisters Kitty and Lydia, rolled her eyes discreetly. Her mother's enthusiasm was as relentless as it was premature. Jane, ever gentle and patient, had shared only the briefest of conversations with Mr. Bingley at the assembly. Yet Mrs. Bennet, who saw matchmaking as both her duty and her sport, was already envisioning wedding bells and a dowry negotiation.

"Perhaps Mr. Bingley will surprise us all and propose to you instead, Lizzy," Lydia teased, nudging her elder sister with an impish grin.

Elizabeth arched her brow. "I doubt a man of his disposition would care for my impertinence. No, Lydia, I think you shall have him all to yourself."

Lydia giggled, tossing her dark curls over her shoulder. "Not me! I've no use for a man like Mr. Bingley when there are so many officers to dance with. Did you hear, Lizzy? Colonel Forster's regiment is to remain in Meryton through the winter!"

This news had been announced only the day before, and Lydia had scarcely stopped chattering about it since. For her, the arrival of the militia was more thrilling than any assembly or ball. Officers in red coats were not merely respectable companions; they were embodiments of adventure and romance. She had already decided that she would charm at least three of them into declaring their undying affection by Christmas.

Kitty, who often mirrored Lydia's enthusiasm, chimed in. "And Captain Carter is to be quartered at Mrs. Long's! Can you imagine, Lizzy? So near to home! We'll see them every day."

Elizabeth smiled indulgently at her sisters, though inwardly she sighed. The militia's presence in Meryton promised nothing but frivolity and mischief for Lydia and Kitty, whose exuberance was unchecked by either sense or discipline. Still, their antics were a small price to pay for the life of the village, which always grew livelier when the officers were in residence.

As the Bennet sisters made their way through the square, they encountered their neighbor, Sir William Lucas, who tipped his hat with practiced politeness.

"Good afternoon, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Lydia, Miss Catherine," he greeted them in turn, his smile broad. "I trust you've heard of the most recent development at Longbourn?"

Elizabeth's curiosity piqued. "I confess I have not, Sir William. What news could there be in such a quiet household?"

"Why, the impending arrival of your esteemed cousin, Mr. Collins, of course!" Sir William announced, his tone both grandiose and conspiratorial. "He has written to your father, informing him of his intention to visit."

Elizabeth's steps faltered. "Mr. Collins?" she repeated, her expression darkening.

The Bennet sisters were only vaguely aware of their cousin, the heir to Longbourn. His name was spoken in hushed, resentful tones by their mother, who resented the entailment that would deprive her daughters of their home. Elizabeth could recall no occasion when Mr. Collins had written or visited before now.

"Yes, indeed," Sir William continued, clearly savoring his role as bearer of gossip. "It seems he has recently been ordained and has secured a respectable living in Kent under the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. A very noble lady, I might add. Mr. Collins writes that he intends to make amends for what he calls 'the natural grievances of the entail.' No doubt his visit will be of great consequence."

Lydia snickered. "Amends? What does that mean? Is he bringing us a house to replace Longbourn?"

Elizabeth shot her a warning glance, though inwardly she shared her sister's skepticism. "Thank you for the news, Sir William," she said diplomatically. "We shall look forward to meeting our cousin."

The rest of the walk home was filled with speculation about Mr. Collins. Jane, ever kind-hearted, suggested that his intentions might be honorable and that he should be welcomed with civility. Lydia and Kitty, uninterested in anything that did not involve soldiers or dances, quickly dismissed the topic. Elizabeth, however, felt a flicker of unease. There was something ominous about the notion of Mr. Collins appearing unbidden in their lives. She resolved to keep an open mind but braced herself for whatever absurdities might accompany his arrival.

When they reached Longbourn, Mrs. Bennet was waiting anxiously by the window. She waved them inside with dramatic urgency, as if she had been privy to some cataclysmic revelation in their absence.

"Girls, come quickly! Your father has received a letter from Mr. Collins, and it is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

Mr. Bennet, seated in his usual chair with a book in hand, looked up with a dry smile. "Ridiculous, indeed. It appears our esteemed cousin has mistaken us for fools."

Elizabeth raised her brows. "Whatever do you mean, Papa?"

Mr. Bennet handed her the letter, which was written in florida, obsequious prose. Mr. Collins apologized profusely for the entail, assured the family of his respect and admiration, and proposed a visit for the purpose of fostering goodwill. There was even a suggestion, veiled but unmistakable, that he might consider marrying one of the Bennet daughters to secure their future.

Elizabeth stifled a laugh. "Well, Mama, it seems you may have another suitor for Jane."

"Jane?" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. "Nonsense! Jane is destined for Mr. Bingley. No, Mr. Collins shall have to settle for Lizzy."

Elizabeth gasped in mock horror. "Not I, surely! I think I would sooner join the militia."

Her father chuckled. "You may find Mr. Collins less insufferable than you imagine, Lizzy. Though I would wager my library that he will try your patience within five minutes of conversation."

Mrs. Bennet, undeterred by Mr. Collins' eccentricities, began planning for his arrival with the zeal she reserved for matchmaking. Elizabeth, however, resolved to meet her cousin with no expectations at all. In a village as lively and unpredictable as Meryton, she had learned to expect the unexpected. Whatever Mr. Collins brought with him—be it absurdity or goodwill—she would be ready.