First Impressions

Longbourn, Michigan. 
Population, three-thousand, one-hundred, thirteen. 

A quaint, sleepy town in the Upper Peninsula, twelve miles off any major highway and nestled in a forest of birches off of Lake Superior, Longbourn's residents hardly experienced any major excitement or drama beyond the occasional Founder's Day pie contest scandal (Mrs. Hadley <i>swore</i> Paula Deen learned how to make cherry pie from <i>her</i>, not the other way around), and when there ever was, gossip swept over the streets like a soft blanket in hushed whispers and gasps.

Though, the one public place where voices could be raised in volume on such subject matters was at the corner of Washington and Myers, where stood the Bennet House Cafe. Well-lit by the expansive glass windows, often painted with bright designs by the eldest Bennet daughter, Jane, Bennet House was quirky, to say the least. Mismatched furniture, scrawled on walls, bright trinkets and pastel tea cups were scattered among the cafe, welcoming customers with a unique, colorful vibe. It was opened nearly three decades ago by Charles Bennet, a now silver-haired, hard-to-disgruntle fellow who often deadpanned his frantic, boisterous wife, Lillian to amuse himself. They had five daughters.

The youngest, Mary, a slender fifteen-year-old who was far too intellectual for any social mingling, instead taking to a good logarithm or scientific text. She could often be found at the piano bench, though, her raven head of hair concealing her skin as fair as the ivory keys as she leaned over to play. When she wasn't keeping herself independently busy, or pushing up her horn-rimmed glasses, or awkwardly and insecurely attempting innate conversation with peers who couldn't, Mary was enjoyable company simply waiting to be given the chance.

Next was the eighteen-year-old Lydia, who started preparing Charles for a heart attack since she was given her first training bra. Her hair, naturally a dishwasher blond, was bleached and her blue eyes rimmed with eyeliner and Lash-blast mascara. She laughed loudly, was convinced easily, and carried around a wild-child disposition despite being trapped in a hard-to-even-locate town.

Twenty-year-old Kit wasn't much better. She and Lydia were similar in face and fit body frame, but her hair was as dark as Mary's, though her similar brown eyes were not hidden behind thick glasses and choppy bangs. Kit wasn't as eager for a good time as Lydia, but she was just as obnoxious, talkative, and irritating. 

Jane, as said the eldest, was angelic in every way- twenty-three, with wavy, naturally polished strawberry blonde tresses and large, innocent ocean eyes. The bridge of her nose was speckled with caramel freckles most people found endearing. Boys formed the "We Love Jane" fan club in the second grade, and since then, the rest of Longbourn had caught up. And truly, Jane was well loved. She was genuinely kind to every person she'd ever met, but was often humbled by attention. She only confided in her closest friends and family, but even then, her spectacular nature was never tarnished.

But the most prominent Bennet girl was Elizabeth, or Lizzie, as she liked to be called. Twenty-two, driven, and hard-headed, Lizzie embodied many of the positive characteristics an educated, independent young woman should have. She was just as beautiful as Jane, though in contrast, a different type. While Jane was absolutely beautiful, Lizzie stunned, and even intimidated, with intense green eyes (the only daughter to be passed along the trait from Charles) and dark chocolate locks that framed a fair, flawless face. Still, Lizzie hardly cared about looks. She was an intellectual, like Mary, though balanced well with more social interaction. Nonetheless, she chose not to involve herself with discussing Longbourn's latest gossip that her mother's best friend (and the mother of Lizzie's own best friend Charlotte, coincidentally) Mrs. Lucas rushed into the Bennet House the beginning of Memorial Day weekend to spill.

"The Netherfield House?" Mrs. Bennet cried in surprise as she finished pouring customers steaming refills of coffee while Mrs. Lucas plopped herself atop the plush purple armchair by the west window, fanning herself after rushing to get to the cafe as soon as possible. "Well, did you get a good look at who's leasing it?"

Netherfield was five miles outside of town, and right on the edge of the lake. The stone-built property was expansive, with a main house complete with six bedrooms, a guesthouse with two and it's garage serving as a small boathouse (motor boats and rowboats included), a tennis court, and a pristine garden with trimmed hedges and carefully maintained roses. The estate was often used as a site for community gatherings like charity events and boat races, as no one had leased it out for a summer in several years. Now, it appeared, someone had, and the house maintenance had rushed to get in two days notice. 

"Now, this is the most interesting part," Mrs. Lucas said to her friend, leaning forward as Mrs. Bennet anticipated her response eagerly. "It turns out that the name on the lease is Patrick Kane."

While Lizzie had concentrated on steaming milk for lattes, her attention immediately shifted, recognizing the name.

"The hockey player? From the Chicago Blackhawks?" Lizzie asked in disbelief as Mrs. Lucas nodded. 

"And he's brought a couple of friends, as well," the older woman added. "I was driving by just as they were unloading their cars. I saw Mr. Kane and two young women, as well as two other young men, one of who was none other than Jonathan Toews!" 

"Ohmygod, for real?!" Kit squealed, dragging a chair over to Mrs. Lucas to join in on the conversation. "He's soooooo cute. And he's suchhhh a great hockey player, really-"

"Kit, you don't even watch hockey," Lizzie smirked. "And even when you do, you root for the Wings. The 'Hawks are the enemy."

"They're the best-looking team in the league," Lydia interjected, rolling her eyes at her elder sister from the pastry counter. "Honestly, that's all you need to know."

"That house is going to be trashed by the end of the summer," Lizzie murmured to herself, thinking back to the headlines she'd read about Patrick Kane's Cinco De Mayo rendezvous down in Madison only a few weeks ago. Granted, many of the stories were likely lies, but Patrick Kane had a tarnished reputation after such serious allegations. Lizzie only hoped Longbourn wouldn't be put on the map because of any negative actions he could take this summer.

"How much do you think hockey players make for salary?" Mrs. Bennet now asked Mrs. Lucas, and the two women started throwing about figures while Lizzie groaned, leaning her head against the front of the espresso machine. 

Jane placed a hand on Lizzie's shoulder comfortingly, shooting a sympathetic look in her younger sister's direction. It was not even twelve o'clock, and Lizzie was already irritated by her family's antics.

Meanwhile, a young, dark-haired man opened the french doors of his bedroom's balcony at the Netherfield House. He looked down the lakeshore towards the town of Longbourn with skeptic brown eyes, quite cynical of what his summer would behold.