Chapter 1 #2
Fortunately, the same cannot be said of Elizabeth.
My brother once said his second eldest had something more of quickness than her sisters.
That was long ago when he had been the one to attempt reconciliation, but Lady Vanessa had not been inclined to agree.
She had her principles, and certain rules of society absolutely must be upheld for the protection of the greater good.
The prospect of dying alone with no one of her own blood to give a care obliged her to alter her opinion.
Elizabeth’s later mentioning of her youngest sister’s fast friendship with the bride of the colonel of the militia and her ardent wish that she would be invited to go with the couple to Brighton when the militia decamped later in the spring, drew Lady Vanessa’s attention and, by her tone, her disapprobation.
“Brighton? Will your mother accompany her?”
“No. Should Papa consent to the scheme, the colonel shall be charged with Lydia’s supervision. Papa is convinced she will meet with no harm owing to her lack of fortune and relatively insignificance in comparison to the older, more accomplished women available to divert the officers.”
“I take it you have reservations?”
“Lydia is young and impetuous, and she is a very determined flirt. She is bound to make herself ridiculous wherever she goes. A young girl of her temperament is likely to attract a fair amount of mischief. But Papa insists that there shall be no peace at Longbourn if Lydia does not go to Brighton. For that reason alone, I fear he will consent to the scheme.”
As much as she was disheartened over the prospect, Elizabeth had chosen to leave the matter at that.
She had done her best to persuade her father, and there was nothing more to do.
Besides, it would be many weeks before a final decision was needed.
Having had so little contact with any of the officers herself, save a Lieutenant George Wickham with whom she delighted in a brief discourse, Elizabeth supposed she was being overly concerned.
Were all the officers nearly so agreeable, there truly would be no cause for apprehension.
“I know none of the particulars, and yet, I am inclined to agree with you. However, on the matter of your sisters’ lack of fortune, your father has no one to blame for that unhappy circumstance save himself.
It is most disturbing to me that my brother has done nothing to break the entail on Longbourn, relying instead on his wife to give birth to a male.
Has your family even met the young man who is to inherit the estate—a Mr. William Collins, I believe?
” She huffed. “I understand he has been granted a living in Kent.”
“Yes, Mr. Collins visited Longbourn last autumn.”
“No doubt he meant to take stock of his birth right. Is he married, or is he single? For if he is single then perhaps he might marry one of your sisters, thereby acquitting my brother, Thomas, from the shame of his lapse.”
“Mr. Collins was single when he arrived, but he has since married.” Clutching her brooch, Elizabeth diverted her eyes away from her aunt. “He is married to a dear friend of mine: the former Charlotte Lucas from a neighbouring village—Lucas Lodge.”
“Lucas Lodge—a neighbouring estate of Longbourn? I have never heard of the place.” Her ladyship pursed her lips.
Racking her brain, she recalled a Mr. William Lucas who had been in trade in Meryton.
Oh, yes! He had made a tolerable fortune and had risen to the honour of knighthood by an address to the king during his mayoralty.
“Has William Lucas—or should I say, has Sir William Lucas gone and fancied himself a landowner—a gentleman of breeding—rather than the tradesman that he is by virtue of his father and his father’s father? ”
“I know not how to answer your ladyship without casting aspersions on my dear friend and acquaintances from home. There is no shame in what he has done.”
“You speak your mind most decidedly for one who is so young. After what your father has done in marrying beneath his sphere, I supposed I cannot fault you for failing to recognise the differences amongst society’s ranks, but as you are a gentleman’s daughter, you must learn to appreciate the distinctions. I mean to make certain that you do.”
Elizabeth had no doubt of the veracity of her aunt’s pronouncement.
By now she had stopped studying her ladyship’s countenance for similarities to her father and sisters, for she had discerned quite enough to satisfy her curiosity.
Never had she met anyone who stated her opinion so unreservedly, regardless of the person’s age.
Lydia, perhaps, Elizabeth considered, fighting desperately to subdue her amusement.
It is most fortuitous that her ladyship was distracted by Sir Lucas’s elevated rank, else she would have seized upon the fact that someone other than a Bennet daughter had landed the hand of Longbourn’s heir.
One can only imagine what she might say if she learned that I had been the means of Mr. Collins’s asking for my friend’s hand in marriage by virtue of my spurning his offer.
Her ladyship’s voice pierced Elizabeth’s musings. “I shall require you to attend the horse racing contest with me later in the week, Elizabeth. Several of the local gentry mean to pit their finest bays against one another.”
Elizabeth frowned. “A race, your ladyship?”
“Indeed. Everyone who is anyone will be in attendance. People come from miles away.” Widening her eyes, she placed her jewellery-laden hand to her chest. “Surely you are no stranger to the sport. Attending the races throughout the country was one of my dear husband’s favourite pastimes.
Your father must have taken his family to enjoy the races. ”
“My papa does not relish games of chance or high-stakes gambling, which in my limited understanding is largely the basis of horse racing. Hence, my family has never celebrated the sport.”
“It is a shame; however, I cannot pretend to be surprised. Horse racing is the sport of a gentleman, and your father practically forfeited his claim to such a distinction when he married the daughter of a tradesman.”
Steel infused Elizabeth’s spine. “Pardon me, your ladyship. I am aware of the gulf between you and my father as well as the purpose of my being here as your way of healing the breach. However, you cannot expect me to countenance your repeated insults against my family. I cannot and I will not.”
“Once again, you insist upon voicing such strong, unreserved opinions. You will learn that I speak my mind with equal enthusiasm.” Furrowing her brow, she looked Elizabeth straight in the eye.
“I can see our alliance shall be mutually advantageous, for I shall endeavour to temper my sentiments, and you, young lady, shall learn to temper your insolence.”
Elizabeth had no interest in attending the race; however, she had nothing better to do.
If what her aunt said was true about everyone being there, then it would provide a chance to meet people of her own age.
If she had to spend many nights suffering her current circumstances, it would be a long, arduous stay indeed.
Elizabeth rose and walked across the room to garner a more advantageous view of her aunt’s pianoforte.
“Do you play, Elizabeth?”
Before she could respond, her ladyship repined on how long it had been since she was last afforded a chance to enjoy an exhibit on the grand instrument in her home.
The pianoforte had been a gift from her deceased husband, Sir Frederick Barrett, and she had played extremely well by her own account.
Her fondness for playing had diminished in concert with his passing.
What a delight it would be to once again witness the occasions of the room being filled with music.
Elizabeth saw no point in contesting. Exhibiting for her aunt would give her just as much pleasure as it would afford her relation, for it would serve as a pleasant alternative to her discourse, which bordered on offensive.
Elizabeth went through the chief of the sheet music arranged before her, and soon her ladyship announced her intention of retiring for the evening.
Glad to have survived the evening unscathed save a few slightly bruised feelings suffered on behalf of her relations, Elizabeth sat at her desk and took out her missive.
Writing in the late evening hours was a habit she had cultivated many months ago.
She found it far more settling to write whenever she felt compelled to, which was frequently of late—ever since her father shared the happy news that his sister had written to him, extended an olive branch, and announced her intention to take Elizabeth under her wing.
Both of Elizabeth’s parents had every reason to agree to the scheme.
Mr. Bennet agreed because nothing would please him more than to see his favourite daughter so well situated in life, even though he would find himself with no one to add sensibility to the evening conversations.
Mrs. Bennet was satisfied knowing she had one fewer daughter for whom to find a husband.
Her words resounded in Elizabeth’s ear: Why should your father’s sister not shoulder that burden when she is so very rich and living in that fine estate in Bosley, and she has no children of her own?
Elizabeth mended her pen while nursing her busy thoughts. Her aunt truly was something else. Elizabeth could hardly wait to scribble her suppressed sentiments on paper. Her pen repaired, Elizabeth started writing where she left off before dinner.
I now comprehend why Mama and Papa spoke little of Lady Vanessa while we were growing up, especially Mama.
Her ladyship does not have a kind word to say about our mother.
She blames her for Papa’s general failure to exercise better stewardship of Longbourn; thereby enhancing rather than depleting its coffers.
Her ladyship affirms that had Papa not married beneath him—to a tradesman’s daughter—he might have chosen a woman from his own sphere—a gentleman’s daughter with a decent dowry.
Her ladyship did not bother to curb her dismay when the result of her extensive inquisition yielded such a bountiful harvest of mortification.
“Is it any wonder the five of you were reared in a household with no governess, one maid between you, and no benefit of the masters,” were but some of her hearty declarations.
Clearly she does not know her brother at all to suppose he would have taken us to Town to study with the masters.
Perhaps she knows him all too well, and his dislike of Town is a recently acquired distaste—perchance a result of his unequal alliance.
Pray forget I said that, and owe it to her ladyship’s unrelenting haranguing of Mama’s family legacy.
I have been here only one day, and it seems as if I have been here for a week!
Her ladyship’s inspection is brutal, and she has a very keen eye.
I have no wish to be impertinent, but I fear if I do not, I shall grow afraid of her.
That would never do, especially as I am to be her heir apparent, and all I have to do is live with her here in splendour until she makes it official.
Elizabeth looked up when Betsy entered the room. “I came to help you prepare for bed, Miss Elizabeth.” She started turning down the bed covers. “Is that a letter you are writing? I’ll carry it down and place it with the other letters for the post if you’d like.”
Elizabeth slid the paper into her desk and turned the key. “No—that is quite unnecessary, Betsy.”
“It is no trouble. I shall be delighted to be of service to you.”
“No!”
Lowering her eyes, Betsy bit her bottom lip “I only mean to help.” After a moment, she retrieved Elizabeth’s nightgown from the drawer and laid it on the bed. “Did you enjoy your evening with her ladyship?”
What was Elizabeth to say? She could not very well tell her maid that she found her ladyship’s manner to be rude, dictatorial, and off-putting.
She had only met Betsy a few days prior at Longbourn when she arrived to accompany Elizabeth on the journey to Bosley.
Her new maid might well be a spy for all she knew.
She fancied her aunt as just the type of iron-fisted ruler who would want to know everything that was taking place in her home.
Wanting to say something to her aunt’s credit, Elizabeth reflected back to the dinner table heavily laden with platters of meats, vegetable dishes, assorted fruit, and fine wines, prepared solely for the two of them.
She nodded. “Dinner was superb.”
“I shall pass your compliments on to the cook and to her ladyship as well.” She clasped her hands. “Oh, just wait until you learn what her ladyship has in store for you tomorrow.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips in wonderment. She retrieved the key from her drawer and clutched it tighter. If she presumes to report back to her ladyship on a compliment as innocuous as my sentiments on the meal, then I shall suppose Betsy is a spy!