Page 20 of The Talented Daughters of Longbourn

Sitting Room

Longbourn

Downstairs, Josiah had coaxed Lydia and Kitty into a sitting room where tea was being served.

Elizabeth, after instructing the cook to ensure there was sufficient food at dinner for the additional guests, stepped into the sitting room where Lydia stood by the window, her eyes intent, her body erect, as she proclaimed,

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou see'st the twilight of such day

As after sunset fadeth in the west,

Which by and by black night doth take away,

Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.

In me thou see'st the glowing of such fir e

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

As the death-bed whereon it must expire,

Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,

To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Her last words died away, and she gulped, her eyes now shiny with tears.

Kitty released a sob but Josiah merely stood up, pulled his youngest niece close to him, and said, “A most apt sonnet, my dear ones. Your father is indeed in his twilight, and we all mourn it. But while we weep over what is to come, I do encourage you to take hope in the living Christ, who saves us.”

Kitty bowed her head at these words, and Lydia said, with a flushed face, “I only wish someone had told us sooner that Father is so terribly sick!”

Elizabeth bit her lip at this thinly veiled accusation and was relieved when her uncle said, “I understand your distress, Lydia, but none of us knew how very poorly your father was doing, and given your mother’s refusal to believe the truth…”

He trailed off, and Lydia blew out a breath, nodded and said, “I do understand that. Given how Mamma is acting now, I daresay my older sisters had little choice. Are Aunt Gardiner and our Gardiner cousins, and Charlotte and Samuel coming to Longbourn as well?”

“My wife and Samuel will arrive tomorrow or the next day,” her uncle said. “Charlotte needs to make some arrangements before she journeys here. As for your Aunt Gardiner, she intends to stay in London with her children until the situation is more settled.”

Elizabeth knew what her uncle meant – there was no reason to bring four small children to Longbourn, with the elder Mr. Bennet dying.

As for Charlotte, well, Mrs. Charlotte Bennet would soon be mistress of Longbourn, and little Samuel would soon be heir of Longbourn when the boy’s father took his rightful place.

/

Longbourn

The Next Day

Darcy swung down from Phoenix, handed the reins to an eager stableboy, and walked over to help Georgiana down from her own gray mare.

She held his hand and dismounted with her usual grace, and then tucked her arm in his as they, along with Bingley and Richard, made their way down the paved path which led to the front door of Longbourn.

It was, Darcy decided, a perfect November day; the air was chilled but not bitterly cold, the sun was shining brightly, the sky was blue with a few fluffy clouds interspersed charmingly, and the wind was light.

The butler answered Bingley’s knock and permitted the Netherfield party entry, but as Darcy stepped inside, he suddenly felt as though he were entering a tomb.

The whole house seemed oppressively silent, and the servants, though expertly expressionless, had an air of palling gloom.

As hats and pelisses were gathered, he subtly checked his fob-watch to ensure they were not too early for calling.

The hands rested at noon; the hour was not the problem.

Georgiana pressed a little closer to his side as they all moved into the hall; she recognized the unease as well.

He found himself abruptly glad that both of Bingley’s sisters had remained home today.

Louisa Hurst and Miss Bingley had both complained at breakfast of feeling a trifle under the weather, though he guessed that it was the decision to ride on horseback that had encouraged both ladies to linger home in the warmth.

Bingley himself seemed entirely oblivious to the miasma permeating the house, following the butler with a jaunty step into the drawing room, while the rest of the party filed behind.

Awaiting them there sat Miss Bennet, her sister Miss Elizabeth, and a gentleman unknown to the party, who was clad sensibly in a tan coat and buckskin breeches.

The butler announced the visiting party and withdrew on silent feet.

“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” Bingley said, stepping ahead with a broad smile on his face. “I hope you are well today?”

The ladies exchanged hasty glances, and Miss Bennet stepped forward. Darcy’s keen eyes noted that both ladies looked unhappy, and Miss Elizabeth appeared tired and pale.

“We are well enough, thank you,” Miss Bennet said in a low voice. “Please, may I introduce you to my uncle, Mr. Josiah Bennet? Uncle, Miss Darcy, Mrs. Annesley, Mr. Fitzwilliam, Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Bingley.”

The gentlemen bowed to one another, and Mr. Bingley said, “Mr. Bennet, it is a pleasure to meet you. I believe you are an artist?”

“I am,” Josiah replied courteously. “Please, will you not sit down? I am certain tea will arrive soon.”

The ladies and gentlemen arranged themselves here and there, and Bingley said, as soon as he had attained his seat, “I do hope that Miss Kitty is feeling well now? ”

Miss Elizabeth nodded and said, “Indeed, she is far better, Mr. Bingley; we are all most grateful that you took such excellent care of her.”

“It was our honor, of course,” the master of Netherfield said, his gaze fixed raptly on Jane’s face.

The door opened at this juncture, and the butler stepped in and leaned down to murmur into Josiah’s ear. The man rose to his feet and said, “I fear I must excuse myself, as my brother needs to speak with me. It was an honor to meet you all.”

Josiah departed, and Darcy, whose ears were sharp, briefly heard the sound of sobbing from elsewhere in the house. He turned his gaze on Elizabeth, who obviously had recognized the same sound and was looking worried.

“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said impulsively, “I am afraid that we have called at an inopportune time. We would not wish to intrude if it is inconvenient.”

Elizabeth managed a slight smile and said, “Indeed, it is very kind of you to call, but it is true that ... well, the reality is that we should have taken the knocker from the door this morning. My father has been unwell for some time and now ... he is very ill, you see, and he is not expected to recover. ”

Georgiana gasped at these words and Bingley looked shocked, while Fitzwilliam sighed and Darcy, although sympathetic, was not surprised given the aura in the house which spoke of some approaching doom.

“I am so very sorry,” Mrs. Annesley said, her plump face grave, “but where there is life, there is hope.”

Elizabeth shook her head and said, “I fear there is very little hope, and my father is quite at peace with his imminent departure from this life. Our uncles from London have both come to meet with our father to make arrangements for the near future, and Uncle Josiah brought a common license so that our dear sister, Mary, who is upstairs even now, can wed Mr. Turnball in three days.”

Darcy promptly stood up and said, “In that case, we will not disturb you any longer. We apologize for the intrusion.”

The rest of the party rose as well, and Elizabeth said, “Indeed, sirs, Miss Darcy, we are most grateful for your visit. It is comforting to look upon the faces of friends at such a time.”

“I will pray for you all,” Miss Darcy said quietly, her eyes shiny with sympathetic tears.

“Thank you very much,” Jane said.