Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
B efore long, the Bennet ladies were ensconced in the family sitting room, their eyes drifting over the elegant yet welcoming space. It was clear that the room had been decorated long before Elizabeth’s arrival at Pemberley. The furniture, though timeless and clearly of fine quality, bore the marks of repeated use—there was faint wear on the arms of chairs and slight fading on the fabric of the well-cushioned settee.
The polished wood of the tables gleamed in the light from the sun, which was pouring in through the windows that faced northeast, obviously designed for use in the morning hours. A selection of books rested on a low table, as if they had been left there when the couple left the room to greet their guests. There was a large sewing basket sitting next to an armchair, and a tail of yarn and embroidery thread was in evidence, as though it had been tucked away hastily.
A fire crackled cheerfully in the enormous fireplace, filling the room with warmth and a cosy glow. On the opposite side of the room, the windows showed a faint frosting from the chilly air outside, the heavy curtains drawn back to let in the soft natural light while preserving the room’s inviting warmth. Above the hearth hung a lovely painting, and even Mrs. Bennet recognised that the painting had been chosen to complement the room.
Mrs. Bennet, initially seated stiffly, relaxed as she surveyed the room. “It is a very fine room,” she declared, adjusting her shawl with a satisfied nod. “Not at all what I expected of such a grand house—though, of course, I have never seen its like.” She looked around the space, her gaze narrowing as she considered the details. “But I think, Lizzy, that the walls could use a bit of colour. Perhaps a nice shade of rose or soft lavender for the drawing room. And these drapes! They are rather plain. You could easily replace them with a richer fabric—velvet, perhaps, or satin. It would really elevate the room. After all, a house like this deserves to be as grand as possible.”
She beamed, proud of her ideas, and turned to her daughters. “What do you think, Jane? Mary? Do you not agree that Lizzy should make such improvements to this room and the house so it reflects her new husband’s wealth?”
Jane smiled gently. “It feels very… lived in and comfortable,” she remarked. “The kind of room where one might linger, rather than simply admire. It suits you well, Lizzy. I cannot imagine you would want to make many changes in here.”
Elizabeth nodded, her expression one of fondness. “That is precisely what I thought when I first saw it. Mr. Darcy spoke of how much time his family always spent in this room. It was his parents’ favourite sitting room, and it remains much as it was in their time. He suggested I redo it, and while I think there are a few pieces that need some care, the room is lovely as it is.”
Mary, her thoughtful gaze settling on the stacks of books scattered around the room, remarked, “It is, perhaps, not what one might expect from a house so grand, but it is a very comfortable room. As Jane said, it suits you, Lizzy, and you, Mr. Darcy. Lizzy has always been a rather comfortable person to spend time with.”
Elizabeth laughed at that description of herself, especially when she looked at her husband’s reaction to it. “I believe many might disagree with you, Mary, at least about me. However, I agree that Pemberley is indeed grand, but my dear husband has always thought of it as a home first and foremost, and I hope to continue that impression. Georgiana first brought me to this room long ago, and it looks exactly as it did then. I adored the room then, and I am delighted to call it my own. I have little interest in changing it just for the sake of change.”
“But you will redo other portions of the house, will you not, Lizzy?” Mrs. Bennet cried, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Did you not tell me that Mr. Darcy’s mother passed away some years ago? The house has not had the influence of a mistress in many years. Surely you will want to make some changes, like new draperies in the drawing room, perhaps, or a few more comfortable chairs in the library? Oh, and the carpets—how dull they are! I can only imagine how much better they could look with a more modern pattern. It’s all very grand, of course, but surely it could do with a little more colour, something a bit more lively, don’t you think?”
She stopped abruptly, her hand flying to her mouth as she realised what she had said. “Oh, do forgive me, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy, taken aback by the unsolicited advice, waved away her apology with a reassuring smile. “Yes, my mother did pass away many years ago, and the house has been without a proper mistress for more than a decade. Elizabeth and I have discussed the idea of updating several of the public rooms, allowing her to leave her mark on the house. I have encouraged her to do so in her own time. We have been too occupied with other matters to focus on decorations as yet, although she has made a few changes in her chambers both here and in London as suited her own tastes.”
Elizabeth, uncomfortable with her mother’s suggestions, sought to steer the conversation away from decorating, knowing full well that their tastes were far from aligned. She smiled politely, hoping the matter would be gently put to rest.
“Tell me,” she said, “was there any news from Longbourn since I left? I know the Gardiners were expected for Christmas, and while I have received letters from both them and from you, I would still like to hear about the visit.”
Unexpectedly, Mary responded first, startling everyone with a giggle. “Mr. Collins arrived, just as you suggested he might. Mama told Papa he had an obligation to teach his cousin how to manage the estate, reminding him how he had planned to do so when our cousin would have married Lizzy. Before we left, Mr. Collins was trying to convince Mama that he ought to marry Jane, and Mama placated him. However, she had said nothing to either gentleman about our plans to leave for Pemberley, and Papa was most upset when he realised that we were leaving him alone with the man.”
Mrs. Bennet sniffed as though she expected to be challenged. “Mr. Bennet has barely stirred himself to do anything for the estate in months. At least Mr. Collins might assist in some way, since he will be the master of the estate one day. It is best that he have some sort of understanding of matters before he inherits,” she muttered, waiting to have someone tell her she was incorrect.
She was surprised when both Elizabeth and Darcy laughed. “How did Mr. Bennet react to that?” Darcy asked. “Mr. Collins does not seem like a particularly diligent student, and I doubt Mr. Bennet will tolerate his particular brand of foolishness for long.”
Mrs. Bennet blinked at her new son-in-law, her expression caught somewhere between exasperation and disbelief. “Mr. Bennet protested our going, of course,” she began, her tone laced with irritation. “But what could he do once we were in the carriage? Truly, I thought he might not even notice our departure until well after we were gone. Even if he had, I doubt he would have stirred himself to come after us. Not only that, but since Mr. Collins is not what one would call an early riser, I ensured we left long before that man even thought of stirring so he could make no protest.”
Her voice rose slightly as she continued, the absurdity of the situation fueling her mounting frustration. “How that man could still think he might marry my Jane, I simply cannot comprehend. I told him in no uncertain terms that the marriage contract Mr. Bennet signed was invalid—completely invalid—since you, Lizzy, were already married when he finally did bother to show his face at Longbourn!”
She paused, catching her breath, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of indignation and the sheer silliness of recounting such nonsense. “The arrogance of it all,” she muttered, shaking her head. “It is a wonder Mr. Bennet ever entertained that man’s presence in our home, but now he is saddled with him, and good riddance, I say. I feel no sympathy for the man who hatched this nonsensical plan in the first place and did not permit the two of you to wed years ago.”
Mrs. Bennet turned her gaze back to Lizzy and Darcy, the latter watching her with thinly veiled amusement. “You must admit,” she said with a sniff, “the man is utterly impossible.”
“He is, Mama, but please remember, Mr. Collins and I would have never been a good match. I am glad you are no longer entertaining him as a suitor for any of your daughters. After marrying Fitzwilliam, I am an even stronger advocate of marrying for love, not for any other reason, and I will encourage my sisters to follow my example. My sisters will always have a home, even if they do not choose to marry. Fitzwilliam has also promised to provide for you, should it be needed, when Mr. Bennet eventually dies,” Elizabeth said sympathetically. She recognised that her mother had progressed far already, but she still had room to improve.
Mrs. Bennet huffed at her daughter’s assurances, even though she could not deny the truth in them. It was clear that Pemberley thrived under Mr. Darcy’s stewardship, and it was equally evident that providing for his wife’s mother and unmarried sisters would hardly strain his resources. Yet, the thought rankled her. It should not have to be his duty, she mused, her indignation mingled with a flicker of unease.
For the first time, a tinge of regret crept into her thoughts. She realised that perhaps she and Mr. Bennet might have done more—much more—to secure their daughters’ futures. Instead of pinning all their hopes on the idea of Jane’s beauty attracting a wealthy match, they might have focused on equipping each of their daughters with skills and accomplishments to better their prospects.
Her lips thinned as she reflected on the years spent urging Jane to depend solely on her beauty while neglecting opportunities to better prepare all her girls for the world. It was an unsettling realisation, one she had heard often enough before but had never accepted. Now that she had a wealthy son-in-law to provide for her in her later years, the urgency to marry off all her daughters had diminished somewhat. Perhaps Mary or Kitty might choose to remain single and stay with her permanently. It was a novel thought that her daughters would be looked after in their future, but perhaps, just perhaps, she no longer had reason to worry.