Chapter Twenty-Four #2
Kitty, finally unable to reply without showing herself to be petulant and immature, stood and excused herself. “Excuse me, I must see Mrs Hawes about dinner.”
Laughter rumbled in Mr Bennet’s chest as his fourth daughter fled the room in mortification. “And I thought Mrs Philpot was managing the menus admirably on her own.”
“I am glad I do not have five daughters,” Mr Walters tutted, unconcerned about Mr Bennet’s sensibilities. “I should hate to see one descend to falsehoods at her own table in order to escape my conversation.”
He stood and left, though in less of a huff than Kitty.
Matthew stared at Mr Bennet intently for a long moment.
“I must leave you, Mr Bennet. My father’s solicitor arrives in an hour to read the will.
The household shall be quite busy today, but a delivery arrived early this morning to the back door from Mr Darcy.
Some volumes he thought might interest you, I understand.
And of course you have my invitation to enjoy the library here to your content.
My father was not a scholar such as you and Darcy, but I am certain our stacks can provide something of interest. I have instructed Mrs Hawes to send for the gamekeepers to accompany you and provide all that you require if you wish to shoot or fish.
I hope you enjoy your visit to Hawthorne Vale. ”
Matthew stood and stalked out of the breakfast room. Elizabeth stared at her father in disbelief of his rude behaviour, and–rather than occupy the table alone with him–wordlessly stood and followed the others.
Later that day, Mr Bennet sent a note to Pemberley, and on Tuesday, availed himself of an invitation to view the library there that Mr Darcy had extended before he realised the damage Bennet had done to his daughters, but never expected the gentleman to take him up on.
For Elizabeth’s sake, Darcy received him cordially, and tolerated his very long visit with infinite patience.
He even loaned the gentleman some more books, with the offer that he could return them by messenger to Darcy House in London, where Darcy would collect them later.
If the man thought he did not have to stay in order to read the volumes, he might return south and leave his daughters in peace.
Darcy had met Elizabeth for their walk early that morning, and she told him everything about the dinner on Saturday night and her anxiety for poor Kitty and Matthew.
“I cannot help but fear that he will take you away when he leaves,” Darcy confessed.
“He cannot compel me. As you know, I passed my majority a few days after the wedding,” Elizabeth reassured him.
“Sometimes even women over their majority are compelled to do things they would rather not by the men in their family, and society overlooks it.” Darcy was troubled.
“I know that you are right, but did you not tell me that you are a magistrate here in Derbyshire?” Elizabeth asked as they walked through a lane that separated two fields.
“And you must have some influence with other magistrates close by. You could do something if it was reported to you. Besides, Matthew would never allow my father to take me against my will, and my father would never trouble himself enough to force the matter, he will only be unpleasant until he gives up and decides to go away. You credit my father with an enthusiasm for exertion that he has never possessed.”
“I hope that you are right.” Darcy assisted her over a stile. “If it were not for Mrs Bingley, I would suggest that you visit Mrs Collins for a few days until your father leaves.”
“I owe Mary a visit, but I would not leave Kitty on her own with our father. His unkind words have made her doubt herself her entire life, and I will not have her lose courage in his presence because I was not here to support her. Papa will return to Longbourn soon enough.”
She turned and teased him lightly. “And if he does drag me away against my will, I shall leave a trail of breadcrumbs that you may follow at your leisure. How romantic.”
“You are remarkably unconcerned about your fate,” he teased in return.
“I am more interested in my future than you know,” Elizabeth said boldly. If the reticent man would ride out at dawn to court her, she must at least give him some encouragement. “In fact, I find that I far prefer the consideration when you are part of it.”
He stopped walking as if he had struck a brick wall and looked down at her with an astounded expression. She was not surprised. She had practically invited the man to propose to her. She took a deep breath and went on.
“Perhaps it is bold and forward of me to say so, but we set forth to come to know one another, and I admire what I have learned a great deal.” Elizabeth had to fight to breathe again, and she turned back to the path and walked on.
“So do I,” Mr Darcy answered thoughtfully. He said little, only walked on in deep contemplation for the rest of their walk.
That night, a battle of wills commenced at Hawthorne Vale between Catherine Denny and her father. Mr Bennet’s nose twitched as the only course was brought in.
“Mutton?” Their father positively detested mutton, and Mrs Bennet was forbidden from ordering it at Longbourn.
“Well, it was time that I began to plan the meals with Mrs Philpot more attentively. The cook was only managing as she did to give some relief to Matthew and I.” Kitty was unconcerned by her father’s displeasure.
“It came to my attention from Mrs Hawes that the butcher has an excessive quantity of mutton. An error when his assistant placed the order. It will all go to waste, and he will lose funds he cannot afford if it is not all sold. We order from the butcher so infrequently, it is the least we can do to place a large order to assist the local tradesmen when we know they need it. I understand that we will not be the only house hereabouts eating mutton all week.”
“All week?” Mr Bennet was nearly whining. “Denny, you cannot mean to let her feed you mutton all week.”
“I have no objection to mutton, and the meals and ordering are my wife’s purview,” Matthew was obviously attempting not to laugh.
“Kitty must learn which of our resources to use and when. I am pleased to know that besides ensuring that waste is avoided at Hawthorne Vale, that she also understands what we owe to the tradesmen in the village. If my wife deems it appropriate, we will have mutton this week. It brings harm to no one.”
That night while Mr Bennet was downstairs, James disconnected the bell to Mr Bennet’s guest room, forcing him out of his bedroom when he wanted tea, water for washing, or assistance. Mr Bennet complained to his daughter that she was a terrible hostess.
“Papa, you were told that how things are done at Hawthorne Vale are starting to change, immediately. I am certain that you understand, we all must do for ourselves more in the future. Fred has no complaints.”
Fred Walters was an angel, following Kitty about the house, praising her every move, determined not to allow her father to wear her down.
“I am satisfied indeed that my godson will be well looked after when I return to town,” The older man insisted.
The next morning, all of the household except Mr Bennet had a hot breakfast early in their room on trays. Then, when they met in the breakfast room at the appointed hour, there was nothing but tea, coffee, toast, and marmalade on the sideboard.
“I am starving, I swear I could smell kedgeree from my bed when I awoke this morning.” Mr Bennet entered the breakfast room in anticipation. He had, indeed, smelled kedgeree from his bed, for Mr Walters had been enjoying it next door in his bedroom.
“Mrs Philpot is unwell, so we shall all have to make do this morning, but the marmalade is quite splendid, is it not?” Kitty said to Elizabeth.
“Perfectly delicious, a slice of toast and Mrs Philpot’s marmalade is all that I require to sustain me this morning,” Elizabeth answered lightly.
Mr Bennet stared at the sideboard, then sank into a chair in misery.
That afternoon’s offerings at tea was only tea and a plate of spiced biscuits for everyone to share, and mutton again at dinner.
This menu continued for two more days. If there was one thing Mrs Bennet knew about her husband, it was that he enjoyed being well fed, and was irascible when he was not.
Kitty had obviously noticed this while growing up at Longbourn, and it was obvious that Mr Bennet could be as irascible as he liked and his daughter could not possibly care less.
Elizabeth wondered how long her father would remain before he could not stand the thought of another plate of mutton.
After dinner on the third night of mutton, Elizabeth was at the pianoforte when the men joined them, playing a quiet and contemplative hymn, more prayer than performance. She stopped as Matthew entered the room with his godfather and father-in-law in his wake.
Mr Bennet fell into a chair near the fire.
“Do not allow the men to prevent your frivolity, ladies,” he said mildly, “For Denny and I know your foolish natures well, and Walters will come to know it soon enough. It is comforting to know that mourning at Hawthorne Vale is so easily set aside in favour of gaiety. I should hate my daughters to suffer from an overabundance of seriousness and proper behaviour.”
Elizabeth closed the cover over the keys abruptly and returned the black crepe over the instrument, cheeks burning.
Kitty, who was pouring tea for her husband, went very still.
Mr Bennet continued, picking up a book from where he laid it earlier. “Your sister’s behaviour is always lively, Elizabeth, but I had thought that a house in mourning might prefer silence to impropriety.”
Matthew’s jaw tightened. “Elizabeth was playing to comfort us,” he said quietly. “It was hardly a reel.”
“Indeed,” Mr Bennet replied. “How considerate of her, to compensate where the mistress of the house might otherwise feel constrained.”