Chapter 7 #2
When Elizabeth and Mary were twelve and Jane was fifteen, masters began to occupy more of their days than Miss Moran did.
The governess still resided at Longbourn, but she shifted her focus almost exclusively to Kitty and Lydia, who were now ten and eight.
The three older girls learned dancing and painting; Jane and Elizabeth continued to practice drawing, while Mary and Elizabeth kept their pianoforte master.
Elizabeth was the only one interested in mathematics and the sciences, so Mr. Bennet brought a tutor three times each week to supplement his own lessons in those subjects, as well as history, literature, and logic.
Elizabeth’s zest for learning had not dwindled in the least, and she welcomed all the books, lectures, and debates she could glean.
She prized the open discussions with her uncle and tutor and cherished the active life Uncle Bennet still encouraged for her.
Though not as frequent, they continued their tours together of the estate, usually on horseback, during which her uncle shared with her his love for the land.
More rare but even more treasured were the stories her uncle would tell of his sister as they rode through the countryside she had also loved.
These stories of Longbourn made her mother come alive for Elizabeth and made her feel as though it was not a lie to say she was a Bennet like her mother had been.
She knew less about her father, beyond his name: Oliver Asbury.
Uncle Bennet became sad whenever he talked about her parents, so he rarely did.
A few times, though, he told her stories of her father and his great love for her mother and herself.
Uncle said he had been a good man who always tried to do what was right.
She tried to be good, too, although she tried harder to please her uncle than her aunt.
She even wanted to behave like a gentleman’s daughter to please her uncle, even though she often dreamed of what it might have been like to grow up with her real parents on a tenant farm.
Sometimes when she visited the tenant families at Longbourn, she pretended they were her family.
She helped with the chickens and cows occasionally and picked juicy strawberries.
Elizabeth was always ready to return home, though, to the comforts of her own bed and her books, painting, pianoforte, and lessons.
On a rare day when Aunt Bennet walked in during a dancing lesson, Elizabeth was partnered with Mary, and Jane was learning from the master.
Elizabeth had tried to explain the lady’s part of the dance to Mary, but her cousin wanted Elizabeth to show her, so they had switched roles just before Aunt Bennet entered. She was incensed.
“Lizzy, I demand you cease to put yourself forward in this way,” she hissed. “Your father was a poor farmer, making you no better than a dairymaid. You must take the man’s part and allow Mary to learn the gentlewoman’s steps.”
Elizabeth remembered she was an Asbury and stood tall as she resumed the man’s part, imagining she was her father, invited to a private ball, where he had met her mother and began courting her.
In fact, Elizabeth had no idea how or where her parents had met, but at times like this her active imagination served her well to turn aside her aunt’s wrath and bring herself additional joy.
The following summer, Jane was sixteen and began attending assemblies and card parties in and around Meryton.
She made new friends and grew intimate with old ones now that she had so completely shed Elizabeth’s company.
Mary, only thirteen like Elizabeth, was accepted into the older girls’ circle when they called at Longbourn, but Elizabeth was excluded.
Mary confided to her cousin that she felt the others accepted her only as a snub to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth protested that they must like Mary for herself, but Mary told her of the mean comments they made about Elizabeth and her father.
She said Jane appeared uncomfortable but did not speak in favor of Elizabeth.
Mary thought Jane was afraid of what her new friends would think of her if she disagreed with their behavior.
As time went on, though, Jane joined in the teasing and insisted Mary stop defending Elizabeth. Mary did not like being included by the others, but her mother insisted she sit with them whenever they invited her.
Mary told Elizabeth she liked it when the Lucas boys were among the callers, as they cajoled the girls and threatened the boys into silencing their attacks.
The oldest Lucas, Henry, was especially adamant that they treat Elizabeth better.
When he called, no words were ever spoken against her anymore.
Henry’s older sister, Charlotte, sometimes visited Aunt Bennet with her own mother.
Elizabeth did not speak with her much, but she always received a kind look or word from the older girl.
Elizabeth felt the Lucases must be the most sympathetic family in Meryton.
Throughout the next two years, Mary and Elizabeth grew even closer as Jane distanced herself by clinging to her mother and friends.
After Twelfth Night, when Aunt and Uncle Gardiner and their children returned to London following a cheerful Christmas visit, it seemed Aunt Bennet was in the best mood Elizabeth had ever seen. All the girls were shocked at the dinner table when Aunt Bennet announced her good news.
“Mary, you will be fifteen in May, and it is past time you begin preparing in earnest for your come-out next year,” Aunt Bennet began.
Elizabeth and Mary exchanged glances. Why had Aunt Bennet said nothing of Elizabeth’s come-out? Her fifteenth birthday was February 27th. Would she not also be taught about society and the household?
“Look at me, Mary,” her mother continued. “You have again proved I am correct. Did you not see Mary looking to Lizzy for reassurance, Mr. Bennet?”
Uncle Bennet frowned but did not disagree and allowed his wife to continue.
“Mary, you will need to focus without distractions, so your cousin will remove to London to live with my brother and sister, who have so generously agreed to take her in.”
“What? I am to be sent away?” Elizabeth looked about the table frantically at her family.
She liked Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, but she knew them but little.
They came to Longbourn for only a week or two each Christmas, so she was barely acquainted with them.
She had never been to London—or in fact anywhere beyond Meryton.
Uncle Bennet reached out and grasped Elizabeth’s hand tightly as Aunt Bennet kept speaking.
“Yes, Lizzy. You are to go to London to make something of yourself. You will be expected to be useful with my brother’s children.”
“But why—”
“Mary needs to learn for herself how to get along in society. She relies far too much on you, Lizzy. Until you are separated, she will not ever improve.”
Elizabeth thought it terribly unfair that she was being punished for ensuring Mary could learn her lessons that Elizabeth read to her and play the songs that Elizabeth taught her. When she looked at Mary again beside her, however, the indignation she felt for herself evaporated.
“Do not cry, Mary,” she said, placing a handkerchief in her cousin’s hand. “Everything will work out for the best.”
“But I do not want you to go, Lizzy,” Mary sobbed.
Elizabeth took her cousin in her arms right there at the table and comforted her.
She looked up to glare at her aunt but saw a speck of sympathy there for her daughter, so she tried to forgive her just enough to refrain from railing at her.
Her aunt was only doing what she thought best for her daughter.
What did it matter that she never considered what might be best for her niece?