Page 63 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

The Longbourn carriage came to a halt, and Jane and Elizabeth were handed out by Coachman Jack. Elizabeth looked curiously at the solid brick cottage, which, while only about half a mile from Netherfield, was hidden by a copse of trees from the mansion itself.

“Thank you, Jack,” Jane said. “I believe Mr. Bingley has arranged for us to return to Longbourn when we are done, so you may return home.”

“Yes, Miss Bennet.”

The two Bennet girls climbed the stone stairs to the main door, whereupon the door opened to reveal the smiling face of Anne de Bourgh.

“Come in, come in!” she declared hospitably. The guests followed her directly into the main room of the cabin, a large and dusty one, with simple plaster walls and a wooden floor. It was entirely empty save for themselves, Anne, Miss Colby, and a peculiar white object, roughly the size and shape of a man, which was hanging from the ceiling from ropes.

“Welcome to the training room!” Anne de Bourgh said, “and thank you for coming early; it seemed best given that Miss Colby and I have other goals for later in the day.”

“We do not mind coming early,” Jane assured her. “But please, what is this place?”

“It was formerly a gamekeeper’s lodge,” Anne explained, “but it has been unoccupied for nearly a decade after the former keeper died. We had the servants move all the remaining furniture into the back rooms so this room would be empty for our work.”

“What is that?” Elizabeth asked curiously, pointing at the odd man-shaped object.

“It is a scarecrow,” Anne said fondly, “which one of Mr. Bingley’s servants made up for us. He grew up on a farm and is adept at scaring birds away from the grain. We are not concerned about birds, of course, but men. In particular, we will be studying today how to best incapacitate a man using this manikin.”

“Incapacitate?” Jane repeated feebly, glancing nervously at her sister.

“Indeed,” Miss Colby replied with amusement. “We deliberately chose to do our training today without any of the gentlemen present, because they would likely find it embarrassing.”

“You may as well,” Anne added firmly, “but it matters not. Blush if you like, that is to be expected, but pay attention. If a man attacks you, there are certain places where a kick or a strike is most effective, and today, Miss Colby will teach you how and where to attack to best protect yourself.”

Elizabeth did feel her face flush at these words, but she took an eager step forward. She was the lightest and smallest of the Bennet ladies, and she wanted to know how to save herself in the event of catastrophe.

***

Mrs. Younge looked up from her baking with irritation. Her boarding house was hardly in the best part of London, but it was only ten o’clock in the morning! No one should be completely inebriated at this hour.

“Where’s all the joy and mirth that made this town a heaven on earth ,” came the not very lilting notes from the street outside. “ Oh! They’re all fled with thee, Robin Adair.”

Mrs. Younge shuddered in horror. She was an excellent singer and musician – indeed, one of the reasons she had been hired as Miss Darcy’s companion was that she and her charge had made beautiful music together. The woman outside had a horrid voice and was butchering the sprightly melody, ‘Robin Adair’.

“ What made the assembly shine? Robin Adair..., ” the feminine voice wailed, now sounding much louder.

Mrs. Younge looked up in surprise; the singer was now within her house! Did she not have enough work to do today without having to deal with a drunkard? With a huff of outrage, Mrs. Younge wiped down her hands and scurried into the entry hall. The interloper was a woman of some fifty-odd years, dressed in a wrinkled blue cotton dress, herhair stuffed under a mob cap though a few greasy strands had escaped, her clothing rank with the noxious fumes of cheap ale.

“Get out of here!” Mrs. Younge insisted. “This is a respectable boarding house! Get out!”

“Where is ... where is my Phoebe?” the woman slurred, her eyes unfocused. “I need more gin!”

Mrs. Younge strode forward, grabbed the woman by the arm, and pushed her toward the door. “There is no Phoebe here. Get out!”

“Stop!” the woman yelped, and began sobbing even as she struggled to break free from Mrs. Younge’s harsh grip. “Phoebe! Phoebe! I need … I need…”

At this juncture, the door flew open and a well-built man of some thirty years of age, dressed in a soiled set of dark clothing, his face covered in a flowing blond mustache and beard, dashed into the house. “Mama! What are you doing here?”

“William! William! I need my ale.”

“I am so sorry, Mrs…”

“Younge,” the woman snapped angrily. “Is this your mother?”

“Yes, I do apologize…”

Mrs. Younge waved a furious arm at the stairwell, which was filled with gaping boarders. “You must get her out of here! This is a respectable boarding house and you are disturbing my tenants!”

“Yes, of course. Mama, Mama, come, let us go home, and I will get you some gin.”

“No! No! I will not leave! I will not!” the woman howled, struggling in her son’s arms. “Where is my Phoebe? You will lock me in my room, I know it! Where is my daughter? Where is my precious Phoebe?”

The man groaned aloud and shot a helpless look at Mrs. Younge. “Excuse me, but could my mother rest in a parlor, perhaps, while I try to calm her down? I fear it will be difficult to get her home.”

“That is hardly my problem! Get her out.”

“I can pay you!” the man exclaimed, pulling a handful of coins out of his pocket. “Please, have pity on us. My sister Phoebe, well…”

“She is dead!” the woman screamed. “My poor, precious Phoebe!”

Mrs. Younge did not have an iota of compassion in her cold heart, but money was always tight, and she was not fool enough to pass up a chance to make some easy coin.

“Of course,” she declared with an attempt at a welcoming smile. “Come along, Madame, into the parlor, and I will give you some gin…”

On the second floor, Mrs. Jenkinson, her ears attuned to the ruckus below, continued searching her landlady’s bedroom for Georgiana’s missing letters. She knew Lady Catherine’s acting skills were remarkable and was confident of at least another ten minutes of freedom to search the room. Unfortunately, she had already checked the most likely places and found nothing. Perhaps the blackmail material was concealed under the floor boards?

***

“That was enormous fun!” Colonel Fitzwilliam commented as he tugged carefully at his false facial hair. “If this is normal activity for members of the League of the Golden Daffodil, I wish to be more involved.”

Lady Catherine chuckled as she pulled off her mob cap and ran her hands through her hair. She quickly twisted it up into a bun and efficiently pushed in a few handy hairpins, which had been residing in a pocket. “I wish I could spend my days acting in such fashion, but no, dear Richard, most of my work for the League involves correspondence, managing monetary resources, and providing support for ruined and endangered women. Still, I do get out in the field occasionally, like today, which is a great pleasure.”

“You are a very accomplished actress, Aunt.”

“You did very well yourself, Nephew,” Catherine de Bourgh responded with an impish grin, and then her face grew solemn. “I fear that Mrs. Jenkinson did not find Georgiana’s letters, as she intended to wander casually into the parlor and surreptitiously pass them to me if she did.”

The colonel frowned and asked, “What will we do if she failed?”

“We try again, dear nephew. We are not beaten!”

***

Mr. Bennet sat silently in his library, his eyes fixed absently on the shelves, which stretched from floor to ceiling, all filled with gleaming books. This room was his favorite room, and he loved the books more than anything else save his own family. Actually, in truth, based on his behavior, a sensible individual would guess he loved his books more than his family.

His was not a sensitive nature, and Bennet had ignored his wife’s nerves and complaints for decades with indifference, but the forthright words of his eldest had been like a sword to the heart. To think that Jane - sweet, gentle Jane - thought so poorly of him...

Mr. Bennet was not certain what he could do at this juncture. To save money to maintain his family after his death was possible, but difficult, given that his wife was extravagant. Indeed, he had worked quite hard to keep the family out of debt!

As for his wife and younger daughters, it would be arduous to make changes. Bennet despised excess noise and fusses, and thus had arranged his life to be as comfortable as possible for himself, even if such actions resulted in Lydia and Kitty running amok. Lydia, at least, was exceptionally strong willed. Did Bennet have the determination to make her mind, especially when Mrs. Bennet would whine and scream at any attempt to restrain the antics of her youngest and favorite daughter?

Of course, he had been actually present when Mrs. Bennet had threatened Lydia over the matter of Mr. Darcy’s courtship of Elizabeth, and Lydia had responded well...

Perhaps there was some hope for his three younger daughters, and even if he was only able to reach two of them, or even one, that was preferable to the current sad state of affairs, was it not?

There was a knock at the door and Longbourn’s master called out, “Come in!”

The door opened to reveal Kitty, who peered in nervously. “Father, you called for me?”

Mr. Bennet removed his spectacles and nodded, then remembered to smile. Kitty was the most timid of his daughters, and he rarely bothered to pay attention to her except to tease her for her foolishness and coughing.

“Yes, Kitty, please do sit down.”

Catherine Bennet obediently lowered herself cautiously onto the chair and coughed a couple of times. “Did I do something wrong, Father?”

“No, no, my dear, not at all,” the man assured her. “No, I was merely surprised at your analysis of Mr. Wickham’s three thousand pounds and the number of years involved in reaping that amount in tithes. I was not aware that you enjoy ciphering.”

Kitty’s usually pale face flushed a little, transforming her from pretty to actually beautiful. “I do indeed find mathematics most interesting, Papa! Is it not fascinating how numbers behave, how they are so … so logical? I find people confusing at times, but figures make sense to me. I know it is not a ladylike interest, but I hope there is no harm in it?”

This was said with obvious anxiety and Mr. Bennet made haste to reassure her. “No, no, my dear! Not only is there no harm in it, understanding numbers is a most valuable skill. When you marry, it will be a great benefit to your husband to have a wife who understands money and figuring. Indeed, I have a few mathematics books on my shelves and if you are interested, I would be delighted to share them with you.”

Kitty’s eyes lit up like stars. “Oh yes, Papa, I would love that!”

“I would also welcome some assistance with the accounts, if you are interested, my dear girl. I am reasonably adept at figuring, but I could always use another set of eyes.”

“I would be honored, Father.”