Page 8 of The Talented Daughters of Longbourn

The Art Room

Longbourn

Fifteen minutes later

Lydia Bennet stood with her back to the feeble fire in the fireplace, her eyes fixed on the wooden beams of the attic room, her hands clasped in front of her.

Her audience consisted of three of her sisters – Elizabeth, who sat on an old but comfortable chair holding open a copy of The Tempest , Kitty, who was spinning angora wool on the wheel in the corner, and Jane, who was carefully chipping away marble from the elephant’s right ear.

Lydia suddenly threw out one hand dramatically and proclaimed,

If by your art, my dearest father, you have

Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.

The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,

But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek ,

Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered

With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel,

Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her,

Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock

Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish'd.

Had I been any god of power, I would

Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere

It should the good ship so have swallow'd and

The fraughting souls within her.

The last line melted into silence, and Elizabeth began clapping as she exclaimed, “Marvelous! That was truly beautiful, and you did not miss a single word!”

Lydia grinned as she said, “Thank you! I have been working hard – the memorization part is not so difficult, it is imbuing the words with proper feeling.”

“Well,” Jane said, rising from her seat, “I think your delivery is wonderful.”

“I think so too,” Kitty agreed.

“Yes, and I do not understand why Jane is permitted to be a sculptor, and Mary a musician, and Kitty is allowed to raise Angora rabbits, and Lizzy reads erudite books, but I am forbidden to be an actress!” Lydia proclaimed. “It is not fair!”

Elizabeth and Jane exchanged long-suffering glances.

“Lydia, darling,” Jane said patiently, “you know that being an actress is not at all a respectable job for a gentleman’s daughter.”

“Nor is being a sculptor and wood carver,” Lydia said sullenly, “yet here you are, with your marble and your wood. I am happy for you, of course I am! But it does seem very unfair.”

“I am a secret sculptor,” Jane pointed out. “I am confident that none of my customers have the least idea that Mr. Elliot Forbes is, in fact, a female. But I do feel for you, dear one. You are a skilled and gifted actress.”

“Perhaps you will marry a rich gentleman who has a sufficiently large estate that you can host amateur theatricals,” Elizabeth suggested.

Lydia, who had been looking tragically woebegone, brightened noticeably at these words and lifted her gaze to the ceiling, obviously deep in thought.

“I have a better thought,” she said a minute later. “Jane, you should marry Mr. Bingley, and Lizzy, you should marry Mr. Darcy. They are both wealthy men with large mansions. You can invite me to visit you for Christmas and holidays, and I can put on plays then!”

Elizabeth snorted and grasped her youngest sister’s arm. “There is little doubt that Mr. Darcy absolutely despises me, Lydia, and thus there is no chance at all that I will marry the man. Now come along, everyone; we must get ready for our morning call to Netherfield.”

“Oh, very well,” Lydia said obediently and took a few steps toward the door before pausing to say, “I think I will act the part of a young, na?ve girl who wishes for advice about how to dress well. I suspect that Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst will like that.”

Elizabeth chuckled and said, “I am certain they will, but do not be too dramatic.”

“I would never!” Lydia replied with wide-eyed innocence.

/

Drawing Room

Netherfield Hal l

The room smelled only faintly of must, having received a good airing before the Bingleys had taken up residence.

The furniture itself was solid and in good condition; Caroline was displeased that it was outdated, but it suited Charles exactly.

The tables and chairs were made of solid oak, and the deep scarlet upholstery matched the brocaded curtains and the barely worn rugs.

A large fire had been built in the large fireplace, and it now cheerfully did its work to warm and light the room.

“Oh, this is too much!” Caroline Bingley exclaimed indignantly from her spot by one window. “It is another carriage!”

Bingley, who had been wandering aimlessly up and down the drawing room, walked to her side and said, “I think it is charming that the local inhabitants are visiting. They are making us feel so welcome.”

“As if I wish to be made welcome here!” Miss Bingley said with a disdainful sniff. “The local gentry are so very provincial, their manners are dreadful and…”

“It is the Bennets!” Charles Bingley exclaimed, heedless of his sister’s complaints. “How delightful!”

Darcy, who had been reading Twelfth Night in order to avoid Miss Bingley’s constant attention, wrinkled his nose at the enthusiasm in his friend’s tone.

He did wish that Bingley was not so very inclined to tumble into love with handsome blondes.

However, he usually fell out of love quickly enough, and thus there was likely no real danger that he would actually offer for one of the beautiful, but apparently impecunious, Bennet sisters.

“Do you wish to stay during the Bennets’ visit?” his cousin asked softly, and Darcy jumped a little. Richard had placed himself next to Darcy on the couch with the heroic intention of preventing Miss Bingley from taking that seat.

“Certainly,” Darcy said, recovering himself. “Why not?”

“Why not indeed?” Richard repeated mockingly and then stood up as the door opened.

Darcy stood as well and watched as a matron, who must have been handsome in her youth, simpered into the room with four of her daughters in her train.

“Mrs. Bennet, Misses Bennet,” Bingley said, “May I please introduce you to my sister Miss Bingley, my sister Mrs. Hurst, her husband Mr. Hurst, Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Fitzwilliam. Sisters, brother, friends, Mrs. Bennet and Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Kitty, and Miss Lydia.”

There were the appropriate bows and curtsies, and Miss Lydia took an impulsive step forward and exclaimed, “Oh, Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, I must confess to you how much I admired your gowns at last night’s assembly. Please, will you not tell me where you had them made?”

To Darcy’s surprise, a genuine smile formed on Miss Bingley’s usually haughty lips, and she said, “Oh, that old thing? I purchased it at Madame Fanchon’s in Town; she is a wonderful modiste, you know.”

“I do not know,” Miss Lydia replied, her eyes wide with admiration. “I have been to London a few times, but I have never had dresses made there. Did Madame Fanchon make this one as well? It is so lovely, and it matches your coloring so wonderfully!”

“Why thank you,” Caroline said, looking pleased in a supercilious way. “Please do sit down, all of you. Yes, I suppose that you do not have the opportunity to wear garments made by truly excellent modistes...”

“I would not say that,” Mrs. Bennet interrupted, her blue eyes bulging with indignation. “Mrs. Randall in Meryton is our dressmaker, and she is superb!”

“Oh, she is, of course,” Lydia said brightly, “but Mamma, you know that Mrs. Randall herself has admitted that she is not the first to learn about the very latest fashions in London. I am certain that Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley know far more than we do!”

“Well,” Caroline Bingley said, tossing her head in a self-satisfied manner, “I do flatter myself that Louisa and I are very well dressed. This gown, you see... ”

Darcy found himself staring in wonder as Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty took their places near Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst and the four ladies began a robust discussion of fashion.

Miss Lydia had obviously endeared herself to Bingley’s sisters by complimenting their sense of style.

He wondered if the girl had deliberately chosen to charm them, or genuinely wished for fashion advice.

The latter seemed more likely; the youngest Miss Bennet was a pretty thing, but she did not look especially intelligent.

“I hope you are well today, Mrs. Bennet,” Bingley said from nearby, which drew Darcy’s attention toward the other ladies.

Mrs. Bennet and her two eldest daughters had taken seats near the fire, and Bingley was standing near them, his words directed at the matron, but his eyes fixed on Miss Bennet’s spectacular countenance.

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, “indeed we are very well, Mr. Bingley! I hope that you are finding Netherfield a pleasant sort of house? We are delighted to have such fine neighbors.”

“Yes, a very pleasant house,” Bingley said cheerfully. “I thoroughly enjoy being here in the country after several months in London. The air is so fresh and clean!”

“I hope you and your friends also enjoyed the assembly last night?” Mrs. Bennet asked .

Darcy found his gaze shifting to Miss Elizabeth. Mrs. Bennet did not sound angry or insulted, so was it possible that she did not know of Darcy’s insult to her second daughter? Or did she not care?

He was startled to observe Miss Elizabeth staring back at him, and her lips quirked up as she said, “I daresay it was quite an unusual sort of dance for the gentlemen, Mamma; I believe that parties in London are generally far larger.”

“That is true,” Richard agreed, “but I am certain that my cousin agrees that smaller gatherings are often more pleasant than larger ones. I am not the type of man who necessarily enjoys being in a crush of people jammed into a small space.”

“Yes, I fear that in Town, many a hostess is more interested in packing as many people into her house as she can than in the comfort of her guests,” Bingley agreed.

“Mr. Fitzwilliam,” Jane said suddenly, “I do hope that I am not at all being rude, but is it possible that you were a member of the Regulars not too long ago?”

“I was indeed,” the former colonel said in some surprise. “May I inquire as to how you knew?”

“You move like a military man,” Miss Bennet explained. “Moreover, you are quite tan. My uncles in London both have acquaintances who have either served in the Peninsula with the Army, or have spent time overseas as part of their trade.”

“Where do your uncles live?” Mr. Bingley inquired.

“Both of our uncles live in Cheapside in London,” Miss Elizabeth explained. “Our Uncle Gardiner is in trade, and our Uncle Josiah is an artist.”

“How interesting!” Bingley replied. “I have never known an artist. Does he paint, or sculpt, or...?”

“He mostly paints now,” Miss Elizabeth said, “some portraits, and some landscapes. He has done some fine sculpting as well.”

“That is marvelous!” the master of Netherfield said heartily, while Darcy tried to suppress a grimace.

It was yet another example of the Bennets’ poor connections that one uncle was a tradesman and another was earning his money through cheap portraits and the like.

It was a pity, really. Miss Bennet was incandescently beautiful, and Miss Elizabeth’s eyes glinted with intelligence.

“May I inquire, Mr. Bingley, as to where your own family hails from originally?” Miss Elizabeth asked, interrupting Darcy’s thoughts.

“Well, I do not know originally – I will not claim to have ancestors who came over during the Norman Conquest,” Bingley admitted, “but my great-grandfather settled in Liverpool after leaving his life on the sea, and he began the business which resulted in our family fortune.”

“Oh, Liverpool!” Elizabeth said with enthusiasm. “How interesting! I confess I have never even seen the sea. I have read books and seen pictures, of course, but I am certain they do not give the ocean justice.”

“The ocean is marvelous,” Bingley agreed, “but I think that every place has its own special beauty.”

Miss Elizabeth looked out the window. “I quite agree, Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy, what is Derbyshire like?”

“It is hillier than here in Hertfordshire,” Darcy said, “with vast forests and lovely streams and waterfalls. It is a remarkable county.”

“Truly, it is,” the lady mused. “My aunt Gardiner grew up in the small town of Lambton in Derbyshire. She said it is a delightful village.”

“Lambton!” Darcy repeated in some surprise. “It is only a few miles from Pemberley, and I have visited it often.”

“I understand Pemberley to be a large, wealthy estate?” Mrs. Bennet inquired, an avaricious gleam in her eye .

Darcy felt his face stiffen in discomfort, even as Miss Elizabeth blushed a little at her mother’s manners. Richard came to the rescue and said, “Yes, Pemberley is large indeed, Mrs. Bennet. There have been Darcys at Pemberley for more than two hundred years.”

Jane Bennet now changed the subject by remarking on recent news from the Peninsula, and her younger sister chimed in, and the conversation continued until the half hour had passed, whereupon Miss Elizabeth rose to her feet, followed by her mother and sisters.

There were chorused goodbyes and curtsies and bows, and Darcy found himself, somewhat to his surprise, vaguely disappointed at the family’s departure. She was interesting, Elizabeth Bennet.