Chapter 19
Elizabeth hoped to never have to live through such an awful carriage ride again.
Despite the extra horses, the weight of the passengers and the heaviness of the carriage itself slowed them down more than she would have expected.
The drive, which would have taken more than four hours in her father’s old carriage, still took three and a half hours even with all possible haste.
The company inside was far from pleasant. Either everyone was silent, drowning in their own worries and sorrows, or the conversation was entirely too unpleasant to tolerate for long, with speculations as to what might or might not happen.
When Lydia expressed hope that everything might turn out well, Elizabeth felt her stomach turn, knowing such a fate was unlikely. Yet, discussing it realistically did not feel any better.
Papa and Mary were nearly silent the whole journey, only speaking when someone asked them a direct question.
Finally, the interminable, intolerable journey ended, but the ending offered no relief.
“How is she?” Papa asked Mrs. Hill as soon as they entered the house.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Bennet,” said the housekeeper. “She’s gone.”
Elizabeth had seen her father in every imaginable state, energetic, happy, frustrated, angry, disappointed, but no matter what state he was in, she always viewed him as strong and dependable.
She was not blind to his faults or weaknesses, but he was her father, the man of the house, the anchor that held the family together.
At this announcement, however, weakness engulfed him, and he sank to his knees.
“No,” he said softly while his eyes were fixed on the floor.
“No,” he repeated, more strongly this time, as he banged his fist on the wood planks beneath him, almost as if he believed that the floor had the power to bring back the dead.
Jane was the first to act. “Where is she?” she asked Mrs. Hill.
The housekeeper replied, “Still laid out in her room, Miss.”
Almost as one, Elizabeth and Mary moved forward to help their father stand. It was a small thing, but it gave Elizabeth some sense of purpose and control in a hopeless situation.
“Papa, you must stand,” Elizabeth said, tugging gently at his arm.
“But it’s my fault,” he said huskily as he reluctantly rose to his feet. “This would not have happened if I had let her come with us or if we had stayed at home.”
“That’s nonsense, Papa, and you know it.
” This came from the most unexpected source, Lydia.
“No one can predict when someone will fall down the stairs, and it can happen in any home. It could have happened in London just as easily as it happened here. Besides, you had good reason for separating us from Mama. After what happened to Kitty, there is no telling what might have happened to the rest of us, especially in London.”
Several moments passed while Papa, still unmoving despite two daughters pulling at his arms, stared at Lydia with his mouth hanging open.
Suddenly, his demeanor hardened. He slowly and deliberately stood up and straightened his shoulders as if bracing himself to bear yet another burden he was not built for. “Thank you, Lydia,” he said. Without another word, he began walking toward the stairs.
As he began going up the stairs, Mary moved to follow him, but Jane stopped her, saying, “Let’s give him some time.”
Mary hesitated, but Elizabeth added, “Yes, of course. We can see that our luggage is put away and check with Mrs. Hill to find out if anything is needed to prepare for the funeral.”
As the final word escaped Elizabeth’s mouth, she seemed to choke on it, but she pushed her tears back. Now was not a time for grief. That could come later. Now was a time to act.
~~~~~
Two days later, the funeral of Mrs. Francine Bennet was held in the morning.
Elizabeth and her sisters, including Mrs. Kitty Goulding, huddled in the parlor at Longbourn while Papa, Uncle Phillips, Uncle Gardiner, and Mr. Goulding attended the funeral to ensure Mrs. Bennet was safely and respectfully conveyed to her new home in the earth.
The sisters were alone together with no adult mentor nearby.
Lady Esther and Mrs. Jamison would not arrive at Longbourn until tomorrow afternoon, and Aunt Gardiner could not get away from the care of her children on such short notice.
So, the four unmarried sisters had been required to shoulder the burden of their loss on their own.
Though Kitty had also lost her mother, she seemed significantly less concerned about it. Before the morning of the funeral, her only appearance at Longbourn had been to show off her new black apparel for mourning, though Lydia had visited Kitty several times at her home.
The five sisters sat in silence for several minutes after their father had left the house. It was Kitty who broke that silence.
“When will you be getting married, do you think?” she asked Lydia.
Elizabeth was pleased to see that Lydia looked shocked at such a question at such a time, but Kitty responded to her look by saying, “There is no need to give me such a look. I can absolutely recommend the state. I have never had so much freedom to do and say exactly what I like. I can purchase what I wish, whenever I wish, and Alan has promised that we can go to Bath this autumn as long as I am willing to pay for everything with my pin money.”
Elizabeth watched Lydia’s expression shift several times as she was clearly puzzling through how best to respond. As she did so, a feeling of pride in her youngest sister grew within Elizabeth. The fact that Lydia was actually thinking before she spoke was remarkable to say the least.
She was even more pleased when she heard what Lydia said.
“I don’t think I’m in much of a hurry to wed,” she said slowly. “It seems to me that the freedom you describe comes more from your fortune than from your marriage, and the marriage itself seems to have more restrictions and disappointments than you would like to admit.”
It seemed as though Lydia’s words struck home far more than Kitty expected. She was momentarily speechless as her face and posture grew defensive.
“What would you know of it?” Kitty eventually said, her voice tight. “Mr. Goulding doesn’t treat me any worse than Papa treats Mama.”
The fact that Kitty had used the present tense rather than the past tense told everyone in the room that her words were far too emotional for her to remember that Mama was being laid to rest at that very moment.
Lydia’s face grew compassionate, though perhaps a little condescending, as she said, “And that is precisely what I wish to avoid.”
Before Kitty could rally or Lydia could descend into outright disparagement, Jane said, “Kitty, won’t you tell me more of your plans for mourning clothes?
The last time you were here, you merely showed off what you had already done.
I would love to know more. I understand you had not yet chosen which material you would like to line your summer pelisse with. Have you decided yet?”
Fortunately, this changed Kitty’s focus immediately.
“It’s such a difficult decision, you know,” said Kitty.
“Black material is always so hot, so I have been trying to discover the lightest but sturdiest material I can find for my pelisse. Even if it’s in a different color, I can always just dye it black.
There were a few possibilities I saw in the shop yesterday, but I couldn’t decide which one was best.”
Elizabeth’s attention quickly faded as Kitty, with Jane’s help, continued to prattle away about her plans for her clothing and her plans for her trip to Bath in the autumn.
Instead, her attention was directed inward, silently wondering why she felt so hollow.
Elizabeth was a good daughter, and she loved her mother, but she had learned in recent years that she did not necessarily respect her mother’s judgment.
For the last couple of months, she had leaned almost entirely on Lady Esther for motherly advice and support, and she had not missed her own mother much during that time.
Now, however, something about the permanence of this situation, the knowledge that no matter how Elizabeth might wish to see her mother again she never would, caused an ache to grow within her breast. The more she thought about it, the more tears tried to gather in her eyes, and her throat began to tighten.
She was startled out of her pain and her wonderment at her pain by the feel of an arm going around her shoulders, squeezing her tightly as if trying to hold her together.
Elizabeth looked around to find Mary next to her with a sympathetic expression and tears in her eyes. “I have no words to comfort you, Elizabeth, but I can say that you aren’t alone.”
Just this simple sentence unlocked something inside Elizabeth, and the sobs that had tightened her throat burst free. With Mary’s arms around her, Elizabeth poured out her grief onto her sister’s shoulder. As she did so, she could occasionally hear a matching sob emerging from Mary.
By the time the men had returned from the funeral, all five sisters had shed at least a few tears, and each of them in their own way had bid a permanent farewell to their mother.