Chapter 1
Mr Bennet looked amused at his ladies around the table.
Often, he did not follow their conversations, which mostly concerned news from Meryton or the latest styles in clothing, hair, or home decoration, but that evening, listening to Lydia speak, he smiled; perhaps his youngest daughter was shallow, but she was certainly not stupid.
“I do not understand how the style of outfits or furniture is constantly changing while behaviour and the place men and women occupy in society remain the same as they were long ago, and seem likely to remain so for a long time yet.”
“I did not know you wished for a new style of behaviour,” he remarked jokingly, looking towards her as, from time to time, she proffered some fanciful speech that made her sisters and parents laugh.
“I do, Papa,” she said. “Look how free men are; they travel alone, marry whomever they want, and control the household money.”
“True, but whenever you wish to manage Longbourn and provide for our family, you need only tell me, and you may take my place.” And everybody laughed. It was a very amusing notion.
“So you are saying, Papa, that men work and ladies merely enjoy themselves?” Elizabeth asked, entering readily into the conversation that was amusing them all.
“Mama works too,” Jane declared, looking lovingly towards her mother, who nodded at her daughter’s words.
“Yes, Mr Bennet, I work from dawn until dusk, and even in the evening, a woman’s work does not end.”
“I do not intend to diminish the role of ladies,” Mr Bennet replied in his defence. “There are different kinds of work. As for marriage, I do not remember ever forcing any of you to marry a particular gentleman. I think that may be considered a very modern attitude.”
That at least was true, and Elizabeth nodded gratefully. “Yes, we may say that in certain matters, you and Mama do indeed exhibit a new style of behaviour.”
“And I intend to go further and ask your advice regarding a particular problem,” Mr Bennet said mysteriously, causing his companions to neglect their food altogether.
There was unusual emotion in his manner, which his wife and daughters observed with curiosity.
Usually calm and droll, he rarely allowed any deeper feeling to appear.
“You know that my father had a brother. Has a brother still, as he remains alive.”
“Yes,” Mary replied quickly, and all eyes turned towards her, for she seldom spoke. “Uncle Thomas. He left for Africa more than twenty years ago. East Africa, I believe.”
“Exactly, my dear,” Mr Bennet said warmly, pleased that Mary was participating in the conversation.
It was never knowledge that she lacked, but rather the ease of turning her considerable learning into conversation.
“We owe him a great deal, for he was once the heir to Longbourn, but when he departed, exactly six-and-twenty years ago, he renounced his claim in my father’s favour and consequently in ours. ”
“And?” Mrs Bennet asked, somewhat alarmed. “Does he want it back?”
“No, my dear. At the time, he renounced it entirely.”
“How generous,” Elizabeth observed. “I have rarely heard the stories of his adventures.”
“That is my omission. He was indeed an adventurer who travelled first to India, then returned only long enough to settle the matter of Longbourn before leaving for East Africa, as Mary remembered so well. He used to write from time to time, but I have had very little news from him during the last ten years. At moments, I even feared he might have disappeared in that vast continent.”
“Is it greater than Britain?” Lydia asked, whilst Mary gave a small snort at her sister’s ignorance.
“It is a continent; it contains many countries, most of them larger than Britain.”
“You need not sound so conceited,” Lydia replied.
“And you might have attended more of Papa’s lessons.”
“And become a bookworm like you!” cried Lydia with a disdainful smile.
“Now, Lydia, leave your sister alone,” Mrs Bennet intervened reluctantly. She disliked scolding Lydia, though she did attempt to appear impartial.
“So, Papa, you said you wanted our advice,” Elizabeth resumed the conversation.
“Yes. Some days ago, I received a letter from Uncle Thomas asking whether he might come and live with us.”
“What are you talking about?” Mrs Bennet cried, making no attempt to conceal her anger.
She half rose from her chair before allowing herself to fall back into it again, plainly prepared for battle.
“Have you lost your senses, Mr Bennet? In this house, where we scarcely have room enough for ourselves?”
The girls looked at their father apprehensively. Mr Bennet remained calm, but the way their mother was addressing him seemed almost inconceivable. Their parents disagreed from time to time, but even when voices were raised, some degree of politeness generally remained between them.
“Please sit down, Mrs Bennet,” he said, still remarkably calm, almost amused.
“And to have one more person at breakfast and dinner every day besides!”
“But Mama, Uncle Thomas is the reason we still possess Longbourn,” Elizabeth said.
“You stay out of this, young lady,” Mrs Bennet snapped, growing even more agitated. “This is not a discussion for children. Indeed, I do not know why we are speaking of it before them at all, Mr Bennet.”
“Because, my dear, they are no longer children, and Uncle Thomas’s arrival will require something from all of them.”
“What precisely?” Mrs Bennet asked, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Her daughters knew the sign well; it sometimes preceded a crisis of nerves. Mr Bennet, however, appeared entirely untroubled.
“Enough, madam,” he said. “If Uncle Thomas is to live at Longbourn, all of us must contribute towards making his stay agreeable.”
“No!” Mrs Bennet cried again, preparing once more to rise.
“Please remain seated, madam. This conversation is not concluded.” This time, there was far more authority in his voice.
“We are a family. As Lydia observed, perhaps a new style of behaviour is required even amongst ourselves. We allowed you to choose your husbands freely, and now I ask whether you are willing to invite Uncle Thomas to live with us.”
For once, Mr Bennet plainly wished his meaning to be fully understood. His daughters looked at him in astonishment, uncertain of his intentions.
“Are you truly asking each of us what we think of it?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes, my dear.”
“I agree!” Lydia cried immediately.
“You hold your tongue, miss!” Mrs Bennet exclaimed, though already she had lost much of her influence over the discussion.
Nobody seemed greatly concerned any longer by either her nerves or her objections.
She looked desperately from one face to another, uncertain how serious the matter truly was, though evidently fearing the worst.
“And what would you do for him?” Mr Bennet asked.
“I could walk with him every day and show him around,” Lydia answered, and Kitty nodded approvingly beside her as she almost always did.
“I could move into the little room beneath the stairs and give him my chamber,” Mary added, still timidly.
The expression upon Mr Bennet’s face gradually changed from curiosity to composed gravity.
“And you, Lizzy? Jane?”
“Whatever is necessary,” Elizabeth answered, looking towards Jane, who nodded immediately.
“So, if I understand correctly, all five of you agree that Uncle Thomas should come to Longbourn?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth answered on behalf of her sisters, and cheerful smiles appeared amongst them all, though none ventured to look towards Mrs Bennet, who seemed almost breathless with indignation.
“You are all mad,” she said to her husband. “To involve the girls in such a decision! I remain entirely against it.”
“Obviously, madam, but there are six of us in favour of Uncle Thomas’s request,” Mr Bennet replied, smiling again at the evident willingness of his daughters.
“Nobody shall be asked to surrender her chamber, as we intend to build two new rooms upon the eastern terrace, where we had once planned that gazebo. The structure shall now be somewhat more substantial. He will have a separate entrance and complete privacy. As for the daily meals, madam…I do not imagine we shall become poor merely because one additional plate appears upon the table.”
“What do you know?” Mrs Bennet murmured, though it was already clear that the battle had been lost.
She was not accustomed to defeat. In most situations, her nerves, or at least her opinions, prevailed.
Rarely did her husband impose his will, but when he did, further resistance generally proved useless.
Mrs Bennet understood better than anybody when persistence might succeed and when it was wiser to yield.
“I do not count in this house,” she said, though her voice had softened considerably from its earlier fury.
“You count a great deal, madam. We rely upon you greatly and appreciate all your efforts, and I am certain Uncle Thomas shall do the same. If memory serves, he is a very gallant man. My dears, I shall answer your uncle immediately, and each of you may write him a letter of invitation in your own way. I wish him to feel welcome amongst us all.”