Page 14 of Companions of Their Youth (Pride and Prejudice “What if?” Variations #9)

T he sun cast a golden hue over the ripening wheat fields as Elizabeth strolled along the familiar path leading to Oakham Mount.

The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds provided a serene backdrop to her thoughts.

She had always found solace in these walks, a momentary escape from the confines of Longbourn.

As she began her ascent, the expansive view of the countryside slowly unfolded before her, a patchwork of greens and golds stretching towards the horizon. The tranquility was soon interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching.

"I thought I might find you here," Mark's voice called out, a warm smile on his face.

Elizabeth turned, her face lighting up at the sight of her brother. "Mark!" she exclaimed, embracing him. "I did not expect you back so soon. I thought you were going to visit a friend after your term ended in July and remain there until you went back to school.”

“Plans changed,” he said with a shrug. “I knew someone else who was traveling this way after Michaelmas, and they graciously offered me a ride in their carriage. I thought it would be a nice surprise.”

“It is a most welcome one,” Elizabeth said. “I was sad to not see you during your summer vacation. Are you staying until next year’s term? When does it begin?

“October tenth. And yes, I am; I wish to help Father with the fall harvest.”

“Well, you sound like quite the gentleman! ‘Father’ indeed. He will never stop being ‘Papa’ to me.”

Mark grinned but did not respond. They walked in silence for a few minutes, their steps falling into rhythm.

“I missed this,” Mark said at last. “The quiet. The green. Everything smells clean.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Is Cambridge so bad, then? Wishing you had remained here after breaking the entail, instead of begging Mama to let you finally leave home?”

“No, not bad. Just—crowded. Noisy. Full of men who think they’re smarter than they are.” He laughed. “Though some of them are very clever. A few of them even bathe.”

Elizabeth chuckled. “And what do you actually do all day? Besides proving your superior hygiene?”

Mark snorted. “Well, if you must know, I rise earlier than I would like. I attend lectures—mostly Latin, mathematics, and logic. Sometimes moral philosophy. The dining hall is a great cavern of noise, and the port is better than I expected. I have a tutor for classics who thinks Cicero is a personal friend, and a mathematics supervisor who speaks in riddles.”

She laughed. “And here I thought university was all salons and strolls and sonnets.”

“Only if you are reading English literature, which is not considered a proper subject.”

“And you are reading…”

“Mathematics and classics. The Tripos is everything. If I pass well, it will open doors—clerical livings, even politics.”

Elizabeth glanced sideways at him in surprise. “Do you want to take orders or go into government? What about Longbourn?”

He laughed. “No, I shall leave the church to our cousin William. And as for the other—well, being the master of an estate, supervising tenants and dealing with neighbors is a lot like being a politician.”

“That is very true,” she concurred with a giggle.

“And what has it been like here, with William back?” he asked, pulling a blade of grass and twirling it between his fingers.

Elizabeth sighed. “Bearable. He dines with us most evenings, when there is no society event. But I am grateful he lives near the rectory instead of here. He can still be pompous—quoting sermons before he has written them.”

Mark barked a laugh. “That sounds right.”

“Mr. Sanderson has been patient. I think he is trying to smooth William’s rougher edges.” She smirked. “I believe it is the most difficult job in Hertfordshire.”

“At least he is devout,” Mark said seriously.

“More than half the students at school are preparing to take orders, but not because they are called. It is mostly second sons who are too soft for the army and too dim for the law. But they behave just as men of society do with their vices, and some of them can barely recite the Lord’s Prayer without tripping over themselves. ”

“That is appalling.”

“It is the truth.”

"It seems our father's decision to educate you at home before university was wise."

"Indeed. I am grateful for the foundation it provided."

They reached the crest of the hill. Wind stirred Elizabeth’s skirts and flattened the grass in waves.

After admiring the view that stretched out past Netherfield Park for some time, Elizabeth turned her brother and tilted her head.

“It truly is good to have you home. Longbourn is never quite the same when you are away.”

Mark looked down at his hands. “I miss it. More than I expected. More than I let on.”

Elizabeth reached for a light tone. “Well, you always were a bit sensitive. Now, if Cambridge would allow me to attend…”

“Please. You would not last a week there.” Mark guffawed.

“I could manage lectures.”

“You would slap half the fellows before term ended.”

“Only half?”

They both laughed, and Mark put his arm around her as they began their descent.

Before they made it very far, however, the sound whoops and hollers caught their attention.

Elizabeth looked down into the valley as two riders tore across the far field between Longbourn and Netherfield, kicking up dirt and shouting challenges at one another.

Elizabeth shaded her eyes. “Who on earth—?”

Mark grinned. “I might know them.”

“ You know who they are? Tell me!”

He smirked. “No.”

“Mark!”

“You will find out soon enough. It will be more fun that way.”

“Infuriating creature,” she muttered, and gave him a shove with her elbow. He stumbled dramatically, clutching his chest.

“I am wounded. Cruelly betrayed by my twin.”

“You are insufferable.”

He gave his most charming grin. “But you love me anyway.”

Their teasing continued while they made their way back to Longbourn. As they approached the side entrance to the house, Mark and Elizabeth were met not by the quiet calm of homecoming, but by the shriek of the drawing room door flying open and two high-pitched voices tumbling into the hall.

“Mark! Lizzy! You will never guess—”

“No, I am going to tell them—Kitty always talks too slow—”

“Because you always interrupt me, and no one can make sense of it when you say it—”

Lydia and Kitty came rushing into the passage from the drawing room, their cheeks pink and eyes shining with excitement.

Kitty’s fine hair was pinned back with care, though wisps had come loose in the chaos.

She coughed into her handkerchief once or twice, a dainty habit that had become somewhat frequent of late.

Lydia, on the other hand, had no such concern for decorum—her dark braids bobbed wildly with her steps, and her dress, a touch too short for her figure, revealed a length of ankle that would have caused the Meryton matrons to whisper had the girl been out in society instead of still in the schoolroom with a governess.

Of course, there was no such governess; at least, not any longer.

Once Mark went to school at age eighteen, the governess left Longbourn, going on to another family in the kingdom with a glowing reference.

This left Lydia and Kitty to the attentions of their two older sisters, who had joined Mark in his lessons.

Elizabeth blinked in astonishment at the contrast between the youngest two Bennet daughters, as she always did when she saw them together.

They could not have been more opposite—Kitty, though older, was trim and narrow of frame, soft-spoken when allowed to be, while Lydia had grown into a womanly figure, all energy and opinion.

Elizabeth sometimes found herself wondering which features were from their fathers’ lines and which their mother’s.

“Girls—” Elizabeth attempted to

“It’s no use, Lizzy; they are both quite mad,” Mark said with a grin.

Kitty opened her mouth to speak again, but Lydia cut in with a shout. “It has been let ! Netherfield is let at last!”

“Mrs. Bennet’s voice floated in from the drawing room in a tone of weary command. “Girls, remember my nerves. This much chaos will overset them entirely.”

Lydia and Kitty froze, then turned and went back in with their mother.

Mark and Elizabeth exchanged an amused glance and stepped fully into the room.

Mrs. Bennet was seated in her usual armchair by the hearth, her embroidery discarded in her lap, her hands over her ears.

Her expression was pinched, but not deeply distressed—an experienced general overseeing an unruly army rather than a woman in the throes of collapse. Jane sat at her side, bemused.

“Now, Kitty,” Mrs. Bennet said, lowering her arms before folding them again. “You were speaking first. Lydia, you must wait your turn and share anything your sister may forget.”

Kitty drew herself up, eager for the chance to speak. “We were calling on Aunt Philips, and Mr. Philips came home from his chambers while we were there. He said that Netherfield has been let—at last!”

Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands together, visibly restraining a squeal. “Is it true? Oh, my dears—Netherfield! Who has taken it?”

Elizabeth smiled faintly. She knew this would be the talk of the house for days to come.

Kitty continued, though another small cough interrupted her speech. “A Mr. Bingley, recently from the north. He is very young—not yet thirty—and very wealthy. Mr. Philips was one of the attorneys who drew up the lease, so he knows all the details.”

Lydia, bouncing on her heels, could bear it no longer. “And he is single, Mama! Handsome, rich, and unmarried!”

“And what else does one require?” Elizabeth murmured, causing Mark to smirk and Jane to give her a reproving glance.

Mrs. Bennet’s eyes shone with excitement, her face alight in a way that was nearly childlike. “Well, this is the best news I have had since—oh, since Kitty cut off her fever last spring! My dear girls, this is splendid indeed.”