Chapter 25
The Bennets arrived at Margate without much trouble.
The house was just as they left it and even the marmalade cat was awaiting them in the garden.
All but Mrs. Bennet were subdued, thinking how they were one person less on this journey.
Mrs. Bennet could speak of nothing but her daughter, Mrs. Darcy, and how well that sounded and how much pin money she would have and how many grand parties she would now attend.
Her other daughters nodded and smiled and agreed where necessary, but even Lydia was quiet.
Who would sneak her biscuits now that Lizzy was gone?
Mary entered the room she had shared with Elizabeth, now her room alone. She sat on Elizabeth’s bed forlornly and looked around, wondering what she would do now without her sister’s lively conversation or her assistance in practicing music or the faces she made at the table when no one was looking.
Mary was joined shortly by Jane, who sat beside her and placed her arm around her younger sister.
“I feel quite lost without Lizzy,” said Jane. “What are we to do now?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Mary replied.
Kitty poked her head around the corner and knocked lightly on the frame. “May I join you?”
“Of course,” said Jane.
Mary scooted over and the three sat on Elizabeth’s bed, their absent sister’s scent and sense all around them.
“I feel like she will come in at any moment and tell us to get off her bed,” said Kitty.
“She would likely drag us outside to walk on the shore,” said Mary.
“Do you suppose she will drag Mr. Darcy about like she was always doing to us?” asked Kitty.
“I doubt it. Mr. Darcy doesn’t strike me as the type to be dragged anywhere,” said Jane.
“Can you imagine her trying, though?” said Mary with a smile.
Kitty laughed and stood, doing an impression of Elizabeth when she wanted to go for a walk and everyone refused to go out.
“What are you doing in here?” said Lydia as she walked into the room.
“Talking about Elizabeth,” said Jane.
“Kitty thinks she may try to drag Mr. Darcy on walks like she does all of us,” added Mary.
Kitty again made her annoyed-Elizabeth face and Lydia immediately put on a stoic expression, drawing herself up as high as she could go and pushing out her chest, her back tight and her gait stiff.
“Now, Elizabeth, you know proper young ladies do not run about the countryside,” she said in a deep voice, impersonating Darcy.
“Oh, but Mr. Darcy! The sun is calling me! I must greet it!” Kitty said in an exaggerated characterization of Elizabeth.
Jane and Mary laughed.
“Nonsense!” cried Lydia in her deep voice. “The sun shall await a time convenient to me. Do you not know that I own half of Derbyshire and all must obey my command?” Though exaggerated, her impersonation was alarmingly accurate.
Jane was laughing silently now, holding her stomach and turning pink.
“Oh, might I walk all of it?” Kitty said with batting eyes and a flirtatious smile. “I am a very great walker, you know.”
Lydia patted Kitty’s head and smiled condescendingly. “Of course, my darling, anything for you. Just give me a kiss first.” She puckered her lips out and leaned forward, making Mary laugh so hard she fell back on the bed howling.
Kitty was still playing her part and blushing and looking down coyly. Jane joined Mary in her uncontrollable humor until finally Lydia and Kitty broke down into fits of giggles and the four of them ended up in a heap, shaking and crying, they laughed so hard.
Mr. Bennet took a quiet walk on the shore by himself, his mind full of reflections of the days past. Elizabeth had sent him a short note that arrived just before the carriage pulled out of Gracechurch Street.
Dear Papa,
I know you are worried, but do not be. All is well. Fitzwilliam is very kind to me and I will be fine. Take good care of my sisters and watch out for Jane. She is conflicted about the men in her life and needs patience and understanding.
I will write more soon. Don’t forget you said you would write to me in return. I have not forgotten your promise!
All my love,
Lizzy
P.S. I think Mr. Bingley may be more than first appears—don’t discount him just yet.
He fingered the note in his pocket and stared out at the horizon.
He prayed his daughter would not have a marriage like his had been.
He wanted her to always be able to respect her partner in life.
Mrs. Bennet had never asked, not once, how her daughter was faring, how she felt about Mr. Darcy, whether or not they got along or had similar dispositions or hopes for life.
No, all she could think about was pin money and carriages and houses in town and country.
A moment later he chastised himself. Mrs. Bennet was a silly creature, yes; she always had been.
She was not blessed with intelligence, but she had no malice in her.
She meant no harm to anyone and loved her daughters in her way.
Unexpectedly, his plan to fashion his daughters into marriageable women had had a similar effect on his wife.
She had always been trivial, but she had not always been shrill nor had she complained so much.
No, if he was honest, he had to admit that his sarcasm and disdain for her lack of abilities had created a chasm between them.
As it grew, so did her grievances. Before long she was complaining loudly and calling for her salts.
Could it have been him all along? Did his withdrawal of affection and respect lead her to become what she had—shrill and ridiculous?
He had to admit the evidence pointed to that being true.
Since he had given her a modicum of guidance, shared the burden of raising five daughters with her, and showed her sincere and gentle affection, she had complained less, been less grumpy and irritable, and embarrassed the family significantly fewer times than she had before.
She had, in fact, become pleasant company again.
She wasn’t the smartest woman and never would be, but she sometimes made amusing observations and she had a good sense of humor if the topics weren’t too complex.
She did take good care of him. He felt a wash of shame come over him as he realized that she always had, even after he had begun ridiculing her in front of her own children and mocking her to her face and others.
She made sure his favorite dinners were served on Sundays, and when there was a dish he didn’t like, there was always a small serving of something he preferred brought just to him.
She gave him gifts that he liked and used; fine handkerchiefs with his monogram, a new tooled leather saddle for his birthday three years ago, and his favorite, the painting of his mother and sister, painted a year before the latter’s death, restored and framed after it had been damaged by a leaky roof.
When had he become such an ass? When did the honest affection of a beautiful woman cease being enough for him? He shook his head and gazed out at the sea. He was doing better now, and he would continue to do so.
Hopefully, his Lizzy would escape the trap he had fallen into, one largely of his own making.
Firstly in choosing an ill-matched partner, then in behaving badly towards the one he had chosen.
He was certain she could love Mr. Darcy if she only let herself.
Failing that, they could at least have a solid friendship.
That would be a lot better than many had in marriage.
When the Darcys arrived at the cottage, it was late in the day and they had been traveling since eleven after touring a castle early that same morning.
Elizabeth was dirty, tired, sore, and desperate for a bath.
Before she even toured the house she escaped to her room to wash her hair, which hadn’t been scrubbed since they left London six days ago.
She was so relieved to see her maid she nearly hugged the woman.
Once her trunk was delivered, she locked the doors to her chamber—she did not want to risk her husband coming in at an inopportune moment—then she slid into the tub.
She immediately dunked her head and blew bubbles in the water, inordinately happy to be getting clean.
As Sanders washed her hair, she closed her eyes and truly relaxed for the first time in several days.
Her courses had finally ceased a few hours ago and she knew she would be spending the evening with her husband, ready or not.
Spending time in a close carriage with him had been an interesting experience.
As she feared, they had clashed and suffered awkward moments, but as her father had said, being alone together had forced them to converse on topics they otherwise wouldn’t.
She felt they had learned each other a bit better, but she was also slightly weary of his company.
Not horribly, as she was admittedly exhausted and cross from her physical state, but she did not know him very well yet and she still felt a little strange being alone with him.
They would be married a fortnight tomorrow and that simply wasn’t long enough for her to feel completely at ease, especially since half that time had been spent traveling.
Perhaps it is not Fitzwilliam at all, she thought. Maybe I just need to be alone altogether.
She had not enjoyed a solitary walk since several days before the wedding, and she had arguably gone through the most tumultuous time of her life in the last month.
Surely she was entitled to a little air and privacy?
Deciding it would be better to have some time to herself to regain her equilibrium before snapping at her husband, she dismissed her maid and told her to tell Mr. Darcy that she would meet him in the dining room for supper after her hair had dried.