Page 27 of The Talented Daughters of Longbourn
Breakfast Parlor
Netherfield Hall
Two Hours Later
The sun shone in the east window onto the dark wood of the breakfast table, illuminating the dark wedge reposing on the white plate.
“What is this?” Miss Bingley demanded, staring down forbiddingly at the mysterious food residing on her table.
Her brother, who was silently eating his way through a very late breakfast, lifted his head to peer at her in confusion. “What is what?”
“This … what is this? A portion of fruitcake ?”
Bingley arched an eyebrow and said, “Yes. It is from Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet sent it over yesterday evening.”
“Why?” the lady asked with obvious disdain.
“It is a custom in the country to send pieces of wedding cake to friends,” Darcy explained, stepping into the breakfast parlor and striding over to the buffet. He had spent several hours this morning writing business letters, and he was very hungry.
Miss Bingley huffed. “How very quaint! These country folks! I will need to speak to the cook; she ought not to have sent it out for us to eat!”
“Why not, Caroline?” Bingley demanded.
“Why not?” his sister repeated, flicking a disdainful finger at the cake. “It looks most unappetizing, and it is hardly worthy of my table. If the servants do not wish to eat it, then it can be fed to the pigs!”
“Caroline, that is exceptionally rude,” her brother said coldly, his eyes narrow with anger.
His sister lifted her head to gaze in disbelief. Charles never spoke bluntly to her like this, and to rebuke her in front of Mr. Darcy? It was not to be borne!
“I only speak the truth!” she insisted. “I am certain Mr. Darcy agrees with me that a simple country cook is quite incapable of producing a truly fine cake.”
“I do not agree at all,” Darcy said, deliberately taking a sliver of the cake and placing it on his plate. “It depends on the cook, of course, but many of these country cooks have been passing on such recipes for generations, and they are very skilled. ”
“I suppose that is true from a country perspective,” Miss Bingley said in a patronizing tone, and she promptly turned the subject. “Charles, did I hear that you are planning to go to Town in the next few days?”
“Yes. I need to speak to my man of business, though I intend only to spend one night in London.”
“I do wonder if perhaps we all ought to return with you? It will be December next week, and I am confident we would enjoy Christmas far more in Town than here in the dull countryside.”
“I have no intention of leaving Netherfield in the near future,” Bingley said calmly. “Of course, you and Louisa and Hurst are welcome to depart for London.”
“What of you, Mr. Darcy?” Caroline asked, turning a coquettish look on her favorite guest, who had taken a seat next to Bingley and was eating the disdained cake. “Do you not think winter in the country to be dreadfully dreary?”
“In truth, I prefer the country to Town the vast majority of the time,” her guest replied, keeping his eyes on his food.
“But Derbyshire, Mr. Darcy, not Hertfordshire. Am I not correct? Derbyshire is such a glorious county.”
She broke off as the door opened, and the butler entered with a note on a silver platter. Bingley took the note, broke the seal, read it, sighed, and said, “It is a brief note from Mr. Josiah Bennet at Longbourn. The elder Mr. Bennet passed away this morning.”
They all sat in silence until Caroline spoke, saying insincerely, “Oh, what a pity.”
/
Longbourn
Elizabeth sat on the window seat in her bedchamber, caught between sorrow, agitation, fatigue, and a sliver of genuine relief.
She wondered at the relief for a moment, but her weary mind quickly supplied her with the reason.
Her father had been unwell for a long time, and extremely ill the last weeks.
It was a comfort to know that he was free from suffering.
It was, she admitted to herself, a relief to have it all over.
She had been waiting and waiting, grieving her father’s loss without actually having lost him.
It had been a turbulent and difficult time, with her mother in denial, with Uncle Josiah present but not legally master yet.
Now her father was dead, her mother could no longer bury her head in the sand, and the entire Bennet family could begin to move forward.
Without a doubt, the transition would be challenging, but it had been a long, difficult time coming.
The door opened and Jane entered, looking even more tired than Elizabeth.
“My dear Jane,” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Do sit down! How weary you look!”
Jane smiled and took her place next to her sister. The two women leaned close and wrapped loving arms around one another, and Jane lowered her blonde head to rest it on Elizabeth’s shoulder.
“I am tired,” she said in a low voice.
Elizabeth hesitated and then said, “How was…?”
“The end?” her sister finished and tightened her embrace a little. “It was peaceful. He was unconscious during those last hours. He did not moan or cry out, so I do not think he was in pain. His breathing slowed, and then it stopped. It was, I think, a gift to him, though a sorrow to us.”
Silence fell for a moment and then Elizabeth asked, “How is Mamma?”
“Mr. Jones gave her a dose to quiet her, and she is in bed with Mrs. Hill watching over her. ”
Elizabeth released her grip on her sister, sat up, and then looked around the room. “We will need to arrange for mourning clothes. Indeed, we should have dyed some of our clothing black in the last weeks.”
“But Mamma would never have countenanced such a thing, and you know it,” Jane said, peering into her sister’s face.
“Do not distress yourself on that matter, Lizzy; Charlotte has taken the east sitting room as her own, and she is arranging for mourning clothes for all of us. Lady Lucas and Maria will be coming in a few hours, and they and the servants can start pulling apart some of our garments in order to dye them black.”
“I can help,” Elizabeth said, though wanly.
“Perhaps tomorrow, or the next day, you may,” Jane said, and added sternly, “for now, you must go to bed. We all know that you spent far more time with Father than any of us, and you were also his favorite child. I know you are grieving and exhausted. Do not be anxious.”
Elizabeth could only smile gratefully at her sister.
She was tired, to the very bone, and it was true that with Charlotte now legally mistress of Longbourn, the house and its people were in good hands.
Charlotte had always been eminently practical and sensible.
She would do all that was necessary while Elizabeth slept.
/
Netherfield
Darcy tapped perfunctorily at the solid oak door before entering Bingley’s office.
It was entirely transformed from a week previously; before, it had been marked by signs of his friend’s indolence.
Now, Darcy noted with approval that almost every inch of the desk was covered in ledgers and notebooks and quills and ink pots.
Bingley looked up when Darcy entered, shoving back the notebook in which he had been writing. “Ah, Darcy, welcome,” he said warmly. But his usual jocularity was missing, leaving his eyes serious.
“Is all well, Bingley?” Darcy asked with concern as his friend stood to pour them both a measure of Madeira.
“Well enough.” Bingley smiled wanly as they both sat down. “What brings you here, Darcy?”
Darcy sank gratefully into the leather upholstery of the chair. “I came to inform you that Georgiana, Richard, and I will be departing for London in a few days. ”
Bingley lowered his glass to look at his older friend in surprise. “You are? But why? I did not think you were planning to leave so soon.”
“We were not,” Darcy acknowledged, “but with Wickham here – well, we have modified our plans slightly. He caused Georgiana grave offense once, and I do not wish her to have to worry about seeing him.” He gave Bingley an apologetic look and added, “I am sorry. I know I came here to assist you with the estate, but I must see to the care and comfort of my sister.”
“Well, as to that,” Bingley replied, and released a small, sheepish laugh. “I have been wondering how to politely convince you that you should leave.”
Darcy’s brows bounced up his forehead. “Indeed?” he queried, taking another swallow of wine.
“Indeed,” Bingley said firmly. “I have realized that I am too dependent on your aid to manage my own affairs. It is high time that I learn to stand on my own feet and direct Netherfield myself. Furthermore, I must take Caroline in hand. She has grown entirely too snobbish and rude. But it would be unpleasant for you and your relations to be here during our upcoming clashes on that subject.”
“It would,” Darcy agreed feelingly. “Well, it would seem our respective affairs have arranged themselves very conveniently, then. ”
“So it would seem,” Bingley echoed, plainly relieved. “When do you plan to depart?”
“We wish to pay our respects to the Bennets, so a day or two after the funeral, most likely,” Darcy answered.
“Ah, one more thing, Bingley; I would ask a favor of you, if you will. Could you keep your ear to the ground and listen to see what gossip Wickham might spread about my family and keep me apprised by letter?”
Bingley looked up at his friend curiously but did not pry. “Of course, Darcy. It would be my pleasure.”
“Thank you,” Darcy said, inclining his head.
He rose and exited the office, a sense of relief filling him, tempered by a pang of longing.
But he was a sensible man, led by his head, not his heart.
Once they were in London, both he and Richard could recover from their foolish infatuation with the Bennet women.
He and his cousin were expected to marry well; they could not afford to be falling in love with impoverished, orphaned country gentlewomen, no matter how charming, intelligent, scintillating, and beautiful they might be.
/
Georgiana’s Sitting Room
Netherfield