The Vanished Bennet Sister (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Chapter One

Elizabeth

"I have never seen ceilings like this in my life!" Mrs Bennet exclaimed.

She was not wrong. Elizabeth, two steps behind her on the black-and-white marble floor, looked up.

The plasterwork ran in neat acanthus borders around a central medallion, the detail crisp and well-maintained.

The staircase rose in a generous sweep of iron and mahogany and the windows at the far end of the hall admitted a pale January light that fell across the tiles in long, silver rectangles.

It was a beautiful house. There was no disputing that.

Mrs Bennet had already moved onwards, her exclamations preceding her through each doorway. The footman who admitted them and the housemaids who helped carry their belongings in had plain expressions that suggested they were accustomed to such reactions.

"A fireplace of Italian marble!" Mrs Bennet called from the drawing room. "Girls, come and look at this fireplace."

Lydia was already past the drawing room and could be heard from somewhere further along the corridor. "The dining room has a rather splendid chandelier. Kitty, you must see it immediately."

"I am much too preoccupied with the staircase," Kitty called back. "The bannister alone must have cost a fortune."

"Never mind the bannister, there is a much fancier chandelier!"

The townhouse belonged to Mr Lewis Thwaite, a wealthy gentleman who resided in London.

And who happened to be courting Elizabeth’s sister, Mary.

Much to everyone’s surprise, the middle Bennet sister had managed to find herself a gentleman who was not only affable, but rich to boot.

The relationship between Mary and Mr Thwaite had begun three months earlier, when Mary had departed Hertfordshire to visit the Gardiners in London for a week.

Mr Thwaite had visited Uncle Gardiner to discuss business matters and was directed to the parlour where Mary was sitting with a volume of music theory.

What followed, according to Mary’s account, was a lengthy conversation which included a detailed account of Mr Thwaite's views on the relationship between sacred music and theology. At the end of it all, he had expressed his interest in Mary’s opinions and asked whether he might write – by way of Mrs Bennet, of course, as it would have been improper to do so otherwise.

The subsequent months of letters between Mary and Mr Thwaite further deepened their relationship. He had come to call on the family the month prior and following the visit, his intentions towards Mary had been quite clear.

Soon thereafter, the gentleman had written to offer up his secondary townhouse for the Bennets use for the season.

Without the invitation, it would be nearly impossible for the family to remain in London long enough for the Bennet daughters to socialise and secure suitable matches.

The burden of arranging for housing would simply be too great.

Thus, Mrs Bennet had said yes to the offer before Mr Bennet finished reading the letter aloud.

By any rational account, it was an extraordinary act of generosity from a man whose acquaintance with the Bennets barely spanned a quarter year.

Elizabeth had said as much to Jane on the road from Hertfordshire, watching the flat fields dart by, and Jane had replied that Mr Thwaite seemed to be a man of remarkable kindness.

Which was one way of putting it.

What their mother chose to call it was a stroke of fortune so perfectly deserved that it required no further explanation.

Mrs Bennet had already informed three separate acquaintances of their new direction, describing the house in vague terms that suggested she had lived in it for years, and declining, with an airy wave, to mention whose name appeared on the deed.

It was, she seemed to feel, an irrelevant detail.

Elizabeth had decided, somewhere north of their journey to London, that this point of view was not worth fighting against.

"There’s a lovely music room with a Broadwood grand," Mary said, appearing at the entrance to the drawing room.

Lydia came to stand next to Mary. "Lovely. Is there a ballroom?”

"There is not. Private ballrooms are incredibly rare."

"Then I don’t care about the music hall."

"We shall be very well dressed within the week," Kitty said, crossing over to the window. "There is a milliner's I can see from here."

"The shops on Bond Street are what I wish to see. Mama says the gloves alone are worth the journey from Hertfordshire."

"Don’t forget the assembly rooms, Lydia, or the plays. And the parks! One is always meeting people in the parks. We must go promenading post haste."

Whatever reply Lydia was about to make was lost under Mrs Bennet’s renewed exclamation over an antique item. Jane turned to Elizabeth with an expression of pleasure, which she often wore during happy moments and Elizabeth’s lips, in return, curved in a slight, reassuring smile.

She had come to London for Jane, partly.

She had also come to keep her mother's more ambitious impulses from producing consequences that would outlast the season.

And, if she was honest with herself, the fact that she was twenty and had never participated in the season, made the invitation irresistible.

Their father, of course, had remained at Longbourn. He had seen them off from the door joyfully. Elizabeth suspected he was, at this very moment, settled in his library with the fire built high and the house blissfully silent.

She did not begrudge him it. She was rather envious.

There were several calculations to account for during their stay. The Bennets’ allocated funds for the season were modest. She had committed the figure to memory, aware that imprecision in such matters could lead to unfavourable results.

The gowns would likely be the first significant expense.

New gowns were not optional; the season required everyone to present themselves in the latest fashion.

But the modistes would need to be managed carefully, and her mother could not be trusted to do so, which meant that Elizabeth would need to be present at every fitting under some plausible pretence.

Then there were the incidentals: printed cards for morning calls and allocations for reciprocal hospitality which cost money in tea and cake. The opera and several other events would require attendance.

It would require considerable planning to ensure they didn’t run out of money during their stay in London. But Elizabeth was determined to maintain the helm of planning.

***

Mr Thwaite arrived the following day.

He was a young man of eight-and-twenty who appeared to occupy most spaces with remarkable ease. He was not handsome by conventional arrangement, but his face was the sort that grew more interesting the longer one looked, and his serious eyes revealed a mind full of depth.

"Mr Thwaite," Mrs Bennet said, taking his hand in both of hers, "we cannot thank you enough. I have never, in all my years, occupied a more elegantly appointed establishment. You are all generosity, sir. All generosity."

"You are very welcome, Mrs Bennet. I hope you will all be comfortable."

"Comfortable! We are in near paradise, in fact."

Lydia, behind their mother, winked at Kitty, who shook her head in amusement at Mrs Bennet’s complaisant behaviour.

The salutations proceeded as Mr Thwaite acknowledged each Bennet with the appropriate measure of interest. And then he turned to Mary.

There was a brief interval that seemed to contain a shared awareness that after months of correspondence, the two were standing in the same room for only the third time in their acquaintance.

Mary and Mr Thwaite settled in their seats, starting a conversation which surged ahead with a naturalness Elizabeth admired.

"I have been reading the commentary you recommended," Mary began, "regarding Dr Burney's account of the Hamburg performances. You were right about the second volume being the more valuable."

"I am glad you found it so. And for the question you raised in your last letter about the musical structure in the Messiah, I have been thinking about it since."

"It is not a question most people would find intriguing."

"Then those people are not attending to the right things. The oratorito is not decorative. The music enacts the argument and makes a debate worth it."

Mary's face brightened. The effect was incredible, as if the presence of someone who asked the right questions permitted an internal space she generally kept shuttered to admit some light.

The conversation between Mary and Mr Thwaite continued a while longer, the tea ignored on the side table, as the rest of the room eavesdropped in intrigue.

"I have taken a small liberty," Mr Thwaite said finally to the room at large. "I hope you will not consider it an imposition."

Mrs Bennet leaned forward in interest. "Not at all, Mr Thwaite. Whatever it is, we are most grateful."

"I have been issued vouchers for the forthcoming ball at Almack’s. It is considered one of the more notable events of the early season. Several families of consequence will attend and the music is generally of a high order. I thought it might be of interest."

"Oh Mr Thwaite, you are far too kind, too generous!" Mrs Bennet cried.

"Does one not need vouchers to attend?" Elizabeth asked, for she knew this to be true.

“Indeed, Miss Elizabeth. However, my mother is acquainted with one of the Lady Patronesses, and thus I was about to secure them. I have also instructed my coachman that the other carriage is at the family's disposal for the duration of your stay. It will be available whenever you wish to use it."

"And a carriage as well! You will accompany us to the ball, of course. You must. We would not hear of anything else."

"You are very kind, but I shall not attend. I have had a considerable number of years of subscription balls behind me and have found, on reflection, that I do not miss them. I hope that will not diminish the enjoyment of those who do attend."

"Certainly not," Mrs Bennet replied, her expression conveying a passing flicker of regret that was rapidly suppressed by the excitement of the ball itself.

"We shall need to arrange for new gowns. We cannot possibly attend a subscription ball at Almack’s in what we brought from Hertfordshire.

Muslin, I think, for Jane, or would silk be more the thing?

One must have new gloves at the very least, and perhaps something for the hair… "

"We only need purchase necessary items, Mama," Elizabeth said.

"I am only thinking aloud, Lizzy. We are so very grateful, Mr Thwaite. You cannot know what this means to us. To have the opportunity of such an evening, in such company…it is more than we could have hoped for when we set out from Longbourn."

"You’re most welcome."

Mr Thwaite rose to take his leave then, after making a promise to Mary that he would call on her more regularly.

As Lydia, Kitty and Mrs Bennet began to discuss the finer details of the subscription ball, Elizabeth retrieved the household account ledger for a closer look.

More attention would need to be paid to prevent the gradual accumulation of small expenditures that could be potentially ruinous if not tracked.

Talk of social events was nice, but it was Elizabeth’s self-imposed responsibility to ensure that the wrong decisions weren’t made during the course of the season.

She looked across the room at Jane, who was busy with needlework. Mary had picked up a book and was reading it, or perhaps appearing to and was instead internally replaying a conversation that had gone well.

Staring now out the window of a house that didn’t belong to them, in a city that was unfamiliar, and with accounts racing in the columns of her mind, Elizabeth hoped their temporary stay in London would prove rather beneficial indeed.