7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
December 1801-1808 Longbourn, Hertfordshire Elizabeth
“ Y ou will spend the season in town this year, is that right, Lady Lucas?” Mrs. Bennet sipped her tea, a look of feigned interest on her face.
Lady Lucas smiled thinly and nodded. “Yes, Charlotte is of an age to come out, and with my husband’s connections in town, we thought it best to provide her at least one season.”
“I do hope that she takes. You have seven children, Lady Lucas. It would ease your burdens to have at least one of them well married.”
Elizabeth peeked out from behind the curtain. She sat in the window seat and could not escape the parlor before her stepmother and Lady Lucas had entered. Having been situated there for over a half an hour now, it would be exceedingly awkward were she to emerge.
Mrs. Bennet’s eyes glinted in the way they did when she thought she was subtly insulting someone. Unfortunately for her, her insults were too obvious and not at all disguised behind her polite veneer.
“None of my children are burdens, Mrs. Bennet. I imagine you feel the same way about yours.” Lady Lucas sat rigidly, and though Elizabeth could not see her face, she imagined the lady had her lips pressed together in displeasure.
Lady Lucas frequently called upon Longbourn. She and Mrs. Bennet were more enemies than friends. Charlotte said that Elizabeth’s mother had been great friends with her own for the short time Lady Olivia had lived there. Maybe Lady Lucas called out of respect for the former mistress of the estate.
“Oh, my Jane could never be a burden. She is so obliging and sweet. Quite the little angel, I assure you. And Kitty and Lydia are both such happy, lively children.” Mrs. Bennet tittered and took a bite of a biscuit.
“Elizabeth and Mary are growing quite lovely,” Lady Lucas hedged.
“Those two! Mary is the homeliest girl I have ever seen, and Elizabeth is wild and unruly. Neither will make a good match, especially with no fortune. It is a pity.” Mrs. Bennet’s cheeks were flushed, and her eyes flashed in displeasure.
Elizabeth pulled back, confused. She knew she and her sister had handsome dowries, safely invested in the four percents. Why was their stepmother spreading tales?
The ladies spoke in clipped sentences for the remainder of the call, and then Lady Lucas stood to depart. “I shall send Charlotte alone with that receipt,” she said in parting. “She will be pleased to see Elizabeth and Mary… and Jane, of course.”
Mrs. Bennet nodded regally. “Have a lovely afternoon, Lady Lucas,” she said in a sickly sweet voice.
As soon as the other woman had gone, Mrs. Bennet began muttering to herself. “The nerve! How can children who are not my own be anything less than a burden? Well, I shall do nothing to further their prospects. Indeed, I shall do everything I can to see them put in their proper place.” With a huff, she swept from the room.
After waiting a few moments, Elizabeth crept slowly out from her hiding place in the window seat. She hurried from the room and off to her father’s study. Papa rarely came out, and one could always be sure to find him there.
“Greetings, my dear little Lizzy.” He smiled at her from behind his open book, his eyes twinkling merrily. “What brings you here in such a rush?”
She sat in the chair next to his. “Has my dowry been spent, Papa?” she asked curiously.
He laughed and tweaked her nose. “What ever gave you that idea?” he asked, still chortling.
“Mrs. Bennet says that Mary and I do not have a fortune. I heard her tell Lady Lucas.” She frowned. “She says we are very plain and will not make good matches without it.”
Papa shook his head. “Yours and Mary’s futures are secure,” he said. “Your uncle and I have seen to every detail.” He paused before continuing. “I cannot imagine why your stepmother has spouted such nonsense. Though it may be best to continue the general belief that you and your sisters are penniless.”
Elizabeth felt confused. “But, why, Papa? You taught us it is wrong to tell a lie.”
“Lying is wrong, yes, but by protecting the true nature of your inheritance, it also protects you and your sister. Many men would seek to force your hand if they knew you came with more than ten thousand pounds.”
“Am I so very rich?” Elizabeth gaped in awe. “That is more than I could spend in a lifetime.”
“It is a handsome sum, indeed. And by the time you are ready for marriage, it will have grown into an even greater amount.” He reached out and took her hand. “I want you to promise me, Elizabeth, that you will keep this to yourself. No one else needs to know.”
Though she did not entirely understand what he meant, she agreed anyway. And when her stepmother continued to spread tales that only three of the young ladies at Longbourn had a dowry, she did not protest.
Charlotte Lucas visited at least twice a week. She had become friends first with Gerty, but now spoke with Jane, Elizabeth, and Mary regularly. Elizabeth greatly admired the older lady and thought she knew a great deal about society and proper behavior. Their friendship grew even when Charlotte met and married a man from Stevenage. She visited Lucas Lodge often and always requested that Lady Lucas invite the girls to tea whilst she was there.
Mrs. Bennet continued to discourage Jane from associating with her two stepsisters. Jane, complying, sweet creature that she was, wished only that everyone in the household would get along. It was not to be, for the lady of the house took every opportunity to criticize and ridicule Mary and Elizabeth. It was never in sight of Mr. Bennet, and rarely where Miss Lane could hear.
Elizabeth’s courage rose with every attempt her stepmother made to intimidate her. Poor Mary, however, had her confidence shaken and began to believe all that Mrs. Bennet said about her features. Mary believed herself to be quite plain, despite her sister’s declarations to the contrary.
There were at least two times that Elizabeth knew of when her father received a letter from Uncle Mavery, detailing Mrs. Bennet’s abuse of her stepdaughters. Both times, angry voices came from the study, and after the argument ended, Mrs. Bennet ignored Elizabeth and Mary for a week.
Papa tried to be more observant, but the day-to-day goings on of the household did not interest him, and so his two favorite daughters continued to be treated poorly by the lady of the house.
Elizabeth made it her mission to understand people and why they behaved so irrationally at times. She began hiding in the curtains during her stepmother’s calls, positioned so she could see expressions and hear the conversation. In doing so, she learned to interpret the hidden meanings behind seemingly innocuous statements, and how to differentiate between polite discourse and conversation designed to wound.
Mrs. Long, a lady from a neighboring estate, proved adept at the art of the polite insult. She so casually delivered blows that anyone with little to no intelligence would not see the attack for what it was. One such instance stood out in Elizabeth’s mind.
The ladies had gathered for tea in the parlor, which Mrs. Bennet had recently made over to her liking. Elizabeth hated the room. The colors clashed and the gauche décor screamed of a desire to impress. The execution was all together poor, and it pained Elizabeth to know that others would judge her father for this travesty.
“My, this room is something to behold, Mrs. Bennet,” Mrs. Long said in due course. “I have never seen such a display of colors and textures. It is quite… well, it is something.”
Elizabeth could sense the derision in her neighbor’s voice, but Mrs. Bennet proved oblivious.
“I thank you, Mrs. Long,” she said. “It has been the work of many an hour, and I am very pleased with how it turned out. Such splendor would not be out of place in a London drawing room, I believe.”
“I am certain such a display could not be found in all of London. I congratulate you.” Mrs. Long took a long sip of tea, exchanging glances with Mrs. Goulding and Lady Lucas.
Elizabeth sat back and considered what she had just overheard. On the surface, Mrs. Long sounded genuine and complimentary, but there was something about how she presented the words that made Elizabeth believe her motives were far from pure. The woman was insulting Mrs. Bennet’s décor.
Other instances taught her that kindness was the best foil for such insults. When Kitty and Lydia threw their cruel words at her, Elizabeth responded politely and neutrally, ending with a compliment directed at the instigator. This often rendered the girls speechless and left them wondering how their mean-spirited discourse had been so completely overturned.
She tried to teach Mary, but her sister’s innate shyness made her unwilling and unable to confront those who tormented her. And so, Elizabeth became her younger sister’s protector, making it her mission to build Mary’s confidence, and to find people both sisters could trust to be loyal friends.
As the years plodded on, Mary and Elizabeth’s accomplishments grew. They had a music master, and though the latter learned to play passably well, the former delved further into music and became a true proficient at the pianoforte. Eventually, Mary began composing her own scores, and her lovely compositions filled Longbourn every day.
Mrs. Bennet tried more than once to prevent Mary from playing, but each time, one word from Mr. Bennet stopped her efforts.
Kitty and Lydia grew more insipid and foolish with each passing day. They could read and write, but not well, and they preferred to spend their time in idle pursuits. When they were twelve and ten, respectively, they insisted that they be allowed to leave the nursery for the family wing. Papa refused to oblige them at first, but the resulting cacophony from his youngest children and his wife forced him to relent. With their removal to the family wing, the relative peace the other sisters had experienced for so long was shattered.
Mrs. Bennet encouraged her youngest daughters’ behavior, calling them lively and enthusiastic rather than wild and boisterous. She saw no fault in their actions and often scolded Mary and Elizabeth for things the two youngest had done. Jane attempted to support her sisters once or twice, but ultimately the eldest daughter of the house preferred a non confrontational existence.
The happiest months in Elizabeth and Mary’s lives remained those during the summer when they stayed at Elm Grove. They missed Jane, but she, too, spent summers away from Longbourn. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, her aunt and uncle in London, hosted her there. During that time, they paid for lessons in comportment and other ladylike accomplishments. And when Mrs. Bennet forced Jane to come out at just fifteen, they hosted her during the season.
Before she knew it, Elizabeth turned seventeen and was of an age to come out in their country society. Mrs. Bennet had not been eager for her unwanted stepdaughter to join Jane, ever fearful that someone would learn about Elizabeth’s dowry and Jane would have no chance with the local gentlemen.
Elizabeth ultimately waited until the autumn before attending society events. By then, Mary, too, would be seventeen, and they could come out together.
Uncle Mavery wrote that Christmas, requesting that Elizabeth be presented the next year. Mary, distraught at the idea of having her London come out as the sole center of attention, begged her father and uncle to wait. Her confidence still wavered, and Mrs. Bennet’s constant attacks did nothing to help.
"Kitty is out and at only fifteen," their stepmother would crow to anyone who would listen. "Obviously, there is something wrong with those girls—imagine wanting to wait for a London season, or not wanting one at all!"
They eventually convinced Uncle Mavery to wait until Mary felt prepared to face the ton, and he agreed that both young ladies would share their come out. It took another two years, but when Mary turned nineteen in 1811, she wrote to her uncle and declared her intent to partake of the season that next spring. And so, plans were put in place for the two sisters to journey to town that winter. Both looked forward to the adventure with great enthusiasm.