Pride, Prejudice, and Witches!

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

A truth so fixed, that in the minds of the families of a neighbourhood, the man might be considered the rightful property of the daughters within the place.

Upon entering a property, the man ceases to be himself, and becomes a prize to be hard won.

This was the truth of Longbourn, on this eve, when a gathering could be found at the edge of a forest, contained within the estate of Longbourn House. A gathering of three-and-one, as is right and proper for all things magical.

The oldest lady, for she was no crone, adjusted the hood of her black cloak uncomfortably, before passing a hand over the traditional cauldron. A cup of water could do, but a cauldron was right and proper, for all things foretelling.

"Netherfield Park is let."

"Is it?" The one man present said, with boredom and disinterest.

As if he might have turned to a newspaper, had he one to hand. Unfortunately, he was leaning against a tree, and the most fascinating thing was a grouping of pine needles in a classical Hertfordshire pine forest. Needless to say, of little significance.

"It is." She stated firmly, looking down into the misty waters within the cauldron, "I can see it now... Do you not care to know, who has taken it?"

"If you care to tell me, I have little objection to hearing it. It might speed the way from this cold and damp." He replied with a monotone.

The woman gave a small and soft cackle, "I see a man. He comes from the north, the south wind driving him... He comes in a chaise... I see the number four. There is... Ah. There are four horses."

"Fascinating." The man said dryly.

"Hush!" One of the other women whispered fiercely.

The eldest nodded again, "I see... Angels. Michael. Gabriel. Raphael! Yes, the Feast of Archangels. He will take possession before the feast... The servants are already packing. Preparing. Oh my."

"Oh my." The other two women echoed.

The man looked up at them in mild surprise, "Oh my?"

"A fortune!" The eldest exclaimed.

"A fortune." The other two echoed.

The man nodded slowly, "A man of fortune comes. I wonder who?"

"A name... Always a name..." The eldest woman muttered in annoyance, and adjusted her cowl again, before taking a ladle from beside the cauldron and dipping it. She lifted and sipped, as the other two closed in behind her.

As her throat bulged to swallow, a keening wail, like that of a red fox, escaped her mouth and deafened them all. Or rather, deafened the man who never knew when to expect it, but not the other two who were just now removing cotton balls from their ears, having known precisely when it was to occur.

"Bing-ley..." The gasp emerged from the staggering eldest. "Bing-ley... Single... Of great fortune... F-f-four thous-and... A year..."

"I hardly asked after his means." The man said steadily, tapping at one of his ringing ears.

The eldest woman pulled herself tiredly to her feet, by the cloaks of the other two, and beamed at them excitedly, "What a fine thing for you, my dearests."

"How so? How can it possibly affect them?" The man asked.

She shot a glare over at him, "My dear Mr. Bennet, how can you be so very tiresome? You must know that marriage is within the stars."