Much to Be Talked Of (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Prologue

“Well, Bennet, had you any idea that an agricultural treatise could be so filled with adventure?” Mr Goulding said with a smile, inclining his head towards the little girls who sat on the thick carpet by the fire at Haye-Park.

Three-year-old Elizabeth was on the floor, a large book laid open across her little legs. Five-year-old Jane sat by her side, cuddling her doll and listening to her sister as she spun a fanciful tale of her own invention.

“Why, it never occurred to me that pixies and giraffes could be hiding in my fields,” Mr Bennet answered mildly.

“Or a dog that flies in the sky over them,” remarked Goulding. “She is a precocious one.”

Elizabeth looked up, blinking, at the word precocious. She peered at the two men, seeming to turn the word over in her head. Precocious. She went back to her story without comment, but Goulding did not doubt she would be asking her papa later what it meant.

“Aye, that she is. Fanny does not quite know what to do with her.” Bennet sipped his tea.

“Our little Lizzy came back to us from fostering quite early, just after her first birthday. She walked at ten months and was speaking in full sentences at one year of age. She is imaginative, curious, and quite active, which is vexatious for her mother. I have taken to keeping her with me in my study for part of the day, though she prefers to play outdoors. Janie is reticent and happy to play quietly, but the two are quite strongly attached already. They seem to complement one another nicely, even at such young ages. I hope our baby Mary becomes attached to her sisters as well when the Shepherds send her back to us.”

“The Shepherds foster your children?”

“Aye, that arrangement has been in place between our families for three generations that I know of.”

Goulding shifted slightly. “Your family is growing rapidly. Are you investing for your daughters? They will all need dowries, and there is the entail to contend with, after all. I can recommend some men of business who have increased my investments remarkably well.”

Bennet waved the question away. “My wife is again with child, and this time it will certainly be a boy. We shall never have to think about the entail again.”

Elizabeth watched as their butler Mr Osbeck showed Mr Goulding into her papa’s library and took away his coat and hat, leaving him with a satchel which he set down on the floor. Setting their book down and rising from the chair they shared, Elizabeth and Jane curtseyed.

Their mother put her head around the library door. “I hope you will have time for tea, Mr Goulding. I shall bring refreshments for you shortly.”

Mr Goulding bowed. “That would be a treat indeed, Mrs Bennet, I thank you.” As she left and closed the door behind her, he turned to Elizabeth and Jane. “Girls, close your eyes and do not peek. I have a surprise for you.” He picked up the satchel.

Elizabeth put both hands over her eyes, leaving a tiny space between two of her fingers.

“Jane, you have not tried to peek, so you may have your present first. Lizzy,” he said, his small, crooked smile belying an attempt to sound stern, “you have been peeking.” Mr Goulding handed Jane her surprise, which turned out to be a game of spillikins. Jane squealed with delight and thanked him.

Elizabeth straightened her fingers tightly together and squeezed her eyes shut so that she could not see anything.

“That is better, child.”

She heard something rattle.

“You may hold out your hands.”

She opened her eyes, and Mr Goulding placed a box in her outstretched hands. It was a dissected map puzzle.

“That should keep you busy for a while.” He smiled.

“Oh, thank you, sir!” Elizabeth was delighted. Her friend Charlotte had a puzzle and allowed her to help her put it together. Charlotte was twelve years old but was kind to younger children, which was a good thing since she had so many younger brothers and sisters.

Jane’s brow furrowed. She looked worriedly at Mr Goulding. “Do you have a present for Mary, sir? If you do not, I will share my game and Lizzy will share her puzzle. Baby Kitty is still with Mrs Shepherd.”

“You are very kind to think about your sisters, my dear. I have a little doll for Miss Mary. Do you think you can give it to her for me?”

“We will,” both the girls promised, and sat on the floor to play spillikins.

Jane was soon completely engrossed in the game.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, had learnt to play with a toy or read a book with one ear attending to the adults’ conversation.

Even at the age of five, she had already absorbed valuable lessons about which questions to ask, which subjects to bring up, and which not to.

She watched her father and Mr Goulding settle in for one of their long conversations.

“You spoil them, Goulding,” said Mr Bennet. He moved to a pair of wing-backed chairs near the fire. Mr Goulding sat in the chair across from his friend.

“Yes, and it is my honour,” he answered. “Count your blessings, Bennet, and thank you for sharing your children with me.”

Mr Bennet cleared his throat uncomfortably and said, “So, back on your feet, eh, my friend?”

“Aye, but it was worse this time. Every time the malady returns, it lasts a little longer and it is harder to regain my strength.” With a sigh, Mr Goulding raised a hand to his face. “I say, would you mind if I took this mask off? It is uncomfortable.”

“I daresay it is. Of course, you must take it off. You need not wear it here at Longbourn, ever. Now, what is your pleasure today? Shall I thrash you at cribbage, or perhaps we might quarrel over the newspapers.”

The two old friends sat back for a long chat, and before long, Mrs Bennet and Mrs Hill brought in trays laden with a teapot, sandwiches, fruit, and cakes.

“My goodness, look at all this! It is a feast! Thank you, Mrs Bennet!” Mr Goulding said with a laugh.

Mrs Bennet smiled. “You are too thin, sir. You need some fattening up.” She bobbed a slight curtsey and left the room.

Mr Bennet muttered as he poured his friend a cup of steaming tea, “My wife is lavish in all things. Hospitality, decorations, gowns…”

Elizabeth heard the slight sarcasm in her father’s voice. Even Jane looked up, clearly sensing some discord in the air.

Mr Goulding’s brow rose at his friend’s tone.

“Fanny is a kind, generous soul, Bennet. She always has been, even when we were children. You are a lucky man.” He briefly touched his knuckles to his lips, seeming to catch himself.

“I should say Mrs Bennet. Strange how we do not use our childhood names for each other for the sake of propriety.”

Mr Bennet considered. “Perhaps it is for the best, or we might be calling Sir Willam Lucas by the name Sir Billy Big-Ears.”

Mr Goulding laughed. “Well said.” After a moment, he cleared his throat. “You did not tell me that your wife is expecting another child. I am glad for you! Please let me know if you have any interest in speaking to my man of business.”

Mr Bennet grunted a non-answer, and Mr Goulding quickly changed the subject.

Elizabeth cocked her head, listening, even as the spillikins sticks fell on the floor.

She knew her father scolded her mother over expenses and that they would not worry if only she had a brother.

Mama prayed often for a son, and it was a subject of tension between her parents.

That year Mrs Bennet grew great with child, bigger than she had been with her other daughters, but in the end, there was not to be a son.

The baby girl they named Lydia was large, and bullied her way into the world, pushing, kicking, and bawling, injuring her mother in such a way that there would be no more children.

She was quickly sent to the Shepherds, as her loud squalling and insatiable appetites wore her mother out.

Carefully putting his mask on, Goulding rose from his desk as his housekeeper showed his visitors in.

“Good afternoon, ladies! My goodness, you have all come to see me!” He smiled at the gaggle of little girls.

The Bennet sisters were frequent visitors, sometimes accompanied by other neighbourhood children.

Maria Lucas and Penelope Harrington, who at seven years of age were only slightly younger than Kitty, had followed along.

“How glad I am to have some company on such a fine day!”

“Shall I bring refreshments, sir?” asked the housekeeper.

“Yes, please do.” He turned to the children. “Shall we take our lemonade in the garden?”

They all nodded in agreement.

“Mrs Neeson, I trust you already know what treats my friends like?”

The older lady grinned. “Indeed, I do! I shall have Annie bring them shortly.”

Goulding shepherded the girls through a hall that took them to a door leading out to the garden. They seated themselves amongst a cluster of chairs in the dappled shade of an old elm.

“Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” he asked, directing his question to Elizabeth, as she was the eldest of the group. Already at age twelve, she showed aspects of the young lady she would become: clever, kind, and quick-witted.

“Papa was going to come visit you, but Mr Martin needed to speak with him about a broken fence,” said Elizabeth. “We decided we would come anyway.”

“And Penny and I came along,” Maria Lucas piped up. “Mama said we could visit, and we must remember our manners and not ask for muffins.”

Goulding laughed. “Perhaps Mrs Neeson will bring muffins so you will not need to ask.”

“Also, I brought you something,” said eight-year-old Kitty, bouncing a little on a cushion next to Mary. She held out a smooth piece of white quartz.

“Kitty, you must sit still,” Mary scolded quietly.

The penitent little girl stopped bouncing but could not help the occasional wiggle.

“What a fine little stone, Kitty! It is very pretty. I am very happy to see you all, with or without your papa,” Goulding promised. “I am also always glad to see you and your brothers and sisters when they come to visit.”