Chapter 7 #2
Mary’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Worse than our father, who graduated from Cambridge with honours, with an income of ￡2,000, failing to match the savings of a clergyman with ￡600 being advised by a 20-year-old woman who has never been within a mile of a school of any sort?”
Elizabeth sighed. “That is bad enough, but consider this. You know Mama has a ￡5,000 jointure?”
“She constantly grumbles that she will starve in the hedgerows if that is all she has to live on, as if it were not her own fault.”
“Remember the lesson in compound interest. It is calculated with a simple formula, though it is, again, difficult to do without a log table or a slide rule. I was fortunate when I spoke with Mr Collins, as I had a sailor’s navigation book full of log tables in the parlour purely by chance.”
Elizabeth added the formula to the back of the paper.
P (1+r) ?
“P is the principal: the amount you start with—￡5,000 in this case—n is the number of periods—25 years. It is easy with the right tools, but difficult in your head. Fortunately, I calculated it the day after Uncle Gardiner’s last tirade, so I happen to know the answer.
For the last 25 years, Mama has drawn off the ￡200 per annum of interest and spent it on entertainment and fripperies. ”
Mary nodded.
“First, she can live perfectly well on ￡200, so there will be no hedgerows anyway, even if she continued spending frivolously and saved nothing. She would live in a home like Aunt Philips’, so most of her whining is overwrought nonsense.”
Elizabeth paused for Mary to acknowledge what was only common sense and simple arithmetic.
“Even worse, had Mama simply refrained from wasting that interest on things we did not need, and Longbourn could well afford anyway, she would have over ￡13,000 now. We have the rule of 72. Divide 72 by the percent interest, and that is how many years it takes to double. In the four percents, your money doubles every 18 years. Had she left it alone, she would have ￡400 per annum to live on, perfectly enough to live much as she does now. She could also have redirected the ￡200 to Uncle Gardiner, and he would have made an even higher return on it. ￡15,000 or more lay well within her reach, with no effort whatsoever. And she still probably has 20 years to save even more.”
Mary shook her head in consternation. “So, our disadvantageous position in the marriage market is due entirely to indolence and wasteful foolishness?”
“Yes, and do not even start on newer farming methods that could have raised our income with hardly any effort on our part, or the almost trifling amount that would have been needed for a governess and a few masters. I tried the farming methods with Papa several times, but he used the weak excuse that the current methods have worked for centuries, the new methods are unproven, and it would all be for the heir’s benefit anyway; as if he did not have decades to enjoy increased rents or income from the home farm. ”
Mary sighed; she knew something of the dispute, mainly because Elizabeth’s battles with either parent were rarely subtle or silent.
“A first-rate governess earns ￡30-40 along with board, and ￡20 will secure a more than adequate one. All told, far less than ￡60 per annum. The interest on Mama’s portion alone would pay for both, with well over ￡100 to spare.
And please, please, please—make not the slightest mention of the minimal effort required to make Kitty and Lydia more like ladies and less like savages. ”
Mary shook her head in consternation, and they walked on for a few moments.
Finally, Mary said, “Lizzy, once I am married, you must visit. I will need your help to make sure all is as it should be. Perhaps you could come at Easter?”
Elizabeth laughed gaily, her humour restored, as it usually was when she stopped talking about disagreeable things.
“You really expect me to wait until Easter to experience the glorious condescension of the noble Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”
“You need to give me a few months to begin her education. I will expect your help after that. Lady Catherine will not run my household, but I expect a few contests of wills before her inevitable surrender.”
Elizabeth grinned wickedly. “I can hardly wait.”
~~~
The sisters continued arm in arm, chatting happily about the future and the near certainty that Lady Catherine would be almost identical to their mother.
Mary expected to feel right at home, aside from the fact that she could escape Lady Catherine by going home, while nobody was ever easy at Longbourn.
They joined the road into Meryton and walked carefully between puddles.
A whip cracked, and a carriage approached at far too fast a pace.
Elizabeth caught Mary’s arm, and they leapt aside just before it rounded the corner and hurtled past, the horses nearly at a dead run. The driver paid them not the slightest attention—if he even saw them.
The wheels struck a puddle, covering both ladies in mud from bonnets to boots as the carriage rumbled down the road towards London.