Page 29 of A Cleverly (Un)contrived Compromise (Love’s Little Helpers #3)

CHAPTER 29

M ama and Lydia were away when Elizabeth and Kitty returned to Longbourn.

Jane looked remarkably composed—contented even. Elizabeth knew her sister’s graciousness kept her from seeking out Mr. Bingley’s company while Miss Darcy continued as his guest, but surely Jane would appreciate some reassurance.

Sitting closer to her, Elizabeth spoke loudly enough for Jane to hear her over Mary’s playing but not so loud to interrupt her playing or encourage Kitty to join them. “Mr. Bingley asked about you.”

She would have said much more, but the family carriage clambered to a stop in the drive. Through the window, Elizabeth saw the door fling open and Lydia spill out of the conveyance before the footman could even lower the step.

Elizabeth sighed. There would be no talk of Mr. Bingley until their mother was out of hearing. Poor Jane had enough to manage suppressing her own ardor until Miss Darcy departed for Pemberley to worry about the added burden of their mother’s expectations.

Mother handed Kitty a fist-sized package of twisted brown paper. "I stopped by Mr. Jones' shop for more nerve tonic, and he gave me these lozenges for your cough." She caught Kitty before her daughter could wrinkle her nose and stick out her tongue, adding, "He says they are made of honey and taste quite nice."

Jane set aside her embroidery. "Are you feeling unwell, Mama?"

"To the contrary, my dear. I am in excellent health and spirits. With the final reading of the banns for Lizzy and Mr. Darcy this Sunday and their wedding the following day, and you and Mr. Bingley shortly thereafter—"

"Mama, he has not—" Jane attempted to correct her.

Their mother continued, congratulating her daughters' good fortune and praising her own effectiveness as a parent. With a contented sigh, she lowered herself into the chair nearest the fire. "I anticipate many more good days."

Mary, ever practical, asked, "Then why did you get more nerve tonic?"

Mama shrugged. "No day is perfect. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure."

Elizabeth wished her father had been present to hear his wife quote Benjamin Franklin so perfectly.

Lydia pouted. "Meryton is dull without Wickie."

Mama fanned her face. "He is a handsome man, so dashing in his regimentals, but with your sisters marrying men of fortune, you will be in a position to marry a gentleman of greater fortune and consequence, dear."

"What do I care so long as he has a handsome face and a cutting figure? What a perfect pair we make!"

"You will care very much when your sisters can afford new gowns and you are stuck wearing second-year gowns and cast-offs."

Clearly, Lydia had not considered that likelihood. Turning to Elizabeth, she asked, "Will you invite me to London during the season?”

Kitty scowled at her. “And what of me and Mary? We are both older than you.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “And Kitty and Mary too, of course?" She returned Kitty’s cross look, as though to say, Are you happy now?

Mama clapped her hands. “What a marvelous idea! Of course Lizzy will invite you!”

So that they might scandalously flirt and expose themselves to Fitzwilliam's family and peers? Elizabeth thought not. "Miss Darcy is not yet out in society."

"That is easy to fix. Have her come out into society, and then she can have fun with us!" Lydia shrugged, the matter resolved in her own mind.

"But Miss Darcy is sixteen!" Mama exclaimed.

Elizabeth smiled softly. If she were to have any positive influence at all on her sister's futures, now was the time. "All the same, her guardians consider that she is yet too young. How would it look if I encourage my sisters in society while Miss Darcy remains behind?"

Mama frowned.

Elizabeth continued, "Miss Darcy assured me that her mother, Lady Anne—"

"A viscountess!" Mama swooned.

"Lady Anne did not come out until she was eighteen years of age. Many families of the first circles consider it best to give their young ladies more time to see to their education and accomplishments."

Mary opined, "Mr. Darcy will not wish for us to reflect poorly on his family. He is a gentleman with elevated standards, and it befits us to live up to them." As though to prove her point and her diligence in attending to the matter, she spun around on her bench and resumed playing the scales softly.

Mama sat pensively for a long time, longer than Elizabeth could ever recall her doing. She prayed her mother would draw the right conclusions. How many times had Elizabeth pleaded with her directly—to no avail. Perhaps she ought to have resorted to subtler means sooner.

Mary played a simple, pleasant piece, and still Mama contemplated. Under the tutelage of the master, Mary's technique had improved noticeably in only a few lessons. As diligent as she was in her practice, her progress was bound to be rapid. She seemed to know it, and her increased confidence improved her performance. She turned to face them, a smile gracing her features and making her quite lovely.

Papa clapped as he turned the corner to enter the room. "That was very good, Mary."

Mama brightened. "Mary, you must teach Kitty and Lydia! If they cannot go to London for the season until they are eighteen, then they might as well play as well as you do."

Elizabeth attempted not to look too relieved. Much good could be done in one year for Kitty and three for Lydia.

Lydia, of course, balked. But Kitty rose to join Mary at the instrument, and the two huddled over the ivory keys while Lydia angrily tore the trim off a bonnet that had the misfortune to be resting on a nearby table.

Papa returned to his library.

Mama watched Kitty and Mary with a calculating gleam in her eye while the two played. Lydia continued complaining, but she was ignored. Pinching her lips together, Jane returned her attention to her embroidery.