Elizabeth Makes a Decision (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Chapter 1

Chapter one

Elizabeth Bennet sighed as Mama began speaking of the entail again.

She sat beside her older sister, Jane. The weak afternoon sun danced through the windows, laying bright stripes across the floor beside her shoes.

Opposite them, their mother sat near the fire, her teacup forgotten upon the table as she waved her handkerchief with great energy, complaining again about the entail upon Longbourn.

Elizabeth had heard it nearly every day.

Longbourn was to go to a male heir, and Mama never failed to remind them she had produced five daughters and no son.

Mr. Bennet peered over the top of his newspaper, his eyes alight with mischief.

“I am sure there is nothing to be done. When I am dead and gone, Mr. Collins will have Longbourn. Nothing will change that.” He folded the paper, smirking at his wife.

“This is my cue to retire to my book-room.” With that, he departed, the crinkle of the newspaper scarcely masking the sound of his chuckle.

Elizabeth frowned as she watched him leave the room. Her father never spoke of the entail without her mother’s temper rising, and it often seemed he expected no other result.

Mrs. Bennet wailed afresh and turned her handkerchief-waving attention to Jane. “Jane, dear, you must be married as soon as may be. I know you were not made so beautiful for nothing!”

Jane’s hands tightened upon her embroidery hoop, though she kept her eyes upon her work.

Mrs. Bennet, now scowling at her cold tea, called out, “Hill! Hill! My tea has gone cold. Bring another pot and ask cook for more of those iced buns. But this time, do tell her not to be so sparing with the sugar topping.”

Elizabeth exchanged a look with Jane, whose face had gone pale. Elizabeth felt her own chest tighten. “Mama, Jane is only twelve.”

Mrs. Bennet glared at Elizabeth. “And who asked for your opinion, Miss Lizzy? Of course I do not mean Jane should marry today, but I am thinking she should come out soon.”

Jane, no longer even pretending to sew, clasped the hoop before her as though for protection.

“Come out?” Elizabeth repeated, her voice faltering, as she looked at Jane. “I do not think Jane wants to.”

Mrs. Bennet frowned, her handkerchief fluttered. “I do not mean this instant, but soon. We must be safe from the entail. When your father is dead, that horrid cousin will come and throw us into the hedgerows, and then what will become of us?”

Mrs. Hill entered with fresh tea and a plate of buns. She glanced at Mrs. Bennet’s flushed face. She set the tray down quietly and withdrew without a word.

Mrs. Bennet pointed a finger at Elizabeth. “And you, missy, would do well to take after your sister Jane.” Jane cast Elizabeth a sympathetic glance, but Mrs. Bennet pressed on. “You spend far too much time with your father, reading those old books. No man of sense will marry a blue-stocking!”

Elizabeth drew a ragged breath. “Mama, I am but nine years old. I am not looking to marry.”

Mrs. Bennet’s colour deepened. “Do not talk so foolish! And who would marry you? If you do not cease to run about like a hoyden, you will never secure a husband!”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the sting of the words. Tears pricked her lashes. Without another word, she sprang to her feet and fled.

***

Elizabeth burst through the front door, wincing as it slammed behind her, and hurried away before her mother’s inevitable scolding could follow.

The pale autumn sun was already dipping, casting a thin light over the garden.

She made for the woods behind the house, the one place where she felt better.

From within, her mother’s voice rang out, “Hill! Hill! Oh, where could she be? Does she not know how I suffer?” Elizabeth heard Mrs. Hill’s calmer tones in reply, but she shook her head and kept on.

After a few minutes, she dropped onto a fallen log, turning a smooth stone over in her hands. Mimicking her mother’s voice, she muttered, “Do not smirk at me, Miss Lizzy. If you do not cease to run about like a hoyden, you will never secure a husband!”

Why must Mama always speak of marriage? It made Elizabeth uneasy, and Jane’s mouth grew tight whenever it began. Mary sat as she always did, but Kitty wriggled and Lydia laughed, and no one told them to stop.

Elizabeth tossed the stone aside and followed the path toward Oakham Mount, one of her favourite escapes. Mama’s talk of hedgerows and cousins made her feel bad. She did not understand why Mama always said it that way, only that she wished Mama would stop speaking of it.

She stopped and untied her bonnet. No one was nearby to complain if she sat bareheaded a few minutes.

Elizabeth imagined a different sort of life. A house with more rooms, quieter rooms. Instructors who were not always in haste. Jane could spend her mornings learning what pleased her most, and the little girls might have someone to mind them when Mama was tired.

Elizabeth twisted a dandelion between her fingers and thought of the village children, always underfoot and never taught much of anything.

It seemed to her they might be happier if someone took the trouble to guide them.

She did not yet know how such things were done, only that it ought to be possible.

Father always went back to his book-room, and that seemed to be enough for him. Elizabeth could not help thinking that it might have been different, if there had been a son.

The thought settled quietly, but it did not leave her.

Her gaze lingered on the last few petals. Perhaps… a daughter might try.

Elizabeth leapt to her feet, tied her bonnet, and ran back toward Longbourn, her eyes alight.