Page 8 of Secrets Across the Sea
Hertfordshire, England – 1811
In the final days of their father’s absence after he had been away two long months, each of the girls began preparations for his return. Elizabeth readied the chess set and purchased a copy of William Wordsworth’s Guide to the Lakes . Lydia designed a menu befitting royalty. Jane readied his study. Kitty embroidered a handkerchief for him. And Mary worked with one of the local craftsmen to have a fine new walking stick made. None of these preparations in any way outshone Mrs. Hill’s, for in the days leading up to Mr. Bennet’s return not one speck of dust could be found, or one trace of dirt on the floor, as she and her staff readied the house as it had never been before.
“Do you think PaPa will be much altered?” Jane asked as she set down her cup, her sisters glancing at her from their places around the table.
“The two letters he sent seem to suggest it, given that he enjoyed spending time with his nieces and nephews,” Kitty noted as she twirled her fork. Shaking her head, she returned her attention to her plate, “It is a good sign, for the company of more than one person added to our number seemed too much. That he is enjoying the vivacity of four children is miraculous!”
“True,” Lydia laughed, “I love our cousins dearly, however, I believe that two months of living with them might weary even myself. When they visited last, I could hardly keep up with them.”
“I think you have that backward,” Elizabeth teased as she sat back, her plate emptied. “The two weeks they stayed here exhausted them, for those racing games you created for them were grueling.”
“How else was I to keep my strength?” Lydia questioned, a glint of mischief in her eyes.
“For once I agree with Lydia,” Mary smiled. “It takes a creative mind to occupy four children without wearing yourself to the bone.”
“A devious mind,” Elizabeth countered. “I am only thankful you have not used it against the rest of us.”
“That you know of,” Lydia smirked before taking a sip of her tea.
A maid coming to take the dishes kept Elizabeth from her rebuttal, a welcome interruption given the day’s work ahead. Already they were late in starting.
“A letter from Mrs. Gardiner,” Mrs. Hill announced as she entered, the missive accepted with thanks before Jane opened it.
In light of a letter from their aunt, work could be delayed a little longer.
The eyes of all her sisters upon her, Jane skimmed its contents, her smile fading as her face grew pale, until, at last the letter fell from her fingers.
“Jane?” Elizabeth worried, rushing to her sister’s side.
“PaPa has been ill,” Lydia hurried, her eyes flitting over the letter as she picked it up. “Aunt says he is out of danger… but.”
“But?” Mary questioned.
“His physician says the cold damp is injurious to Father’s health… he suggests traveling abroad. To Italy or Spain!”
“Did they not obtain a second opinion?” Elizabeth asked Lydia, the distant expression in Jane’s eyes prompting Elizabeth to rub soothing circles on her sister’s back.
“They did,” Lydia said at last, her hands and the letter within resting heavy on the tabletop. “Each agree; Father’s health requires warmer climes than England is able to provide. PaPa argued against it, saying his duty lay with us, however… Uncle reminded him that his death would do none of us any good, our cousin inheriting should Father… should he… should he pass. Aunt says that, unless we protest, in less than a week they will see him on his way.” Voice soft and pained she added, “We are invited to come to London to see him off. So, that is something I suppose.”
“We will pack and be on our way before the day is out,” Jane said with a shake of her head, her eyes glistening as she raised her chin defiantly. “He has to go… he does. Yet, none of us will have him depart without first seeing him.”
Standing, Elizabeth frowned. The estate would manage? One week would not see Longbourn fall to ruin. But it was still far longer than they ought; not having a steward and expecting Mrs. Hill to accept their responsibilities. Yet, Mrs. Hill would accept them. She always accepted more than she ought in the care of their family.
Over the next two hours the girls, Mrs. Hill, and their staff worked to pack trunks and see to it that any last-minute preparations for their absence were accomplished. They would bring little on their travels, the week they would be gone unlikely to have them journey farther from their aunt and uncle’s residence than the nearby park. Still, those who had gifts for their father were swift to pack them, while those who did not hurried to rectify the lack of packable gifts–Jane preparing a soothing mix of herbs she knew him to enjoy, while Lydia wrapped several jars of his favourite preserves which she had helped lay aside the previous autumn.
Their two trunks taken from cart to mail coach, Elizabeth saw that their two youngest sisters were settled safely in the remaining seats inside before assisting Jane and Mary up to the open-air row directly behind the driver, the one remaining seat, by the driver, now hers.
That young man sitting in the warmth of the coach was no gentleman, for surely a gentleman would give his seat inside over to a lady. At least then another one of her sisters might be warm!
Before she even had her shawl wrapped firmly around her, the coach, with its fresh set of horses, sped off; the mail coaches of England waiting for no one.
Above, the sky, swathed in clouds, threatened to shower them with rain. They would reach London before the obscured sun would set; whether they would manage to hire transport to their aunt and uncle’s and then reach them before darkness fell proved far more difficult to predict, and one hour after departing it was fully apparent that no matter if they could outpace the sun, they could not outpace the rain.
Cold. The rain came cold, and fast, and uncaring.
Behind her, Jane and Mary huddled together, Jane’s wrap held over them as Mary’s worked to cocoon the pair of them.
Wiping at the rain which the speed of the coach whipped into her face, Elizabeth worked to settle deeper into the bench, her wrap drenched and her pelisse little drier. Beside her the driver glanced her way for half a moment, sympathetic and yet both unable and unwilling to help; the mail coaches having strict rules and timetables for all drivers.
The hours passing as slow and painful as any, Elizabeth allowed her thoughts to drift toward worry for her father. Though equally welcome and unwelcome, those thoughts swirled around, distracting from the cold rain, yet putting a chill in her heart far worse.
By the time they arrived in London, the eldest Bennet girls alighted from the outside benches stiff, and sore, and soaked to their chemises.
“Mary! Jane! Lizzy… you are soaked to the skin!” Kitty cried as she alighted from the coach.
“They were sitting in the rain half the day,” Lydia remarked, her eyes narrowing as the gentleman emerged from the coach warm and dry. “It seems gentlemen are scarce these days!” she all but shouted as he passed, the unmoved raise of his brow prompting her to scowl before turning toward her sisters. “Come, let us hire transport; you three ought to warm yourselves by a fire as soon as can be!”
Making their way to the nearest carriage for hire, a young man with a cart assisting with their trunks, the sisters paid him and piled into the small space in short order, the shivering of the three eldest stilled somewhat in light of the warmth of so many bodies pushed together.
Thirty minutes later the five sisters’ hearts eased as they stood in front of the Gardiner residence, the street dim with the recent setting of the sun and continual rain. The dark hued door illuminated by little more than the light of the carriage lanterns below, Jane made her way up to it while Elizabeth saw to it that the trunks were retrieved and the men paid.
The carriage driving away as two footmen emerged from the light of the foyer, their trunks were quickly collected as the girls made their way into the dry warmth of the house.
“Jane? Elizabeth? Girls?” Aunt Gardiner said, her tone filled with unspoken questions as she directed them toward the warmth of the drawing room; a light motion with her hand prompting a servant to add food for the fire.
“You came?” Uncle Gardiner noted, the same questioning tone nestled within his voice. “It is good to see you all.”
Brows pulling inward, Elizabeth went to stand nearer the fire. “Aunt did invite us, did she not? I have a distinct feeling that somehow you did not expect us to accept?”
“No,” Aunt Gardiner said as she handed the girls warm blankets. “It is not that, it is merely… we posted the letter five days ago. We assumed you were not coming given the time which had passed. If we had known, we would have delayed your father’s journey by a day or two.”
Five days? No. They had only received the letter that morning. Aunt had to be mistaken… how could such an error have occurred?
“You mean,” Elizabeth questioned as she took a step away from the warmth of the fire, “Father has sailed?”
“This morning,” their uncle answered, his lips pulling downward. “We would have delayed, if we had known.”
“Known,” Mary exclaimed, arms crossing as she glowered at him. “How could we send word when your letter only arrived this morning? We left within two hours of receiving it. Jane, Elizabeth, and I sat in the rain on top of a mail coach to be here! And now you say it was all for naught?”
Wrapping her arms around Mary, Jane sought to pacify all. “Some delay must have occurred. Perhaps the letter was mislaid? Or not sent to the post as it ought? Aunt and Uncle are no more to blame than us.”
“Perhaps not,” Lydia noted, her arms crossing as Mary’s had. “Though given that we only would have received it four days ago at best–if they wrote it five ago–to send Papa away without waiting longer was… It was…” bursting into tears as her arms fell to her side, Lydia’s body shook.
Jane’s wide eyes torn between Lydia and Mary, the latter nudged Jane toward the younger.
“Girls,” Aunt Gardiner worried, eyes glistening as she made her way to Lydia’s side, “I am–we are–repentant. I… We never considered some delay. Your father did not appear worried; it may please you to know his spirits were high. He left each of you a letter, and wanted us to remind you all how much he cares for you.”
At their aunt’s words the room grew silent, and the warmth of the fire, once so comforting, became stifling to Elizabeth. A walk up to Oakam Hill, or simply through the fields of Longbourn, called to her, though she had no way to answer.
“Your letter,” Elizabeth began at last, her voice deafening in the silence, “In it you mentioned that Father should go to a warmer clime for his health. You never mentioned how long that absence might be?”
Face falling, Aunt Gardiner turned toward her husband, a silent plea for him to give answer laced in her eyes.
“The physicians were not all in agreement on that matter. Two were adamant it would prove permanent… the third that one to three years might be enough to see him well. Your father is to have another physician once he reaches Florence; perhaps their opinion might balance out the others or give favour to one. Either way, he promised to write as soon as he arrives.”
“So long?” Elizabeth murmured.
“How ever are we to take on such an expense?” Jane questioned, Elizabeth staring at her sister in equal parts awe and dismay.
That Jane of all her sisters would think of finances at a time such as this?
“Let that one worry leave you; your aunt and I decided some days past that we would see to his expenses abroad. My dear sister would have wished it.”
“The cost… are you certain you can afford it?” Jane worried, her usual caring nature soothing Elizabeth’s unfounded worries, though bringing forth new ones for her aunt and uncle.
“Do not fret. I am well able to manage such an expense. All shall be well,” Mr. Gardiner said before turning toward a maid. “It seems your rooms are readied. Please, worry yourselves no more. You have had a hard journey.”
Elizabeth nodding as he left them in the care of their aunt, the girls followed where she led, the eldest two given one room, the next two another, while Lydia found herself sharing a bed with her two young cousins.
Staring up at the ceiling as she and Jane, nestled in their shared bed, each fought sleep, Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut as they began to water.
Absurd. All of this was absurd! Once before she had heard of a letter having been mislaid. Once. That was all. And the second time such an occurrence became known… it was at the expense of their one solace. Of seeing Father.
Would they ever see him again? And if so, would it have to be abroad? Why could things not remain the same?! Why? Father lived; yet, after having gotten him back from his study, they had lost him again. Or as well as lost. And there was nothing any of them might do this time to rectify it.
Nothing.
∞∞∞
Hertfordshire, England – 1811
The day fine, Elizabeth and Mary walked with firm enjoyment of the weather, despite their journey promising labour at its end. For the harvest not only brought coin for tenants and masters alike, but hard toil. Indeed, though Elizabeth found riding a thing to avoid, with their need to daily traverse the distance between house and fields, the lack of mounts for either sister proved a burden as the harvest extended from days to weeks, the apple harvest swiftly met by the root vegetables, potatoes, and leaks, not to mention dozens of other vegetables, fruits, and nuts.
“Will Lydia and Kitty be assisting with putting up the jams again?” Mary asked. “Mrs. Hill said Lydia has a remarkable talent for it; were PaPa a tradesman or journeyman instead of a gentleman, I believe Lydia would have found work in a great house! Medicinal remedies, preserving, even her understanding of botany would prove her a great asset within such a household.”
“Would it now?” Elizabeth laughed. “I am not certain she would enjoy working day in and day out; though, I grant you, she can be a hard worker. If she would be at work in the kitchens, then what about the rest of us? Were things different, what would we all do?”
Setting a finger to her cheek, Mary’s face contorted as she thought. “Well, Kitty would be a seamstress, perhaps one day owning her own establishment and designing for the more well-to-do members of the Ton. Jane… it is harder to say with her, for she has great ability with math, but finding work as an accountant as a woman, I assume, would not be easy. If she did not marry some wealthy tradesman, perhaps she might work with Kitty doing fine embroidery? Or as a musician–her harp playing is quite good. But…” she smirked as she studied Elizabeth, “As to you, I do not know if I can say. Your skill at art has improved greatly, though… you may have to suffer for your art. Walking? No. I fear however skillful you are at it, it could hardly lead you to earn a decent wage. Do not give me that look, I promise to be serious. Very well, I would say a teacher? Yes. With your enjoyment of reading, nature, art, and your knowledge of nearly everything a young person might need to run a home or estate, you would make a fine teacher. In fact,” she said, smirk replaced with a soft smile, “you already are a great teacher. I could not have asked for a better one.”
“A fine thing,” Elizabeth teased even as her eyes glistened and heart stirred at her sister’s compliment. “Not even a governess in a fine house? Well, I shall accept the position nonetheless, for teaching–I have found–is often remarkably rewarding.” Clearing her throat, she draped an arm around her sister. “And what of you? A musician perhaps? You have improved at the pianoforte beyond all recognition. What else, I wonder? You run a fine household, and would make any house a home, but you also create poetry. Perhaps you would run a household AND publish poetry, delighting your guests with music and readings of your work?”
“Boring them is more like,” Mary chuckled, eyes darting between her sister and the hill in front of them. “Well, all I can say is,” she paused, giving Elizabeth a playful shove before hurrying up the rise, half turning as she challenged her sister, “Catch me if you can!”
“I always do,” Elizabeth laughed as she raced after.
Panting, the pair slowed as they neared the first field they were to visit, the race having ended with Mary in the lead thanks, in part, to her head start and the unexpected interruption of a field hand giving his sweetheart a plaited heart made from husks of the recent corn harvest. Though hurrying past the couple to the field beyond, their race and laughter had stilled, the couple blushing as she pinned his gift to her chest; his sweet gesture accepted.
Sharing an amused smile with her sister, Elizabeth’s lips drew inward as she considered another couple. Kitty, only out four months and earlier than planned–sixteen rather than seventeen–had several men press their suit. Young James Lucus, however, had won out in no short order, his broad smile, soft manners, and unabashed interest in her and all she had to say being far from things which might hinder a man’s suit.
A good man. He certainly was a good man, Elizabeth mused. Not titled or particularly wealthy, but to take holy orders in a year’s time and with every likelihood of obtaining his own parish soon after. No. In terms of character and ability to provide he would do for her sister… It was Kitty’s youth that worried. For, at sixteen, could she really know her own heart?
Reaching the edge of the field and preparing for a discussion regarding root vegetables, Elizabeth allowed one final thought on the matter of Kitty. Seventeen. They would have to wait until Kitty reached that age to marry, if Jane agreed–though they could always write Father.
A mere eight-month delay. Surely the pair would accept it, IF he asked to marry of course. Which he would. All the signs were there.
Perhaps he would take some time before he proposed? That would be a delight, for then Kitty would hardly notice the wait… and they might not give up their sister so soon. It would be a sad day when Kitty married and went away. Sad for those who remained.
If only things might stay as they were. No more loved ones departing.
Nothing changing.
Though some answers to her mother’s secret would be one exception; in that she would happily see things change. She had shown the letter to her sisters, told them all she knew, but answers? Those they still did not have.
They all deserved the truth, and if Father would not give it, eventually, they would have to discover it themselves.
“Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary,” Mr. Reed called over the voices of his men, “thank you for coming! We have a fine harvest of beetroots, make no mistake.”
“It appears so by the number of men you have hired;” Elizabeth noted, observing the full dozen men hard at work digging up the root vegetable, “the temperate weather has been ideal. How long do you expect this to take? I explored the neighboring field yesterday and the onions ought to be harvested next. The leaves are brown and bent as they should be, but there is little worse than leaving onions to rot, and with prices down from last year, we need every onion we can harvest.”
“The cold winter made me wonder if it would be a bad year for crops, what with hearing that the Thames was all frozen over again, but nothing to fear it seems, leastwise where we are,” Mr. Reed said, giving a satisfied nod as he too examined the work. “By end of day tomorrow we ought to be done here, then we can move on. As you say, the onions ought to be next harvested. I would hire a few more men to start on it, but with the horses needed here, it would do little good.”
“True enough. Though a day and a half should not cause the onions to rot. What is your opinion, Mary?”
“Are there men in want of work, Mr Reed?” Mary asked, eyes darting from Mr. Reed to those men who were clearly occupied.
“A few. I hired many, as you can see, but had to leave off a few men. Any more than I have and there would be men holding handfuls of beetroot while others blocked the cart with their own work; with the speed some of these lads work, we almost have that problem as it is.”
“Why could we not hire them to harvest the onions?” Mary questioned; the joy found in puzzling out the problem evident in her eyes.
Countenance brightening as her sister’s notion entered her own mind, Elizabeth stood back, allowing her younger sister her chance to do the work she had been trained to.
“I understand that the horses are needed here,” Mary continued, “but with the fine weather, the onions could be harvested and left out; spread apart so they can dry. I recall that it is best to let onions dry somewhat after. We usually manage that after we have moved them, but doing so now would help us not to fall behind in the harvest… not to mention it would give men work who need it.”
Chest puffed as though a proud father, Mr. Reed smiled, “Right you are, Miss Mary. A grand idea that! I might even pull off one of the men from here to work that field as well–as I said, with how quick some of these young men are, one less might help.”
Within an hour the men were hired and sent to harvest the onion crop, Elizabeth and Mary finishing their tour of the fields some few hours after, wearied but content that the yield would allow their tenants and themselves profit above what they had known the year prior. Improvements to the farms, to homes, and to families would be felt for some time to come if wise decisions were made.
Racing across the cow pasture, Elizabeth and Mary were all but neck and neck as they leapt over the various reminders of the livestock left behind, the edge of the field drawing close. If she kept the pace, Elizabeth’s usual undefeated record would remain–the interrupted race of earlier uncounted, naturally.
“Ooo! Oof! Oww!” Mary sounded behind, various thuds and plodding noises mingled within.
Whirling as she came to a halt, Elizabeth returned the way she had come at the sight of her sister laying face down amid the dirt and manure.
“Mary!” Elizabeth cried as she reached her sister, the sputtering noises of Mary as she began to lift her face from the earth a welcome sign. “Are you alright?”
Pushing herself to a seated position, Mary stared down at her dirt covered hands, eyes wide.
“Mary?” Elizabeth tried again, her hands moving to examine Mary’s head.
Shaking. Her Mary shook. She?
The shaking merging into a deep, rolling laughter, Mary made her way unsteadily to her feet; her dress and face covered in various brown patches and the odd bit of dried grass.
Sitting back on her heels, Elizabeth gazed up at her sister, face pinched until, after a few moments, she joined in Mary’s laughter, the amusement of both growing as Mary held out her filthy dress, shoulders raising and lowering at the sight.
“I would have won if you had kept to your feet,” Elizabeth managed as she stood.
“Of course,” Mary mocked playfully, “none of us–save Lydia last May–have ever managed to beat you.”
“You all cheated on that occasion. Therefore, it does not count. Of course she won after you and Kitty distracted me so Jane might tie a string between my shoes.”
“She may yet beat you without our help one day, you know,” Mary smiled as she wiped uselessly at her dress. “She has come closer than any of us.”
“If you insist,” Elizabeth chuckled, “I, however, practice far more. I have the advantage, you see!”
Mirth dying as she wiped harder at her dress, Mary frowned, “This is going to take forever to clean–I suppose I ought to clean it myself? The staff are far too busy given the harvest. In any case,” she huffed, “to countermand your advantage, you forget Lydia’s. She is taller and her stride–when actually making an effort–is longer than yours. She is only fourteen you will recall as well, she could grow taller still. You, however, are far less likely to gain any height. I fear defeat may be yours one day.”
Trudging through the field, Elizabeth admired the soft swathe of clouds overhead before laughing, “That remains to be seen. Though, I hope that, should it be so, I receive my defeat with the same quiet, unassuming manner I receive my many victories in.”
“Then we shall never hear the end of it,” Mary laughed as she hurried ahead, Elizabeth close behind as the elder sought to catch the younger.
∞∞∞
“Are you ready for the next batch?” Jane asked her two youngest sisters as Elizabeth and Mary rushed inside, Elizabeth the victor by a mere stride.
“Mary! Lizzy!” Jane cried as she observed them, her gaze lingering on Mary’s dirt-laden form; Kitty and Lydia ceasing their work in favour of giggling. “Away… the pair of you! Filthy. Utterly! Go clean yourselves and then come quickly, there is more than enough work for you two.”
“Lovely to see you too,” Elizabeth laughed as she and Mary hurried past the busy servants and sisters to do as bid, the never-ending tasks of harvest time causing their usually patient sister to develop a temper unmatched by any of them.
Within eight minutes Elizabeth, tidy and ready for work, reappeared in the kitchen, another eight minutes or more coming and going before Mary returned–smelling far better and appearing, once again, suited for the kitchen rather than the pasture.
“The harvest?” Kitty questioned as she wrapped a string under the lip of a jug, the waxed cloth made secure. “I believe it is beetroots this week? Is it as fine as expected?”
Nodding, Elizabeth continued to clean the carrots left in her charge. “It is. In fact, the harvest is better than expected… The onions will be next, and they appear just as fine.”
“Will they start on those before the week is out?” Jane interjected, her earlier ire diminished, though her tone still held a harried sharpness.
“Today in fact! And it is all thanks to Mary,” Elizabeth smiled as she cast a quick glance toward Mary, the younger pulling her lips inward as she prepared for Elizabeth’s praise. “She suggested that men might begin the harvest–though the horses are needed elsewhere–for the onions must dry a little in any case, and with the fine weather they can as easily do it in the field as not. That should see us ahead on the harvest and save the room we would normally use to dry the onions for better uses.”
“That was wise,” Lydia noted graciously, half a smile forming before she frowned at the mountain of berries in front of her. “If only we might get ahead on our work too. I know we have all been busy at it, yet, there appears no end in sight. La, it would be a fine thing to have a day off to go to town… a new ribbon would do me well, for I know of no better cure for bad humour than a new ribbon.”
“I cannot say about a new ribbon, but I would dearly love a day off,” Kitty sighed over the leeks, eyes drifting upward.
“It is your beau you love,” Lydia teased as she wiggled side to side. “If you had a day off you would invite him for tea!”
“Lydia,” she cried, “I… you should not say such things!”
“It is true. Is it not Jane? She is in love with him, and she would marry him too if he asked!”
“Lydia! Jane. Elizabeth. Can one of you not do something about her?” Kitty demanded, arms crossed as she stared at her younger sister.
“Why? Is Lydia wrong?” Elizabeth teased half-heartedly as she passed a basket of cleaned carrots to one of the maids. If only Lydia might be wrong, then things could stay as they are.
Mouth agape, Kitty stared at Elizabeth before letting out a moan. “Why? Why do I even try? Truly. You both are horrid, so why do I even speak with you still?”
“Because they are family,” Jane said, a wry and equally exacerbated expression aimed at her two misbehaving sisters. “Still, they ought not tease you so… even if they are correct.”
“Jane!” Kitty exclaimed, an embarrassed laugh escaping. “Only Mary has the good grace not to tease me.”
“Well…” Mary began slowly, a grin forming as Kitty’s eyes widened.
“You would not dare!”
“No. Though I am tempted,” Mary laughed.
“Martha,” Jane interrupted the lighthearted argument, “would you bring another basket of blackberries? Mine is nearly used up.” Turning toward her sisters, Jane rested her hands on her hips. “Enough teasing. I apologize, Kitty, for my part. And I am sure the rest of your sisters are equally contrite. Are they not?”
“I suppose,” Lydia sighed, “I still think it is true; but I am sorry I hurt you, Kitty.”
“Lizzy? Mary?” Jane warned, the lull in her temper prepared to cease.
“Me?” Mary questioned. “I was tempted, but did you hear me tease her?”
“I apologize,” Elizabeth hurried before stealing a berry from Jane and plopping it in her mouth; Jane swatting at the offending hand. “Are we forgiven?”
Eyes flicking heavenward, Kitty smiled. “Of course… I was only embarrassed.”
“And tired, no doubt. Mary and I were hard at work this morning, but we had time away from this kitchen at least. You, and Jane, and Kitty, and Martha, and Deborah, and Mrs. Hill, and Rebekah, and…”
“Please, do not list us all… we each know we are overworked,” Kitty laughed as she wiped at her brow. “Only two days until Sunday, then we can enjoy those once familiar things I seem to recollect. Sitting. Sipping tea. Perhaps sleeping! I vaguely recall enjoying that one immensely.”
Shaking her head, Jane sighed, “I cannot speak to the latter, however, we are all in need of the former. An hour’s peace is something we all could use. Here, Mrs. Hill, you all could do with rest too. A bit of tea and some small treat is in order; I am certain we have all earned it. A few minutes first to cover our work, and one to make certain nothing might boil over, then we shall sit and sip.”
In short order squares of waxed cloth were tied over finished jams and preserved foods, while towels were laid over those half done, and the pots busily bubbling were attended–at least one in need of a quick check before the hour would be over. Still, as they pilfered the water they had boiling to steep enough tea for the family and servants, each wearied lady made their way to a seat, the strain on old and young bones alike eased by the comfort of a cushion and the welcome warmth of tea.
“It is better than I recalled,” Kitty breathed as she wiggled further into the cushions, her cup of tea held loosely in hand.
“It might be better than a new ribbon,” Lydia chuckled wearily. “Only a little, mind you.”
“Mmhmm,” her sisters concurred, Elizabeth turning her head toward each; the appearance of every sister mussed, but paired with a certain small smile.
At last, Elizabeth sighed. Things might truly be looking up. True they missed Father greatly, however, not one of the Bennet girls could be said to be anything but thriving.
Jane glowed at being needed and using her talents; Mary no longer leaned solely on the opinions of others, but displayed her own wit and beauty; Kitty ceased to kowtow to Lydia’s whims, developing a firmness of character few possessed; and no longer did Lydia whine until she had her own way, instead working with her sisters, until she became a valuable partner in that work.
Yes, Elizabeth thought as she smiled, giving a light tug to one of Lydia’s curls before brushing a bit of dirt from her forehead, each daughter had proved her worth. Herself included, for hard work and tenacity had been evident in her efforts to keep the estate running and to raise her sisters.
At Lydia’s playful swat, Elizabeth chuckled. What more could she want? Indeed, what more could anyone want, than to have the love of four sisters, a fine estate to challenge mind and body, and the ability to grow from that challenge? No. Her life had to be perfect–barring the pain of Father’s continued absence and Mother’s secret–for in more hours than not, there was joy and purpose.
Too bad Kitty would likely decide to marry; with all of them home and working together, things were perfect just as they were.