Page 13 of Moments Frozen in Time (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
ELIZABETH
A fter days of speaking to Mr. Darcy only in passing, I was surprised when he approached me that morning.
As had been the case since our first true conversation, our exchange was effortless, and we touched on a range of topics of mutual interest. Amongst other things, I encouraged him to call on my father; they shared a fondness for literature, and if Mr. Darcy found himself in want of reading material, my father’s library offered ample opportunities.
True to his word, he escorted me only as far as the back garden at Longbourn, taking his leave well before anyone might chance to see us together.
Joining my family for breakfast, I was pleased to listen to Kitty and Mary exchanging ideas on the book we were presently reading. Lydia had apparently been watching for my return.
“Lizzy,” she said as soon as I entered the room, “might I join you today if you are visiting the tenants?”
I nodded, surprised by her request. Although I had often invited my sisters to join me, only Jane ever took me up on the offer. Even Mary, despite her many remarks about the virtue of helping others, preferred to support such efforts in theory rather than in practise.
“Certainly, Lyddie,” I replied. “I need to call on two families today and intended to do so directly after breakfast. We will need to collect a few things before we go, but I would welcome your company.”
Mama looked between us. “What is this?” she asked, her voice rising with interest.
“Lydia wishes to accompany me in visiting the tenants,” I replied. “Mrs. Hill told me yesterday afternoon about two families in need, and Jane and I have prepared a few things to take to them.”
She looked between Jane and me and then glanced over at Lydia. “Lydia asked to accompany you?”
Nodding, I opened my mouth to reply, but Lydia spoke before I could.
“I did, Mama,” she said, turning to her with a broad smile.
“It is our duty, is it not, to help those who are less fortunate? Besides, without our tenants, our family would not have the income it does. Over the last week, Lizzy and Jane have been teaching us some of the lessons that Grandmama Bennet taught them when they were younger.”
For a moment, Mama merely looked back and forth between the three of us, her eyes blinking rapidly as she seemed to consider what we were saying.
“Grandmama Bennet?” she asked after a moment.
“Yes, Mama,” Jane interjected quietly. “Do you not remember how Lizzy and I would join Grandmama when she visited the tenants when we were younger? You have helped us sew items for the tenants before and suggested items for the baskets we took to them.”
“Yes,” she replied, her tone indicating that she was still a little surprised by this conversation. She did not say anything further but sat back in her chair and watched us carefully.
After a moment, my sisters resumed eating, but I happened to glance towards the far end of the table, where Papa sat. He looked amused by the conversation but had offered no comment.
For that, I was grateful. Had Papa made one of his usual mocking or sardonic remarks, it might have discouraged Lydia from joining me—or dissuaded my younger sisters from continuing upon their current path of improvement.
Thus far, neither he nor my mother had noticed how we gathered each evening in the sitting room Jane and I shared, but I could not help wondering what either of them might say once they did.
At present, Lydia appeared interested, and where Lydia led, Kitty invariably followed, but I worried that either parent could unknowingly hinder this nascent interest in bettering their behaviour.
I only wished I had begun this effort sooner. I should have remembered what Grandmama once urged Jane and me to do when our sisters were younger. It had taken the arrival of strangers, one rather handsome stranger, in particular, to jolt me from my complacency towards them.
When I finished eating, I turned to Lydia. “Gather your bonnet and gloves, Lydia, and meet me in the stillroom in a quarter of an hour. I need to go to my room to get the gown Jane sewed for the Smith’s new baby, and Mrs. Hill has a few things she wishes to send with me as well.”
Lydia nodded, excusing herself from the table and hurrying from the room to do as she was bid.
Before I could leave the table, Mama spoke to me. “We are attending a party at Lucas Lodge this evening. Do not keep your sister out too long, for I do not wish her to be overtired this evening.”
Her voice was somewhat softer than usual, though it still carried the sharpness it often held when directed at me.
“Yes, Mama,” I replied, hurrying from the room to gather my outdoor things and the items we planned to bring with us.
Mrs. Smith had given birth only a few days earlier, and Jane had sewn several small garments for the baby.
I had prepared a few things for the other children, including a rag doll I had made from a gown too worn to be altered again.
Lydia and Kitty had seen me working on it a few nights before and had been astonished at how easily an old dress could be transformed into a toy.
The evening before, we had combed through our closets for garments worn enough to add to the rag basket, and all three of my younger sisters had made similar dolls to be given away at another time.
In fact, it had been Lydia’s idea that we should make a rag doll for every little girl living on the estate.
It was a thoughtful suggestion. Although Jane and I had often given out dolls when we could, we had never made a deliberate effort to ensure each child received one.
We would need to come up with something comparable for the boys, but as it was still October, we had time before Christmas.
I would have to write to my aunt in London to ask what sorts of toys might be suitable. Her sons might offer useful ideas.
Once I had gathered everything into my basket, I descended the stairs and made my way to the still room. Lydia was already there waiting for me. I explained that the Johnsons had a sick child and that we would bring along a few herbs and tinctures we had prepared to offer some relief.
Lydia’s eyes widened. “Do you think it is something dreadful? Like that fever Mrs. Taylor’s boy had last spring? I should hate to catch anything horrid, but I suppose if we are quick about it, I shall be brave.”
I smiled, adjusting the lid on one of the small jars as I picked up the basket and led her out of doors.
“I do not believe it is anything dreadful, just a chill from the changing weather. We will not go inside today; Mrs. Johnson will be terribly busy with her work, and we will stay only a moment. Besides, Mama wishes me not to keep you out too long since we need to prepare for dinner at Lucas Lodge this evening. ”
“I thought attending events with the family would be so diverting, but it is the same gathering each time,” Lydia complained. “The Netherfield party ought to have livened these events up, but the ladies are so disdainful, and the gentlemen were uninterested in me.”
For a moment, I could not respond as I attempted to restrain my laughter. She had said that last with such a put-upon expression that these two gentlemen had not been immediately entranced by her.
“You are nearly half their age, Lydia,” I reminded her gently. “Not to mention the fact that you were on the dance floor every moment. If you did take a breath, it was with the young men who typically squire you and Kitty at these events.”
“Mama had already determined that Mr. Bingley was to be Jane’s,” Lydia huffed.
“There was little point in bothering with him. And that Mr. Darcy was so staid and boring. Mama was astonished that he bothered speaking with you and Charlotte, and she would have been quite put out if she had not already decided that Mr. Bingley was intended for Jane.”
“Lydia,” I said in warning.
“What?” she asked haughtily. Almost as quickly, the expression faded. “That was unkind, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” I replied in what I hoped was a gentle tone.
Over the past week, my sisters and I had shared many conversations on all manner of subjects—appropriate behaviour, our parents’ differing attitudes towards their children, and the nature of flirtation—all prompted in some way by the pages of the book.
Each evening, we had begun retiring upstairs earlier and talking long into the night.
Surprisingly, Kitty and Lydia had asked many questions during our discussions, and their behaviour had already begun to change.
I was pleased and could only hope that these changes would endure in the coming weeks and months.
In some ways, I suspected they already knew much of what we talked about, but perhaps they had simply been longing for attention, something our nightly gatherings were now providing.
As we walked, I spoke with Lydia about what to expect at the homes we would visit.
When I could, I drew parallels between what the tenants experienced and what the wife of a soldier would have to endure.
My sisters had not quite lost their adoration of the idea of a man in a red coat, so whenever I could say something that would encourage them to think more carefully about their futures, I did so.
Lydia was thoughtful as we walked. “So these women have no servants?” she interjected at one point, shock in her tone.
“Most of our tenants cannot afford servants,” I explained.
“They might occasionally hire help—perhaps the daughter of a neighbouring tenant—but they do not earn enough to keep anyone on permanently. On larger estates, I imagine a few might manage it, but in most cases, the lady of the house is responsible for all the work required to run the household, including all cooking and cleaning. The children assist as they get older.”
Visibly shuddering, Lydia spoke once more. “And a soldier’s wife, she would be in similar circumstances?”