Chapter Three
Elizabeth
F itzwilliam’s departure to London had brought upon her a deep sense of melancholy. It was a strange thing, for she knew she would be seeing him in just a few days. She felt his absence keenly, as though her very soul could somehow sense that he was no longer nearby.
Mr Bingley had gone with him, and Jane was in a similarly poor temper – though, truthfully, nobody could tell the difference.
“Girls, will you cheer up?” Mrs Bennet lamented. “Look at the pair of you, draped over the settee as though they have gone to war! They are only in London, and we shall join them shortly! Really, my nerves cannot take such heartbreak over nothing! Did you quarrel before they left? Is this why you are so downtrodden?”
“No, Mama,” Jane said softly. “And I am fine.”
“Hmm. Well, you, Lizzy, are certainly in a foul mood. Now, while I have you both here, there are matters we must discuss.”
“I have told you already, Mama, I do not care about the flowers,” Lizzy said with exasperation. “Or my dress, or how much ham we require.”
“This is not about the wedding,” Mrs Bennet replied, her tone unusually grave. “Rather, it concerns the wedding night.”
Lizzy and Jane exchanged startled glances, both sitting up straighter.
“The wedding night?” Lizzy echoed, uncertain if she should be alarmed or amused.
“It is my duty to tell you,” Mrs Bennet said, her voice dripping with self-importance, “but you must know I do so out of concern – though, not for you, Jane, dear.”
Lizzy blinked in disbelief. She had spent weeks enduring her mother’s endless demands and unnecessary dramatics. Modiste appointments, social calls, and even those dreadfully boring walks had all been tolerated with good grace. What had she done to deserve this sudden scrutiny when Jane had been granted complete freedom?
“What concerns?” Lizzy asked, her tone edged with frustration. “I have done nothing wrong!”
Mrs Bennet fixed her with a knowing look.
“Have you truly wondered why I chaperone you so much more closely than I do Jane? You are a passionate creature, Lizzy, and men take advantage of such passion. It has been my solemn duty to ensure nothing untoward happened. We cannot risk even a hint of ruin - not again!”
“Ruin?!” Lizzy exclaimed, her cheeks flaming. “Mama, what are you talking about?”
Mrs Bennet waved her hands dramatically.
“The way you and Mr Darcy look at each other! It’s as though the rest of us are intruding on some... some private world! That stare he fixes you with, I cannot understand it. I must warn you now so that you conduct yourself as a proper wife and not some harlot!”
Jane gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she stared at their mother with widened eyes. Lizzy was not shocked; she was furious.
“Harlot?!” Lizzy shot to her feet, her face burning with indignation. Mama, how dare you!”
“I do not mean it as an insult!” Mrs Bennet cried, flustered. “But men like Mr Darcy are particular, and there must be no suggestion - none - that you have ever enjoyed a man’s attention before!”
Lizzy opened her mouth to retort, but Jane cut in, rising from her seat.
“Mama, how can you say such a thing?” she protested, her usually calm voice trembling with anger.
“Oh, sit down, girls, sit down,” Mrs Bennet huffed, gesturing them back into their seats. “I am merely trying to save you from trouble. Now, listen. I must tell you what is expected of you as far as your marital obligations. You must do as I say and no more, and you must pretend to like it.”
“Pretend?” Lizzy asked with a furrowed brow. “Are you suggesting we must simply behave as though we like our husbands, but merely endure?”
“No, no, of course not!” Mrs Bennet replied, pacing now. “But you must understand that a passionate nature can complicate what must be done. And what must be done, my dears, is the business of sons - plenty of them!”
Lizzy and Jane exchanged looks of utter horror.
“Mama, please...” Jane murmured, looking as though she might faint.
Mrs Bennet pressed on, undeterred.
“Now, when your husband comes to you on your wedding night - and not a moment before, mind - you must be accommodating. Men go rather mad over the whole business, but for women, it is merely a duty.”
“Then why must we do it at all if it is so unpleasant?” Lizzy asked, her tone sharp with disbelief. “And how is it that you fear we will be wanton, if it is such a chore? You are speaking in riddles!”
Mrs Bennet gasped in outrage.
“Do not be impertinent, Elizabeth! When a man lies with a woman, he has... a part that is quite different from what lies between a lady’s legs.”
Lizzy’s brow shot up.
“We are aware of that much, Mama. We have seen many paintings.”
“Paintings!” Mrs Bennet clutched her chest as though scandalized. “For Heaven’s sake, do not say that out loud! It is not the same as in paintings. When a man is... aroused, Lord help me, that part grows hard, and far bigger. If you are lucky, it will not be too big.”
Jane became alarmingly red, while Lizzy could only stare in disbelief.
“You must allow him to... put that part inside you,” Mrs Bennet continued, fanning herself furiously. “There will be pain, and blood the first time. He will, er, stir it about a bit, and that is how children are made. He will make a peculiar sound to indicate he has finished. When it is over, he will retire, and you must lie still for at least half an hour - no less! It is vital you remain still, so that his seed may take in your womb.”
Lizzy buried her face in her hands, her laughter teetering dangerously close to hysteria.
“Mama,” she said, her voice muffled, “this conversation is entirely unnecessary.”
“Entirely,” Jane echoed weakly.
“I do not think you understand what you are saying,” Mrs Bennet continued. “It is necessary because you do not know anything of men. I am correct, am I not?”
“Mama!” the girls protested in unison.
“Then stop acting as if you know everything and listen to your mother! You must not ask these things of your husbands; a spirited woman is not what a gentleman desires. You will take heed of what I have said.”
“Is that all we must know?” Lizzy asked impatiently. “That is all there is to it?”
“You must pretend to like it,” Mrs Bennet said. “Make a little noise, a sigh or a gasp. It encourages them to come to you often until a child is safely in your womb. But you must not pretend to like it too much.”
“Very well. I have noted all of your advice. Come, Jane, let us walk before it grows dark.”
She looped her arm through Jane’s and all but dragged her away from the parlour and their mother. They put their coats and bonnets on in stunned silence, before slipping out into the garden. With a final glance at each other, they could hold in their disdain no longer. Lizzy collapsed into a fit of giggles, her sister laughing demurely by her side.
“She truly cannot help herself, can she?” Lizzy said, wiping away the tears of laughter that had gathered in her eyes. “What an absurd conversation.”
Jane smiled, though her cheeks were still tinged with pink.
“You know she means well, Lizzy. Her intentions are always for the best.”
Lizzy arched a sceptical brow.
“For the best? Jane, she called me a harlot! I doubt any other mother would approach the matter with such clumsiness. I feel I know no more about the business than I did when she began speaking. All I know is that I am utterly insulted.”
Jane sighed.
“I think she only worries about your... boldness. You have always been so confident, so sure of yourself. Mama fears it might... overshadow propriety.”
“Propriety,” Lizzy muttered, kicking a stray pebble on the path. “If she mentions sons or lying still for half an hour again, I swear I shall run away and join the circus.”
Jane giggled despite herself.
“Lizzy, stop! Her advice was well-meaning.”
“Well-meaning is one word for it,” Lizzy quipped, a grin tugging at her lips. “And yet, for all her dramatics, she has a strange way of making me wonder if I truly am prepared for what lies ahead.”
Jane paused, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Do you mean marriage, or... what Mama spoke of.”
“Both,” Lizzy admitted, her voice softer now. “I know I love him, Jane. I know I want to spend my life with him. But there’s so much I don’t know about being someone’s wife, about sharing a life - about sharing myself in that way.”
Jane reached out and took her sister’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You are braver than you think, Lizzy. And Mr Darcy has never been married before, so you will learn together, just as Charles and I will. Mother made men sound like utter beasts; I know that our husbands shall be different, for they hold us in great affection.”
Lizzy smiled, her spirits lifting at Jane’s quiet encouragement.
“You always know just what to say, dearest Jane.”
“I must admit, I am worried. I heard whispers in London of what happens when a wife does not please their husband in a suitable way.”
“What?”
Jane paused.
“They find a woman who can. A mistress. A woman whose sole purpose in life is to make other women’s husbands happy.”
Hertfordshire was a sheltered place, and the men here seemed devoted to their wives. Lizzy had heard gossip of the city, of course, and the mistresses who were kept in great luxury at the expense of men who had wives and children already. She had never believed such a thing commonplace, and she had certainly never thought the practice would threaten her own happiness, or that of her dearest sister.
“You do not need to worry, Jane. Mr Bingley is so in love with you, I doubt he would notice if Venus herself strolled by.”
“You are too generous, Lizzy. I know that I do not share the same nature as you. In fact, though I love him dearly, I feel terrified by the whole thing. Will there be pain, as Mama said?”
“I don’t know. Oh, how frustrating it is to be so ill-educated in what must be done! I would write to Charlotte and ask, if I did not think such a letter to be scandalous! Imagine Mr Collins’ face should he happen upon it!”
“You must not send such a letter! Such things cannot be committed to writing. I am sure that our husbands, dependable as they are, will advise us.”
“And until then? Are we to live in a state of uncertainty, not knowing what terrible things await us?”
“Hush, Lizzy. It cannot be so terrible! Why would a woman marry at all if such a dreadful fate awaited?”
“Because we must! Is there another choice, save for spinster-hood?”
Jane patted her hand; Lizzy was sure that she intended the gesture to be soothing, but instead she found it quite maddening.
“It is different for those who marry without affection. We are lucky. Please, Lizzy, do not distract from our happiness. There is no sense in worrying; whatever our duty, we shall be happy for we have love.”
“You are right, of course. Forgive me, my dearest Jane. You know that our mother has an unparalleled talent of knowing exactly how to offend me.”
“She means no harm.”
“You were not insulted!”
“You must admit,” Jane said softly, “that you and Mr Darcy have a certain…oh, I cannot explain it! I hate to admit that Mama may have been right. The way you gaze upon each other…”
“We do not gaze upon each other!” Lizzy retorted. “Why, you make it sound so sordid! We look at each other in a perfectly normal way, as people do!”
“It is more than that!”
“You are as ridiculous as our mother!” Lizzy balked. “Let us speak no more of this. We have much to look forward to in London, even if we must bring our mother along.”
“How wonderful it will be to no longer need a chaperone. We will be married ladies, the mistresses of our own households! I never dreamed that I would have a house as grand as Netherfield to manage – and you shall be mistress of Pemberley!”
“Say you will visit us! I cannot imagine what it shall be like to not see you every day.”
“Of course! I ought not to tell you this, for nothing has been arranged for certain, but I am in possession of a most exciting secret.”
“What?”
Jane looked at her, her smile widening as she clasped Lizzy’s hands with joy.
“Charles has made enquiries on an estate not five miles from Pemberley.”
“Oh!”
“Nothing is certain!” Jane said. “And we shall keep Netherfield.”
“Two estates! How grand you shall be, Jane!”
“It does not matter to me. I would love him if he had nothing at all.”
“I know you would,” she said softly. “And that is why you will be happy, no matter where you live.”
Jane reached for Lizzy’s hands, squeezing them tightly.
“And you as well, dearest sister. We are most fortunate, are we not?”
Lizzy exhaled, nodding.
“Indeed, we are. To have found such love, such contentment… I could not have imagined it when we first came to Netherfield.”
“Nor I. How much has changed since those days!”
“Yes,” Lizzy agreed, her thoughts drifting back to the pride and misunderstandings, the hesitations and heartaches that had once stood between her and Darcy. It seemed almost impossible now, knowing how deeply she loved him, how steady and certain her heart had become.
“Do you think,” Jane asked after a moment, “that we shall always be as happy as we are now?”
Lizzy met her sister’s hopeful gaze and smiled. “I do not doubt it. We have chosen well, and we have each other. No matter what may come, that shall never change.”
Jane nodded, as if sealing the promise between them. Lizzy turned her face toward the sun-dappled fields, content in the knowledge that the best was yet to come.