Chapter 3 #2
He didn’t know how much longer he had left with his family, and he did not want to send off one of his favorite daughters when he knew his days were numbered and thought it was unlikely she would even see Mr. Bingley, making the entire journey an exercise in heartache.
She was doing well at home, making progress in drawing and French especially, and her singing was improving.
No, he would not send his sweet, beautiful daughter off to the wolves of London to have her heart broken.
It would be much more prudent for her to continue her studies and find someone at the seaside.
Perhaps he would send her to London for part of the season in the spring.
For now, she would stay safe with him, where she belonged.
As the winter passed on, the girls at Longbourn continued their lessons and had two very proud parents to show for it.
Having finally gotten tired of eating porridge, though it took over three weeks, Lydia agreed to participate and put forth effort in her lessons, which earned her regular meals that included meat and vegetables and the accompanying silver with which to eat them, but she still ate above stairs and was not permitted to sit with the family unless it was a holiday or she had been particularly well behaved.
When they had guests, which wasn’t terribly often but happened once or twice a fortnight, Kitty would eat upstairs with her and they would giggle and laugh like old times.
When the family went out to neighborhood parties, the two youngest stayed home and read books or worked on their needlepoint.
The family soon learned why Lydia had been reluctant to sing or play for the master after she had performed tolerably well for the French tutor.
She sang like a magpie. It would appear that the poor girl was positively tone deaf, which was very odd considering all her sisters had at least some sense of musicality and very disappointing to her mother’s dream of having five daughters all singing like angels from heaven.
No matter, she would learn to play tolerably well and leave the singing to someone else.
She looked quite different with her hair down in curls and her old dresses cut like a girl’s instead of a woman’s.
She looked more like the girl she was and was subsequently treated like one by her sisters, but in the best possible way.
She was read to by Jane when she complained her eyes hurt, and helped with her scales by Mary, who was the most disciplined of the Bennet sisters, and even snuck a sweet treat or two by her sister Elizabeth, who knew how much she liked raspberry biscuits.
It took the length of a long cold winter, but Lydia eventually made peace with her place in the family as the doted on youngest sister and was pleased enough with that.
Mr. Bennet was simply relieved that she had quit throwing fits, complaining incessantly, and flirting with everything in breeches.
And, of course, he was proud of her French, which he was told by the tutor was quite good.
February brought with it Jane’s twenty-second birthday which strengthened Mr. Bennet’s resolve to find husbands for at least two of his daughters before his demise, preferably for his two eldest. Jane put up a brave front and never complained, but he could tell she was still saddened over Mr. Bingley’s removal from the neighborhood.
The cad had not even said goodbye. He had paid her an inordinate amount of attention, singled her out on every possible occasion, then hied off to London promising to be back within a few days but never actually returned.
His sister had sent a letter, of course, but it was no substitute for his presence and it was not a kind note, deftly killing all of Jane’s dreams with a swift stroke of the pen.
But what else could be expected from Miss Bingley, a woman with such a spiteful tongue and prickly nature?
Mr. Bennet increased his time with Jane, hoping to make her just a bit more worldly-wise if he could, assigning her books with themes of betrayal and strategy in order to open her eyes to the darkness of the world.
He feared for her tender heart when he was gone.
She was still his first-born, his darling little girl handed to him by a midwife and held awkwardly in his shaking arms. He had never known love like he felt for the tiny little being that was his daughter, and he felt it still.
The sense of responsibility and protection that he had felt so long ago was reasserting itself, and he vowed to put extra effort into Jane’s preparation.
She deserved it, for she was so sweet and kind, and more importantly, would be considered on the shelf in a few more years.
Anything that was to be done had best be done now.
He spoke with Mrs. Bennet and she ordered new spring and summer gowns for the three eldest girls.
For her birthday, he gifted Jane with a beautiful gold necklace on which a large, single white pearl suspended delicately.
He knew it was extravagant, but he saw it as his final gift to his beloved daughter, a sort of token to remember him by.
Already he was planning birthday gifts for each of his girls to be given throughout the next year.
Mrs. Bennet was not entirely in agreement with Mr. Bennet’s plans and preferences.
She still thought Mary had little chance of securing a husband, except for possibly a clerk or clergyman, and that it would be wiser to promote Kitty in her stead.
And while she was happy with the attention being bestowed on Jane, she felt that so many dresses would be wasted on Elizabeth.
In truth, it was only three day gowns, two morning dresses, and two ball gowns—one suitable for the theater—with matching pelisses and reticules.
But Mrs. Bennet had always struggled to understand her second child.
Elizabeth had always been more like her father and her mother didn’t understand him either, despite twenty-three years of marriage.
Mr. Bennet was able to dissuade her from buying new things for Kitty and Lydia, which they could ill afford under his current scheme to save money and pay for masters and trips to the seaside, by encouraging her to focus on Jane.
“Just imagine how pretty Jane will be in her new gowns,” he said convincingly.
And that did it. Jane was her prettiest daughter, even prettier than her mother, who had been a celebrated beauty in her time and was lovely still.
“How clever you are, Mr. Bennet! Yes, we will focus on Jane! Oh, how splendid she will be!”
“And you must find the most flattering things for Elizabeth,” he continued.
“Oh, that girl! She will never find a husband with the way she goes on!”
“Elizabeth will have no problem finding a husband, and I’m sure he will be an exceedingly good one.”
She gave him a look that showed how strongly she disagreed with him.
“Surely you know I understand men and what they want better than you, Mrs. Bennet, being one myself? Trust me, Elizabeth will be perfectly fine,” assured Mr. Bennet.
Mrs. Bennet huffed and said no more about it, but smoothed her skirts and pursed her lips, swallowing her disagreement whole.