Page 74 of The Shades of Pemberley

H enry Bennet was not a man given to excessive or even modest gestures of affection, even with those about whom he cared most. As a man who was not fond of society, whose only pleasure in it came from laughing at the folly of others, Bennet had long been more comfortable with his books than with other people.

Had Bennet had the power of choice, he might have always confined himself to his library, eschewing all contact except for the occasional servant delivering meals.

That was ridiculous, of course, for no one could isolate themselves from their fellow man.

As the master of an estate, a certain measure of congress with tenants, merchants, his fellow gentlemen, and others was a necessity, and while Bennet’s preference would have been to ignore such things, he had done his duty as well as he could.

Though Bennet had put aside certain funds for the support of his wife and daughters in the event of his untimely demise, he appreciated the reality of Darcy’s marriage to Elizabeth, which, especially now that Darcy had inherited a grand estate, secured their futures.

The potential ability to wrest Longbourn from Collins’s greedy hands was also a welcome development, for he suspected his wife would prefer to remain at Longbourn, even against the lure of living at Pemberley or Netherfield.

Speaking of his wife, Bennet noticed a change in her in the days after her removal to Darcy’s house. This change, he supposed, had begun when staying with the earl and countess, but it continued after assuming her self-appointed role as guardian of the youngest girls.

“Victoria!” exclaimed she the day after her arrival, when Mrs. Darcy joined their company. “How pleased we are that you have come!”

“Not at all, Margaret,” said Mrs. Darcy, her fondness for the other woman marked. “Hertfordshire was becoming quite dull, especially since your husband decided London consisted of greener pastures than Hertfordshire.”

“Whether they are greener, I cannot say,” said Bennet. “Yet I find that your son’s newly gained library is an excellent place to spend my days.” Bennet turned to Darcy. “I did warn you that I may never leave.”

“Wait until you see the library at Pemberley,” said Darcy. “They both ought to be good, for I have it on excellent authority that they have been the work of many generations.”

“No doubt you will add to them yourself,” said Mrs. Darcy.

“Of course. Now that I have inherited such a treasure, it would be criminal not to improve it in my turn.”

“That is the spirit, my boy,” murmured Bennet.

“Enough of libraries and other such dry subjects!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. “Come, Victoria. Let us settle you into the house, and then we will speak of the girls.”

“Of course, Margaret. I am at your disposal.”

In the ensuing days, the two women took firm control of the girls’ schedules and studies, providing guidance and love to three such young and impressionable girls.

While their improvement continued apace—Bennet never thought Mrs. Younge the sort of model the girls should take as their guide, and she had never paid much attention to Kitty and Lydia anyway—Bennet was interested in witnessing the changes in his wife.

“There is something... new about your mother,” said he to Elizabeth one morning later that week. “It is as if she has found something to rejuvenate her, found a purpose where she had none before.”

“Mama is unchanged in essentials,” said Elizabeth, watching as the three girls sat beside the two matrons in conversation. “Yet, I think she has learned much from Lady Susan, and she is taking that education and applying it to my sisters.”

“We may wish to put a stop to that,” quipped Bennet. “Your mother is not renowned as the most sensible or proper woman.”

“No, she is not,” said Elizabeth. “I can detect nothing she should not teach the girls, and William’s mother is there to assist.”

“Aye, that she is. Victoria Darcy is nothing if not proper; she has been of much assistance to your mother these many years.”

“I think it is a sense of purpose,” said Elizabeth after a moment of observing her mother. “Though Mama enjoyed staying with Lady Susan, I do not think she was ever comfortable in the company the Matlocks keep.”

“Your mother is no society woman,” agreed Bennet.

Elizabeth turned a smile on him. “If you want to get a sense of how matters are proceeding, watch the girls. Georgiana enjoys Mama’s company, and Kitty appreciates the attention she is receiving.”

With a laugh, Bennet agreed. “It was not palatable to Lydia at first, but it appears she has adjusted.”

“Mama has always favored Lydia,” agreed Elizabeth.

“And Jane. Then again, I could argue that you became her favorite child when Darcy made it clear that he could not live without you.”

Elizabeth shook her head and returned to the previous subject. “They are each providing the other with something they missed before. The girls have a figure to confide in and emulate, while to Mama, the girls are young ladies in need of guidance.”

“That is the truth. It makes me wonder what she will do when they all leave for their own homes.”

“Do you not know?” asked Elizabeth, fixing him with a mischievous grin. “By then, Mama will have grandchildren to spoil.”

Bennet released his mirth again. “Yes, I suppose you are correct. It will keep her occupied, but then she will wish to tour the countryside, visiting your homes one after the other.”

“As it will also take you into company with your daughters, I cannot imagine you will grumble much. Or perhaps you will, for you will consider it your duty.”

“Nonsense,” replied Bennet, waving her suggestion away. “Instead, I shall ensconce myself in your husband’s library and allow Mrs. Bennet to visit all her daughters in turn.”

A shaken head was all Elizabeth could do, for Darcy entered at that moment with the earl, countess, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Bennet’s two daughters not staying with them in tow.

A chorus of greetings and welcomes ensued, and while Bennet made a few comments, he stayed clear of the fray.

Soon, they all took their seats for a morning visit, and Bennet could not help but open the conversation with a jest.

“I am shocked, Lord Matlock, for I had expected Bingley to attend any visit you made. From what I have heard, the man lives at your house.”

Only the rosy hue of Jane’s cheeks exceeded the laughter this comment provoked, as Bennet had expected. Soon, however, she recovered her composure and proved she was Elizabeth’s sister by glaring at him. Unrepentant, he grinned and raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, Bingley has been a revelation, to be certain,” said Lady Susan. “He has become quite the fixture at my house, his ardor beyond even that displayed by my daughters’ husbands.”

“Mr. Bingley is attentive,” said Jane, a classic understatement.

“That he is,” agreed Lord Matlock. “I find Mr. Bingley to be an excellent young fellow. Have you known him for long?”

“Since university,” agreed Darcy. “Bingley was a year behind me.”

“He means to purchase an estate?”

“It was his father’s wish, and one he could not accomplish during his lifetime.” Darcy paused and then grinned at his wife and eldest sister-in-law. “It was my thought that Bingley might purchase an estate in Hertfordshire, but with recent events, I suspect he might prefer a county further north.”

“The north would be closer to his ancestral home,” said Jane, a bit of daring Bennet had not expected from her.

“That it would,” said Bennet. “But it would also situate his future wife near the home of her closest sister and put him near his excellent friend.”

The company erupted in mirth at Bennet’s quip, and though Jane’s cheeks grew rosy again, she repeated her earlier glare. Unaffected by her feigned displeasure, Bennet turned to Elizabeth.

“What say you, Elizabeth?”

“Little that has not already been said,” replied his second eldest. “Should matters fall in such a way, I would not oppose having Jane nearby.”

“Yes, we all know how close you are,” said Mrs. Bennet. She turned to her middle daughter and said: “How are you getting on, Mary?”

The most socially awkward of his daughters, Mary was not accustomed to being the focus of attention, and this manifested in her hesitation before she answered. Mary, too, showed that she had matured, for she raised her head and met her mother’s gaze.

“I have enjoyed my time with Lady Susan and Lord Matlock. They have even introduced me to new literature, which has broadened my mind.”

“Your daughters’ company has been a treasure, Mrs. Bennet,” said Lady Susan. “Not since my daughters left my home for their own have I enjoyed the company of such ladies.”

Lady Susan turned a glare on her son. “As I must endure Anthony’s presence since he refuses to find a wife, the presence of other ladies is a boon.”

“All in good time, Mother,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, putting his mother off with a laugh. “I must find a woman of fortune so that I may maintain my lifestyle, after all.”

“Or a woman who will endure him,” said the earl sotto voce .

“Aye, that is important too!”

“Enough of this banter,” said Lady Susan, motioning to her family to be silent. “Our purpose for visiting today is to invite you all to an evening at the theater.”

Lady Susan turned a smile on the younger girls. “You are also invited, for such an activity is acceptable.”

“What a fine thing that will be!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. “Why, I do not think I have ever attended.”

As conversation continued about him, Bennet watched his wife with no little amusement.

The old Margaret Bennet cared little for such things as the theater, and Bennet knew she still possessed little knowledge of such literature.

Mrs. Bennet, he knew, would never be a woman of cerebral conversation or prodigious levels of information, but she would no doubt enjoy an evening, even if she was not familiar with the material the theater troupe presented.