Page 3

CHAPTER 3

Changes Abound

A fter nearly a fortnight of reflection—and considerable argument with himself—Bennet came to the uncomfortable realization that his neglect had only worsened his family’s situation.

Although he had been inclined to dismiss his friends’ concerns, he could no longer deny the truth they had forced him to confront.

By the time Jane and Elizabeth returned from London, he had already begun implementing the reforms he believed necessary for his family’s future.

Chief among his priorities was the education and refinement of his daughters, whose upbringing he now acknowledged as woefully inadequate for their station in life.

Letters had been exchanged between London and Longbourn, and a Miss Sutton accompanied Jane and Elizabeth home.

She was engaged to oversee the academic and behavioural instruction of the three youngest girls—Mary, Kitty, and Lydia.

Her no-nonsense attitude left a swift impression on all three girls.

Mary, whose natural inclination for learning and order had often gone unnoticed within the family before this, flourished under Miss Sutton’s strict structure and guidance.

Kitty, spirited but biddable, adapted with a bit of effort and quickly found enjoyment not only in learning but also in the praise she received for a job well done.

Lydia, however, proved a constant challenge.

Even at nine years of age, her impetuous nature seemed to resist every attempt to check her, testing Miss Sutton’s considerable patience with her heedlessness and growing tendency to seek attention through pert remarks and exaggerated charm.

When thwarted, she turned to dramatic tantrums and fits of anger, showing little regard for decorum or discipline.

No sooner would she be corrected on one piece of unseemly behaviour than she would invent another, more troublesome than the last.

For Jane and Elizabeth, a different arrangement was made.

Recognizing their greater maturity and sense, Bennet hired a companion, Mrs. Graham—a genteel widow recommended by Mrs. Gardiner—to oversee their social and moral development.

Under her tutelage, both girls expanded their accomplishments to include more of the skills expected of young ladies of their station in life.

Jane embraced these lessons with her usual quiet grace, applying herself without complaint.

She joined Elizabeth in those subjects she found of interest, especially enjoying discussing current events with her father.

Already seventeen, Jane remained “out” in their local society, and Mrs. Graham attended social events with her to provide additional chaperonage.

Bennet also began attending gatherings, and he strove to curtail some of his wife’s gossipy tendencies.

Determined to ensure Elizabeth’s preparation was equally thorough, Bennet postponed her official “coming out” until her seventeenth birthday.

Mrs. Bennet had protested at first, but Bennet had held firm in his decree.

The idea that her husband’s friends had disapproved of her daughters had been enough to convince her initially, and as she spent time with Mrs. Graham—ostensibly supervising the girls’ education—she came to a greater understanding of what was expected .

While all the girls were taught the typical lessons of a gentleman’s daughter, Elizabeth’s studies were broadened to include history and current events, along with mathematics, languages, music, and literature.

When Elizabeth’s aptitude soon surpassed what Mrs. Graham could teach, tutors were engaged in subjects in which she desired further instruction.

To further refine his daughters’ accomplishments, now that the estate was more profitable and the excessive expenses curtailed, Bennet was able to engage music and language masters, and, upon discovering that Jane and Catherine displayed an interest in art, hired a drawing master as well.

Elizabeth attempted to learn, but she soon abandoned drawing in favour of her other studies.

Mary, ever drawn to theological and moral pursuits, showed little interest in painting, while Lydia openly scoffed at the lessons, preferring instead to sneak away at every opportunity.

Beyond the girls’ education, Bennet became a more active participant in the management of Longbourn.

To the surprise of the tenants and household servants, he began overseeing estate affairs more closely, eventually hiring a steward recommended to him by Livesay.

Elizabeth, long her father’s confidante, continued assisting him, particularly in maintaining positive relations with the tenants, something that her sisters now assisted her with.

Although her days were filled with studies and lessons, she still found time to accompany him on estate visits, learning firsthand the practical skills needed to run a country property.

For Elizabeth, life soon settled into a satisfying rhythm with these changes.

At times, she missed the unstructured hours once spent roaming the fields and woods, but she gladly embraced the greater purpose she found in her new studies and responsibilities.

She discovered a particular aptitude for languages—excelling in French and Italian—and practiced her music with passion, if not quite with the diligence it required .

Beyond her lessons, Elizabeth continued to seek solace in the outdoors, walking whenever possible.

Her father, newly mindful of her safety, insisted she be accompanied by a sister or a footman on these outings.

Initially, Elizabeth chafed at these restrictions.

Her independent spirit rebelled against the limitations, and it took several stern reprimands—and the threat of severe punishment—before she grudgingly complied with her father’s demands for someone to accompany her.

Early on in the process, unable to contain her frustration at the new limitations placed upon her, Elizabeth confronted her father one afternoon when a footman followed her without a word when she left the house.

“Papa, truly, must I have a shadow at my heel every time I wish to breathe fresh air?” she cried, arms folded tightly across her chest when she returned, barging into his study without bothering to knock.

Bennet, seated with a book in hand, arched a brow at her entry.

“Given your penchant for solitary wandering and the alarming potential of a daughter being misplaced when not properly supervised, I think it prudent, Lizzy.”

She huffed in irritation.

“I have no desire to run off with a traveling tinker,” she retorted.

“You confuse me with Lydia.”

“A relief to us all,” he replied drily.

“Nonetheless, you will take a companion. That is final.”

By demonstrating her reliability, she gradually earned greater freedom, which allowed her to expand her assistance in tenant visits and estate matters.

She enjoyed these, for it granted her the opportunity to be of use to her father and to escape the drawing room where she was forced to sit quietly and sew.

While she did not mind sewing, it was the enforced stillness and the constant interruptions that plagued her .

Along with the other accomplishments they were taught, all five Bennet daughters were also required to master the basics of riding sidesaddle.

Two additional horses were purchased to support these lessons and to provide gentle mounts for them to learn on.

Lydia, naturally athletic, enjoyed riding but, true to form, her unwillingness to submit to Miss Sutton’s authority prevented her from practicing as often as she might have done otherwise.

In time, only Elizabeth rode regularly.

As a reward for her diligence, and for her increasing contributions to the estate’s affairs, Bennet sold two of the older horses and purchased Elizabeth a mare of her own.

Bennet’s reforms extended beyond education to household management.

Under his orders, Mrs. Graham instructed all five daughters—and their mother—in the tasks necessary to run Longbourn effectively.

From supervising the housekeeper and kitchen staff to understanding the intricacies of managing estate accounts, the girls received a thorough education in the practicalities of genteel life, including how to live within a set budget.

As with all these endeavours, some took to this more than the others.

Mrs. Bennet initially resisted, bristling at the notion of submitting to the same standards of propriety and decorum imposed upon her daughters, not to mention the restrictions to her spending in order to pay for these changes.

“Manage the household accounts?” she exclaimed one morning, waving the steward’s ledger away as if it might bite her.

“As if I do not already have enough to do, Mr. Bennet! Five daughters to marry off, dinners to plan, callers to entertain—and now you expect me to play housekeeper as well?”

Bennet, leaning against the mantel, raised an eyebrow.

“You are not being asked to scour the floors, madam, only to understand how those who do it are paid for the task and to learn how to minimise your expenses so you might live within the new budget I have given you. You fear the hedgerows after my death; this is what it will take to ensure you have somewhere better than that to live.”

Mrs. Bennet huffed and fanned herself dramatically at such a declaration.

“If I had wanted to live like a tradesman’s wife, I might have married that dreadful Mr. Elkins after all. I married a gentleman and wish to live as a gentlewoman ought to do.”

“You forget, Mrs. Bennet, how frequently my mother spent time on this very same task,” Bennet replied tersely, recalling the battles with his mother in the early days of his marriage.

How he wished he had put his foot down all those years ago.

Things would be different now.

Mrs. Bennet continued to glare at him, and their standoff might have continued indefinitely had it not been interrupted by the sound of rapid footsteps—and a loud crash.

“Miss Lydia!” came Miss Sutton’s sharp voice from the stairwell.

A moment later, Lydia burst into the room, her gown smeared with dirt and grass stains, her hair tumbling down her back.

In one grubby hand she clutched a torn piece of paper, ink smudged across its surface.

“I don’t like Miss Sutton!” Lydia cried before anyone could speak.

“She said I must write about ‘obedience’—and I said obedience is stupid! I hate that I am no longer permitted to do as I wish.”

Mrs. Bennet gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh, my poor lamb! Forced to endure such dreadful treatment?—”

Behind Lydia, Miss Sutton entered the room, calm as ever, holding another sheet of paper.

“Miss Lydia, despite her opinions,” said Miss Sutton coolly, “will write her sentences five times properly as punishment for her refusal to listen to or participate in lessons, and for her attempted escape from the school room through the third floor window by climbing down a tree. ”

Fluttering her handkerchief, Mrs. Bennet exclaimed over her daughter’s actions, but further effusions were cut off by Miss Sutton’s continued explanation.

“If she does not do as I have asked, she will copy a passage from Fordyce’s Sermons until dinner which will be porridge served in the nursery. She will do it legibly, or she will repeat it until it is. The windows in the schoolroom will be locked from this point forward and perhaps barred if it proves necessary.” This last was said with a pointed look at Lydia, who only glared back at her.

Lydia pouted furiously.

“That’s unfair!”

“Life often is,” Miss Sutton said serenely.

“Come along, child.”

With that, she ushered Lydia back towards the schoolroom.

Lydia grumbled the entire way, but she went.

The door closed behind them.

Mrs. Bennet stood silent, staring after her youngest daughter.

Slowly, her gaze drifted back to the ledger resting on the table.

“She is more than ten now,” she murmured, “and still runs wild like a stable boy. I suppose Miss Sutton has done well with her, considering she listens to hardly anyone—least of all her sisters or her mother. I gave her too much freedom before, did I not?”

Bennet said nothing.

He merely waited.

Mrs. Bennet straightened her cap with trembling fingers.

“You think this is my fault,” she finally said.

“I think,” Bennet replied, “that we have both indulged too long in what was easiest, rather than what was wisest. All our children have suffered for it, but Lydia most of all.”

She pressed her lips together, struggling with her emotions.

At last, she let out a heavy sigh .

“Very well,” she muttered.

“I will meet with the housekeeper this afternoon to take a look at the books. But do not expect me to count poultry or to try my hand in the kitchen.”

“Your sacrifice is noted, madam,” Bennet replied drily.

From that day forward, Mrs. Bennet attended the household meetings—sometimes with a grimace, but with growing understanding.

Although she never grew fond of ledgers, she soon developed a keen eye for household accounts and an even keener one for expenses she deemed “quite unnecessary.”

As the months turned into years, the transformation at Longbourn became increasingly apparent.

Neighbours frequently remarked upon the improved demeanour of the family.

Jane’s natural grace became more refined; Elizabeth’s sharp wit was tempered by the wisdom gained through broader studies.

Mary, with newfound confidence, contributed thoughtfully to conversation, while structured lessons gradually moderated Kitty’s once flighty spirits.

However, not all the girls adjusted as well.

Two years after the events of that fateful summer, Bennet called his wife into the study.

Earlier that afternoon, Lydia had been discovered boldly flirting with a visiting groom—laughing and tossing her hair in a manner wholly unbecoming of a young lady.

“This behavour must stop,” he said curtly, closing the door behind them.

“If she continues in this unchecked manner, none of your daughters shall have any reputation left to preserve.”

Mrs. Bennet, unusually subdued, fanned herself in agitation.

“But she is only a child, Mr. Bennet.”

“A child who already knows how to behave like a woman of no sense or virtue,” he replied sharply.

“She must go where there is firmer discipline, or I fear for what her future may become. We have tried to teach her at home, but she has continued as she has always done. Something must change, for I will not allow one daughter to ruin the chances of the rest of them.”

Faced with this evidence of Lydia’s increasing waywardness, Mrs. Bennet could offer no serious objection.

Thus, at eleven, Lydia was sent away to school, where it was hoped that a stricter environment might accomplish what Longbourn’s gentler efforts had failed to achieve.

Not long after Lydia departed for school, the family’s governess left as well, and Mrs. Graham assumed the role of companion to the four remaining girls.

In the years since his friends’ visit, Bennet had changed greatly.

The estate prospered, and Bennet found he had more time for his preferred pursuits than he would once have believed possible.

The residents of Longbourn were also happier.

His daughters—at least four of them—assisted with the house and the estate as they were able and, although Elizabeth remained his favourite, all of them benefited from his increased presence and influence.

Mary, in particular, had taken to spending more time with their father, taking delight in deep discussions over books and essays.

Catherine had shown a newfound aptitude for managing household affairs, regularly assisting both her parents and Mrs. Hill with the accounts.

Her maturity had not gone unnoticed.

In recognition of the change, most now addressed her as Catherine, although a few family members still occasionally slipped, out of long habit more than intent.

Mrs. Bennet, too, had changed.

With the reassurance that she would not be left destitute upon her husband’s death and comforted by the steps he had taken to secure her future, she grew calmer.

Although she remained eager to see all her daughters married, she no longer felt the urgency and desperation she once had.

Like her husband, she had her favourites.

Jane, still the most beautiful of her daughters, was never spared her mother’s open praise; Mrs. Bennet fully expected her to marry well.

Despite Lydia’s persistent intransigence, she also remained a favourite, if only because she most resembled her mother.