Of Honey & Foals
The return to Lambton was accomplished without delay, and with less fatigue than Elizabeth had expected. The roads were in good order, and the weather, though warm, was tempered by a light air that rendered the journey more agreeable than the season might have promised.
They travelled without haste, and made the first day’s journey with little inconvenience.
Georgiana bore it well, and Mrs Annesley, attentive without interference, saw that nothing was wanting for her comfort.
She spoke sensibly when addressed, and with a readiness that made her an agreeable companion upon the road.
Kitty’s spirits were not diminished by the length of the day, and even Mary submitted to the movement with patience.
They stopped for the night at the same inn they had used upon their journey south, and were comfortably accommodated; and resumed their journey the following morning without delay. By the afternoon, the country began to open more familiarly.
Elizabeth, who had set out for Ramsgate with something yet to be resolved, found the return of a quieter kind.
The question that had accompanied her there, no longer required an answer.
What remained was whether he was of a similar mind, or whether she would return to find Lambton exactly as she had left it — Mr Ashton attentive, the neighbourhood satisfied, and nothing altered at all.
That uncertainty remained with her as the carriage turned into the familiar lane, and Lambton came into view.
Kitty sat up at once. “There is the church!”
Mary looked up from her book as the cottage appeared a moment later, its windows bright in the afternoon light. Before the carriage had properly stopped, the door opened and Jane came quickly down the path.
Kitty was out at once, and they met at the gate. Mrs Bennet appeared in the doorway behind, her hands clasped, her expression one of profound relief. Lydia followed with characteristic energy.
“You are back!” she announced, as though the fact required confirmation.
A carriage stood a little further along the lane. Elizabeth recognised the livery at once. She glanced at Jane, who met her eye with quiet composure. Elizabeth smiled, and then glanced at Mr Darcy.
“Mr Bingley,” she said quietly.
Jane turned with a smile that required no explanation.
“He has been here these two hours,” she said. “We expected you sooner.”
Mr Bingley appeared at the door as she spoke, his countenance brightening immediately at the sight of them. He came forward with his usual eagerness, greeting each of the party in turn, but returning again to Jane with evident satisfaction.
“I am very glad you are safely returned,” he said. “We have been quite at a loss without you.”
Mrs Bennet advanced at once, her manner all gratitude.
“My dear Mr Darcy, we are infinitely obliged to you for the attention you have shewn my daughters. I protest I do not know how to express my thanks.”
Mr Darcy bowed, and replied with proper civility, disclaiming any merit in what had given him real pleasure.
“You must all come in,” she continued. “You will be quite fatigued, and nothing has been prepared as it ought—but you will take something, I insist upon it.”
There was no resisting her. They were conducted within, where the first bustle of arrival occupied every one.
In a short time, however, the visit concluded. Mr Darcy, with Georgiana, Mr Bingley, and Mrs Annesley, soon after took their leave for Pemberley.
That evening, when they were at last alone, Jane spoke first.
“You have had a pleasant journey, I hope.”
“Very pleasant.” Elizabeth paused. “And you?”
Jane smiled. “Mr Bingley has been here almost every day.”
Elizabeth returned her smile, but said nothing.
Jane regarded her a moment. “You have settled everything you wished?”
“Yes.”
“And are satisfied?”
Elizabeth hesitated only briefly.
“I am quite easy in my own mind with respect to Mr Ashton.”
Jane’s expression softened. “I am very glad of it.”
The remainder of the evening was necessarily occupied in conversation which Elizabeth could not avoid, and in which Jane heard, for the first time, a full account of what had occurred at Ramsgate.
Nothing more was said, but there was a greater ease between them than there had been before.
As Elizabeth turned back her coverlet, Pudding, who had been absent all evening, sprang lightly upon the bed with a sharp, satisfied chirp, and settled herself at once as though she had never been away.
Elizabeth smiled, and reached out a hand, which was accepted without ceremony.
The next few mornings passed with the same quiet regularity.
Elizabeth resumed her former habits without effort. She was early abroad, and found a particular satisfaction in the walks which had once been familiar, and which now appeared to her with a renewed sense of comfort. The air was still, the country unchanged, and the hour her own.
Within doors, the occupations of the house were again taken up.
There was something in attending to small arrangements, in observing what had been neglected, and in restoring order where it had been interrupted, which she found more agreeable than she had expected.
She was not sorry to be useful, nor to share in those concerns which belonged properly to the day.
Nothing in these engagements fatigued her.
Mr Bingley continued to call with his usual frequency, and was always welcome. Mr Darcy came also, though less often, and sometimes with his sister. Their visits were necessarily short, but served to maintain the easy intercourse between the two houses.
In the evenings, when the day’s engagements were over, Mary resumed her place with the household accounts, and Jane, who had taken some pains to set them in better order, occasionally assisted her.
It was in this way that the parcels sent from Pemberley were first remarked upon in their proper extent. They had continued to arrive with regularity since Elizabeth’s absence, and now formed no inconsiderable addition to the ordinary supplies of the house.
Mary, who was exact in such matters, observed one evening that the quantity was greater than she had at first supposed.
“There are several entries of the same kind,” she said, referring to the book. “And more than one joint of meat.”
Elizabeth listened without remark, but she could not mistake the motive, and accepted it as it was meant.
Mrs Bennet was not long in introducing a subject which had, as she declared, occupied her entirely since their return.
“You will not believe how very ill Mrs Ashton has been,” she began. “I am with Mrs Harding every day — quite every day — and she assures me her sister is unequal to the least exertion. Indeed, she is scarcely able to see any one.”
Jane expressed the proper concern, and Elizabeth listened attentively.
“It is a most melancholy thing,” Mrs Bennet continued. “Mrs Harding bears it as well as can be expected, though I am sure it must be a great trial; and Mr Ashton so attentive — I never saw anything like it — but it is very wearing upon him.”
Elizabeth, after a moment, said quietly,
“And is there any prospect of relief? What is the opinion of those who attend her?”
“Very little encouragement, I am afraid,” Mrs Bennet replied. “They say she must be kept very quiet, and that there is nothing to be done but to hope. And Mr Harding says Cobweb will foal any day now. Lydia has been down to the stable every morning this week.”
Mr Ashton called that same morning.
His manner was unchanged in civility, but there was a degree of gravity in it which Elizabeth could not fail to observe. He spoke of his mother almost immediately, and with a seriousness which left little room for any other subject.
“I am afraid we have had a very trying time,” he said. “My mother has been unequal to more than the smallest exertion, and has not been able to leave the house for some time.”
Elizabeth expressed her concern, and enquired, with proper attention, whether there was any prospect of relief.
“They give us little encouragement,” he replied. “But we do not yet abandon hope.”
He paused, and then added, with a faint effort at ease, “I would not have you think me negligent, if I am less in the neighbourhood than I have been.”
“You could not be otherwise,” Elizabeth said.
He seemed gratified by the answer, and remained a few minutes longer; but his attention was evidently divided, and he soon took his leave.
Lydia was not with them that afternoon. She came in at last, much later than was usual, flushed with exertion and in the highest spirits.
“It is come!” she cried, before any question could be put. “Such a beautiful little thing. You never saw anything so pretty in your life, and standing almost at once. Mr Harding says it is the finest he has seen this year.”
“My dear Lydia, where have you been?” Mrs Bennet exclaimed. “We have been quite uneasy.”
“I could not come away,” Lydia returned. “I was determined to see it properly, and it took an age before anything happened at all. I thought it never would.”
Jane attempted to moderate her, but with little success.
“And such confusion at first!” Lydia continued. “Nobody knew what to do, and then all at once it was there. I am sure I never saw anything so diverting.”
“It is a filly,” she added, with importance, “and Mr Harding says I may name her, which I think is very proper, as I was there the whole time. I have not yet quite decided, but I mean to choose something that will suit her exactly.”
Elizabeth said nothing.
“You should have been there,” Lydia added. “It was worth the whole afternoon.”
On the following morning, Lydia was in haste to be gone almost as soon as she was up, and could scarcely be prevailed upon to attend to anything before setting out.
“I must be there directly,” she said, tying her bonnet as she spoke. “I have quite settled the name, and I will not have it given before I arrive.”
“My dear Lydia, you are not fit to be running about so early,” Mrs Bennet protested.
“But I must,” she returned, and was gone.
Mrs Bennet was already in motion. “Where is that girl? Susan! The carriage will be here at any moment, and I promised Mrs Ashton I would take her some of that very fine honey Mr Darcy sent from Pemberley.”
The carriage did not come.
Mrs Bennet remarked upon it more than once, and with increasing impatience, until at length Susan was sent to enquire.
She returned sooner than was expected, and with an altered countenance.
Mrs Ashton was dead.
Mrs Bennet was immediately overcome with agitation, and could scarcely be prevailed upon to remain where she was.
Jane attempted to quiet her, but with little success. Elizabeth said nothing, but felt the full weight of the intelligence.
The house was soon in confusion.