Page 39 of The Talented Daughters of Longbourn
“Let me show you,” Elizabeth replied, rising to her feet and handing the top most piece of paper to her aunt. She sat down across from her aunt and watched as Charlotte, usually one of the most stoic of women, teared up noticeably.
“Oh Lizzy, it is marvelous!”
“Thank you.”
Charlotte wiped away a drop from her cheek and said, “I will put this in my bedchamber tonight to remind myself that yes, my little Samuel does sleep on occasion.”
Elizabeth laughed and said, “Yes, obviously he does. I crept in on him yesterday during his nap, and he looked like a little angel on his cot, with those dark eyelashes against his cheeks. I wish I was better at painting, but alas, I am not. I fear you will have to make do with pencil and charcoal.”
“Oh, it does not matter. I will always treasure this – unless you need to send it to Jane?”
“No, it is for you and my uncle, though I will let Jane know that our little cousin would be a worthy subject for a sculpture.”
Charlotte chuckled, but she could not help but feel some pride in the appearance of her little boy. She herself was a plain woman and Josiah was not conventionally handsome. Their son, however, took after his cousin Jane with blond hair and blue eyes. He was quite ridiculously handsome.
She shook her head, slightly ashamed at such vain thoughts, and focused her attention on Elizabeth, who was now gazing into the fire, her expression melancholy.
“Elizabeth?”
“Yes?”
“How are you doing?”
Elizabeth shook herself a little and turned a cheerful face on her friend and aunt. “I am well enough.”
Charlotte considered her carefully and then said, “I think you are not particularly well, nor would I expect it. You were always very close to your father, and this must be a sorrowful time for you, nor can it be easy to have your uncle take control of the estate.”
Elizabeth released a breath and leaned back in her chair, thinking deeply. Charlotte, who well knew the value of silence, waited patiently.
“I do miss Father,” her niece said at last. “Indeed, there are times when it does not seem real. I wake up and it takes me a moment to remember that … that he is gone.”
“I understand.”
“But as for Josiah, and you, and Samuel, well, please believe that everyone but Mamma is overjoyed that you are here. My uncle is such a hard worker, and frankly, you will be a far better mistress of the estate than my mother ever was.”
Charlotte shook her head. “I would not say that.”
“I would,” Elizabeth said. “Mamma always set a good table, and she ensured that we were well dressed, but I would say that truly, we were too well dressed. Together, my parents used up the entire income of Longbourn and saved nothing, which is unwise for anyone, but especially a family with five daughters and the estate entailed away from the female line. I am confident that if you have five daughters, they will not be launched into society with only fifty pounds per annum in the way of a dowry. ”
“That is true,” her aunt agreed.
Elizabeth stood up and pulled her easel closer to the fire, the better to stay warm, and returned to her sketching while Charlotte, with some difficulty, picked up her work basket, pulled out yarn, and began knitting a baby sock.
For twenty minutes, the two ladies sat in serene silence, until the lady of the manor looked up and observed the image forming on the page on the easel.
“Is that Mr. Darcy?” she asked.
To her considerable surprise, Elizabeth blushed and shifted the easel away a little so that her aunt could not see it well.
“Erm, yes, it is,” she said. “He is such a handsome man, you know, and…”
“Eliza!” Charlotte exclaimed. “Could it be that you admire Mr. Darcy?”
Her niece blushed even brighter and ducked her head.
“Yes,” she admitted.
Mrs. Bennet gazed at her friend with concern.
She had always worried a little about Elizabeth, who had romantic notions about marriage that were not always practical.
Charlotte wished for nothing more than for her nieces to be settled in happy marriages, and she worried that Elizabeth would struggle to find a man who was not intimidated by her intelligence and wit.
“Is there any sign that Mr. Darcy is interested in you in return?” she asked gently.
Elizabeth set down her pencil, stood up, and began pacing.
“I do not know, Charlotte. I rather think not. We are, I think, friends. We speak easily with one another and have several interests in common. But I fear that his wealth, his connections, and his position in society will prevent him from forming any serious intentions toward me.”
Charlotte thought it likely that Elizabeth was correct; she did not know Mr. Darcy well, but certainly he was everything that anyone might ever want in a husband; intelligent, diligent, rich, with close connections to an earl.
Poor Elizabeth, to fall in love with a man who was not truly in her own sphere in life.
“Do not worry about me, Charlotte,” Elizabeth said, recovering her equanimity. “I know that it is quite the common thing for a lady to experience at least one heartbreak in her youth. I will be quite well in time.”
Charlotte sighed.