Page 13 of The Fire at Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Stables

Longbourn

An hour later

“Mr. Darcy and Colonel Forster, who commands the militia regiment, were sensible enough to order the servants to remove the paintings, figurines, and other such items from the dining room and drawing room during the fire,” Bennet explained as he led Mr. Gardiner toward the rear section of the stables.

A moment later, the two stepped into the tack room, which had been speedily organized to store art and other valuables.

“I fear I was so upset over the situation that I was worse than useless.”

“You had Fanny and Mary to consider,” Gardiner answered in a comforting tone, his eyes appraising the objects piled carefully on tables and floor.

“It appears to me that the east wing is structurally lost, though I hope that you will be able to reclaim the silver cutlery, pots, pans, and dishes from the kitchen. And who knows, maybe some other books survived the flames.”

Bennet grimaced and said, “I am not optimistic; with so many books in the library, the heat must have been incredible. I only hope that Principia is readable, but I will wait until later to look into the trunk the servants just found. I do not need additional disappointment at this moment.”

Mr. Gardiner cast a sidelong glance at his brother, and then decided that unusual situations required unusual questions.

“Do you have the funds to rebuild Longbourn?” he asked bluntly.

Bennet’s sorrowful expression was answer enough, but the master of Longbourn said grimly, “I fear I do not. Indeed, we have very little money available at present, and it will be some weeks before the tenants pay their quarterly rents, and even then – five hundred pounds is a goodly sum, but it is not nearly enough to rebuild the east wing.”

Gardiner looked out the window of the tack room toward the destroyed section of the mansion, and asked, “Do you intend to rebuild, then?”

Bennet blew out a breath and said, “Ideally, yes, of course, but it may be financially impossible.”

Gardiner wrinkled his nose and opened his mouth, then closed it, and Bennet said, “Go ahead, Brother; tell me what you are thinking. I am aware that my own thoughts are clouded by all that has come to pass, and I welcome your suggestions.”

“In that case, I wonder if perhaps you ought to set aside any thought of rebuilding the east wing. You are fifty years of age, Brother, and Longbourn will pass on to a distant cousin after your death. Instead of struggling and scraping to rebuild the east section, perhaps you should make the dining room into a kitchen, and the drawing room into a dining room, and so on. It would be more feasible than finding the funds for an entire reconstruction.”

Bennet tilted his head, his brow creased, and mused, “That is wise counsel, though I fear Fanny will be outraged. She takes great pride in Longbourn and will not be at peace with a smaller home.”

“Then you will have to put up with her anger,” his brother-in-law said, and at the surprised look in Bennet’s eyes, continued sternly, “Two thousand pounds a year is a good income, and you have saved nothing because you do not have the courage to oppose the whining of your wife and youngest daughters. Given the severity of the disaster, you will have to make hard choices in the coming weeks, including curtailing the spending of my beloved, spendthrift sister.”

Bennet was inclined to be insulted by this plain speaking, but he was intelligent enough to know that Gardiner was right.

“I would like to be able to argue with you on this, but you are correct, of course,” he said unhappily.

“I have hidden in my library and ignored my wife and daughters. It is a miracle the older three turned out so well given how careless I have been with their upbringing. Yes, I will work with Jane and Elizabeth to make a budget, and we will reduce our expenses significantly, though some repairs must be done, and soon, and where that money is to come from I do not know.”

“I will lend you five hundred pounds to initiate repairs,” Mr. Gardiner said, and he lifted a warning finger as Bennet’s mouth opened in protest. “It will be done formally, and we will sign papers, but you know I would never throw you in Marshalsea if you cannot repay it in your lifetime. It can come out of the estate after you pass, if necessary, though I believe that if you truly work hard at it, you can easily save a substantial sum within the year.”

Bennet nodded and said, “You are correct, of course. It will require substantial changes for all of us, but perhaps most of all, me. I have abrogated my responsibilities as master, husband, and father, but I am quite determined that this changes now.”

/

Charlotte brushed the inside of her upper arm across her face, her hands and lower arms liberally dusted with flour.

Her sleeves were rolled up to right above her elbow to protect them while she worked.

In front of her sat a perfectly-latticed apple pie, brushed and gleaming.

Mr. Collins had mentioned that apple was his favorite kind of pie, and Charlotte had been determined to make one today.

She was rather adept at baking. Unlike her friend Elizabeth and the other Bennet sisters, she had been in the kitchen from a young age, learning to cook and to bake.

Lady Lucas, not forgetting the time her husband had been a mere merchant and she but the daughter of a clergyman, had insisted that both her girls learn economy and how to manage a household.

She herself had sat them down with the books, poring over them with her daughters and impressing upon them the necessity of living within their means.

It had not been long before Charlotte had discovered within herself a talent for baking, which her mother had encouraged.

It was a useful sort of skill, and Charlotte had spent many hours in the kitchen honing it.

As a result, she could make many dishes of surpassing excellence – including apple pie.

“Make sure it bakes perfectly,” she enjoined the cook, brushing the flour from her hands before hurrying from the kitchen. Maria had agreed to style her hair for her again, as she wanted to look her best when Mr. Collins arrived.

She chose the demure pale pink frock with the cream ribbons today, and Maria carefully curled and pinned up her hair.

Charlotte again dabbed zinc across her face, examining the results critically in the mirror.

The pink did not match her complexion as the blue did, but at least it did not make her look sallow.

She and her sister had done their best, and only time would tell if it would yield results.

There was a loud knock on the door below, and Maria met her eyes in the mirror. Charlotte gave her younger sister a grateful smile. “Thank you, Maria.”

“You are welcome. Good luck!” her sister whispered, and Charlotte stood to glide from the room and into the corridor which led to the stairs.

She paused at the landing, watching her father greeting Mr. Collins, before the two men turned to disappear into the study for the quarter-hour before dinner.

Charlotte descended and entered the dining room to aid her mother in overseeing the place settings.

Everyone filtered into the room shortly, taking their usual places. Charlotte seated herself gracefully across from Mr. Collins and gave him a demure smile. He smiled back rather absently before they all bowed their heads in reverence as Sir William said grace.

He had scarcely finished before Lady Lucas burst out, “We went to see Mrs. Bennet at the Netherfield lodge today.”

“Did you?” her husband asked mildly, selecting a piece of roast beef. “And how is she doing?”

“Oh, much better, much better.” Lady Lucas waved this off, almost knocking the lightly buttered peas off the serving spoon. “But she told us something very interesting! It was Lydia who burned down Longbourn!”

Mr. Collins’s eyes bugged in dismay, and Sir William raised his eyebrows and asked, “Was it now?”

“We do not know for certain, Mamma,” Maria protested timidly.

“Oh, I am certain it was, Maria,” Lady Lucas dismissed. “The child is irresponsible and flighty. Truly, I am surprised she did not cause something catastrophic sooner.”

“This is terrible,” Mr. Collins moaned, obviously appalled. “My most esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, would never want me to marry into a family that could produce such foolishness!”

Charlotte silently took a bite of mashed potatoes.

She did wish her mother would not gossip so – the accusations against Lydia would be flying around the town by tomorrow – but on the other hand, Mr. Collins appeared to have lost interest in wedding one of his cousins.

And this, undeniably, increased her own chances considerably.

Her conscience pricked her as she glanced towards her sister’s unhappy countenance; Charlotte wished she could do something to ease poor Maria’s discomfort.

Mr. Collins had been cogitating as he sipped at his wine, and now set his glass down decidedly.

“I do not wish to return to Longbourn,” he declared.

“It is smoky and uncomfortable. I feel for my poor cousins, but I do not know that my presence will be of any succor in this trying time. I believe it would be much better for me to remove the burden of my upkeep, and I am confident that Lady Catherine de Bourgh would say so as well were she here to grace us all with her wisdom.”

“You are most welcome to stay with us,” Sir William offered jovially.

Lady Lucas’s glance at her eldest daughter was quicksilver; if Mr. Collins agreed, it would be a serendipitous opportunity. “Yes indeed, dear Mr. Collins,” she agreed cordially. “We would be most pleased to have you.”

“I shall consider it,” Mr. Collins conceded magnanimously as the first course was cleared away and dessert brought in.