Page 17 of The Fire at Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Jane’s room

Longbourn

“Jane, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy are here,” Elizabeth said, hurrying into her sister’s bedchamber.

“Oh!” Jane replied, her blue eyes brightening and her cheeks turning pink. “Do I look well?”

Lydia, who was sitting in the corner stitching white lace onto one of Mary’s old gowns, set aside her work and jumped to her feet. “Just a moment, Jane. Your hair is a little disordered.”

Lydia scurried over to Jane’s dresser, found a comb, quickly tidied her eldest sister’s hair, and then pushed her toward the door. “There, now you look beautiful.”

The eldest Misses Bennet exchanged bemused glances at this solicitude, and Elizabeth said, “Would you like to join us downstairs, Lydia? We will have tea and biscuits.”

“No, I need to add more lace to this dress,” Lydia said, seating herself and picking up her work.

A moment later, her two eldest sisters passed out of the room, and Lydia felt her body relax slightly.

It was a great relief that Mr. Bingley was calling again.

It seemed that in spite of the fire at Longbourn, the gentleman was still inclined to pursue Jane.

Lydia hoped and prayed that Mr. Bingley would make an offer to her eldest sister soon, as an engagement would distract Mrs. Bennet from her current anger towards her youngest child.

Lydia felt a tear form in her eye, and she used her sleeve to brush it away. She had not meant to burn down the house, but for now, anyway, her mother was not inclined to forgive her for her carelessness.

At least she had something to look forward to in the near future; her aunt Phillips was hosting a dinner party the next night, and all the Bennet girls except Mary, who was still recovering from her injuries, had been invited.

Lydia looked forward to a few hours of good food, games of lottery tickets, and meeting handsome, red-coated officers.

It would be a relief from the unrelenting work and gloom here at Longbourn.

/

Sitting Room

“My dear Miss Bennet, I hope you are well?” Bingley asked, anxiously surveying the face of the woman he admired.

“I am well,” Jane returned with a smile. “Indeed, sir, you must not concern yourself with me.”

“It is difficult not to worry,” Bingley confessed. “I cannot imagine the sorrow and hardship of these last days.”

Jane’s brow furrowed at these words and she said, “Without a doubt, the fire was a disaster, and we are all suffering somewhat, but …” she paused and tapped her rosy lips with one slender finger before continuing, “but, I would say that the fire has also made me grateful in some ways.”

“Grateful?” Bingley repeated, obviously confused.

“Yes,” Jane replied. “Before the fire, I never thought particularly about how blessed we are to enjoy plentiful food every day, and very well prepared food at that. I never realized what it is like to live in a drafty home where the winds whistle under the doors. I never realized how fortunate we are to have warm and well fitted clothing. I realize…”

She trailed away and Bingley reached out a gloved hand to touch the lady’s gloved fingers. “You realize…?”

“How thankful I am to have never lost a loved one,” Jane said, as tears sprang into her eyes and one proceeded to roll down her cheek.

Bingley was filled with an insane desire to pull the lady close and wipe her tears away, but naturally he could not, especially with Mr. Bennet in the very room with them.

Jane sniffled, wiped her face with her handkerchief, and shook her head in embarrassment.

“I do apologize for my tears, but they are at least partially tears of gratitude. Many of our friends and acquaintances have lost sisters and brothers, children, and parents and while I have always sympathized with such loss, I never knew how terrible it must be. Those hours when we waited to hear if Mary and Mamma and Father were alive – well, I will never forget them. Nor will I ever forget my gratitude that, while Longbourn was damaged, our loved ones still live.”

“Truly, that is the most important thing,” Bingley agreed solemnly.

The three other individuals in the sitting room were discussing the estate books of Longbourn.

“My Lizzy is excellent with figures,” Mr. Bennet said with a fond look at his second child. “She also has young eyes, which is a relief since my own eyes struggle with columns of tiny numbers.”

“That is a remarkable ability for a young lady,” Darcy said, looking upon Elizabeth with admiration.

Unfortunately, that admiration was quite lost on its recipient who saw, in the gentleman’s intent gaze, disapproval.

“I suppose it is not considered a common purview for a truly accomplished lady,” she returned in some asperity, “but I enjoy figuring, and as my father states, it is a useful ability at this juncture in our lives.”

Darcy’s eyes widened in dismay. He knew that he often struggled to understand the tone of those around him, but it was obvious that Miss Elizabeth was displeased.

“Not at all,” he said promptly. “Indeed, Miss Elizabeth, I believe that an ability to manage numbers is a wonderful skill and far more useful than most traditional accomplishments.”

Elizabeth relaxed and smiled at him. “Such as a thorough understanding of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages?”

Darcy knit his brow at this and then grinned as the appropriate memory came to the forefront of his mind. “All this she must possess, and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.”

“Precisely,” Elizabeth said drily.

“What is this?” Mr. Bennet asked, and watched as the two young people turned toward him with a start of surprise, as though they had forgotten he was there.

“My apologies, sir,” Darcy said. “We are referring to a conversation which took place at Netherfield some weeks ago when Miss Bennet was convalescing from her illness. One evening we had a discussion about the attributes of a truly accomplished woman, and Miss Elizabeth was of the view that very few women were accomplished to such a great degree as to master all of the aforementioned skills.”

“I quite agree with her,” Bennet said, “and moreover, I would argue that it is pointless for a woman to force herself to learn how to sing and play if she dislikes music, or draw or paint if she has no talent or interest.”

Darcy looked startled and said, “But surely, Mr. Bennet, it is considered a societal requirement that a woman of gentle birth attempt to master at least a few such accomplishments?”

“I suppose it is,” Bennet said, “and perhaps the desire to marry well is a reasonable impetus for a young woman to gain expertise in the areas you mentioned. I contend, however, that it is foolish for society to insist upon such a thing. Why should a woman be required to draw if she has no desire or ability to do so? Why should she learn French without aptitude or reason? It is ridiculous.”

“Of course, we assume that those of the lower classes learn a trade or skill, like cooking or cleaning or caring for infants for a woman, or farming or blacksmithing for a man,” Elizabeth mused.

“Yes, but those skills are necessary so that people can eat, and ride horses, and be warmly clothed, and the like,” Bennet argued. “Art and reading and music are not vital for survival.”

“Are they not?” Darcy challenged. “If we focus only on eating and drinking, we would be no different than animals.”

Bennet challenged this with a sparkle in his eye, and Darcy responded with his own thoughts, and Elizabeth added her own perspective.

Tea and biscuits arrived, and the discussion continued enthusiastically until, reluctantly, Darcy rose to his feet, aware that he had already stayed overlong, especially considering the situation of his hosts.

“My apologies, Mr. Bennet, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, looking at Bingley, who also rose, though unhappily. “We have overstayed our welcome, I fear, and you have much to do.”

“Not at all, sirs,” Bennet said. “You spoke of the need for occasional relaxation, and I confess that a spirited debate with a clever gentleman was soothing to my intellect. I believe Lizzy and I will both return to the books with renewed vigor.”

“And I am always delighted when you call,” Jane said, her blue eyes fixed on Bingley.

/

Bingley and Darcy rode back to Netherfield in silence.

Bingley was dwelling on his conversation with Miss Bennet.

Every time he was in company with the lady, he felt more convinced that she was the perfect wife for him.

She was honorable and kind, patient and long suffering.

She did not rail against God or fate at the loss of part of her home, but instead chose to be thankful for what she still had.

She cared more about people than possessions.

Moreover, Bingley was certain that Miss Bennet admired him in return, though perhaps not to the same degree. And yet, there had been delight in those celestial blue eyes when they met today, and genuine warmth when she declared that she was always happy to see him.

He would ask her to marry him, and soon, though he would not tell Darcy or his sisters ahead of time. His sisters would whine and complain – especially Caroline – and Darcy would doubtless be concerned that Bingley was moving too quickly.

But he was confident now, confident that he would be far happier with Miss Bennet as a wife than with any of the scores of pretty ladies in London who had caught his brief fancy.

No, this was not infatuation, but love for a generous, gracious woman who maintained her cheerful demeanor even in the midst of calamity.

Darcy too was thinking fondly of a lady.

He had wondered where Miss Elizabeth came by her satirical wit, and now he knew the answer.

He had met Mr. Bennet before, but he had never engaged in any sort of significant conversation with the master of Longbourn.

Now he knew that Miss Elizabeth was her father’s daughter, with Mr. Bennet’s finely honed intelligence and debating skills.

He had enjoyed himself thoroughly this morning.

Perhaps too much.

And yet, surely he had sufficient self control to keep from falling completely, hopelessly in love with Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn?

/

Jane and Elizabeth’s Bedchamber

Longbourn

That Night

“Jane?”

“Yes, Lizzy?”

“Do hurry up and help warm up the bed.”

Jane, who had just stepped out of her dress, hastily donned the nightdress hanging over a chair near the fire, and released a sigh of relief as the warm fabric slipped over her.

Elizabeth, who was already in bed, flipped the covers back as Jane blew out the tallow candles.

Mrs. Bennet always insisted on using wax candles, which burned cleanly, but now that the Bennets were forced to economize, Elizabeth and Jane had agreed to use the evil smelling tallow candles as much as possible.

Jane eagerly hopped into bed and wormed her way closer to her sister, relishing the opportunity to share body heat. “Ooh, it is cold!” she complained. “I never realized what a privilege it was to have a fire with plenty of wood.”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth agreed, burrowing closer to her sister.

She had always considered herself an observant woman, but in the last days, she had discovered a multitude of unpleasant realities associated with a poorly run house.

She had long appreciated Mrs. Hill, the housekeeper, and Mr. Selkirk, the butler, but had never before realized how hard both servants worked to keep Longbourn running smoothly.

Now, with Mrs. Hill at the hunting lodge with Mrs. Bennet, Mary, and Kitty, with Mr. Selkirk assisting Mr. Bennet in a myriad of ways, with the servants vigorously working to find treasures in the burned part of the house, and the summer kitchen being used for winter use – well, the bedchambers were cold, and there were no coals available to use for bedwarmers, and the food was adequate but plain, and Elizabeth realized how fortunate she had been all her life without really knowing it.

She sighed aloud, which provoked Jane to ask, “Lizzy, is something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” her sister replied. “No. I hope that Lydia and Father are not too cold.”

“I gave Lydia a little of our wood,” Jane admitted. “We have each other to stay warm, and she is alone in the bed. I hope you do not mind.”

“Of course I do not, my sweet, darling, Jane,” Elizabeth murmured. She was feeling warmer now.

Silence fell for a minute, and then Elizabeth said sleepily, “The most extraordinary thing happened today.”

“What was that?”

“Mr. Darcy was here – well, you knew that, because Mr. Bingley was as well, and Father was telling the great master of Pemberley that I am good with figures…”

“Which you are,” Jane agreed.

“I like numbers,” Elizabeth said simply. “At any rate, Mr. Darcy said, ‘ That is a remarkable ability for a young lady’ and Jane, I am quite certain he meant it as a compliment!”

“Why would he not?” her sister asked in amusement.

“Oh, but you see, he was staring at me in that way he did at that dinner party at Lucas Lodge a few weeks ago, and at Netherfield Park when you were ill. I always thought that he was staring at me in disapproval, but perhaps … perhaps that intent look is merely one of interest?”

“Perhaps it is a look of approval ... or even admiration?” Jane suggested slyly.

Elizabeth chuckled and said, “Now my dear, let us not run away with ourselves. I will be content enough if Mr. Darcy looks upon me without disdain, truly.”

Jane opened her mouth in the darkness and then closed it. She did not pretend to know Mr. Darcy’s true feelings about her sister, but she had always thought it most peculiar that the gentleman would stare at Elizabeth because he disapproved of her. No, it seemed more likely that…

But no, she would not speculate. It was enough to know her own heart; she was very much in love with courteous, compassionate, generous Mr. Bingley, and she prayed that one day she would have the honor of becoming his wife.