Chapter One #2
She did not wish to resent them for their happiness, and silently chastised herself until her father began to tease her.
“Well, Lizzy,” he chortled. “Your mother will be more keen to part with you than Jane—though I have never anticipated either prospect with much enthusiasm. But she is not a woman to be gainsaid. Do you think she shall carry her point, and find you a beau to meet beneath the mistletoe while we are away? Mr. Darcy is inflicting his brooding stares upon some other poor lady in London, no doubt, Charlotte snatched Collins out from under you, which was very well done of her, and Mr. Wickham departed the house before he could woo you with more tales of woe in the garden. Let us hope the gentlemen in Derbyshire are up to snuff, eh?”
Elizabeth tried to share in her father’s laughter, but it did not feel quite right.
Was this all her life was to be, with the Bingleys moving away?
She could remain a disappointment to her mother and a source of levity to her father here at home, with her younger sisters inevitably adding difficulty to the already slim chances another gentleman of means came into the area—or she could consent to be a burden on Jane and Charles, who were too amiable to deny her mother’s wishes.
Before Elizabeth could make any reply, her Uncle Gardiner turned to her and said, “I had thought to ask you to remain awhile in London with us, for I believe it is your turn, but Madeline has already agreed for Kitty to stay with us after we depart Macallister Manor. Your sister had promised to help little Ned and Betsy with their spelling and reading, for they drive your aunt to distraction, and Kitty has a very gentle way with them.”
Elizabeth was sure she would not have been cross with her younger sister, who had just stayed with the Gardiners last year, were she not already in a foul mood.
She was not formed for ill-humor, and generally she could quickly laugh herself into better spirits when her family provoked her—this was so frequent an occurrence that she would have been in perpetual bitterness if she had not learned such a skill.
But tonight, she simply could not find her way back to any semblance of good cheer.
She had little appetite, though the family remained at the table for nearly two hours—only after they had all adjourned to the parlor afterward did Elizabeth regret her sulking as her stomach growled.
She was ravenous by the time her mother recollected a family tradition they would not be able to enjoy in Derbyshire—Mrs. Hill’s special Christmas biscuits.
It was well past the hour the cantankerous Gardiner children ought to have been abed, though Elizabeth had endeavored at length to organize her cousins and sisters in order to partake in their seasonal treat.
Mrs. Hill bustled in with peppermint tea and two trays of biscuits, ceremoniously placing them on a table in the center of the room.
The warm scent of honey, vanilla, and cinnamon permeated the parlor.
At the back of the room, Elizabeth paused and closed her eyes, drawing in a slow breath of the heavenly smell.
She had waited a whole year for these biscuits; her mouth was watering already.
The rest of her family all began to serve themselves from the two trays.
One was piled high with biscuits baked with walnuts, and a smaller tray bore half a dozen biscuits made instead with cranberries, for Elizabeth, Mary, and Mr. Bennet were all prone to hives if they ate even a small serving of nuts.
Mr. Bennet took two and then passed the tray to Mary, who did the same.
They both moved away to speak with Mr. Phillips, leaving the tray on the table for Elizabeth.
But she was too late. Lydia grabbed up the biscuits and bit into one, letting out a contented hum as she savored the taste. “Lydia,” Elizabeth cried, aghast.
Lydia smiled wickedly, then shrugged her shoulders before taking a bite of the other biscuit. “What?” Lydia asked as she chewed, spilling crumbs onto her chest.
“But I cannot have the ones with walnuts, you know that,” Elizabeth said, wounded by her sister’s deliberate malice. Her hurt turned to rage. “You did that on purpose.”
“I adore cranberries,” Lydia said, taking another bite.
“And surely you can have some of the other biscuits. It is hardly anything if you have a little rash from the walnuts, we shall be miserable enough sharing one bed for the four of us tonight, and for the nights of our journey—for you know how Mary snores! And then we shall be crammed in the carriage for three days! Tell her, Mamma!”
Mrs. Bennet had turned to observe the sister’s squabble; she waved her handkerchief as she leaned backward in her chair.
“Oh for heaven’s sake, Lydia, I will not hear another complaint about traveling or your father will never bring us anywhere again!
And it is so kind of Mr. Bingley to invite us all to his new home as soon as he takes possession of the place!
And you, Lizzy—eat the walnut biscuit and be done with it, I am sure you will survive the ordeal!
You have been petulant all day and I cannot think why! ”
Elizabeth pressed her eyes shut for a moment as she attempted to measure her reply.
She met Aunt Madeline’s eye across the room and resolved to suppress her vexation.
“I apologize if I was unpleasant, Mamma,” she said, reminding herself how wretched it would be to spend the next three days traveling if her mother remained cross with her.
But Mrs. Bennet did not let the matter rest. “It is no great wonder Mr. Wickham was in haste to get away this afternoon, with you looking so vicious—the poor man likely feared for his life, the daggers you were staring! Glaring at everyone all day, I cannot think what has gotten into you—not that I minded some reprieve from your usual impertinence—but you have done us all a great wrong, refusing to make merry at such a time! Scowling as if you might murder when Mary played Christmas carols, losing your patience with your dear, sweet cousins when you usually join in their games, and looking as if you would perish straight away when Charlotte came to call. It is as if you do not care a whit for your family!”
Elizabeth could not summon the words to assure her mother that she loved them all dearly, and could not at all account for her churlishness.
As she looked around, everyone was staring at her.
Her father shifted uncomfortably and averted his eyes, but did not speak up for her.
Jane smiled sadly, as if lamenting some personal slight at Elizabeth’s hands.
Lydia grinned. Mrs. Phillips tittered softly before suddenly growing interested in her cup of tea.
Mrs. Gardiner looked as if she would speak, but her husband patted her on the shoulder before clearing his throat. “Now, Fanny….”
“No, Edward, I demand some account of Lizzy’s surliness, for all of you have spoken of it at some time or other today.”
Tears of betrayal and remorse pricked at Elizabeth’s eyes, but the triumphant set of her younger sister’s shoulders made Elizabeth resolve not to cry in front of her family.
She might have been sorry for letting her beastly mood affect them, had they not all turned on her in such a way.
The shame that had overpowered her gave way to anger, and she clenched her fists at her sides.
“If my presence has dampened the spirits of the evening, I shall gift you all my absence. Good night.”
Elizabeth stormed out of the room, barely maintaining her dignified composure; once she rounded the corner and reached the stairs, she let out a ragged breath that was nearly a snarl.
Covering her face with her hands, she hurried up the stairs, and wept alone in her room for a quarter of an hour.
When her unaccountable distress was spent, Elizabeth began to gather a pillow and one of the extra blankets that Hill had brought in for the girls.
Mary certainly would snore all night, and Elizabeth had no wish to be tempted to put a pillow over Mary’s face in the wee hours.
She changed into her nightgown, grateful her sisters remained downstairs as she took the bedding and crept up into the attic.
There was an old chaise longue covered with a large white sheet—this would suffice for the night.
She folded the blanket to add another layer of warmth over herself as she laid down to sleep, knowing as her head hit the pillow that slumber was hours away. She could only dwell on her own bitter thoughts.
Jane was leaving Longbourn forever. The week she had been away had been bearable with Charlotte’s company, but Charlotte was going away, too.
Her two favorite people would no longer be a part of her daily life, save for mere letters.
And she would be left with the rest of her family, her younger sisters making themselves ridiculous as her mother encouraged their folly and their father merely laughed at it.
And even if another gentleman such as Mr. Bingley should come along, which was not terribly likely, her relations would behave just as they always did, and she would be pushed at him without any delicacy or discretion.
Could there be another man who would tolerate their antics with such equanimity as Mr. Bingley?
And could there be such a man who could endure their nonsense while being capable of deeper thoughts and feelings?
Elizabeth was sure she would end an old maid, a burden to either Charlotte or Jane. “The spinster in the attic,” she mused aloud, and for the first time that day she laughed—at her own absurdity.