Page 15 of The Fire at Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

The Hunting Lodge

Netherfield Estate

Mary opened her eyes and shifted to relieve a cramp in her side, only to hiss with pain as the movement jarred her damaged arm.

“Mary!” a soft voice exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

“Elizabeth?” Mary asked in confusion. “Is that you?”

“Indeed it is, dear sister. Here, let me provide some light.”

Elizabeth moved over to the crackling fire, collected a taper from the jar on the mantle, leaned over to light it, lit three wax candles sitting on a small table near Mary’s bed, and turned to inspect the face of her next younger sister.

What she saw neither pleased nor alarmed her. Mary was pale, and her brow creased with pain, but her eyes were clear, her breathing even and, when Elizabeth touched her sister’s forehead, there was no fever. It could, Elizabeth knew, have been a great deal worse.

“Would you like some water?” she asked.

Mary nodded and said, “Yes, I am so thirsty.”

Elizabeth helped her sit up, and Mary took a long drink, then remained in a seated position while Elizabeth plumped the pillows and smoothed the sheets. “Are you warm enough?” she asked, “or would you like me to get another blanket?”

Mary leaned back and smiled wearily. “I am warm enough, Lizzy, thank you.”

“How are you feeling?” Elizabeth asked tenderly.

Mary blew out a breath and fixed her eyes on the ceiling above her bed. “My head feels better, which is a relief. I am able to think more clearly now. My arm and hand hurt a great deal, but that is no surprise.”

“Your hand? What is wrong with your hand?”

Mary looked at her hand, which was well wrapped with bandages, and said, “I burned myself on a doorknob in Mamma’s room, when we tried to leave that way, and then I cut the same hand as I was jumping through the window.”

“Oh, Mary!” Elizabeth cried, her eyes filled with tears. “How you have suffered, dear sister.”

“I saved Mamma, so I am content,” Mary murmured, wincing a little at her sister’s loud voice. Her head was better now, but that did not mean that it was entirely free of pain. “I thought you were at Longbourn today.”

“We were,” her sister said in a low tone, now sensing Mary’s need for quiet, “but we needed to bring over some clothing for you and Kitty, and we wanted to ask your permission to share some of your gowns with Lydia.”

Mary frowned in confusion. “Share my gowns with Lydia? Why would she want my gowns? She likes much brighter colors, not to mention more lace.”

Elizabeth sat down, sighed, and said, “She does not precisely want your dresses, Mary, but her bedroom was destroyed, and all her clothing with it. You are closest in height and weight to Lydia, and thus, if you do not mind lending Lydia some of your clothing, we would be appreciative.”

“Until she can be fitted for more?” Mary asked sleepily.

Elizabeth opened her mouth, and then closed it.

She knew that money was in short supply, that her mother was still very angry at Lydia, and that there was much uncertainty as to their futures.

But Mary, who had been injured, who could have died, did not need to be burdened with the Bennets’ current financial struggles.

“Yes, dear one, until she can be fitted for more. Now, can I get you something to eat?”

/

“Oh Brother, it was dreadful, absolutely dreadful!” Mrs. Bennet moaned. “I would have died without Mary, and she is terribly injured!”

Edward Gardiner, who had accompanied his nieces to the hunting lodge, cast an alarmed glance at Jane, who said reassuringly, “She is not terribly injured, Mamma. She broke her arm, burned her hand, and has a lump on her head, but she is feeling better already, and Mr. Jones says that her arm should heal well.”

“That is wonderful news,” Mr. Gardiner said, and then turned back toward his sister. “Fanny, my dear, I know it was a hideous experience, but I find myself thanking God that no one was killed in the flames.”

“No thanks to Lydia,” Mrs. Bennet said, shooting a furious glance at her youngest child, who was sitting in the corner room, drinking tea and eating Mrs. Hanson’s special biscuits. “That careless girl set the house on fire, and all my clothes are gone, and my jewelry…”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Gardiner interrupted, glancing at Lydia’s stricken face. “Now Fanny, this lodge seems very comfortable, but if you and Mary would like to stay with Madeline and me in London, I beg you will tell me. We would be pleased to have you.”

“Oh, thank you, Brother, you are so very kind! But no, we are quite comfortable here, and Mary ought not to be jolted along roads, you know. Now I may beg an invitation for Jane soon; if she succeeds in capturing Mr. Bingley, whom I am quite certain is in love with her – well, she will need bride clothes made by a London dressmaker! But for now, Kitty and I will make do with Mrs. Randall’s dressmaking; she is quite skilled, you know. ”

“What about me, Mamma?” Lydia demanded. “I need dresses too! Indeed, I need them more than Kitty, who can wear some of Jane’s gowns, which are beautiful. You know that Mary likes dull, boring colors, and I cannot bear to be seen in...”

“You will bear it, Miss Lydia,” Mrs. Bennet snapped. “You are the one who burned all of your clothing, and mine, and Kitty’s. You can make do with Mary’s cast downs, and I will order a few new dresses for Mary, who saved my life while you were gallivanting around Meryton!”

Lydia gasped, and her eyes filled with tears. “Mamma! I did not mean to...”

“My dear Fanny,” Mr. Gardiner interposed, “I understand it is not entirely certain that Lydia is responsible for the fire. In any case, I fear that there is very little money for new gowns and thus your daughters will, for now, be required to share.”

Mrs. Bennet, who had been preparing to unleash more vitriol at her youngest child, froze in confusion. “No money? What on earth do you mean, Brother?”

“Mamma,” Elizabeth said carefully, “it will take a great deal of money to repair Longbourn, and it is some weeks before the tenants are due to pay their quarterly rents. Until then, we will have to be very careful with spending, and thus Father has decided that only you and he will purchase more clothing. The rest of us can share clothing for the time being.”

Mrs. Bennet was so incredulous that she choked, and coughed, and then began weeping.

“But ... but we must have new gowns, or most of us, anyway! Mr. Bingley is to marry my Jane and what of Kitty? How will she find a husband if she is wearing Jane’s gowns?

Oh, to think that I would experience such a calamity. ..”

Mr. Gardiner suppressed a groan as his eldest niece did her best to soothe her mother. He could only hope and pray that Bennet would be able to hold the line against Mrs. Bennet’s histrionics.

/

Jane’s Bedchamber

Longbourn

A Few Hours Later

Elizabeth suppressed another shiver, staring vaguely into the darkness at the familiar shapes of her sister’s room. She knew every nook and cranny and shadow of this room, dresser and wardrobe and elegant chair and gauzy curtains, and yet now it felt strange and unwelcoming and cold.

Well, the cold was explained easily enough – the window in the music room had been smashed, and despite the planks hastily nailed over the gap, the cold seeped in and chilled the entire west wing.

Mr. Bennet, constrained by the abrupt necessity of economy, had decreed that they would be using much less wood in their fires now.

A good amount of their stockpile was flowing steadily to the lodge, where Mrs. Bennet and Mary were recovering.

Elizabeth snuggled closer to Jane’s welcome heat, her mind swirling with thoughts of her mother and sister, and their family’s loss.

She hoped Mary was feeling better; Mr. Jones had not been terribly worried about Mrs. Bennet’s ankle, but his expression had been grave when he had told Mr. Bennet about Mary’s injuries.

Elizabeth was glad that Kitty was there to help; she was quiet and gentle when Lydia was not dragging her into scrapes.

The log in the fire shifted, half-crumbling, and sparks flared for a moment before the flames sank down lower than before.

Elizabeth watched the sullen glow, immensely grateful to be sharing a bed.

She wondered how her father, alone in the room recently occupied by Mr. Collins, was faring.

She knew it was likely a bit warmer in there, not so close to the breached music room, but it would still be chilly.

She was also shamefully glad that Mr. Collins wasn’t staying with them, but with the Lucases.

Part of her felt guilty for foisting their cloddish cousin on their kindly friends, but she assuaged her conscience with knowledge of the cheerful hospitality of Sir William and Lady Lucas.

She did hope he was not boring them too terribly with his lamentations about the devaluing of his inheritance.

His inheritance. Their home. The kitchen. Father and Mother and Lydia and Kitty had lost all of their belongings. The library, her father’s pride and joy and her own occasional haven. All gone, nothing but ash and smoke. She still could not believe it; she knew she was in denial. Shock.

“Lizzy, are you still awake?”

Elizabeth turned over in surprise to peer at the lump that was her sister. “Yes, I am. I thought you were already asleep!”

The lump stirred and shifted in the dim moonlight which glowed through the curtains. “No. So much has happened that I find I cannot sleep.”

I am having the same problem,” Elizabeth returned with a sigh. For a minute, the two sisters were silent and then Jane said, “I do hope that your recent conversation with Mr. Darcy was not too unpleasant."

Elizabeth frowned in confusion and said, “No, it was not unpleasant at all.”

“Good. I thought I heard you and Mr. Darcy arguing about rest and relaxation.”

“Oh, yes, we did, but you know I like debating, and I am confident that Mr. Darcy does as well. We had a lively and enjoyable conversation.”