Chapter Twenty-Four #3
Kitty turned to him. “Constrained from what, Papa?”
“From displaying gaiety,” Mr Bennet answered. “One is usually expected to demonstrate respect for the departed. You must be ready to burst, you have been obliged to remain so quiet.”
Matthew interrupted again. His voice, when he spoke, was controlled but unmistakably firm.
“With respect, sir, the late Mr Denny does not deserve mourning from my wife. Nor even from me. Kitty has shown nothing but patience, decency, and kindness in a house that has given her very little in return. Her conduct as mistress here has been exemplary.”
There was silence in the room.
Mr Bennet regarded him in his typically mocking manner. “Ah. You no doubt think so because you might have married either Kitty or Lydia and perceived little distinction between them. It is easy to be content when one never expected better.”
Kitty stared at her father. For one moment she looked as though she might retreat into old habits…confusion, embarrassment, apology. Her face reddened, and Elizabeth feared she would cry, or prove their father correct and give in to a tantrum worthy of Lydia’s name.
Instead, Kitty’s gaze hardened, and Elizabeth saw something change in her sister’s eyes.
“Now…” she said quietly as she returned the teapot to the tray. “This has been quite enough, Mr Bennet.”
Mr Bennet lifted his brows. “My dear Kitty–”
“No,” she said. Her voice was steady, as was her gaze, which never left her father’s face. “Do not speak to me as though I were still a child to be corrected for your amusement. Not here, in my house.”
Her father studied her with mild interest.
“You have compared me to Lydia since the moment you arrived,” Kitty went on. “You have belittled my efforts, questioned my conduct, and made sport of my ignorance…ignorance which you never once attempted to remedy.”
Elizabeth rose slowly and went to her sister’s side..
“I was never taught,” Kitty said. “Not how to manage a household, not how to judge, not how to improve. I was left to flounder, and when I did so, I was mocked for it. If I have learned anything since leaving Longbourn…if I have achieved anything since I left…it has been despite your neglect, not because of your guidance.”
Mr Bennet’s expression shifted, not to anger, but to something quieter and harder to read.
Kitty took a breath and continued. “You ask why Elizabeth plays the instrument in this house of mourning? Because this house was full of grief already, before anyone even died. Because my husband carries years of pain in him. Elizabeth and I are grieving for the memory of the family we thought we knew, who turned against us, and treated us ill. Because silence does not honour the dead when the dead caused only suffering.”
Elizabeth watched Matthew as he stood back and admired his wife’s courage. His eyes did not leave her face.
Kitty stepped away from her sister and husband as she advanced on her father.
“And since you judge so freely, allow me one of my own. You did not come here out of concern for me or even for Elizabeth. You have not even seen Mary, even though you visited Pemberley and traveled less than five miles from her home, because you could not care less how she fares, or how Jane is recovering. I can only envy Mary. She has been more fortunate than I by the absence of your interest in her. You came to amuse yourself. At my expense. At Elizabeth’s expense.
At Matthew’s expense. Perhaps you have found your amusement, but you have succeeded only in making the other occupants of this house uncomfortable and unhappy. ”
Mr Walters walked over to a bookcase and averted his eyes.
“You talk about what I am like. You say I am like Lydia,” Kitty said. “You would not know anything about me. You never took the trouble to find out. I do not think in the whole of the eighteen years before my marriage, that you ever asked me a single question, about anything.”
Elizabeth’s throat tightened, and tears pricked her eyes as she thought of all the attention Mr Bennet had lavished upon her in her youth, and realised Kitty was right. Kitty had been entirely ignored by both of their parents.
Kitty lifted her chin. “So now I shall ask you, Papa. Why are you here?”
Mr Bennet did not answer.
“Because if your plan when hearing from Jane was to enjoy the skills of my cook while mocking my every move, if your only desire upon arriving was to wound, to taunt, and to unsettle,” Kitty said calmly. “Then I must request that you return to Longbourn in the morning.”
She paused, and when her father still said nothing, she continued.
“This is my home,” Kitty said. “Matthew’s and mine.
We are in mourning. We deserve peace. And I will not have that peace disturbed for the sake of your humour.
I have had enough of your wit to last me the whole of my life, Mr Bennet. ”
Mr Bennet regarded her for a long moment.
Kitty did not look away. “And one thing more,” she added, perfectly composed.
“You arrived here without warning, as though you were still the master of me. You are not. If you wish to visit Hawthorne Vale in future, you will write first and include your purpose in your letter. You will request an invitation. Should you arrive uninvited again, you will be turned away at the door.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught softly.
“The Bennets might not stand upon ceremony at Longbourn,” Kitty said. “But the Dennys do at Hawthorne Vale.”
Matthew moved to stand beside his wife. Not in protection. In solidarity.
Mr Bennet looked from one to the other. At last, he inclined his head in acknowledgement…just slightly. “My dear daughter,” he said quietly. “You appear to have found your voice.”
“I have never been your dear anything,” she replied. “And I ceased to long for that distinction many years ago. Your approbation means nothing to me.”
Her father studied her for another long moment. Then he picked up his book again, though he did not open it. “As you wish,” he said simply.
He rose from his chair and left the drawing room, taking his book with him.
And for the first time since Mr Bennet’s arrival, the silence that followed was not oppressive. It was a relief.