Page 10 of Moments Frozen in Time (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

ELIZABETH

T he next few weeks flew by quickly. We heard more gossip from the village about the militia that was expected to arrive soon.

My sisters discussed this nearly as frequently as we discussed our books, and I made a quick trip to the lending library to obtain a new novel—one featuring a female character who was duped by a soldier—which I hoped would warn my youngest sisters that, just because a man was handsome, it did not mean he was trustworthy.

In our conversations about books, I hoped I was expressing some of the lessons Grandmama Bennet had taught me in those last days of her life.

It was strange; the more I attempted to speak of these lessons with my sisters, the more I recalled.

At times, it felt as if she were there with me, encouraging me and recalling to my mind the most applicable lessons.

“What do you mean, a militia officer cannot afford a wife, Mary?” Lydia protested loudly a few nights after the assembly.

“Merely what I said, Lyddie,” Mary replied quietly.

“It is my understanding that most of the officers make less than two hundred pounds per annum and many less than that. Some may receive allowances from their families, but that is why the officers will be quartered in town, and the soldiers will be encamped in the fields. Most cannot afford their own houses, and some even clean their own uniforms to save coins. The rector’s wife introduced me to the wife of one of the officers yesterday.

She had gone to Mrs. Allen to ask where she could cheaply obtain a dress length or two, or else a dress she could remake.

She had lost some of her things during her travels and needed to replace them.

This lady had a little of her own money, and Mrs. Allen seemed to imply that she was rather well off, compared to many of the other women who follow the drum with their soldier husbands. ”

Lydia appeared to think about this for several moments.

“Mama’s allowance from Papa is two hundred pounds per year, and I receive five pounds monthly.

But she does not use those funds to purchase dresses for us, does she?

Papa gives her another specific allowance for clothing for us when we need new things,” Lydia said finally.

“Something like that,” I replied. “I do not know the exact amount, but part of Mama’s pin money comes from her jointure.

He could have invested that amount to provide more for her when he eventually passed away, but he did not.

Also, Lydia, the amount she gets is, in part, dictated by their marriage contract, which also protects her dowry so he cannot spend it.

It is one of the reasons why, when we read of elopement, it is so scandalous.

A woman who marries without a marriage settlement may not be protected once her husband dies, and, if she has any sort of money herself, her husband will have control over it.

Basically, a woman is considered property under English law, first of her father and then of her husband.

Either can treat her however he wishes, even beat her, although the law does prevent him from killing her. ”

All four of my sisters gasped at my comment. “What do you mean, Lizzy?” Mary asked.

“Precisely what I said,” I replied. “I read a book about this some time ago, and when I went to Papa to complain, he explained to me what I just said to you. So long as a man does not kill his wife, he is legally permitted to beat her. Everything she has belongs to him upon their marriage, and, unless there is a marriage contract in place, her husband can dispose of her possessions as he will. Even then, she cannot sign any legal documents on her own, nor can she make decisions regarding her own property without his allowing her to do so.”

All four of my sisters looked thoughtful after this pronouncement.

I had been shocked when Papa told me and then grew angry, but he told me there was little I could do about it.

At the moment, it was up to Parliament to make the laws and decisions that might change this, and they were all men and had little reason to do so.

“Whenever we mention the officers coming, Mama speaks about being in love with an officer when she was a girl, but she chose to marry Papa instead,” Lydia finally said.

I nodded, uncertain how to respond at first. After a moment’s thought, I answered as honestly as I could.

“I cannot say for certain, but I think it is easy to believe you are in love with someone who flirts with you and happens to be handsome. Still, you ought to consider more than just charm—you should think about whether he can truly support you and what kind of life you would have together. I have always said I wish to marry for love, but I also believe that prudence must play a part in choosing a husband.”

Kitty looked at me oddly. “But how does one fall in love prudently?” she asked.

“You must guard your heart until a man comes around who meets your criteria,” Jane interjected kindly.

“If you know that an officer is not a suitable marriage partner, then you must be cautious around him. Of course, you could marry an officer if you truly wished to, but you would need to face the reality that your life with him would be very different from the life you have now.”

All three of the younger Bennets, including Mary, seemed to consider this for a moment.

“Then I suppose prudence also dictates that we know something of the man we eventually marry,” Mary said thoughtfully.

“I have heard Charlotte say that it is best to decide quickly and learn more about your spouse once matters are settled, but given what Lizzy said about the way a woman can be treated by her husband, it seems imperative that you know something about his character beforehand. I would not wish to have a husband who was violent or a drunkard and not realise it until after I was legally bound to him.”

Although neither Kitty nor Lydia responded to Mary’s statement, I watched them as they considered her words.

They were well-spoken, and I, too, had heard Charlotte’s remarks about marrying a man without truly understanding him.

The two of us had debated the topic more than once, and I felt that Charlotte felt a little more urgency given the fact that she was seven years older than I.

One day, I might consider marrying a man whom I merely respected, even if love were absent from the arrangement.

But for now, I was still young enough to hope for a union built on both affection and esteem.

At present, my chief concern was to encourage my sisters to approach the subject with greater seriousness—and not rush headlong into unwise marriages.

Mr. Darcy and I crossed paths once or twice more during my morning walks.

We typically exchanged only brief greetings and never lingered as we had that first morning.

I had told no one of our initial encounter, recognising it had already stretched the bounds of propriety.

In truth, I was still somewhat surprised by my own audacity that day—and his—in allowing the conversation to continue for so long.

We also saw the Netherfield gentlemen at church in the village each Sunday. Only Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley attended, and after the service, they spent several minutes conversing with Jane, Mary, Charlotte, and me.

On the second Sunday, my mother approached to invite them to tea after the services.

Mr. Bingley declined politely, citing prior obligations to the rest of their party.

Undeterred, she extended an invitation for a family dinner a few days later instead.

Mr. Bingley responded with a pleasant smile but said he must consult his sister before accepting.

Mama was obliged to accept this demurral and declared she would write to Miss Bingley with a formal invitation.

As this discussion was taking place, I watched Mr. Darcy with curiosity.

He had been quiet before my mother appeared, but he had still spoken, but once she appeared, he had been silent, allowing his friend to speak.

Had it not been for our previous conversations, I would have thought he disdained the idea of being in company with my family, but I felt that there must be more to his discomfort.

Mama could be rather exuberant; perhaps he was put off by this.

Once again, I felt that whisper of my grandmother’s voice telling me to be patient, not to jump to conclusions.

When Lady Lucas commanded my mother’s attention and she departed, Mr. Darcy turned to me and spoke quietly: “I am uncertain whether Miss Bingley will be disposed to accept your mother’s invitation or whether she will so much as convey it to my friend. ”

His voice so close to my ear caused me to turn to him in shock. “What do you mean?” I asked quietly, so as not to be overheard by the others.

He shrugged almost imperceptibly, but because I was looking at him, I saw it.

“She does not care for this area, and she has been very displeased with her brother and me since coming here. She…” he paused, seemingly looking for the right word, but seemed to have finally found it when he concluded, “…she is unhappy here, for several reasons.”

With a quiet chuckle at his implication and having already gathered from other comments he had made that Miss Bingley desired a deeper attachment, I merely nodded in response.

The lady in question had not been subtle at the assembly, and a few had remarked upon the proprietary gaze she had directed towards him all evening.

For a moment, he glared at me. “What is humorous about that?” he asked .

“Nothing you have just said was a surprise to me,” I replied. “She clearly disdains the company here, and I am not surprised by her attitude towards you, given what I have heard about your wealth and property.”

Again, he stared at me. His gaze was steady, unreadable, and far too intense for comfort. It made me feel the need to squirm.

“I did warn you that my mother is a dreadful gossip,” I said, striving to keep my voice calm as I answered his unspoken question.

“I cannot say how much of what she claimed is true, but I suspect there is at least a grain of truth in it. Based on what I have observed—and what I have heard of Miss Bingley—I can only assume she hopes to marry you to elevate her position. Mr. Bingley mentioned that their fortune was made in trade, and from that, I drew my conclusions.”

Mr. Darcy continued to glare at me—or so it seemed.

His expression was so intense, so unreadable, that I began to wonder if I ought to step away and bring the conversation to a close.

But just as I shifted my weight, uncertain, his lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and he shook his head, as though amused by a thought he had not yet shared.

“I suppose I ought to give you more credit,” he admitted quietly. “Of course, I had not realised the people in Meryton had already seen enough of Miss Bingley to draw those sorts of conclusions.”

“She may have been in the area only a short time, but she has made no effort to visit any of her neighbours, nor has she responded to any invitations she has been sent,” I replied.

“Her brother did return a few of the initial calls paid to him, but his efforts since have been minimal. As merely a leaseholder, he has no real obligation to do so, but if he intends to purchase the estate and settle more permanently, he would do well to show a bit more interest in the community.”

Mr. Darcy nodded at my words. “I will speak to him,” he replied.

“In truth, we have been rather busy the last few days, and I cannot say what invitations he and his sister have received, but he will need to socialise at least a little with the neighbourhood whether he intends to remain in the area or not. ”

Our tête-à-tête was then interrupted by Mr. Bingley. “Come, Darcy,” he said to his friend, seemingly unaware of the conversation we were having apart from the rest of the group. “My sisters will doubtlessly be annoyed that we have kept them waiting for their meal. We should return to Netherfield.”

“Very well, Bingley,” Darcy replied drily, before farewelling us all and heading directly to the waiting carriage. His friend took a moment to say his own goodbyes before following. A moment or two later, they were gone.

Charlotte nudged me. “Mr. Darcy spent a great deal of time looking at and speaking with you, Eliza,” she said softly, looking around to be sure that neither of our mothers heard her words.

“I rather think Mr. Darcy dislikes large gatherings,” I said, attempting a light tone, although a faint flush crept up my neck.

Shifting my weight slightly where I stood, I glanced away for a moment before continuing.

“As I happened to be nearest, I believe he simply found it easier to speak to me than to address the entire group. It was nothing at all as you imagine, Charlotte.”

She grinned at me, her expression teasing, but I chose to ignore it, keeping my gaze fixed on the surrounding crowd.

I could not allow myself to dwell on the fragile connexion that had formed between Mr. Darcy and me—whatever it was, it could be nothing more than a passing friendship.

Whilst he might enjoy my company during his time in the area, he was a man of considerable wealth and consequence.

It was foolish to think he would ever truly see me as anything more.