Page 3 of Mission to Meryton (Pride and Prejudice Variation #25)
Elizabeth Bennet heaved a dramatic sigh of exasperation. “Mostly all was well, but I was quite insulted by Mr. Bingley’s friend, Mr. Darcy. I fear you will have to call him out to defend my fair name, Father.”
Mr. Bennet regarded his second daughter affectionately, “Did he? What exactly did he do, my dear?”
“He informed Mr. Bingley that while Jane is truly lovely, I am not, and am therefore not ‘handsome enough to dance with’. That is surely worthy of a duel at fifty paces, is it not?”
Now her father was frowning, “Did he truly say such a thing?”
There was a chorus of outraged voices agreeing with Elizabeth’s declaration, and Mrs. Bennet’s strident voice rose above her daughters’ disapprobation.
“Mr. Darcy is a most unpleasant gentleman, Mr. Bennet. The word is that he has a large estate in Derbyshire and a clear ten thousand pounds a year in income; apparently, that means he is free to insult our Lizzy. He danced only with Mr. Bingley’s two sisters and spent half the assembly standing against a wall, glaring at people with his nose held high.
Then he hid away in the card room for the rest of the evening.
It is quite extraordinary that Mr. Bingley could have such a fractious and rude friend. ”
“If Darcy is indeed master of a large estate, he is far higher socially than Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth remarked. “I daresay that Mr. Bingley finds him a most valuable friend.”
“Mama, did you see the lace on the dresses of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley?” Lydia exclaimed eagerly. “It was so beautiful. Do you not think that we could send to London for something just like it? Perhaps our Uncle Gardiner knows where to purchase such delectable items!”
Mrs. Bennet frowned, “Lydia, we have discussed this before. I will gladly purchase fabric and lace and shoe roses from the shops in Meryton, but we will not send to London for more expensive items. The last thing we want is for our new neighbors to begin questioning our income sources. It is quite obvious that Longbourn, while a fine estate, is not capable of dressing our family to the level of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley.”
“I think it is quite stupid,” Lydia pouted. “Why does it matter if one earns money through trade? Uncle Gardiner does, and Uncle Philips is a solicitor!”
“It should not matter,” Elizabeth agreed gently, “but regrettably it does. Come, Lydia, you do wish to have a London Season, do you not? We will have far more difficulty garnering invitations if it is known that the Bennets are earning money directly through commerce.”
Lydia bit her lip and nodded, “Very well, I think it is idiotic, but yes, I do wish for a successful Season.”
“And you will have one, my dear,” Mrs. Bennet assured her, “and with your beauty and charm and dowry, I have no doubt that you will capture at least a baron or perhaps even a viscount!”
/
The two eldest Miss Bennets had helped each other out of their finery and into their nightgowns, leaving the three ladies’ maids for the rest of the women in the family, and now were wrapped up in blankets on Jane’s large bed, with only the light of a few candles to illuminate the room.
It was late and the house was asleep, but Elizabeth could not rest easily until she talked to her dear Jane.
“What did you think of Mr. Bingley?” Elizabeth asked softly.
Jane let out a slow breath and then smiled a little, “I liked him. He seems very pleasant.”
“Just pleasant?”
Her elder sister compressed perfectly formed lips, “My dear sister, I only spoke to him for an hour. He is a charming conversationalist and seems gregarious and friendly, unlike his friend, Mr. Darcy, but I know nothing more.”
“That is reasonable enough,” her sister replied, struggling to suppress her disappointment.
Silence fell for a full five minutes before Jane broke it, “He is, at least, very different from Mr. Brisbane.”
“And that is a good thing,” Elizabeth declared, “a very good thing indeed.”
/
“Jane and Elizabeth, you must visit Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley at Netherfield this morning,” Mrs. Bennet ordered as the Bennet ladies finished breaking their fast. “They are new to the neighborhood and would no doubt appreciate spending time with the Miss Bennets.”
“I wish to go as well,” Lydia announced, and Elizabeth grimaced slightly. Lydia was but fifteen years of age, and thanks to the indolence of her father and the uncertain conduct of her mother, was often overly boisterous in company.
“No, Lydia,” her mother stated decidedly, “you must work with the tulips today. You are terribly behind Kitty in your lessons and that is my fault; I have neglected you in favor of teaching your sisters.”
“I do not wish to learn! Gardening is boring, Mama, and I despise getting my hands dirty!”
Mrs. Bennet sucked in an outraged breath and glared at her youngest so fiercely that Lydia quailed, “I just mean ... Mama, is it not enough that Jane, Elizabeth, Mary and Kitty have all learned how to grow tulips? Why must I as well?”
“It is your heritage,” her mother informed her indignantly. “Ever since my great-great-grandfather married a woman of the Netherlands, the women of my family have learned and passed on the secrets of the Florists’ tulips, and you will all learn.”
“I do not wish to,” Lydia muttered sullenly.
Her older sisters braced themselves for an explosion, but Mrs. Bennet merely tightened her lips, leaned back in her chair, and took a sip of tea, “Very well, you may leave off all your tulip lessons from this day forward.”
Lydia looked astonished before shooting a triumphant glance at Kitty, “Good!”
“But you will have no London Season, nor will you have any extra funds for gowns and fripperies beyond your normal clothing allowance, and your dowry will be but one thousand pounds.”
“But ... but Mama!”
“No, Lydia,” her mother retorted fiercely.
“Longbourn provides for all our needs and many of our wants, but it is the tulips which are augmenting your dowries and providing the funds for extravagances like the second carriage and horses, and the additional servants. If you will not learn about the tulips, you will not reap their benefits.”
“Very well, I will learn,” Lydia responded. She was, if nothing else, a practical girl.
“Good. Mary, begin instructing Lydia today about the breeder bulbs.”
“Why Mary?” Lydia whined.
“Because Mary has the Gift,” Jane declared, gazing affectionately at her middle sister.
Mary flushed a little. “You and Elizabeth are also quite skilled, and Kitty is coming along.”
“Indeed, they are,” her mother agreed, “but it is true that you inherited my ability to sense how to breed the flowers and make them break. Those scarlet and white flowers from last year fetched an incredible price and they were your inspiration, my dear.”
Mary’s face brightened, “I have been considering, Mama, whether we might use those pink and orange flowers as breeders ...”