Chapter 6
Mr. Bennet’s Day Begins the Same as No Other
Mr. Bennet was confused. In his study, where he spent the greater share of his days, he could hear his wife request one of their daughters to pen a letter to their aunt Gardiner asking if she knew of a reputable governess seeking employment.
It was followed by a demand that all the girls come to the sitting room to help determine how to budget for the lady’s wages from her own allowance.
Deciding to address his wife’s concerns during the morning meal, he chuckled to himself, wondering what sort of bee she had under her bonnet that day. Even after two decades and three years, he still did not understand his wife.
Miss Francine Gardiner had caught Bennet’s attention whilst she fawned over an officer.
Paul Goulding had wagered with him an ale that he would not be able to draw her away from the Redcoat.
Bennet had been adamant that there was no more straightforward a matter, after they both had agreed that none of the Redcoat reprobates deserved the prettiest girl in Hertfordshire.
And Bennet did divert her attention from the man.
In a way, no one could pretend to ignore.
After a few days of flirting with the lively, pretty young lady, he thought himself half in love with her, promising her a weekly stipend to spend as she chose if only she would consent to be his wife.
They had not been married a full day before he realized the extent of their marital mismatch was extreme.
She knew nothing of how to be a mistress of an estate, did not enjoy reading, and cared little for his day but expected him to listen to a full accounting of hers.
When he and Goulding crossed after the nuptials, his friend reminded Bennet he owed him an ale.
Bennet had never tasted one so sour before or since.
If asked, Thomas Bennet declared the births of their daughters to be the happiest days in their marriage. He would, however, keep to himself the benefit that after each delivery, his wife’s attention would divert further away from him.
Though he did not know what had occurred at the assembly, Mr. Bennet was certain it did not warrant this much change in his household.
Mrs. Bennet Has an Epiphany
In the sitting room, Mrs. Bennet sat staring at her eldest daughter. When she received no reply, she dismissed Jane and requested Mary instead.
“You want to see me, Mother?” Mary walked to the chair her mother indicated, rather than take her usual chair in the corner.
“Jane will not answer my questions,” Mrs. Bennet said, her lips pursing thin. To her surprise, her middle daughter stood again even before she had settled.
“I will send in someone else,” Mary said, retreating toward the door.
“I want the truth, Mary. Please.”
The plea stopped Mary short. “I expect you will be displeased and even send me to my room with no supper for saying this, but it is our experience that you only want us to agree with you. Telling you the truth angers you. It is a rare occurrence when I am in your good graces.”
“That is not true,” Mrs. Bennet said, having to close her eyes against Mary’s impassivity. “I do not always speak to you when you are in the room, but you know I value—”
When Mary took another step toward the door, Mrs. Bennet stood.
“I never know what to say to you.” Mrs. Bennet’s confession caused Mary’s hand to pause above the latch. “I do not know how to converse with those who value books more than ribbons. I fear the entail, I fear for all your futures, and now I fear I have greatly erred.”
“Between us, it is only I who must fear punishment in reprisal of my speaking plain,” said Mary.
“For these next thirty minutes, whilst Lizzy is on her walk, I intend that you speak the truth, no matter how difficult for me to hear. There will be no reprisals for anything said in this conversation.”
“Many would find keeping that promise difficult. My words would hurt you. If I answer, can you continue to ignore me today, but for the few insults you might direct at me, the same as every other?”
“I do not insult you, Mary.”
Mary mimicked her mother: “‘Oh, Mary, put down that book and do something useful.’” She then altered her voice back to her own.
“Because trimming a functional bonnet is a useful talent. ‘Mary, walk out with your sisters so you do not pick up that foolish book,’ that I can watch Lydia exclaim over every officer as if each were the prodigal son. ‘Cease playing, Mary. You tax my nerves. Mary, go do something—’”
“I take your meaning,” Mrs. Bennet said, holding up a hand to ward off further examples.
She swallowed hard enough that it was audible to them both.
“Yes. I swear you will receive no insult or punishment for your plain speaking when answering my questions. Make no mistake, I do seek truth. Rather, I seek additional truths.”
“If you intend to ask whether or not Mr. Darcy’s caution about Lydia is the truth, the answer is yes.” Mary again reached for the latch.
“There is so much more I seek to inquire after. Charlotte and Mrs. Goulding spoke to me last night. The conversations were…unpleasant.”
“That other young ladies are distancing themselves from Lydia’s company? A certainty. I know our father has been warned and asked to check her behavior because you do not. With the officers coming, she will ruin herself and our reputations in months, or, more likely, weeks.”
Seeing her middle daughter hold her breath in anticipation of her protest, Mrs. Bennet forced herself to exhale slowly.
“Please sit, Mary. Let me pour us both a drink.”
Mrs. Bennet went to the sideboard, pouring a generous measure of brandy into two glasses. She set one closer to the chair she hoped Mary would occupy.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last, Mother,” Mary said, returning to the chair and picking up her glass.
“That is hurtful, but I cannot claim you err in saying so. I fear I owe a great many apologies to my daughters.”
“Houses are built one stone at a time, and even the smallest helps shore it up. Let us start with your questions, then we can discuss other things, should the same clemency be extended.”
Mrs. Bennet stared at her middle daughter for the length of a heartbeat before her laugh filled the room. “I find I would very much like the chance to speak with you again.”
“You should invite Charlotte to speak so freely as we do now. I enjoy her conversation above anyone’s.”
“She did say she has friends both older and younger. In the meantime, my first question is this. Do I constantly speak of the entail to our neighbors and our guests?”
Mary took a long swallow of her brandy. That was answer enough, but Mrs. Bennet still waited to hear the words. It was to be a long day, and there were many minutes before Elizabeth was expected. Upon her return, the family gathered to break their fast.
“So glad you could join us this morning, Mr. Bennet,” Mrs. Bennet said when her husband walked into the breakfast room. “I am amazed you could be enticed from your bookroom.”
“It is the first meal of our day, Fanny. I am certain I take this meal with our family more often than other men can claim,” Mr. Bennet said sardonically.
“And little else,” Mrs. Bennet said. Her tone was pleasant, but the words caught him so off guard that the clump of marmalade intended for his toast fell onto his eggs.
“I have estate matters with which to attend,” Mr. Bennet said, his eyes peering out from half-raised lids to assess the true state of his wife. “Do explain what has upset you today. Is man flying across England like a bird?”
“With all the hours spent in there every week, the estate must be running at its peak. I will ask my brother to verify it is so. I, of course, expect that every possible effort was made over the last twenty years. I will ask him to pay particular attention to whether savings might have been accrued for dowries or my care when you die. I hope he might have the opportunity to come in the next day or two,” Mrs. Bennet said, leveling a stare at her husband.
“If I might still claim clemency?” Mary interceded. Mrs. Bennet hesitated before granting her leave. “Uncle Gardiner will find little effort has been made, and that much more could have been done. Even I know that, Mother.”
“Such as?” Mrs. Bennet asked, ignoring her husband’s decrying of her intent.
“Lizzy implores him every month to engage our tenants in new efforts like crop rotation, tells him what repairs are required, what needs attending in our own house, the needs of the servants, and more,” Jane said, resting a hand on Mary’s, interceding on her sister’s behalf.
Tallying the times Jane had made such a gesture over the years, Mrs. Bennet winced. She now understood it to be one of the ways her daughters sought to protect her sisters from the ire of either Mr. Bennet or herself.
“You all know this?” Mrs. Bennet asked.
“Lizzy keeps a list she consults every Wednesday when they meet, and he always promises to look at it next week.”
“Thank you, Jane. You need not fear, Mary and I had an illuminating conversation this morning. I quite value her plain speaking. Now, tell me, how long is the list, Lizzy?”
“There are no funds to complete anything on it. No budget is adhered to,” Elizabeth said without censure.
“No one cares to economize other than Elizabeth, Jane, and me. More than once, we have used our allowance to assist with small things the tenants need or given them seeds to grow their kitchen gardens,” Mary said to their father.
“I cannot believe this. Know this now, girls. I will make a budget, and I will adhere to it,” Mrs. Bennet said with all the authority of a decree. “Any funds I save, I will place into an account through my brother Philips. Can you aid me in this, Mary?”
“Of course.” Mary’s calm assurance helped Mrs. Bennet believe it possible.