Chapter Four #2
“Farewell,” she whispered, and gently swept her arm upward. The sparrow chirped and flew off. Lizzy watched it for a moment, then turned back, entering the lending library once more. She ignored staring eyes and found her seat next to Mary.
“Drink more tisane,” Charlotte urged.
Lizzy took a gulp of the now lukewarm liquid. “I would like more, if there is any, please.”
Charlotte poured more tisane into her cup, and Lizzy added some honey.
“I hope it did not do its business on your bonnet,” Mary remarked.
Maria giggled. The other ladies stared at her, startled, and then they all laughed. Charlotte sobered and buttered a wedge of Whig teacake.
“Did Mr. Darcy have any conversation?” she asked Lizzy.
“I told him that Cook is writing a cookbook,” Lizzy said, shrugging a little. “He offered a piece of good advice, and then we parted.” She took a bite of her teacake, chewed, swallowed, and then added, “He liked Cook’s rambling bar.”
“They are tasty,” Jane acknowledged.
“That is not much conversation,” Mary observed, grimacing.
“We were not together long,” Lizzy pointed out.
“I am looking forward to meeting Mr. Darcy,” Charlotte admitted. “I suppose we will meet him at the assembly next week.”
Maria’s eyes opened wide in obvious excitement. “We are going to the modiste for my fitting after we leave here.”
“Your new dress for the assembly?” Jane asked.
“Yes,” Maria said in thrilled accents.
“I am excited for you,” Lizzy said, grinning. “I am looking to find a new shawl. I have been saving my pin money, you see. I want something lighter, suitable for evening wear, in Norwich silk.”
The talk of fashion continued until they finished their repast, collected their books, and then parted ways outside the entrance of the lending library. The three Bennet sisters crossed the street while the Lucas sisters turned right.
*
“I will say,” Mary said as they walked home, “that it has been pleasant to be out without Lydia and Kitty.”
Lizzy privately agreed, but merely smiled slightly to acknowledge her sister’s remark. “I wonder how they managed with Papa’s choice of books.”
“I have read both of his choices and they are straightforward treatises,” Mary said dismissively.
“I do not believe either Lydia or Kitty have your intellect, Mary,” Jane reminded her. “They may have potential if they apply themselves, but at the moment I think those books will be a challenge for our sisters.”
“Good,” Mary said, nodding emphatically.
“That is not kind,” Lizzy said gently. “Everyone’s learning experience is different.”
“I suppose that is true,” Mary acknowledged.
The sisters entered through their gates and spied Harry gamboling across the grass toward them. “Ah, hello, boy.”
“And, look, there is a footman at our door,” Jane said, nodding across the forecourt. “I do not recognize the livery.”
“Do not bark at the footman,” Lizzy reminded her dog, who had reached them and smiled up at her with his tongue hanging out. To her, he seemed to be saying, “Of course not.”
The footman touched the black brim of his hat as he passed the Bennet sisters, who nodded back. Jane held out her hand to stop him.
“Sir?”
“Aye, miss?”
“We do not recognize your livery. From where have you come?” Jane asked, smiling engagingly.
“From Netherfield, miss.”
“Thank you,” she said, nodding her dismissal. He hurried off, and she looked at Lizzy and Mary. “An invitation?”
“Let us make haste and discover it,” Lizzy suggested, starting forward.
They found their mother in the morning room, an expression of rapture overtaking her countenance. She held a stiff card against her bosom.
“We have received an invitation, girls!” she cried. “From Netherfield!”
“An at home day announcement?” Jane asked, hastening across the room. “From Miss Bingley?”
“From Miss Bingley, yes,” their dear mama revealed, her eyes wide, and her smile a little cunning.
“But it is better than a lady’s at-home day.
It is an afternoon party for Thursday, where we are to try a new tea blend.
I expect the gentlemen will be there, which they might not have been for an at-home day. ”
“We shall not be required to leave after twenty minutes, either,” Lizzy pointed out.
“No, indeed,” their mama said, nodding in clear satisfaction. “And tea is so dear that the party must be exclusive. They will not part with this new blend to just anyone.”
Mary scowled. “If that is so, I wonder at their inviting me.”
Her mama grimaced. “They only invited me, your father, Jane, and Lizzy.” She waved the invitation at Mary’s cold expression. “How were they to know you are out as well, Mary? Besides, Miss Bingley will not wish to have your glum face ruining her party.”
Jane, who had been warmly holding her mother’s arm, released it, retreating into the corner of the sofa.
“I shall not attend if Mary is not invited,” Jane said in a soft, but resolute voice.
“But, Jane!” her mother exclaimed.
Jane held up her hand. “No, Mama. You cannot convince me, for I am determined not to go without Mary.”
“I will also stay home,” Lizzy said, taking up the challenge. She tucked her arm through Mary’s and squeezed it.
“I cannot go where I have not been invited,” Mary said, swallowing and looking downcast.
“But, girls,” their mama wailed. “I am sure it is only a misunderstanding. You simply must go. Jane, you cannot lose this opportunity to get to know Mr. Bingley better. And Mr. Darcy, as well, Lizzy.”
“What about Lydia and Kitty?” Jane asked.
Their mama winced.
“I see,” Jane said quietly.
The door flew open, and the two youngest Bennet sisters swept into the room.
“We are finished,” they announced, grinning widely.
Lydia stopped their forward motion by grasping Kitty’s arm. “Say, what has all of you looking so miserable? Has someone died?”
Lizzy shook her head. “That is not the problem. We received an invitation to an afternoon party—”
“From Lady Lucas?” Kitty asked.
“No, not from Lady Lucas,” Jane said in her quiet way. “The invitation is from Miss Bingley.”
Mary brushed past them, heading toward the door, saying, “We younger sisters were not invited.”
Lydia and Kitty pouted simultaneously.
*
Bingley walked into the aquamarine and gold drawing room before dinner, holding a piece of paper in his hand.
Darcy stood next to the fireplace, a glass of sherry between his fingers.
Caroline had awaited his arrival while sitting in the center of the sofa, Basile spread out on her right side. She looked at him and smiled.
“What do you mean by not inviting all the Bennet sisters?” Bingley demanded of his sister.
She stopped smiling and stroking her cat, rising to her feet.
Basile sat and glared with orange balefulness at Bingley.
“Charles, I wished to limit the number of guests for our afternoon party to twenty so as not to overcrowd my drawing room. The mother and her five daughters equal six guests—too high a percentage of people from only one family—it will be even worse if Mr. Bennet chooses to attend. I do not suppose he will, however. That leaves only fourteen guests who are not Bennets.”
“So, you propose to half the number of Bennets by leaving out three of their daughters?” Bingley asked, clearly flabbergasted.
“That is not done, Caroline. All the sisters are out, as you know, since you remarked upon it just the other day. I insist you send an addendum to the first invitation card, inviting the other three daughters.”
Caroline glowered. “Charles, you have directed me to have this party on Thursday instead of next week when I would have more time to prepare, and now you are insisting that I invite two scampering, vulgar young girls—from all I have heard—and one exceedingly dull girl? All our neighbors will scoff at us. What sort of hostess do you think I will be perceived as being?”
“A kind one,” Charles said, his expression softening.
“Recall, my dear, that your other guests know the Bennet sisters much better than we do. They will expect nothing different from the youngest three than they have always known. Our neighbors can scarcely blame us for the high spirits of youth. If no one invites them out, how will Miss Lydia, Miss Kitty, and Miss Mary learn to behave differently?”
“My drawing room is not a schoolroom,” Miss Bingley snapped. She sighed heavily and smoothed her skirts. “They must have received the invitation by now. I believe they will be equally insulted by an altered invitation.”
Darcy moved away from the fireplace. “Miss Bingley, how did you phrase your invite?”
“I invited Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bennet, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I could scarcely get all the words on the card.”
“If you should send a second invitation, using the other three sisters’ names, rather than addressing it to ‘The Youngest Three Bennet Daughters’, then you may tell them later that you wished to honor them by writing out their full names.”
Bingley brightened, holding up a finger and saying, “Which you could not fit on the first invitation.”
Miss Bingley pressed her lips together, clearly annoyed. “If you will kindly excuse me, I will address the card immediately so Brewster can send it out before we sit down to our dinner. What the Bennets will think of its late arrival I shudder to contemplate.”
She moved to leave the drawing room while muttering under her breath about the number of cups she would need to procure from a Meryton shop—if she could find any of a decent quality. Basile hastened after her. Miss Bingley turned at the door.
“By the by, our sister, Louisa, and her husband are arriving on Saturday.”
“Excellent,” her brother said. She left the room. Bingley shrugged and remarked, “Managing females is not an easy task. Thank you for your assistance.”
“You are most welcome. If your sister cannot find any tea cups in Meryton, she might look in St. Albans,” Darcy suggested. He took a sip of his sherry.
“I suspect we may be given that task,” Bingley said with a comical grimace. “Caroline will be far too busy tomorrow to go hunting for appropriate cups.”