Chapter 2
Over the next se’nnight, Mr. Bennet engaged a music master, a drawing master, and a French tutor.
He brought all his girls into his bookroom and told them of the coming changes: he had created a schedule for each of them, and each day they would be expected to study with the masters, practice a bit on their own, and assist their mother in running the household.
In addition, they would each meet with him every week to discuss literature and history.
They were stunned, and for a full minute, no one said anything; the girls just stared at their father as if they had never seen him before. Jane finally broke the silence.
“I will look forward to the drawing master, sir. Thank you for the consideration.”
Her sisters murmured thanks as well and exchanged confused glances. Mr. Bennet held up a hand.
“That is not all. From now on, your excursions and allowance will depend upon your diligence to your daily tasks.” Five pairs of eyes widened.
“If you complete them satisfactorily and give your masters no trouble, you will be granted privileges. If you do not,” he looked at his youngest two daughters steadily, “you will take your meals above stairs and not be permitted in company.”
At this, Lydia, the youngest and silliest Bennet daughter, loudly erupted.
She complained of how harsh this all sounded and wondered when they would walk to Meryton or visit their friends if they were busy studying all the time.
She appealed to her mother who looked at her husband for a moment before calmly telling Lydia that she supported her husband’s edicts.
Lydia gaped at her father until he told her that her unladylike and childish display had just earned her an afternoon in her room and a meal above stairs.
Lydia stared at her family incredulously, looking to her sisters for support, but their eyes were trained steadily to the floor. Finally, Lydia balled her fists at her side and stomped her way upstairs, loudly slamming the door to her room.
“That will earn her breakfast in her room as well,” Mr. Bennet said calmly. “Now, here are each of your schedules.” He passed out a paper with a calendar of sorts on it to each of his daughters, who in turn continued to stare at him strangely.
“Music lessons every day!” commented Mary and Kitty, though only one sounded pleased by the prospect.
“Yes. As you can see, your practice times are there as well. You will each spend one hour with the master and another in practice each day, though more would certainly not hurt you.” He looked at Elizabeth significantly.
She gave him a sheepish look. “I’ve ordered the pianoforte in the back sitting room tuned and it shall be used to practice while the music room shall be used for lessons. Any questions?”
Mary timidly spoke up. “What do you mean by ‘non-religious texts’?”
“I mean that your reading time should be spent reading something other than doctrine and Fordyce. Now,” he looked at each of his daughters authoritatively, “you know what needs doing. Get to it.”
He turned back to his desk and sat down, his initiative used up for the day. He remained upright, watching them carefully, though, not wanting them to see his weakness. He told himself it would only be difficult in the beginning. Once they had a rhythm going, everything would move along smoothly.
Longbourn was a very noisy house that morning, Mary pounding away on the pianoforte in one room, Elizabeth tinkling half-heartedly in another, Jane huffing quietly as she attempted to draw a bowl with appropriate shadowing and Kitty repeating her French tutor with a very bad accent, though it must be said that she made up for it with enthusiasm.
Sitting alone and thinking about what was to come, Mr. Bennet had a moment of regret for not demanding Elizabeth marry Mr. Collins the month before.
Yes, the man was an obsequious toad, but perhaps she could have made something of him.
He’d no doubt that she could have managed him, had she set her mind to it.
But he had not known then what he knew now, and he wasn’t sure which Elizabeth would have hated more: being married to Collins or having to earn her living as a governess or a companion.
If another suitor came along, for any of them, he would have to say yes out of simple necessity.
As long as the man was good, respectable, and solvent, he saw no reason to withhold his blessing.
Had Collins asked after his diagnosis instead of before, he did not know how he would have acted.
He simply did not know.
By mid-afternoon, each of the Bennet girls, save Lydia, had spent time with a music and drawing master, had been told by said master what she should work on and accomplish before her next lesson the following day, and had spent an hour learning French with the tutor.
The two eldest girls, Jane and Elizabeth, would take their lessons together and be one another’s practice partners.
Kitty and Mary would continue on individually and practice together in the afternoons, which neither was very happy about, Mary being very serious and Kitty being very silly.
When it was time to dress for dinner, Longbourn had never seen four more tired young women trudging up the stairs to change.
Dinner that evening was a subdued affair.
The girls were tired and confused by their father’s recent actions.
The elder were worried that something had occurred to cause so drastic a change—for before, he really had been a very indolent father—and the younger were by turns happy to be studying seriously (Mary) and pleased the day was over (Kitty).
It should be said that Kitty did miss her younger sister Lydia, for the first little while, at least. She missed having someone to talk to and giggle with.
But it should also be said that while Kitty was a very silly girl, she was also a girl of hidden talents.
She had done well with her scales in her music lesson and the master had complimented her high, delicate voice, and to her great surprise, the drawing master told her she was learning the quickest of all her sisters.
Though exhausted and confused and missing her sister slightly, Kitty Bennet went in to dinner just a tiny bit happier that day.
Lydia Bennet was in a fine mess. She had thought having dinner in her room wouldn’t be so very bad.
She had a delicious novel to read and everyone at the table would miss her lively conversation and her father would be sorry he sent her upstairs.
Come breakfast, they would all be thrilled to see her again.
She changed her mind when she saw the tray of lumpy porridge Sarah, the maid, brought to her room.
When she asked about it, sure there must have been some mistake, the maid informed her that it was brought on Mr. Bennet’s orders and he’d said that proper food was served in the proper dining room to proper ladies.
The maid’s cheeks burned as she recited the message, and Lydia positively quivered with anger.
She balled her fists and stamped her foot and let out a most unladylike grunt.
Sarah bobbed a quick curtsey and dashed out of the room, just in time to avoid the heavy spoon Lydia threw at the door.
Mrs. Bennet heard the commotion from upstairs and worried over her youngest and most favored child, but her husband reassured her and said that Lydia just needed time to adjust and would accept the changes in good time.
She nodded and attended her meal, imagining how jealous Lady Lucas would be when all five Bennet daughters sang in perfect harmony at the next neighborhood party.
The following morning, Lydia was surprised when the maid came in with another tray for breakfast: porridge again.
There was a tiny bit of jam dolloped in the middle, but it was an uninspiring meal.
She huffed and sat down to eat, thinking the sooner she was through, the sooner she could leave this room.
“Sarah, you’ve forgotten the spoon!” she called to the retreating maid.
“The master’s orders, miss. There’s a note from him there.” She pointed to a small piece of folded paper on the corner of the tray and quickly left.
Lydia picked up the note and read, “Silver is not a ball meant for throwing. See you don’t treat it as such.”
Lydia became so angry, the tips of her ears turned red.
He expected her, Lydia Bennet, to eat without a spoon?
How was she going to manage it? She certainly couldn’t put her face in the bowl like an animal.
Huffing, she crossed her arms and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to ignore her growling stomach and maintain her ire. It was exhausting.
Finally, her hunger won out and she held the bowl carefully and tipped it toward her mouth.
It did not work. The porridge was far too thick.
The only thing she accomplished was sliding the jam across the top and onto her own nose.
Wiping her face, she poured a little bit of milk from the tiny creamer and stirred it in with her finger.
She then licked the digit clean and tried her pouring system again.
She was more successful this time and managed to get most of the porridge in her mouth and very little on her chin and only a few drops on her gown.
Finally, after several minutes of very undignified eating, she wiped her face, washed her hands in the basin, and left her room to find her sister.
Perhaps they could go visit Maria Lucas and walk into Meryton to buy some new ribbons.