Page 2 of Secrets Across the Sea
Hertfordshire, England – 1808
“Mr. Bennet,” Mrs. Bennet cried as she hurried into the drawing room; Elizabeth, turning her gaze from the chessboard to her mother with great interest. “Have you heard the news? Lord Ellage is to leave Netherfield Park! For good it seems. He aims to lease it if he is able, but you know few families would do so; besides which, it would be better for us all if he sold it, for what of his tenants, and the future of Meryton even as it is so near… and what of grand balls? Only local assemblies, which rarely bring in men of good fortune. Who would be worthy of marrying our daughters? Indeed, what man of worth in connection or title might attend such a local, unassuming affair. No. I fear it is the end of us all!”
“Who indeed, Madam? I fear spinsters, the lot of them–if I am fortunate, I shall die before that day arrives.”
“Oh, Mr. Bennet! My poor nerves cannot take it; if you die we shall be for the hedgerows, I am certain. Mr. Collins will have no compassion, the miserable sod.”
Fanning herself, Mrs. Bennet lay down on the settee.
Mother would be calling for her smelling salts any moment. Then she would moan and take to her bed with her door wide open for all to hear… and she would stay there a whole day at least. Perhaps, Elizabeth considered, just this once Father’s teasing might prove less than amusing.
“Mamma,” Elizabeth hurried before Father could tease her further. “Jane must surely marry, for she is a great beauty–all say so. Indeed, Jane is only eighteen next month, and Netherfield may be let quickly, for it is a fine property. And that would certainly bring many wealthy gentlemen to the area.”
Hopefully she had not been too obvious in her assurances–many wealthy gentlemen perhaps stretching the matter–still, everything else could well be true. Leastwise regarding Jane.
“Is that not so, Father?” Elizabeth added, cutting her eyes to the chessboard between herself and her father. If anything might make him give up an opportunity to tease her mother, chess might prove to be just that.
“Yes,” he stumbled over the word, gaze darting between the chessboard and his wife, “Lizzy is correct at that.”
Handkerchief stilling, Mrs. Bennet sat up, head bobbing slowly.
“How very true. For none match Jane for beauty–once Netherfield is let, it shall be no time at all before she finds a husband. Poor Lady Lucas’ daughters though… Well, perhaps once ours are wed they can send a vicar their way–a pleasant bachelor or widower of course–for we do not desire one of our neighbors to suffer, now do we? You are so clever, Mr. Bennet!”
“I try, my dear,” he smiled. “And you are, as always, unduly kind to our neighbors.”
With a broad smile she inclined her head toward him, “I try… I do try.” Eyes brightening as she glanced toward the door she added, “To that aim I must visit a few more neighbors; for many may not yet know of our news!”
“ Our news?” he questioned.
“Why, of Netherfield Park. With our estate abutting it, we lay the highest claim to it, you can be sure.”
“Of course, dear. How foolish of me.” Moving his knight forward and right to attack Elizabeth’s bishop, he added, “When might we expect you home?”
Flitting out to the hall before returning to the parlour, bonnet set upon her head as she struggled with the ribbon, Mrs. Bennet hurried, “One hour. No. Nearer three I think, there are a great many to tell.”
Countering her father’s move by checking his king with her queen, Elizabeth smiled. Check mate would not be far behind.
“I look forward to your return,” he said, a frown forming as he viewed Elizabeth’s queen.
“Oh,” Mrs. Bennet blushed, hurrying to her husband’s side to kiss his cheek, “what a dear you are!”
A blush of his own present, Mr. Bennet softly pushed her away, though Elizabeth all but swore she caught a glimpse of a besotted curl to his lips as Mrs. Bennet scurried from the room, waving to him as she went.
Tilting her head as she studied her father, Elizabeth felt the pull of her forehead. Surely not?
Yet, even as he returned to the problem Elizabeth’s queen had presented, she could see a hint of lightness about his eyes. Perhaps, in his own way, he held some fondness still?
∞∞∞
“You know,” Lydia said as she plopped down beside Elizabeth, “Mamma and I were talking, and we both agreed that fifteen is old enough to be out. What a lark it would be for Mary to be out in only two months, instead of waiting until next year! You yourself have only been out three months, and if she were out then, well, with her being so much younger than you, I admit I would have to work hard not to snigger.”
“Lydia,” Jane admonished as she set down her embroidery, giving her sister as stern a gaze as she ever managed, “That is far from amusing.”
“I should say it is not,” Mary agreed, rubbing her dress until Jane lay a soothing hand over hers. “I would much rather delay my coming out until I am at least as old as Lizzy was.”
“I agree in nearly every respect,” Elizabeth voiced as she shook her head at Lydia. “Were it not for the chance to meet new people and dance, I would gladly have delayed my own coming out. I am in no hurry to marry.”
“No hurry to marry?” Lydia awed, ignoring a knock at the door. “Why, to be the first in the family to marry would be such a lark–married women come first you know.” Turning toward Mary she begged, “Oh do say you will come out! If you come out at fifteen, by the time Mamma has allowed Kitty out, she may let me out at fourteen, or even thirteen if I am lucky. Imagine all the beaux I would have.”
Sighing, Lydia leaned back, laying her feet upon Elizabeth until she shoved them aside.
“Is Mr. Bennet at home,” the voice of Sir Lucas echoed from the entry to the drawing room.
Turning toward the door, Elizabeth’s lips thinned as she strained to hear. There had been an edge to his tone she had never heard before. Wearied. Determined. Yet, fearful.
She had to learn more.
With a glance toward her sisters she tiptoed to the doorway, each sister close behind and remarkably silent.
Stilling until the sound of footfalls ceased, they all made their way down the hall, the cracked door of their father’s study providing them what they desired long before they packed themselves around the doorframe, each with an ear to the room.
“What is it, Sir Lucas?” Mr. Bennet’s teasing tone filtered through the crack. “I trust your prized mare has not lost her famous good temperament; I have heard rumours she is to foal soon.”
“I… I do not know… that is to say. How does one?”
“It is serious then. Well, sit down before you fall, you are shaking enough to rattle my specimen case! Port?”
“No. No port.”
“What is the matter man?”
“I…” the sound of gulping filled the air, followed by a strange downturn to the inflection of his voice as Sir Lucus answered, “It is about your wife. You see, she was in town when some heinous fool brought an unbroken stallion into the heart of Meryton. It was spooked and injured several people… the thing would have likely killed a young boy if your wife had not. If she.”
“She?”
“She shoved the boy aside, but the horse reared up as she did and came down… hard. The doctor was there, but within a few moments she… she was gone. There was nothing he could do. What, with all the men and women and children crying and screaming and so many injured–one man not expected to survive as he jumped or was pushed into a window–well, no one sent for you. I… once things settled down, I wanted to tell you myself. Better to hear this sort of thing from a friend I thought. Better?”
Hands pressed against the wall as she sought to hold herself up, Elizabeth’s breath pulled wildly.
It made no sense. None at all. She must have heard wrong? Chest heavy, Elizabeth gulped as she forced herself to look upon her sisters. There had been no mistake.
Eyes pinching shut at the sound of Lydia’s wails and the dismay of her sisters, Elizabeth pressed her ear to the door, hoping to hear conversation within rather than the heart-wrenching sobs around her.
“May I see her?” Mr. Bennet’s dim, hollow voice questioned.
Sir Lucas allowed silence to prevail; the sound of Lydia’s tears and Mary’s soothing filling the void.
“I… I would advise against it,” he answered at last.
Taking a step back, Elizabeth again closed her eyes, her stomach rolling and the world plummeting around her.
Why had she stayed with Father playing chess? And he? He too should have gone with Mother.
He.
Blame? No. No. He held no blame. He never went, but she?
“I can write her brother for you?” Sir Lucas offered, his voice all but spent. “Her cousin too. The uncle?”
Mamma? She never spoke of any cousin. Of an uncle. Shaking her head, Elizabeth rubbed her brow. A mistake on his part; but what did it matter? Mamma had been taken from them… forever.
“Never,” her father growled, the thickness of grief still torrential in his tone, “Never. Gardiner, yes, but not them. Not after they hurt my wife so. After. It.”
Sir Lucas had been right?
Head jerking toward the study at the sound of her father’s weeping, Elizabeth’s throat grew tight as her own tears poured out.
“No,” she whispered as she viewed her sisters through bleary eyes. She had to be strong. She had to be a help. She had to be… better. Whether she held blame or not, it was her job to be strong.
For their mother.