Page 7 of To Love And To Cherish (Pride And Prejudice Variation #3)

The carriage rattled up the drive to Longbourn beneath a sky heavy with the promise of summer heat.

Elizabeth sat straight-backed within, gloved hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes fixed on the familiar hedgerows lining the road home.

She had not set foot in Longbourn in over a year, not since her mother had sent her away.

Now, unexpectedly, she had been summoned back.

What Elizabeth did not know was that the summons had not originated from her father, but from her mother’s pressing insistence.

“You must write to Elizabeth at once,” Mrs. Bennet declared one morning over breakfast, her tone brisk and impatient. “The neighbors are beginning to talk.”

Mr. Bennet looked up from his paper, one brow arched. “Are they indeed? And what scandal have they invented this time?”

“They say nothing aloud yet. But I have heard whispers at the haberdasher’s, and Mrs. Long gave me a look yesterday that I did not care for. If Elizabeth is not brought back, people will begin to suspect the worst.”

He set down his teacup with a sigh. “The worst, you say? Such as?”

Mrs. Bennet’s voice dropped to a whisper. “They’ll think we sent her away because she was with child! Or had done something disgraceful. It is all very well for you to sit there in your study while our daughters’ reputations are torn to shreds, but I shall not be party to it!”

Mr. Bennet gave her a long, bemused look. “You are proposing, then, that I recall our second daughter to Longbourn, not because you regret sending her away, but because Meryton’s imagination requires pacifying?”

“I never said I regretted it,” she snapped. “I only said we must bring her back. Let the neighbors see that nothing is amiss.”

He leaned back in his chair, considering. “You do realize, madam, that if I write to her, she will believe the invitation sincere.”

Mrs. Bennet sniffed. “That is your concern, not mine. I shall not give her the distinction of a welcome. Jane and I will be out making calls when she arrives. Let her return without fuss or fanfare. I feel no particular regard for her.”

“And yet you expect her to live under your roof again.”

“She need not hang about me. You will keep her in your study, as you did before, teaching her languages. What good came of that, except to make her vain and proud of her accomplishment? You need to teach her to manage the ledgers and accounts. That is all she is good for. An obstinate, headstrong girl like her will never attract a husband. What man of sense would take a viper to his bosom?”

Mr. Bennet stared at his wife a moment, then gave a small, sardonic smile. “Very well. I shall write to Lizzy. But let us not pretend this is anything but what it is, a bit of theatre to preserve appearances.”

“Call it what you like,” Mrs. Bennet said with a wave of her hand. “But see it done quickly. I won’t have the entire village thinking we’re hiding a ruined girl in some distant relation’s attic.”

Though he believed her fears exaggerated, Mr. Bennet was not entirely unmoved. He had five unmarried daughters and reputations to protect. More than that, he missed Lizzy dearly. If this summons, however poorly motivated, could bring her home, he would not let the opportunity slip away.

And perhaps, he thought quietly, his wife was softening toward Elizabeth at last.

“Very well,” he said aloud. “I shall write to Elizabeth and to Edward today and inform them that my carriage will arrive for her on Friday.”

What Mr. Bennet did not know, and never suspected, was that his wife’s true motive lay elsewhere entirely.

Let him think it was to quell gossip, Mrs. Bennet thought with a smirk. He swallowed that nonsense as easily as he always does. She snorted. As if I were acting from motherly concern.

Her eyes narrowed. Always so high and mighty, that one. Thinks she’s better than her own mother and sisters. Smarter. Well, we shall see just how clever she is when I marry her off to the heir of Longbourn.

Papa opened the carriage door and extended his hand to help her down.

As Elizabeth’s feet touched the gravel, she was immediately gathered into the arms of her sisters.

Mary and Kitty had rushed from the house, their faces bright with emotion.

Mr. Bennet followed at a slower pace, his expression guarded.

“Lizzy!” Kitty cried, throwing her arms around her. “You’re finally back!”

Mary embraced her with more restraint, but her clasp was firm, and her voice sincere. “We’ve missed you.”

Elizabeth returned their embraces with gratitude, her throat tight. Then her eyes found her father’s. He stood a little apart, hands clasped behind his back, watching her with an unreadable expression. But as she stepped toward him, he smiled.

Elizabeth didn’t hesitate. Crossing the distance, she wrapped her arms around him. “Papa,” her voice breaking, “I have missed you so.”

Mr. Bennet held her close. “And I you, my dearest girl,” he said, his voice low and rough with feeling. “It’s a comfort to see you here again.”

She pulled back slightly to look at him, blinking away tears.

“I have thought of you every day. I missed our talks, our mornings together. I have had questions only you could answer. I wanted to write to you so many times, but mamma forbade it and I didn’t want to stir up trouble more than I already had. ”

His lips pressed into a rueful smile. “And I have regretted every day I let pass in silence. I should never have allowed you to be sent away. That was cowardice, plain and simple.”

Elizabeth swallowed hard. “I was angry. But I never stopped hoping you would come for me. Every time I heard a carriage pull up in front of Gracechurch Street, I imagined it might be you.”

He touched her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear. “You’re here now, and I’ll not lose you again. We’ll do better, you and I. That I promise.”

They stood for a moment longer, neither speaking, both holding on to each other as if to make up for the lost year.

Later, as they sat together in the drawing room with tea, Mary leaned in to examine Elizabeth’s gown. “That is a very fine muslin, Lizzy. And the bonnet is surely new.”

Elizabeth smiled faintly. “A parting gift from Aunt Madeline.”

“You’d best keep it well guarded,” Mary warned. “Lydia stole my newest bonnet last week. That horrid child tore it to pieces to harvest the lace and silk flowers.”

“Lydia is unendurable,” said Kitty, setting down her cup with a clatter. “Anything she desires, she simply takes, and Mamma lets her have it.”

Elizabeth turned her gaze on her father, who raised his brows and looked away.

“You’ve grown a good two inches, Mary,” Elizabeth observed. “You’re taller than me now by at least half an inch. Astonishing.”

“I have grown, too,” Kitty said eagerly. She stood and pulled Elizabeth to her feet. “Stand here beside me and look in the mirror.”

Elizabeth obliged, and Mary joined them. The three sisters stood shoulder to shoulder, laughing at the resemblance.

“We could be triplets,” Elizabeth said, “except I’m clearly the runt. But no one could mistake us for anything but sisters.”

Kitty turned her head. “Our hair gives us some distinction.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed. “Kitty, yours has that lovely hint of red, Mary’s has copper like mine, but in gentle waves. And my hair is far less well-behaved.”

Mr. Bennet joined them, peering into the mirror with amusement.

“Papa,” Elizabeth said, “my hair is your color and your texture. And all three of us have your nose. It’s rather aristocratic, I think.”

Kitty giggled. “It’s true! I have never noticed. Everyone says we favor Mamma, but there’s a great deal of you in us, Papa.”

“Only Jane and Lydia took Mamma’s coloring,” Elizabeth mused. “Their sapphire eyes and golden hair set them apart from every other girl in the county.”

Mr. Bennet smiled. “They are beautiful, yes, but so are you three. Never let your mother convince you otherwise. Beauty is not confined to fair curls.”

“Beauty is as beauty does,” Mary said soberly. “Lydia may rival Jane in looks, but her character is... well, it is repellent. She’s become far worse since you’ve been gone, Lizzy. Jane can’t manage her at all.”

Elizabeth turned once more to her father. “Is Mamma still determined to keep Jane and me separated? Does she truly believe that will work when we share a bedroom?”

“She moved your things to the nursery a year ago,” Mr. Bennet said dryly. “She’s being petty, but I daresay it will pass.”

Elizabeth sat down. “Mother has been holding this grudge for a year. I don’t think she means to let it go. But what about Lydia? She’s only eleven, and already consumed with bonnets. Shouldn’t my baby sister be playing with dolls?”

“Your mother believes Jane and Lydia will save this family,” Mr. Bennet replied. “Their beauty is their currency, and so Frannie is pushing Lydia to grow up too quickly. You’ll be shocked, your sister has grown three inches. She’s as tall as Mary and looks thirteen instead of eleven.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Papa, if she is truly as selfish as Mary has said, and Mamma is already pushing her toward men, she may well bring disgrace upon the family. Promise us that you will act; let us put our heads together and devise a plan.”

“You mean send her to the Gardiners?” he asked. “Or away to school?”

“I wouldn’t thrust her upon my uncle, Aunt Maddie is newly with child and in no state to manage Lydia.

But if you tell Mother, Uncle has contrived a place for our sister in a fine school, approval will be granted at once.

Better still, say the offer was made to me.

Mamma will insist that Lydia go in my stead. ”

Mr. Bennet looked thoughtful. “That child is disruptive, throwing tantrums every evening at dinner, with loud crying and screaming fits, all because she believes she’s been denied something she deserves, whether it be the largest slice of pie, the best seat at the table, or some trifling treat she failed to obtain during the day. ”

“That conniving creature just wants attention,” Kitty said quietly. “Mamma lets her take whatever she asks for. She even takes my things, my dresses, my bonnets, not because she wants them, but because she knows she can have them.”

Elizabeth’s expression darkened. “This cannot continue, or she will ruin us. Surely you see that, Papa.”

“I’ll write to Edward,” Mr. Bennet said, standing. “If he knows of a respectable school and can make it sound like a privilege to attend, I’ll pay for it gladly, just for a bit of peace.”

He looked at his daughters. “But this must remain between us. If your mother hears of it, the whole plan will fall apart.”

Elizabeth broke the silence and said, “Jane wrote to warn me that she, Lydia, and Mamma would be absent when I arrived. It was meant as a deliberate slight. Where are they? Visiting the neighbors? When will my dear Jane return home?”

Mr. Bennet sighed and set down his cup. “Your mother took your sisters to call on Mrs. Long, whose nephew is expected next month, and Mrs. Golding, whose eldest son is to return from Cambridge by mid-July. Frannie’s parading Jane before the neighborhood matrons, as though they might have forgotten our eldest is still on the marriage mart. ”

Elizabeth nodded solemnly. “Poor dear Jane. Always on parade. How mortifying it must be for her.

A week later, Thomas Bennet entered the breakfast parlor holding a letter overhead.

“Girls! Your uncle Edward has a treat in store for a very fortunate Bennet niece.”

He unfolded the letter and read aloud:

My dear Thomas,

There is one vacancy at a most select girls’ academy here in London. As you know, Madeline and I are acquainted with the dean who oversees admissions, and I have persuaded her to consider one of your daughters for immediate placement.

The girls who attend this academy include the daughters of peers. Such an opportunity is not likely to come again.

Lydia leapt from her chair with a shriek, “ I should go! This is meant for me. Jane must stay and find a husband.”

Elizabeth frowned; Jane looked down at her hands, blushing over Lydia’s brash conduct, while Mary and Kitty regarded their sister with open distaste.

Mrs. Bennet turned on her second daughter. “What are you frowning about, Lizzy? Don’t think I’ll let you have this chance. My little Lydia is right. Jane must remain here and find a husband. My dear brother is always doing what he can for us; it’s only right that Lydia should go.”

Lydia twirled. “Oh, what shall I wear? I must have new gowns or I shall look a fright beside all those rich girls!”

Mr. Bennet held up a hand. “Let me finish reading.”

And though his tone was casual, Elizabeth saw the flicker of triumph in his eyes.

Pray, do not concern yourself with matters of attire; I shall see that my niece is suitably outfitted. Write to me again soon, and we shall settle the particulars.

Yours,

Edward Gardiner