It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man, possessed of a good fortune must be in want of a slave girl. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighborhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families that he is considered as the rightful owner of some one or other of their daughters. 

“My dear Master Babbage…” Said his slave girl to him one morning. “Have you heard that Mannerfield Park is let at last?” The shackles she habitually wore connecting wrists jingled as she served the older man his breakfast. 

Mr. Babbage replied that he had not. 

“And what’s more, it is taken by a young man of large fortune. He came down in a chaise and four to see the place and was so much delighted with it he brought the place at once and will be moved in by the end of next week!” These last lines were said as she shuffled from the dining room to the kitchen. 

“What is his name?” Mr. Babbage called after her. 

“A Mr. Darby.” 

“Has he a slave girl yet?” 

“Oh no, Master! Single to be sure! A single man of large fortune: four or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls.” His slave girl called, returning with the next dish. 

The Babbage's had, at present, four daughters. Once there had been five, but the youngest had, some six months previously, been carried off by a young officer in the cavalry to be his concubine. The second youngest, seated at the far end of the table from Mr. Babbage was Catherine, a slight 18-year old slip of a girl with curly brown hair. Seated beside her was her older sister Mary, short, raven haired with a plain face but well endowed with womanly charms. 

Opposite them on the other side of the table was the second daughter, Lizzy, a pretty, if bookish brunette but, as the country lads had often noted, quite proud of herself and prejudiced against any man she saw as unworthy of being her master. Seated beside her, closest to their father was the eldest Babbage girl: Jane. She was, in her mother’s estimation, the most beautiful of the girls, pale, slender and fair haired. 

Over the course of the breakfast, Mr. Babbage’s slave pressed him, until at last he agreed to pay a call to Mannerfield Park that afternoon and make introductions to its new lodger and to, if at all possible, invite him to tea at his earliest convenience. 

“Girls, do go and fetch your collars and chains! See they are well polished, for you’ll wear them when Mr. Darby comes to visit.” Their mother chided as the girls made ready to leave the table. There were sighs and groans from the four girls, for Mr. Babbage was a kind and liberal father, who often let them forgo the restriction, much to his slave girl’s frustration who felt unless they practiced bearing the shackles and chains which were the fashion for properly brought up slave girls, they should never make an honorable match. 

“Come now, girls! None of that! Remember that Mr. Collins is coming around for dinner next Monday. He’s been interested in buying one or more of you himself and we may just accommodate him this time!” That was threat sufficient enough to overcome any hesitation and the four girls hurried to ready themselves for the first visit of their illustrious guest…