Page 5 of The Talented Daughters of Longbourn

Longbourn

That Evening

Silence settled like an old, well-loved blanket over the slightly dusty room.

It had been the nursery many years ago, but when Lydia had outgrown it and moved into her own room, Mrs. Bennet had converted it to be dedicated to her daughters’ accomplishments.

The pianoforte was downstairs in the music room, but easels sat about on the threadbare rugs, and paint-pots on chipped tables emitted a faint odor into the air.

A worn sofa upholstered in an eye-watering chartreuse had been pushed up near the fireplace, where a stack of wood and tinder stood waiting.

A polished spinning wheel sat patiently in one corner.

The door flew open and silence gave way to bustle and conversation.

Mary hurried over to ignite the wood and kindling in the hearth, while Lydia used her own candle to light four wax candles in a candelabra on a small wooden table.

It was dark outside, but the room contained several mirrors which reflected the glow from the fireplace and candles, and thus it was easy enough to see .

“Are they under there?” Mary asked, gesturing toward a white cloth which was lying on a large table in the center of the room. The cloth was humped in two places, obviously concealing something.

“Yes,” Jane agreed and carefully lifted the cloth off and stood back.

Silence fell for a full minute, and finally Kitty said, rather timidly, “I know the one on the left is a horse, but what is the one on the right?”

Elizabeth chuckled and said, “An elephant!”

“Truly?” Lydia asked, wandering in a circle around the table. “I have seen pictures in books, certainly, but...”

She trailed off, and Jane reached out slim fingers to lovingly trace the head of the beast. “It is not finished, of course, but the elephant’s trunk is here, curled up. Do you see?”

“I do,” Lydia said.

“May I touch it?” Kitty asked and, at Jane’s nod, reached forward to delicately stroke the white marble. “Oh, this stone is wonderful!”

“Is it not?” Jane asked, her eyes glowing with pleasure. “Our Uncle Gardiner purchased it from a fellow tradesman who had procured it from Italy. It will be luminous when it is done.”

“It will,” Mary agreed, and Lydia said, “I am certain it will fetch a pretty price.”

This was said with a particular emphasis, and Jane turned a wry gaze on her youngest sister. “I am confident it will, Lydia. What do you want?”

The youngest, tallest Bennet clasped her hands together and said dramatically, “Oh, dear Sister Jane, will you use some of your great wealth to purchase a book of Christopher Marlowe’s poems for me?”

Elizabeth fixed a puzzled look on the girl and asked, “Are you sure Father does not already own that book?”

“No, for he does not like Christopher Marlowe’s plays. In truth, I do not much like them either; Tamburlaine is dreadfully dark and sad. But some of his poetry is delightful, and Kitty and I wish to read and recite them.”

“I will buy the book for you,” Jane said.

“Thank you!” Lydia declared and hurtled forward to hug her sister even as Kitty chimed in with her own thanks.

“Now,” Elizabeth said, shivering a little, “perhaps we can all move closer to the fire? I very much wish to catch up on all of the local news, but it is chilly up here.”

This suggestion seemed good to all, and within a minute, the girls were curled up on chairs and the long, comfortable, elderly couch. Mary, who was very fond of children, started out the conversation asking about their Uncle Josiah and his family.

“They are well,” Elizabeth said, relishing the heat of both the fire and her sisters on either side of her. “Charlotte’s next child will be born in about three months, and Samuel is a charming little man, full of energy and, yes, mischief!”

“Poor Charlotte will be quite worn out when the baby is born,” Mary mused.

“Does she not have nursemaids and the like?” Kitty asked.

“She does,” Elizabeth said, “but she is a very involved mother, and Uncle Josiah’s income is not as large as Father’s. His portraits are fetching increasingly higher prices, so perhaps in a few years, his proceeds will rival our father’s, but not yet.”

“I still think it is peculiar that our father’s half-brother is only a few years older than you are, Jane,” Lydia remarked .

“It is a trifle odd,” Elizabeth agreed, “but we all have reason to be thankful that our grandfather remarried when Father’s mother died. If he had not, and if Uncle Josiah had never been born, Longbourn would have eventually gone to a distant cousin named Collins.”

“I have never heard of Mr. Collins,” Mary remarked, rising to her feet, adding a log to the fire, picking up a poker, and pushing the wood about to encourage additional flame and heat.

“The older Mr. Collins was Father’s second cousin, I think,” Jane remarked.

“He and Father quarreled. The elder Mr. Collins died many years ago. He had a son, but we have never met him, nor do I anticipate that we will ever do so. Uncle Josiah is heir to Longbourn, and he has sired a son, so Longbourn will remain within the family.”

“And Charlotte is one of our oldest friends,” Elizabeth continued warmly. “Our aunt and uncle will ensure that we are never without food and shelter. Of that you can be certain, I promise .”

These words were directed specifically to Kitty, who smiled and said, “I believe you, Lizzy. I do not know why Mamma does not trust our aunt and uncle to care for us. ”

Jane sighed and said, “Mamma has never gotten over her disappointment at failing to birth a son, and she has adopted a pessimistic outlook on life.”

“Furthermore, she will not like giving way to Charlotte,” Elizabeth said drily, reaching her hands out toward the fire to warm them. “Our aunt will be a wise, diligent, generous mistress of Longbourn, but it is hard to give up the reins of power, so to speak.”

There were soft murmurs of agreement, and Lydia said, “But if Mamma has her way, she will not need to remain at Longbourn after Father dies; we are to marry rich men, and she will have her choice of impressive houses in which to stay.”

There was a communal laugh at these words, and Elizabeth said, “Yes, I am certain that Mamma is hopeful that Jane will enchant Mr. Bingley and win an offer in short order. Netherfield is a fine estate.”

This, naturally, provoked a terrific scowl on Miss Bennet’s face. “Well, I refuse to marry a man who falls in love with my appearance alone,” she declared, and then added magnanimously, “But if one of you girls falls in love with the man, and he with you, that would be acceptable.”

“Well, I for one am far too young for marriage,” Lydia declared, “and Kitty is as well. Mary is in love with Mr. Turnball, and so that leaves you, Elizabeth! ”

Her second oldest sister rolled her eyes and said, “I too will not marry a man whose sole interest is my appearance. Let us all seek to enjoy the assembly tomorrow night without worrying about finding a husband.”

/

Billiard Room

Netherfield

Darcy relished the warmth of the fire at his side as he idly watched the flickering light play over the polished oak of the billiards table and the sideboard beyond, where the crystal decanters glittered brightly.

Heavy brown curtains shot through with amber brocading kept the firelight in, and brass candlesticks gleamed in the light of their burdens.

Darcy sat in a chair between the fireplace and the table itself, elbow propped on one dark-upholstered arm.

His eyes traced the carvings on the table, shields and scrolls and ribbons, as his mind drifted.

It felt good to sit and relax. He had been so terribly busy all summer, consulting his steward and seeing to the needs of the tenants and the home farm, and, of course, dealing with the ramifications of Ramsgate.

The accustomed throb of guilt went through him.

His dear innocent sister, entrusted to his care, and he had thrown her heedlessly to the wolves.

He had not even bothered to check Mrs. Younge’s references, trusting to the woman’s word, charming speech, and ladylike appearance.

Poor sweet Georgiana was still in anguish over all that had transpired.

He had checked his sister’s new companion very carefully and thoroughly.

Mrs. Annesley was neither more nor less than what she represented herself as being, and he knew that Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper at Pemberley, would be watching the woman as well.

Still, he would be glad to have Mrs. Annesley under his own oversight when she and Georgiana arrived shortly.

How happy he would be to see his sister again!

A ball clattered into the pocket nearest him, and Richard straightened, chalking his stick with a smug air.

“I will go, Bingley,” Richard said, breaking into Darcy’s thoughts, “but I am not certain about Darcy.”

Darcy blinked in bemusement and scowled at his cousin, who was grinning. Bingley merely stared back, looking hopeful.

“Go where?” he demanded, rising to his feet and sauntering over to pour another half glass of brandy .

“To an assembly in Meryton tomorrow night,” Bingley explained. “They have an assembly once a month, and I am quite looking forward to it. All the local families will be there!”

Darcy openly winced and said, “You know I do not like dancing with strangers.”

“I know,” Bingley agreed. “It is certainly all right; I will not be offended if you decide to stay here while Fitzwilliam and I dance the night away.”

“Thank you,” Darcy said with obvious relief. He really did not like crowded rooms and dancing with unknown ladies.

Richard coughed dramatically, and Darcy shot him a confused look. “Do you wish to say something, Cousin?”

“I was merely wondering whether Miss Bingley might feel it is her duty to stay here with you, Darcy,” Richard said solemnly, but his eyes were sparkling with devilry.

“After all, you are an honored guest, and I wonder if Bingley’s devoted and conscientious sister would be entirely at ease with leaving you home alone.

That would not be the height of courtesy. ”

Darcy turned a horrified look on Bingley, and he saw the same spark of amusement in his friend’s eyes .

“Fitzwilliam is absolutely correct,” the man said gravely. “Caroline is eager to prove herself an excellent hostess. But I daresay you can discuss Shakespearean plays or something of the sort, and we will only be away for a few hours.”

Darcy gulped, pondered, and made the only choice he could when faced with either spending hours in the company of the unknown locals, or staying at Netherfield with the avaricious Miss Bingley, who wished above all else to win the position of Mrs. Darcy.

“I will come to the assembly,” he sighed.