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Mr. Allen was a cantankerous, greedy old man. At least, that was what his son had always called him. He preferred to think of himself as a slightly taciturn man who had little patience with greedy fools or foolish greed.

The loss of his wife five years ago had made him a little lonely but not enough to force him out of his comfortable home and into other people’s crowded drawing rooms, not in Meryton at least. He visited his nearest neighbors once a week, and that was enough for him.

He saved his socializing for London where he could be comfortable with his lifelong friends.

His wife’s death had few other consequences than mild loneliness.

He had never been particularly fond of her nor she of him.

They had rubbed along well enough, but once Allen’s son had been born they rarely interacted other than at dinner.

Several times a month, he demanded his husbandly rights, though there was nothing special about it.

The only purpose of that activity was to keep him from having to spend money on a mistress.

He fully expected at least one more child to result from it, but his wife never again fell pregnant.

Despite their emotional distance, Allen had always provided well for her.

Her housekeeping budget was generous enough that she was able to entertain almost as often as she wished, and her clothing budget kept her better dressed than any other lady in the neighborhood.

He had even funded several charitable projects of hers such as the school for the estate’s children and the donations to the free hospital in London.

He had heard her talk so much about how much good these did that when she passed, he didn’t have the heart to cut them off, but he also had no interest in handling them personally.

Lately, simply keeping the school on his estate open had become a headache, and he had been getting more and more solicitations for charitable donations in London.

He had been on the cusp of simply shutting everything down when his son was stupid enough to die last autumn by breaking his head in a drunken revel.

The day after the funeral, Allen’s cousin, Eustace, and his son showed up on Allen’s doorstep, asking to see the place since they were now the most likely heirs to the estate.

Of course, he showed them around and even allowed them to stay for a couple of days, but he eventually kicked them out when they would not take a hint and leave of their own accord.

In the months since, Allen had looked into Eustace’s financial habits and was appalled at what he found.

Neither Eustace nor his son seemed to have any inkling of the idea that money, no matter how wealthy one is, is a finite resource.

They seemed to think that since they were gentlemen they were automatically entitled to anything they desired.

Both of them had significant debts, though Eustace’s estate was not yet in danger.

At the rate they were going, however, that was a certain eventuality.

Allen had absolutely no desire to leave his earthly possessions to two such idiots who would squander it all away in a decade.

At the same time, he did not wish to leave it to just anyone.

Though the property was not entailed, it seemed both cruel and foolish to let it go to someone outside the family.

Allen had never intended to replace his deceased wife, but the dual needs of keeping Braydon Hall away from his foolish cousins and keeping the charities going without driving himself barmy drove him to seek someone, anyone, who could help him deal with these two issues.

Finding a lady who could sire a son was simplicity itself. Any lady less than thirty would do, and most of them in the neighborhood would jump at the chance to wed the wealthiest man in the area.

Finding a lady who could manage his charitable projects was a bit harder, but since most young ladies were taught to be charitable in some way from a young age, it was certainly a manageable prospect.

Finding a lady who was not greedy or foolish? Well, that was a challenge.

Allen waited a suitable amount of time until he was no longer in mourning for his son.

Then he sought out the one man in the neighborhood who likely knew the most about the ladies, Mr. Bennet.

While Bennet was almost as taciturn as Allen was, Allen was certain that, since Bennet’s wife was the biggest gossip, and his five daughters were known to be both friendly and sociable, Bennet was the man who would know the most.

So, on a summer’s morning in 1809, Allen called on Bennet.

At age forty-seven Bennet was not a young man, but Allen was ten years his senior.

Though they had both grown up near Meryton, they had never been close friends.

Yet, they were longstanding neighbors, so they shared a certain frankness which was refreshing and relaxing.

Allen made it clear that he cared very little about what his future wife looked like as long as she wasn’t hideous enough to disturb his dinner when they ate together. He told Bennet that he was looking for someone who could manage the household and the charities.

What he did not say was that he hoped for a young lady who had no aspirations of being particularly wealthy.

Allen had enjoyed having his full income to himself after his wife was gone.

He realized that she, alone, had spent nearly a thousand pounds a year.

With her gone, he had been able to invest more and get more enjoyment out of his visits to London.

He did not want to give it all up again just because he needed to produce another heir.

Allen came away from Longbourn with the name of two ladies.

One was Bennet’s own daughter, which was not surprising.

What father would not wish to promote his own daughter under such circumstances?

The other suggestion was the eldest Miss Lucas, who he vaguely remembered since she had been out in society when his wife was still alive.

He was fairly certain he had seen her at an assembly or something like it, but he didn’t remember anything about her.

Between the two, Allen suspected he would choose Miss Lucas. She was older, and probably more responsible. Additionally, he mistrusted Bennet’s motivation for suggesting his own daughter, especially since it was not even his oldest daughter.

On the night of the dinner where he was to meet the two ladies, Allen prepared something a little unusual.

He had his housekeeper show the guests into the front drawing room while Allen waited in the second drawing room.

The wall between the rooms was paper thin, so he could hear everything that was said.

Once all the guests had arrived, Allen sat right next to the wall and listened.

Bennet and Lucas chatted a bit. Well, Lucas chatted, and Bennet listened.

That was no surprise. What was surprising was the conversation he heard between the two young ladies.

If Allen was to believe what he had heard, Miss Lucas was the avaricious one and Miss Mary was the charitable one, the exact opposite of what Allen had assumed.

Even as he listened to the young ladies chatting about clothing Miss Lucas seemed far more interested in her dress than Miss Mary did.

After a few minutes, Allen determined that it was time to greet his guests, so he headed to the front drawing room. Bennet and Lucas greeted him and then proceeded to introduce their daughters.

Miss Lucas was taller than average, but she did not have the figure or elegance to carry her height.

Her hair was thin and was a boring, flat brown color that did no favors for her complexion.

Her eyes were of a similar boring light brown, and they were not exactly symmetrical.

Her only redeeming feature was that she had plump, pink lips which, surprisingly, looked better when she was not smiling.

Miss Mary was almost the exact opposite.

She was shorter than average with dark hair which was worn in a very plain style.

Her figure was decidedly flat. Her face was freckled and sallow, and her lips were thin.

Her one redeeming feature was the thoughtful look in her dark brown eyes, which seemed to be marred by either nervousness or fear.

Once introductions were complete, dinner was announced, and Allen led the group to the dining room. He placed Miss Lucas at his right hand and Miss Mary at his left so that he could easily converse with them both.

He spoke mainly to Miss Lucas during the first course. She was an intelligent conversationalist, though she was so well-spoken and so modulated in her tone that it was impossible to tell what her true interests and thoughts were.

During the second course he spoke with Miss Mary.

She seemed to be far less adept at conversation, but it was clear that both her words and her expressions were honest. He had no trouble discerning that Miss Mary was a compassionate, religious young lady, though she would likely be a rather poor hostess if she ever threw a dinner party.

Allen was a man of quick decisions and decisive action. By the end of the dinner, he was certain he did not want to let Miss Lucas anywhere near his money. She seemed to be the kind of woman who would demand the moon yet talk you into believing that you offered it to her in the first place.

After dinner, he bade farewell to Sir William and Miss Lucas, but he asked the Bennets to stay behind. If he had any doubts about his decision, Miss Lucas’ sour expression upon hearing this would have laid them to rest.

In the drawing room, Mr. Allen turned to Miss Mary and said, “I believe your father has told you the purpose of this dinner.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“Well, I have decided that I would like to ask for your hand in marriage, Miss Mary Bennet. Will you accept?”

Allen expected her to answer promptly. After all, she had to have been expecting it, at least a little. However, she did not answer. Instead, she seemed to become even more nervous. He waited patiently, however. He knew, if he was going to marry such a young bride, patience would be necessary.

Eventually, she looked up at him, concern in her eyes. “Are you aware that I have no dowry until my mother passes away?” she asked.

Allen was not aware of such a thing, but now that he was, it was not particularly surprising. Mrs. Bennet was almost as big a spender as Mrs. Allen had been. “I did not know,” he said, “but it makes no difference to my request.”

Instead of clearing up her worry, his answer seemed to add puzzlement to her concern. “I do not understand, sir,” she said. “Miss Lucas would make a far better mistress for your home and hostess for your guests.”

It suddenly became clear. Her hesitance was not fear of him, but concern about her own inadequacy. “The fine qualities Miss Lucas has in abundance are not the qualities I am looking for in a wife,” he answered. “Instead, you have them in spades.”

When she still hesitated, he decided to put what he had overheard to good use. “Do you not respect me?”

Miss Mary’s eyes widened in horrified surprise.

“No, sir,” she said. “I mean, yes, sir.” She shook her head in frustration.

“I mean, of course, I respect you. You place enough value on charity that you are looking for a wife specifically to manage those concerns instead of simply cutting them loose. Additionally, you have a very long-standing reputation of being a good master, landlord, and husband. How could I not respect you?”

“In that case, Miss Mary, let me assure you that I am certain you will make an excellent wife for me. If you have no other doubts, please say you will marry me.”

Miss Mary looked at her father who was standing nearby, then she looked back at Mr. Allen. “May I speak with my father first?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said and backed away a bit to give them some privacy.

Father and daughter spoke in low tones for several minutes. When they were done, she once again approached Allen. “I thank you for your generous proposal, sir, and I accept your offer.”

She smiled nervously and Allen lifted her gloved hand and kissed the back of it. “Thank you, Miss Mary. You have made me a happy man.” He looked to Mr. Bennet and added, “I shall come round tomorrow to discuss the arrangements.”