Page 9 of The Talented Daughters of Longbourn
Longbourn
“Now, Jane,” Mrs. Bennet said as she led her daughters into the drawing room, “as the eldest and the handsomest of you girls, you have the right to choose which man to pursue. Mr. Bingley seems a charming young man, and Netherfield is close by, but Mr. Darcy is wealthier still and related to an earl! I wonder if perhaps you ought to marry Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy or Kitty or Lydia should marry Mr. Bingley.”
Her daughters, while accustomed to their mother’s peculiar view of the world, could not help but stare at Mrs. Bennet in disbelief.
“Mamma,” Elizabeth said after a moment to collect herself, “the gentlemen in question no doubt have their own view of what kind of lady they wish to marry. They are not Jane’s for the choosing!”
“Nonsense, Lizzy, nonsense,” her mother replied, lowering herself onto a comfortable chair near the fire.
“Gentlemen are all the same, I assure you; they yearn for a beautiful wife who does not talk too frequently. I do not have much hope for you, as you tend to rattle on impertinently, but Jane does not, along with being the most beautiful woman in all of Hertfordshire, if not all of England, and I am certain that Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy are already half in love with her!”
Jane’s brows lowered angrily, and she said, “Mamma, you ought not to say such things about Lizzy; she is intelligent and...”
She caught her next younger sister’s eye, and at the shake of Elizabeth’s head, changed the topic. “In any case, Mamma, I find Mr. Fitzwilliam more engaging than the other two gentlemen. His accounts of his time on the Peninsula during the war are most interesting.”
Mrs. Bennet shook her head and said, “Mr. Fitzwilliam is only a second son, Jane. He is not worthy of you.”
“He is the second son of an earl,” Kitty pointed out timidly.
“Yes, that is true,” Mrs. Bennet mused. “I suppose you do not know anything about his elder brother, the viscount? Is the man married? Does he have sons? If Mr. Fitzwilliam is heir to an earldom, well...”
She trailed off, deep in thought, and Elizabeth sidled up to Jane and squeezed her arm warningly. There was absolutely no point in arguing with her mother about marriageable men, though Jane’s lips were tight with exasperation .
The door opened at this juncture, and Mary stepped in with Mr. Bennet on one side and Mr. Isaac Turnball on the other.
“Mamma, Sisters!” she exclaimed, drawing the attention of all. “I have such wonderful news. Mr. Turnball has asked me to marry him, and Father has given us his blessing!”
Mrs. Bennet froze in astonishment at these words, and then her face lit up. “Engaged, Mary? Truly?”
“Truly!” Mary answered, her smiling expression making her beautiful.
Mrs. Bennet took a full minute to recover before bouncing to her feet and beaming happily at the music master. “Oh, I am ... oh, how very happy I am! A daughter engaged! Mrs. Turnball, how well it sounds! Praise God!”
/
The Dining Room
Netherfield
A Few Hours Late r
“Well, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley said with a coy smile, “I hope for both our sakes that we will have a more peaceful day tomorrow, and an easier one yet the day after. Surely the locals grow weary of deluging us with their presences!”
“I thought today was very pleasant,” Mr. Bingley said indignantly before pausing to take a spoonful of white soup.
“Most of our visitors are thoroughly dull people with no fashion and little sense,” Miss Bingley said loftily.
“I would not say that,” Bingley protested. “In any case, you seemed to enjoy the Bennets’ visit!”
Darcy placed a bite of tender beef in his mouth as he looked at his host’s younger sister. He was surprised to see her looking genuinely approving.
“Yes, the youngest Misses Bennet are charming girls,” she commented.
“Did you not think so, Louisa? They were so eager to learn more about fashions in London, which is no surprise. Their clothing is well enough for Meryton, I suppose, but hardly suitable for a ton party, not that they are likely to attend such an august gathering.”
“The other daughters are delightful as well,” Bingley commented. “Miss Elizabeth seems an intelligent girl, and as for Miss Bennet... ”
Here he sighed and stared vaguely at a nearby wall, his eyes soft, his expression beatific. “She is quite the most angelic, beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life.”
“Miss Bennet is indeed a most charming young lady,” Richard Fitzwilliam agreed. “She and Miss Elizabeth are also well read and well informed; they know a remarkable amount about the war on the Peninsula. Bingley, is there a Mr. Bennet?”
Bingley shook himself a little and said, “There is, yes, but I have never met the man. I believe him to be rather older than Mrs. Bennet and in poor health. I have heard that he is a clever gentleman who enjoys his library.”
“Ah,” Fitzwilliam remarked, and turned his attention to the mound of potatoes on his plate.
“It is a pity the old gentleman is ailing,” Bingley continued, “but I am thankful he is not so sickly as to prevent his wife and daughters from visiting. I like all of our new neighbors, but the Bennets are quite the most charming ladies in the district!”
/
Longbourn
The Next Morning
It was thoroughly peaceful in the attic, with the sun pouring in through the windows, dancing across the worn rugs and nudging against the curtains, which only halfheartedly did their job.
The soft whirring of Kitty’s spinning wheel provided a pleasant background hum.
A basket of Angora wool sat at her feet as she fed it onto her spindle.
Across from her, Lydia turned a page of her book of poems, murmuring under her breath to herself. Soon, Elizabeth knew, her youngest sister would burst aloud with an especially memorable line.
At the opposite end of the room, almost up against the very eastern window, Jane labored over her elephant. Marble dust swirled through the air and drifted in the sunbeams and occasionally made someone sneeze.
Beside Elizabeth on the couch, Mary turned a page herself. Elizabeth looked over, noting the musical score, but she did not recognize it at first glance. It appeared to be complex and difficult, but then Mary was an adept on the pianoforte.
Her heart swelled with love for her four sisters; all of them special and dear and blessed with wonderful, creative, constructive pursuits.
“Mary,” Elizabeth said, shifting a little closer to her sister. “Jane and I talked last night and have decided that we can provide the following support until Mr. Turnball gains the living in Kent.”
She passed over a folded piece of paper and Mary opened it, read it, and turned in astonishment. “One hundred and fifty pounds a year?” she said in a low voice. “It is too much, Lizzy! I would not dream of taking such a substantial sum from you and Jane!”
“Nonsense, my dear,” Elizabeth responded, reaching out to pat her sister on the arm. “Jane and I have saved a good deal in the last few years, and Jane’s sculptures and wood carvings are growing only more popular with time.”
“But I do not truly need...”
“Mary,” Jane said, having left her sculpting to admonish her younger sister, “do you imagine that Lizzy or I would be happy knowing that you and Mr. Turnball are so poor as to have trouble eating? With Father’s help, and ours, you will have three hundred and fifty pounds a year plus whatever Mr. Turnball earns from music lessons.
You will need to be frugal, but that is manageable; with only two hundred pounds a year, it would be a genuine struggle. Pray say no more.”
Mary blinked rapidly, her eyes shining with tears, and she said, “Thank you, both of you.”
/
Lucas Lodge
Evening
Five days later
“Hurry, my dears, hurry!” Mrs. Bennet ordered, clucking at her daughters like so many recalcitrant chicks. The weather was not propitious this evening, with dark scudding clouds, a chill wind, and a few raindrops bent on ruining their hair.
Elizabeth was the last of the Bennets to step into the foyer of Lucas Lodge, and she sighed contentedly at the warmth.
The servants were busy rushing to and fro, taking hats and scarves and pelisses, and when they had adjusted their dresses and Mrs. Bennet had straightened her cap, the ladies of Longbourn entered into the drawing room.
Elizabeth looked around with pleasure. The doors to the sitting rooms at either end had been thrown wide, enlarging the drawing room further.
Across the far wall, a table had been set up with refreshments.
The coffee urn glinted in the light of the fire and several candles, with the silver teapot shining beside it.
Across the table were set platters of biscuits and ratafia cakes.
It was not nearly as lavish as what Mrs. Bennet would insist on having for a party – Lady Lucas was more frugal – but she did not lay a mean table, and the food would be excellent.
The three rooms swirled with people. The majority of them were the very people Elizabeth had known all her life, the four-and-twenty families of local society.
But several flashes of red denoted officers from the militia recently billeted in town.
It would be nice to have a sufficiency of partners for a change, if dancing were to occur.
“Lady Lucas, we are most grateful for your invitation tonight,” Jane said, pulling her attention toward their hostess.
Lady Lucas beamed at the mother and her five daughters and said, “It is my pleasure, of course! We are expecting a large party tonight, and perhaps we will even have a little dancing; I am certain the officers will be pleased with the presence of so much beauty! Now Miss Mary, I understand that congratulations are due?”
Mary blushed and looked down, her cheeks becomingly pink and her lips curved in a smile. “Yes, Madam, I am engaged to Mr. Turnball.”
“A very fine young man,” Lady Lucas exclaimed, secure in the knowledge that her own elder daughter, Charlotte, had made a far better match in the person of Mr. Josiah Bennet, heir to Longbourn. “I am certain you will be happy together.”
“I am also certain,” Mary agreed, just as the Lucases’ younger daughter, Maria, rushed up and shouted, “Mary, oh Mary, how happy I am for you!”
Mary allowed herself to be pulled away, and Mrs. Bennet began speaking of wedding clothes and lace with Lady Lucas.
“Shall we speak to the officers?” Lydia asked, looking toward the men drinking and eating in one corner of the drawing room.
Jane and Elizabeth shot simultaneous glares at their youngest sister, and Lydia laughed and said, “Do not be uneasy. I know that it is unlikely that any of them are wealthy enough to be suitable husbands, but we all enjoy dancing, and the officers are probably perfectly acceptable dance partners. ”
“I believe all militia officers have an inherent duty to be excellent dancers,” Elizabeth agreed, her expression lightening at this na?ve confession on the part of her sister.
“We have not been introduced to any of them,” Kitty murmured.
“Sir William Lucas will introduce us,” Lydia said confidently. “Come along!”