Chapter Seven #3
“That they had intervened with Father to disinherit him. That they hated him because he was the steward’s son and they thought it beneath father to show him any kindness.
He was very sanguine about it, and I admit I felt sorry for him.
” She pursed her lips. “I thought there must be some misunderstanding, as the Russells were always very kind to me. Nonetheless, when I wrote to ask Lizzy her opinion, I did not include Mr. Wickham’s name.
Just in case.” Her eyes flashed with anger.
“I understand now he was trying to play the victim and gain my sympathy. I will point out that I made those realizations without your assistance. In future, however, it would be easier to protect myself if you do not hide things you think will be too difficult for fragile little Georgiana to handle. And mind, I shall choose my own husband.”
He sat back, stunned. Where had this confident, outspoken young woman come from? “You are growing up, Georgie,” Darcy had to admit. “Just… please do not ask me to be happy about it.”
As she waited for a response from Georgiana, Elizabeth was content to consider the young women all around her.
Her sisters were a revelation, each of them so very different.
Sweet Jane, biting Mary, winsome Kitty, lively Lydia.
Her parents, however, were another story.
She loved them, of course, but they remained a puzzle to her.
Her mother, whose primary occupation seemed to be visiting her friends in the carriage just when her husband needed the horses on the farm, never allowed a mention of the Russells to pass without bemoaning the loss of her little Lizzy.
She had been used poorly, and her high-handed husband had ignored her, for he knew not what she suffered.
This malady had not, however, kept her at home to spend time with her long-lost child.
Elizabeth felt a little used, to be honest, and had been much relieved when the neighbors, fearful of igniting Mrs. Bennet’s histrionics, finally ceased asking questions about Elizabeth’s life up north and accepted her as just another Bennet sister.
Her father she understood somewhat better.
He was caught in the middle between his aunt and his wife.
Still, it hurt Elizabeth that he made no effort to stop her mother’s verbal assault on the Russells.
His own aunt, she thought, incensed. Both Mama’s censure and her father’s defensive indifference were difficult to endure.
It makes no sense, Elizabeth told herself.
How can she insult them when they are the reason her daughters have a roof over their heads and respectable dowries? How can he allow it?
In addition to walks with her sisters, Elizabeth rode Kensington frequently.
Jane shared her interest in riding, but the one horse available for riding was needed on the home farm most days and was with her mother nearly every other moment.
Elizabeth therefore often rode Kensington alone.
It felt strange and exhilarating to ride without so much as an escort, but she took care to keep to the more public roads, just to be safe.
Jane adored the Arabian mare. Though not always as forceful as she might be with other people, she knew just how to take consistent charge of the animated, intelligent horse.
Elizabeth had approached her father on the matter of a mount for Jane soon after receiving her aunt’s letter.
She had hoped to have an answer so that she could make the purchase and spend at least the last of the dry weather riding with her sister, but Papa had asked her to wait while he considered it.
That had been three months ago, and now she simply hoped to be allowed to purchase a horse before she left in December.
Papa had grown stubborn about taking anything from the Russells.
He was well able to stand on his own two feet now, he grumbled, and did not wish to be any more beholden to his aunt than he was at present.
Elizabeth understood his position but did not feel comfortable enough with her father yet to tell him the money used would be hers.
Elizabeth feared he would find it humorous to hold the information about her fortune from his wife until it was most likely to cause a scene.
She was afraid if her mother knew she had amassed a good sum of money that she would never cease asking for--nay, insisting upon--one thing or another.
The way Mama handled the family finances unnerved her, and the way Papa handled her mother was almost as bad.
There was a benefit to having less involved parents, though, and Elizabeth tried not to feel guilty about enjoying her freedom at Longbourn.
She had kept very close to home for her aunt these past two years.
Walking she had always adored, but as her uncle never allowed her to go out alone, she had often been limited to riding.
There was always a horse in need of exercise and a groom to accompany her at Weymouth House.
Here, there was always a sister willing to walk out.
Elizabeth had been at Longbourn a few weeks before she thought about why her uncle had always been so adamant about her safety.
She had presumed it was his age, as he was hardly a young man to walk out in search of her should she become lost or twist an ankle.
Perhaps that had been a factor, but she realized that he had known even then that she would be an heiress one day.
This was yet another small loss of innocence to add to those she had been regularly experiencing these past years, and yet she could not mourn it.
With her aunt’s guidance, there was much good she could do, would do, in honor of the Russell name.
What was a little loss of personal liberty when replaced with the power to do so much good?
Over the past months, Aunt Olivia had slowly revealed a great deal about Uncle Phillip’s fortune; he had wide and varied interests, many of which Elizabeth had been advised to sell or consolidate.
Elizabeth would eventually have full control of what Uncle Phillip called “the fund” to make charitable donations.
For now, John acted as Aunt Olivia’s trustee to disburse funds as well as had control of the “inactive accounts.” Elizabeth knew very little about those.
As Elizabeth considered the best paths to take with each investment, she felt again the loss of her uncle as a confidante and advisor.
As she attempted to view the family’s dealings and make plans, she had many questions and not a great many answers.
Sadly, the months she had spent in her father’s company made her wary of sharing such things with him.
He did not always take things as seriously as she wished.
Elizabeth decided she would speak with John when she arrived in town.
Although she would have preferred to speak of these responsibilities on the first day of their trip and not the very last hour, she was grateful to Aunt Olivia for waiting until she was strong enough to bear it all, and thankful, in the end, that the truth had come to her slowly, in manageable pieces.
Her aunt knew her better, she admitted, then she knew herself.
For all things not related to business, she found Jane a ready listener.
They had corresponded at least once a month all the years they had been separated, and Jane and Mary had come to see her in London when she finished school.
Having come to truly know Jane’s thoughts and feelings through words on a page, it was almost a distraction to converse in person.
Yet she found in Jane a loyal confidante and a truly beautiful woman, in looks, certainly, but more importantly in character.
When Mary described Jane as “the queen of second chances,” all three of them had erupted in laughter at the apt description.
Just as they were recovering, Jane had allowed that she was often disappointed with the outcome and had become firmer about offering third chances.
This had set Mary and Elizabeth off again while Jane just watched them and honestly perplexed, asked, “What?”
They were out on yet another walk, this one to Lucas Lodge, when Elizabeth broached the subject of Longbourn’s new neighbor, a young man of fortune from the north.
“So, Jane,” she asked pertly, “are you determined to fall in love with Mr. Bingley, as Mama has decreed?”
Jane blushed but held her head up. “I think you know me better than that, Lizzy,” she replied.
Mary nudged her eldest sister. “I think we know how Mr. Bingley will react when he sees you, Jane. Only take care, for Mama is very observant when it comes to how men appraise her daughters.”
Jane and Elizabeth giggled. “Appraise?” Elizabeth asked. “You mean like livestock, Mary?” That reminds me. I need to write Mr. Yeager about the dairy production numbers.
Mary grinned, and the sight of it made Elizabeth smile in response without even knowing why.
“You have yet to see Jane being introduced to an eligible young man,” her younger sister said knowingly.
“It is the height of entertainment for Kitty and me. Just wait until the assembly. You shall see it, I am sure.”
Jane shook her head. “You exaggerate, Mary.”
“I do not,” Mary responded emphatically with a tiny shake of her head.
She reached out to touch Elizabeth’s arm.
“First, Lizzy, the man stops dead in his tracks, like this…” She halted so suddenly that Jane and Elizabeth had to turn around to face her.
“Then,” Mary continued, her eyes gleaming with mirth, “his eyes pop out--just a little, mind.” She imitated the movement and Elizabeth giggled, putting a hand up to her mouth.
Mary’s eyes were indeed bulging, as if in shock.
“Finally,” Mary laughed, tucking a loose strand of wheat-colored hair behind her ear, “his mouth drops open.” She demonstrated, her lips parting about an inch. Not wide enough to catch flies, as Mama would say, but enough to be noticeable.
“And all the while,” Mary concluded, “the man is entirely unaware he is gaping, and our sister is entirely sure the reaction is for someone else.”
Elizabeth joined Mary in laughter, stopping only when she saw they were embarrassing Jane. “Oh, Jane,” she gasped, “I am sorry, but you must admit, the thought of it is amusing. We shall have to watch Mr. Bingley very closely.”
“Mary should be dancing, not watching men being introduced to me,” Jane said blithely. “You must promise to dance with every man who asks, Mary, even the first.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Jane, they are all dull-witted, not a surprise among them.” She frowned at Jane’s disapproving mien. “Very well. I will make that sacrifice if you will admit that I am right.”
Jane glanced away and then made a sound something like “harrumph!” and walked ahead. When they hurried to join her, she appeared abashed, and said, “You may be correct, Mary.”
Elizabeth felt a pain in her chest. Of all the regrets she had about not being presented, the thing she missed most was the first dance she would never have with Uncle Phillip. “I daresay she is,” she agreed, and then changed the subject.