Page 37

“There is nothing like the art of flirting,” Miss Bingley had said. “It eclipses all other forms of accomplishment. Music, art, languages, and a knowledge of the world are nothing by comparison. A girl only needs to know how to draw attention to herself, a skill which Miss Lydia has in abundance.”

Mrs. Bennet had realized that she was being mocked. Years of living with Mr. Bennet had taught her to recognize sarcasm, but she had never heard such disdain as there was in Miss Bingley’s voice.

Others had found her amusing, however. Several nearby ladies had tittered, Mrs. Peacock had roared with laughter, and Mrs. Crane had declared Miss Bingley a great wit.

Mrs. Bennet had been mortified. Not daring to move, she had sunk into her seat, trying not to be noticed as the other ladies gave their opinions on the nature of real accomplishment.

Sitting in silence, she had seriously considered the subject for the first time. Music, art, and languages. She knew nothing of those.

Book learning. Knowledge of the world. Navigating one’s way in society.

The latter was something Mrs. Bennet had thought she comprehended, but at that moment she felt her inadequacy.

Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were not nice, but they were elegant, sophisticated ladies, who knew how things were done.

And they obviously thought her vastly inferior.

“A truly accomplished lady must have something in her air, her manner of walking, and her tone of voice which sets her apart,” Miss Bingley declared, and her admirers voiced their agreement.

Before walking away she cast a scornful look at Mrs. Bennet, who was reminded of having seen that same expression on another evening. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had been whispering together but loud enough for Mrs. Bennet to hear, “Stupid, vulgar woman.”

At that time she had persuaded herself that they were talking about someone else. But now she knew better than to make excuses. She was the person whom they thought stupid and vulgar.

Was she vulgar? Did everyone else think so too? Was this the reason her hopes and plans were coming to nothing?

Was Colonel Forster avoiding her? Had she driven Mr. Fordyce away? Had Mr. Madison lost interest in Lizzy because he didn’t want to have her as a mother-in-law? Had Mr. Bingley not yet proposed for the same reason?

On the tail of this thought, that gentlemen suddenly appeared, greeting her pleasantly.

But instead of being cheered by this, Mrs. Bennet now had the horrifying thought that he had also heard her stupid remark, and was thinking her even more inferior than ever.

He spoke to her in a friendly way, but that was just how he was, always nice to everybody.

After he had moved on, she ventured to take another look at her youngest daughter.

Lydia was still laughing, but with the scales removed from Mrs. Bennet’s eyes, the scene presented itself entirely differently.

Instead of a young lady who had such a charming way with gentlemen, she saw a silly girl behaving badly.

There was such conceit in her expression, such gracelessness in her gestures, and such wildness in the eyes that were darting back and forth between a smaller number of officers.

The group had noticeably thinned. Lydia appeared not to be quite so popular after all.

This was the consequence of her mother’s advice.

Staring sadly at this evidence of her ineptitude, Mrs. Bennet remembered her own eyes darting about many years ago, looking to see if the officers were laughing at her jokes or noticing her beauty.

This was just how she must have appeared in her own youth.

A silly girl, desperately seeking attention, and going about it very badly.

And now she was a silly mother who gave her daughters stupid advice.

Who hadn’t properly cared about educating them.

Who made them ineligible with her own foolishness.

She had done them a disservice, and now no one would marry them.

Not even Mr. Bingley, despite his admiration for Jane. And it was all her fault.

She ought to have engaged a governess to fill their minds with knowledge and give them real accomplishments. She should have given them proper guidance. And she should never have encouraged Lydia to flirt.

The truth, which revealed itself to her at this low moment, was that her youngest daughter was the most like her.

She had never bothered to pick up a book or taken an interest in learning anything.

All she had cared about was having fun and being noticed by gentlemen.

And that was what she had passed on to Kitty and Lydia.

Mrs. Bennet spent the remainder of the evening questioning her worth. Later, sitting at her dressing table, she looked into the glass and saw a barely recognizable face. What a vulgar expression she had. What dull eyes.

She knew she hadn’t much of a brain. Over the years that had been obvious in her inability to understand so much of what her clever husband said.

She had thought she understood more important things, like the ways of society and getting husbands for her daughters, but apparently she didn’t understand those things either.

Goodness knows how she had managed to have three sensible daughters. She couldn’t possibly take credit for that. She hadn’t even appreciated it.

What did they think of their mother? How often had they been embarrassed by her?

And Mr. Bennet too. It was no wonder that he was sarcastic.

She had driven him to it. The only wonder was that Jane was so good and kind, and Lizzy so witty, and Mary so bookish.

That could only be to their father’s credit, for she had never given them any good example to follow.

She was a foolish old lady with no better idea of how to behave than the silly girl she had been. An inept mother who had put her daughters at a disadvantage by giving them terrible advice, and drove them mad by suggesting suitors they didn’t want. A dim-witted wife who bored her husband.

She was a failure.

After putting out her candle, she tossed and turned. And flapped and fretted. And finally got out of bed to lean out the window. As she stared into the darkness, Mrs. Bennet was struck by an inspiration. Maybe she could do better.

It was rather late to be changing at her time of life, but surely some improvement could be made.

She couldn’t choose to be any brighter, but she could try not to say stupid things.

Make an effort at being more ladylike. Elegance might be beyond her, but perhaps she could manage to not be vulgar.

And she should stop planning matches for her daughters.