8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
September 1811 Longbourn, Hertfordshire Elizabeth
“ M r. Bennet! Mr. Bennet! I have such news!” Mrs. Bennet rushed into the study, having not even removed her outerwear, hand waving with a handkerchief clutched in her fingers. “I have it from Mrs. Long.”
“Please, share this ‘news,’ Mrs. Bennet, so that I may return to my book.” Elizabeth’s father held up the weighty tome, wearing a frown on his face at the disruption.
She sat in a chair facing the fire. The autumn chill in the air could not be mistaken, and the servants laid a small blaze to ward it off. Thankfully, she remained out of Mrs. Bennet’s line of sight, which prevented the lady from slinging ill-disguised insults at her stepdaughter.
“Netherfield Park is let at last!” the matron declared. Her golden curls bounced along with her excitement. “Mrs. Long had it from Mr. Morris just today. A young gentleman from the north, a Mr. Bingley, has taken it.”
“And what, pray tell, am I to do with this information?” Mr. Bennet’s sardonic tone made Elizabeth shake her head. His baiting Mrs. Bennet never ended well.
“You must visit him as soon as you can!” Mrs. Bennet’s shrill tones hurt Elizabeth’s ears, and she grimaced. “Before Sir William. He is seeking a husband for Maria. No, you know I must be thinking how fine a thing it is for our girls!”
“If this Mr. Bingley would like to marry one of my daughters, he is more than welcome to the lady of his choosing. I imagine one of the older three would do very nicely.” Mr. Bennet coughed back a laugh and turned his gaze back to his book.
“Nonsense, Mr. Bennet. Jane must have him. And if he does not like our eldest, then he may look to Kitty or Lydia. He will prefer Lydia to Kitty, I think. Catherine has such a dreadful cough all the time; it is quite vexing.”
There was a long pause before Mr. Bennet spoke again. “Why, may I ask, do you exclude Elizabeth and Mary from your matrimonial scheming? They are older than the youngest girls, and more accomplished than even Jane.”
“ Your daughters have their futures secured, sir.” Mrs. Bennet huffed. “Had you made provision for your other daughters by splitting the fortune that woman left behind, all five girls would be on equal footing. But you have elevated Elizabeth and Mary above the rest, giving them every advantage and your other children none. It is only fair that Elizabeth and Mary make way for their sisters. They are to have a season in town. They will have ample opportunity to secure a husband there.”
“I will not discuss this again, Mrs. Bennet.” Mr. Bennet closed his book with a snap. “You know the circumstances surrounding the girls’ dowries and that I can do nothing to change the situation. If you continue to press the matter, I will be forced to take actions you may find unpleasant.”
“You cannot always threaten my pin money,” Mrs. Bennet snapped. “I am doing what I must to ensure good marriages for Jane, Kitty, and Lydia. They will be penniless and homeless when you die.”
Mr. Bennet’s voice was quiet yet firm. “What makes you so certain that I shall beat you to the grave, madam? I have already buried one wife. Perhaps I shall yet outlive another.”
His wife gave a cry of anguish. “Oh, Mr. Bennet! How could you?” She hurried from the room, wailing her ill use for all to hear.
“You ought not to bait her into hysterics, Papa,” Elizabeth admonished quietly.
“It takes very little to push her so far,” he mused. “Dear Elizabeth, promise me you will marry only for the deepest love. Having experienced the opposite after losing your mother, I can safely say that matrimony is a great deal happier when two partners esteem and respect each other.”
Elizabeth did not reply. Her thoughts turned to the mysterious Mr. Bingley, and she wondered if the gentleman would have any interest in the Bennet ladies. She and Mary were in no hurry to wed. They would have their season in town come spring, and then would summer in Cheshire at Elm Grove.
The next week brought many tales to Longbourn’s drawing room.
“I have heard that he is to bring four ladies and two gentlemen with him,” Lady Lucas confided one day.
“No, it was seven gentlemen and twelve ladies,” Mrs. Long declared.
“Too many ladies,” Elizabeth said, smiling into her teacup.
“Never mind how many ladies and gentlemen.” Mrs. Bennet spoke crisply, drawing the attention back to her. "I have been told by Mrs. Nichols that Mr. Bingley is to attend the assembly."
Jane’s normally serene face showed signs of excitement. Something glistened in her eyes that spoke of anticipation, yet her visage seemed tinged with another unnamed emotion.
Elizabeth pondered this. Jane had returned to Longbourn that summer as a different person. Typically able to find the positive in everyone and everything around her, instead her manner bordered on bitterness and cynicism. Elizabeth had sought an explanation only once before her stepsister had requested—politely—that she mind her own business.
Their midnight discussions had ceased, and with no explanation forthcoming, Elizabeth and Mary were forced to wait on Jane’s readiness to share her pain.
“Of course, I do think that Jane will attract his notice.” Mrs. Bennet’s conversation cut into Elizabeth’s thoughts, forcing her to pay attention to the surrounding discourse.
“Who could doubt it?” Mrs. Long’s pinched expression and heavy glances at her nieces spoke volumes. Both the Misses Long had unfortunate equine-like features.
“But what if he prefers Elizabeth or Mary?” Lady Lucas asked shrewdly. She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow in question.
“The girls have no interest in a country suitor,” Mrs. Bennet replied. She lied, and by Elizabeth’s observations, the entire party knew it. “Besides, they cannot possibly compare to Jane. Mary is not handsome enough to tempt any man, wealthy or not. And Elizabeth is far too brown.”
Mary seemed to shrivel for a moment before she straightened her spine and tilted her chin defiantly.
Good girl, Elizabeth thought.
“I knew their mother, Mrs. Bennet,” Lady Lucas said quietly. “Lady Olivia was a beautiful woman, and Mary is her very image. Elizabeth, too, is lovely. Perhaps Mr. Bingley prefers dark-haired women.”
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Bennet snorted in derision. “My Jane is a classic, fashionable beauty. What man would not want her?”
She abruptly changed the conversation, asking Lady Lucas when Charlotte would come visit again.
“Mrs. Hampton and her family will come around Christmas,” came the reply. “She is keen to see Elizabeth and Mary again.”
Jane’s lips pinched at this deliberate slight. Though she had been friendly with Charlotte, Elizabeth and Mary were closer to the married lady than their stepsister.
“I am still in shock that she married at all,” Mrs. Bennet said, tilting her nose in the air. “She is not a great beauty—certainly nothing to my Jane.”
“Will Kitty and Lydia be allowed to attend the assembly?” Mrs. Long cut in.
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Bennet said. “I have managed to convince Mr. Bennet that it is not right for younger sisters to miss out on an assembly simply because their elder sister is not married.”
“You mean sisters, do you not?” Mrs. Goulding frowned.
Why the ladies still called on Mrs. Bennet was beyond Elizabeth’s understanding. They took as much delight in vexing her as Mr. Bennet did. Though the lady knew when her husband mocked, she could not see the same vitriol when it came from her supposed friends.
The ladies, Elizabeth had deduced, did not approve of Mrs. Bennet’s treatment of her stepdaughters. The calls were, in their way, a protest of that behavior. She appreciated their concerns, but Elizabeth had long since become immune to her stepmother’s barbs.
The company departed, and when the family had gathered at the dinner table, Mrs. Bennet once again brought up the topic of Mr. Bingley.
“You will visit him, will you not?” she asked again.
“Perhaps.” Mr. Bennet took a bite of his meal so that he need not say more.
“Why have you not, sir?” the lady cried. “Sir William has seen him, and so, too, have Mr. Long and Mr. Goulding. All have eligible daughters and nieces that can turn his head. Why do you mistreat your children so?”
“I promise, Mrs. Bennet, that when I visit Mr. Bingley, I shall tell him he is welcome to any of my daughters. Will that suffice?” He took another bite, taking his time to chew.
“Not any of your daughters, sir. You must not promote Elizabeth and Mary above the others.” Mrs. Bennet sniffed haughtily. “Besides, their uncle has seen to their future.”
“Mayhap I ought to throw you in with the lot,” Mr. Bennet replied. “Mr. Bingley may like you most of all.”
Mrs. Bennet screeched in protest. “Like me best? What nonsense! No, Jane will certainly capture his interest. Or Lydia.”
“And if he likes Elizabeth or Mary best of all?”
Jane frowned and then scowled at Elizabeth. She tossed her head, making her curls bounce, and looked so much like Lydia that Elizabeth blinked in surprise. “Mr. Bingley is surely a man of fashion,” she said regally, drawing her shoulders back. “He will prefer a lady of fashionable appearance as well.”
“Very true, my dear Jane,” Mrs. Bennet smiled at her eldest child. “Mary will be of no concern, as I told Lady Lucas earlier. She is not handsome enough to tempt a poor man, let alone a wealthy one. No, there are some things a fortune cannot fix.”
Mr. Bennet’s hand came down hard on the top of the table, silencing the conversation. “Mary is more than handsome enough to tempt any man, madam,” he said coldly. “Your objections have but one foundation—that being that my second daughter is the very image of my dearly departed wife.”
Mr. Bennet turned to his left, where Mary sat. He took his child’s hand and kissed the back of it. Then, he stood and threw his serviette down on the table. “I shall be in the study,” he said gruffly.
Later that evening, Elizabeth held her sister as she wept quietly. “Why does Mrs. Bennet treat me so cruelly, Lizzy?”
“It is because you look very much like Mama,” her sister replied gently. “For some unfathomable reason, our stepmother has perceived our mama, a lady gone from this earth for almost twenty years, as some sort of rival. It is a silly fixation, for there has never been any comparison between the two on our father’s part.”
“Yes, he has never loved Mrs. Bennet.” Mary sniffed and sat up. “It has taken me many years to disregard her mean words. I will be glad to leave Longbourn after Christmas.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I agree. And you will see—you will take London by storm, and have ten or twenty men falling at your feet, begging for your hand in marriage.”
Mary chuckled. “If you do not receive at least as much attention, I shall think all the men are blind.”
They fell back on the bed, giggling. When their mirth expired, Mary rolled onto her side and tucked her arm under her head.
“What happened to Jane in town?” she asked. They had already discussed the subject at length, but it invariably came up every few days, particularly when Jane behaved so out of character as she had that day.
Elizabeth sighed. “I do not know. She will not speak to me about it. Did you see her at dinner? Tossing her curls like Lydia and looking down her nose at us. What has come over her?”
“Perhaps she feels threatened,” Mary mused. “Until now, she is the only one of us who has been to town for any length of time. And now, you and I are to have a season. Maybe we should ask Uncle Mavery if she can come with us.”
“You know what he will say,” Elizabeth replied, shaking her head. “He has never made an effort to support our elder or younger sisters. She need not fear us interfering with her pursuit of Mr. Bingley, though. I am anticipating our season and would not wish to miss out because some young man from the north turned my head.”
Mary turned onto her back and stared up into the canopy over Elizabeth’s bed. “I am eager to see James again,” she murmured. “And Susan, of course.”
Elizabeth turned and looked at her sister. “We just saw them last month.” She raised an eyebrow. Mary flushed and looked away.
Some time later, Mary departed for her own room. Elizabeth fell asleep dreaming of a time very near in the future when she would be free from the oppressive atmosphere that permeated Longbourn.
Free forever, she mused as she drifted off to sleep. Yes, I can hardly wait.