Page 9 of Longbourn’s Son (Pride and Prejudice Variation #22)
Dinner at Longbourn was usually a noisy affair as the Bennet girls and their brother were eager conversationalists. Tonight, they spoke even more enthusiastically than usual, as there were several topics of interest to all.
“Poor Mrs. Hurst lost her husband in a carriage accident only seven months ago,” Mary explained as she served herself a large spoonful of potatoes. “She was with child at the time and terrified she would lose the babe, but little Christopher was born healthy.”
“What a blessing!” Jane declared, smiling up at the maid who was placing a platter of ham on the table. “Thank you, Sally.”
The girl bobbed her head and departed the dining room, leaving the Bennets to chatter in peace.
“I hope that Mrs. Hurst has some money to support herself,” Elizabeth mused aloud, “though perhaps given that she is living with her brother, she does not.”
“Well, as to that, little Christopher is heir to the Hurst estate,” Mary explained, taking a bite of bread and washing it down with a sip of dinner wine. “His grandfather, who is the current owner, surely must provide Mrs. Hurst an allowance for the care of his grandson and heir?”
“If there is an allowance to be had,” Mr. Bennet said cynically. “There are estates which are terribly burdened with debt, after all.”
“At least Mr. Bingley seems a generous man,” Jane asserted, “and Mrs. Hurst and her son will not starve.”
“There is no reason to think that the Hurst estate is financially depleted,” Mary pointed out.
“It may be that Mrs. Hurst preferred to live with her brother and sister after losing her husband. Mr. Bingley is a charming brother and uncle, and it might be awkward for Mrs. Hurst to live in the same place as her husband’s parents. ”
“That is true enough,” Elizabeth agreed, “though Miss Bingley does not seem enamored with the little boy; she was quite indignant that Mrs. Hurst refused to send the baby off to his nurse when we arrived.”
“Mrs. Hurst was not at all intimidated by her sister’s words, though,” Mary contended. “Perhaps Miss Bingley has been irritable for years, and her peevishness is a matter of indifference to her family.”
Lydia, who had been silent for a few minutes, said with a perturbed expression, “I do not understand how there could not be money for Mrs. Hurst for her to take care of her baby. If her husband was heir to the estate, and her son is now, well, must it not produce income? How could there fail to be funds for the child and his mother?”
Elizabeth bent a compassionate gaze on her youngest sister.
“I suspect that if nothing else, Mrs. Hurst has a jointure since the Bingley family is a wealthy one. She must have had a considerable dowry at the time of her marriage. In addition, the Hurst estate no doubt produces income, but some gentlemen spend far more than they earn from the land. Once they are in debt, it is difficult for them to climb out since they not only owe the principal, but the interest as well. It can be done, but they must change their habits of expense which, regrettably, is difficult for many gentle families.”
Lydia looked even more worried now. “Is Longbourn...?”
“Longbourn is entirely solvent, Lydia,” Mr. Bennet declared, generously opting to be reassuring instead of sardonic. “Indeed, thanks to your brother’s hard work, the income from the estate has risen in the last two years.”
Luke looked both startled and pleased at this praise from his usually saturnine father, and the youth responded with his own reassurance.
“Lydia, we are doing very well indeed since Father has kept Longbourn out of debt his entire lifetime, and his father did the same. Indeed, now that our income is growing, we are adding to your dowries, and by the time we resettle the estate when I come of age, you should have at least three thousand pounds each.”
Lydia relaxed back into her chair and smiled. “I am glad, though I hope that you will not put all our savings into dowries. I will be coming out in a year or two, after all, and must have dresses for that occasion.”
“You shall have them,” Luke assured her. He did not understand his sisters’ delight in dresses and lace, but his twin had made it clear that such things were important to a young lady. He would not deny his youngest sister the pleasure of beautiful clothing when she was launched into society.
/
“I wonder if we might have the Bennets over for dinner,” Mrs. Hurst suggested during a lull in the after-dinner conversation.
Bingley and Darcy looked up from their game of piquet, and Bingley spoke swiftly and enthusiastically, “I believe that is a delightful idea, is it not, Darcy?”
His friend cast a quick glance at Georgiana, who had been studying a musical score but was now beaming hopefully at Mr. Bingley.
“Oh Charles, really,” Caroline began indignantly, only to be firmly interrupted by her brother.
“That would be delightful,” Charles Bingley declared, “do you not think so, Darcy?”
Darcy hesitated too long, which allowed Miss Bingley to insist, “If you do have the Bennets for dinner, the locals who pass for gentry will think you are dangling after Miss Bennet, Charles. You know how quickly rumors arise in these rural societies.”
“That is true enough,” Darcy admitted, looking at Georgiana with an apologetic grimace.
He had spent so many years avoiding avaricious females that he was probably overly guarded about such matters, but it was true that Jane Bennet was the local beauty and Charles was a wealthy man with a penchant for overt friendliness.
“If that is your concern,” Louisa Hurst commented, “there is a simple solution. Let us invite the Lucases as well.”
Caroline opened her mouth in outrage, but this time Bingley spoke first. “An excellent plan, Louisa!”
/
“I do not know, Denny,” George Wickham declared moodily. “I confess that I find it an unappealing prospect to bury myself in the countryside.”
Denny threw down the last of his beer and gestured to the waitress, adding a charming smile in the hopes of getting her attention quickly; the Crowing Cockerel was exceptionally busy.
Denny neither knew nor cared whether it was the smile or the red coat which drew the weary girl’s attention, but the waitress was at his side in a moment, and gliding off to collect two more tankards of beer a few seconds later.
Wickham regarded the transaction with open interest. “Is it always like that, my friend?” he inquired. “Are women eager to serve a man in a red coat?”
“Indeed,” Denny said with a smirk. “Seriously, Wickham, you could do far worse than to join the militia as a lieutenant. The society in Meryton is certainly restricted, but we are welcomed most eagerly and many of the young ladies are handsome.”
“Are any of them also well dowered?” Wickham inquired cynically.
“Not that I am aware of, but we have only been there a few weeks. Come, Wickham, what have you to lose? Colonel Forster is in need of more officers, and if you take a position in the militia, you can enjoy the pleasure of parties and the associated charming company six days out of seven. The duties are very light. Of course I shall not press you; perhaps you have other plans here in London.”
Wickham glanced up as the waitress deposited two more glasses of beer. He bestowed an admiring look on the girl’s buxom form before saying, “I believe I would benefit from some time out of town. There are pleasures in the gaiety of London, but the air is far sweeter in the country.”
In truth, Wickham needed to depart quickly to escape his creditors, who were growing more threatening by the day.
A position in the militia would not pay well enough to support his habits, but as a military man, he would doubtless be able to purchase items at local stores and put them on account.
It was also unlikely that those to whom he owed money would bother to track him down once he had fled the area.
“Yes, Denny, I will join the militia if your colonel will have me.”
/
Luke sighed with pleasure as he stepped into Mr. Milton’s warm stables on the east end of Meryton.
The October wind was chilly today, and he had left Longbourn slightly under-clad.
In addition, he adored the smells and sounds of the Milton stables – the scent of horses and hay, the nickers and chewing of the fine beasts who lay within – all were a delight to the young man’s ears.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Bennet,” Mr. Milton welcomed him, stepping out from one of the stalls. “How are you this day?”
Milton, the local farrier, was a tall, broad chested man of magnificent height. These attributes, combined with his shock of red hair, made him a well known figure around Meryton.
“I am very well, sir,” Luke responded courteously.
As a gentleman heir to an estate, he was far higher socially than the man before him, but Milton was a remarkable individual.
He had started life as the second son of a tenant farmer and had been apprenticed to a blacksmith at a young age.
He had worked hard and diligently, and took over his master’s foundry when the older man wished to retire.
In his twenties, Milton succeeded in wooing and wedding the only daughter of a local solicitor, and had used his new wife’s dowry to build stables adjacent to the foundry.
Now Milton was not just a blacksmith, but rented out horses and carriages for those willing to pay. Luke admired him tremendously.
“How is Marmalade?” the farrier inquired. “Is that left hind shoe I put on last week holding?”
“Yes, so far,” Luke assured the man. “I am keeping a careful eye on it, though. He does have a strong predilection for ridding himself of that particular shoe.”
The older man chuckled and ran an affectionate hand down the flank of a bay mare standing in the next stall. “There is many a horse with a tendency to overreach, Mister Bennet. Your Marmalade is hardly the worst I have seen. Now, do you need me to visit Longbourn for another reason?”
Luke bit his lip, feeling unusually uncomfortable, and said quickly, “No, sir, I confess that I stopped by in the hopes of seeing the militia’s horses, which I heard were being stabled here. If I promise not to touch them, might have I have a look at them?”
Milton clapped the youth heartily on the shoulder and gestured toward the other end of the stable. “Of course! In fact – Will! Come over here, Will!”
There was a rustling sound and a moment later, a slight young man slipped out of a loose box and into sight.
He looked to be slightly under twenty years of age and was dark haired, short, and thin.
His clothing was homespun and quite soiled, and he smelled strongly of horse.
Since Luke considered the smell of horses one of the great wonders of the world, he did not mind in the least.
“Will entered my service only two days ago as a stable boy, and he will be helping to care for the militia’s horses,” Milton explained with a careless gesture toward the lad.
“He previously worked as an ostler in a posting house in Surrey. Mister Bennet is heir to Longbourn, one of the local estates, Will.”
“Good day, sir,” the stable boy responded with a respectful pull of his forelock.
“Good afternoon,” Luke responded with a surge of envy which was, he knew, completely absurd.
He was heir to a wealthy estate, and Will was forced to toil long hours for little pay.
But to spend one’s entire day with horses was a dream come true.
There were days when Luke could hardly wait for his majority; he fully intended to force his father to buy him a thoroughbred or he would refuse to resettle the estate as the elder Bennet wished.
“Colonel Forster and two of the captains have very fine horses, Mister Bennet. Will, show him.”
“Yes, sir,” Will responded meekly, and started toward the back of the stable. Luke followed, his eyes flitting back and forth between the horses belonging to Milton. He smiled fondly at the sight of a sorrel mare in a loose box with a foal nursing from her teat.
“This is Colonel Forster’s thoroughbred stallion, sir,” Will said, gesturing toward the last stall on the right side, and Luke sucked in an adoring breath.
The animal was, he thought, some sixteen hands in height, with a gray coat and the long neck and high withers of his kind.
He was a spirited beast, without a doubt, shifting about in his box, his dark eyes darting about curiously.
“He is beautiful,” Luke said reverently.
“He is at that, sir,” Will agreed, slipping the stable door open and moving carefully to the gray’s head; the stallion dipped his long nose toward the boy and nuzzled him gently. “He is also a pleasant beast, thankfully. I have met far more irritable stallions.”
Luke moved forward and hesitantly reached out a hand toward the gray, who tossed his head and then leaned forward to brush his lips against Luke’s hand.
“Is he not a fine beast, sir?” Will inquired admiringly.
Luke stared into the horse’s large brown eyes and said in awe, “He is absolutely marvelous.”