Chapter 3

Elizabeth Bennet approached Longbourn from the rear of the property as the sun was beginning its descent. The golden light cast over the house sent a thrill through her. "What a lovely sight," she breathed, smiling to herself as she walked down the hill with a book clutched to her chest. It was a shame that someday they would all have to leave this place. Elizabeth's heart sank at the thought. She loved her family, but as she had a surfeit of sisters and too few brothers — namely, none — they would all have to find other means of supporting themselves one day. With the estate entailed upon the male line, a cousin would inherit Longbourn after Mr Bennet's death, leaving nothing for the women of the family. While five daughters arrived in succession, Mr and Mrs Bennet had remained convinced that surely their next child would be the son who would join with his father in cutting off the entail. Alas, the son never came, and when Mr and Mrs Bennet at last gave up hope, it was too late to begin saving for their daughter's futures.

When Elizabeth entered the house, she was immediately greeted by her youngest sister, Lydia. "Have you seen my bonnet? The one with the white flowers and the blue ribbon? I have been looking high and low and could not find it and Mother and I want to go to town —"

"Here it is, Lydia," Elizabeth said, reaching behind her sister's head toward the coat rack. She placed it on top of Lydia's head and tied the ribbon for her. "There. Pretty as a picture."

"Thank you, Lizzy." her sister smiled. "I shall buy a new ribbon for you while we are in town, if you like?"

Elizabeth laughed. "With the money you want to borrow from me, I suppose?"

Lydia pouted and followed her in supplication. "Please, Lizzy. Only a shilling! I promise I will pay you back once Papa gives me my pin money."

Elizabeth swirled her sister around in a circle, making her dress flow out around her. "I've already loaned you twice that amount this last month, Lydia. Whatever do you need more ribbons for?"

Lydia looked utterly appalled. "Have you not heard? The militia is coming to winter here in Meryton!"

"What is that to me?" she asked, continuing through the house.

"Well, it means that we will all find husbands, of course. Have you not heard Mama say so? There will be ever so many men! Perhaps then we shall have some excitement."

As they came around the corner and passed the drawing room, Lydia walked away hurriedly, but Elizabeth stopped short, narrowly avoiding colliding with her mother and her sister Kitty. Older than Lydia by a year, but ever the follower in whatever Lydia did, Kitty was constantly looking for approval.

"Mama, look at this sketch. I have been doing a botanical study in the garden —" Kitty began breathlessly.

"Yes, that is nice, dear," her mother said. She finished tying her bonnet strings, flitting about like a butterfly floating from flower to flower, unsure of where she wanted to land. "Ah, Lizzy, there you are. I wonder if you might finish the menu with Cook while Lydia and I go into town?" she asked breathlessly. "Oh, and your father —"

"I will see him after I finish with Cook," Elizabeth said, kissing her mother on the cheek. She turned her attention to Kitty's drawings. "These are lovely, Kitty. You have done a wonderful job capturing the essence of the old oak at the end of the garden."

Kitty's face lit with the praise. "Thank you, Lizzy."

"The pond would make an excellent study as well, you know, with the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the trees…"

A faraway look came into Kitty's eyes, and her eyebrows raised. "What a splendid idea. I'll go right now." She hurried away and disappeared out the back door.

Her mother joined her at the drawing room door once more and clicked her tongue in disapproval. "I wish you would not encourage her so, dear. What man wants a silly wife who only knows how to draw plants and things?"

"A great many men want accomplished wives, I suppose." Elizabeth held up her book. "Perhaps Kitty and Lydia would not be so silly if they were encouraged to read more."

Her mother scrunched up her nose in distaste. "No, I do not think so, my dear. And now, I am away. Do check in with your father after you've seen Cook."

Elizabeth turned from the drawing room door and walked down the hall toward the breakfast nook. Their small pianoforte stood against the southern wall, its black and white keys beckoning her to play.

She was more than willing to comply, especially while the instrument was without its usual companion. There would be plenty of time to speak to Cook and see her father, as her mother had requested. Elizabeth waited until the front door had closed behind her mother and Lydia's commotion, playing a little ditty she had made up.

Her solitude was short-lived, for Mary, the middle child of the five daughters, marched into the room with a stack of sheet music under her arm. "Oh, Lizzy, you are here."

Elizabeth stopped her playing, tucking a stray brunette curl away from her face. "What is it, Mary?"

"Nothing in particular. I only thought to play this piece," she said, holding up the sheet music on the top of the stack. "But I see you are using the instrument, and so I shall come back later."

"Nonsense. Come and sit down. I was only playing for sport for a few moments." Elizabeth got up and let Mary take her place at the piano bench.

She kissed her sister on the cheek as she sat down at the bench, a gesture that was rarely returned. Poor Mary, considered by all the county to be the only plain one of the family. While the judgement was rather harsh, Elizabeth could not entirely dispute it. Mary's hair was a mousey brown, her features less elegant than those of her sisters. Far worse, she did not make the best of what she had, all too often choosing the very colours and cuts that were least flattering to her. Mary would say that caring about one's appearance was only vanity, and ought to be avoided. The results were sometimes unfortunate. But Elizabeth knew what others might overlook: she had a good heart. And that made up for outer beauty any day.

"Well, I shall not keep you from your practising." Elizabeth walked out of the little nook and made her way down the corridor to check on her father as she had promised. She poked her head inside the door of his study to find Mr Bennet sitting in his usual chair by the window, nose in a book.

He looked up, no doubt sensing her eyes on him. "Lizzy, there you are. How are you on this fine day?" he asked. He placed a finger in his book and waved her inside his little sanctuary. Elizabeth was the only one of the Bennet family that Mr Bennet readily invited into his little corner of the world. It had always given Elizabeth a sense of peace and belonging, surrounded by the musty smell of books and the boards where her father pinned his specimens of various flora and fauna from around the estate.

"I am well, Papa. And you? What have you been keeping yourself busy with?"

"I have been reading my Coleridge. He is a remarkable fellow, quite remarkable, I must say. Where is your mother? Given how quiet the house is, may I assume she has taken Lydia off to go browsing for a husband?"

Elizabeth laughed. "It is not so quiet. Mary is in the drawing room playing the pianoforte."

"Mary's banging is far preferable to your mother's pecking," her father said. He wrapped an arm lightly around her shoulders. "But let us speak of more pleasant things."

Elizabeth knew her father only jested, yet she sometimes wished he would not make such jests at all. He and her mother had once been a love match. But her mother's frivolousness had worn on him in the years after their marriage, until he seemed to have very little respect left for her. Elizabeth could understand his impatience with Mrs Bennet's silliness, and yet surely it was neither wise nor kind to make sport of her, as he so often did. Nor was Mr Bennet better judging in the matter of his daughters. Elizabeth had long been both grateful for and uneasy with the clear preference given her by her father. No one could doubt that she was his favourite. Jane was a close second, leaving Mary, Kitty, and Lydia with only the scraps of his affection. Yes, Mary was sometimes prosing and officious, and the younger girls were too boisterous, but surely it could not improve any of them to know their father thought them some of the silliest girls in England.

"You are right that Mama and Lydia have gone off to town. Mama told me to come and check on you, to make sure you still had control of your faculties after reading for so many long hours. She is convinced you will addle your brain with so much reading."

"Yes, well, she would un-addle some of hers if she had a mind to do more reading."

" Un-addle is not a word, Papa."

"Yes, and you know that because you do read."

Elizabeth stilled. "Why are you so hard on Mama? And Lydia, for that matter? You know, a gentle word from you might do a great deal towards steering her in the right direction."

He shifted uneasily. "Perhaps you are right, my dear. But for now, go and attend to your duties. You do not want to spend an afternoon with a foolish old man."

It was his way of dismissing her, telling her he did not wish to discuss the subject further. With a heavy sigh, she turned and went to the door. Turning back, Elizabeth said, "I love you, Papa," and walked out before he had a chance to say anything in return.

As she left the little library, she fell into stride with Jane, who had just come from the drawing room, carrying an embroidery hoop in one hand and a sewing needle in the other.

"Hello, sister," Elizabeth said, linking an arm through Jane's.

"Hello. And where have you been all the day long?"

"Oh, here and there. As you know, I flit about wherever I please." Elizabeth frowned in jest. "Why, has it been so very bad?"

Jane shook her head. "Not bad — no, I would not say it has been bad. Mama and Lydia have been in an uproar over the impending arrival of the militia. And you know Kitty will soon follow along."

"Heaven help us," Elizabeth replied, rolling her eyes heavenward. "And to think, they will be just in time for the next Meryton Assembly!"

Jane stopped at the bottom of the stairs and picked up her hem before heading up the creaky steps. "It is fortunate, isn't it?"

"I suppose. If you like military men."

"I am sure there are some very fine men among their ranks."

"Oh, to be sure," Elizabeth teased. "Pray tell, would you be looking for a husband with a glittering military career ahead of him? Or perhaps I should tell Mama to find a general for you?"

"Oh Lizzy, do stop," Jane said, though her smile showed she had no real objection to her sister's jests.

They reached their room on the second floor, and Elizabeth opened the door for her sister. She snatched the embroidery away as they passed through and inspected it before gently tossing it on the vanity. "Such pretty stitches. What is this project?"

"Oh, I thought to get an early start on Christmas presents this year." Jane sat on the chest at the foot of the bed. "Daffodils are Mary's favourite, I believe."

"I am sure she will be delighted. Tell me, though, who do you think will be at the assembly? Truly?"

"Oh, I am sure all the usual people will be in attendance. And the militia."

"But you do not want a military man, you have already said."

"I said no such thing."

"Well, then, what kind of husband would you like?" Elizabeth pressed. "I know you are very private about that sort of thing, but I am your favourite sister, after all."

Without luck, Jane tried to suppress a pert grin. Elizabeth knew she tried not to play favourites with her younger sisters. The eldest needed to set an example in all things. Yet while Jane and Elizabeth loved all their sisters, neither felt that they could truly confide in any but each other.

"I do not care so much about what he does or where he has come from. I only want a good man. A kind man. I want someone who is gentle-tempered and has good sense." She let a small smile flash across her lips. "And if he were to be handsome —"

"Ahh, I knew it!" Elizabeth said. "And that will not be difficult. You are the prettiest woman in Hertfordshire. If all the men do not end the night half in love with you, I am no judge of beauty."

Jane rolled her eyes, got up, and started tidying the room. "Or of men," she shot back. "Really, Lizzy, you should be more careful of what you say."

"You deserve a wonderful man, Jane. I mean that with my whole heart," Elizabeth said more seriously. She placed a hand on Jane's shoulder. "I was thinking about this very thing earlier, you know. On my walk."

"About marriage?" Jane asked, frowning slightly. "I did not think you had put much thought into the subject."

"I confess I am not convinced I will make an incandescent match. With my dowry as small as it is, and with no outstanding beauty such as you have —"

"Do not say such things about yourself!" Jane hissed.

"Oh, I do not mean to express any dissatisfaction with my own face. I am sure I am well enough. I only mean that I am not as pretty as you, dear Jane. It is you who possesses the great beauty of the family. But I have something else just as valuable."

"Oh? And what is that?"

"My mind," Elizabeth said in a conspiratorial tone.

Jane made a great show of mock offense. "Oh, and I do not possess a brain, I suppose?" She planted her hands on her hips.

Elizabeth stood aside for a moment, looking over at her sister. She was tall and slender, with a graceful build and perfectly even features. Her lovely face had been known to send men almost out of their wits. Indeed, there had been several gentlemen who had been interested over the last few years, but none had made an offer for her. If Jane's dowry were not so small, Elizabeth was certain she would have been spoken for by now. Perhaps it was not entirely a loss. None of the men had inspired much affection in her sister. Though necessity might not allow it, Jane had not made a secret of her wish to marry for love.

"Lizzy?" Jane questioned. She must have taken too long to answer. "Are you well?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said, shaking her head. "Quite well." It was not entirely the truth. The thought of losing her sister to marriage, especially when they could not count on the luxury of marrying for love, could not fail to be disquieting.

"What sort of man do you want to marry, Lizzy?" Jane asked. She busied herself folding the nightgowns that had come back from the laundry.

Elizabeth had put little thought into it, as far as profession or physique. "I do not know. I suppose I would need someone clever. Someone kind. I want someone who will patiently accompany me on walks about the countryside and will never tire of admiring our surroundings."

"You are disinterestedness itself, Lizzy."

"And if he were to have three thousand pounds a year or more, that would not hurt his chances with me, either."

"Lizzy!" Jane scolded with a laugh. "Do not tell me you would be persuaded to take someone only because of money."

"No, of course not. But you have heard Mama tell us day in and out since that if we do not marry well, we will end our days in the poorhouse."

"That does not make it right to hunt for a husband as if it were some sort of sport."

"I have no intention of releasing the hounds, so to speak," Elizabeth said with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "But it would be nice to think that one could marry for love and security. In the end, I hope little hope that such a man exists. In my very limited experience, either a man is very rich or is possessed of a fine moral character. Never both."

"That is a very dim view, dearest. Do you really believe that?"

Elizabeth hated to see the disappointment in Jane's eyes. She always thought so well of everybody she met. But the world was not so kind. "I will not say it in every case. But yes, as a rule, I have seen it proven more times than not."

Jane smirked. "Where? In your books, I suppose?"

Elizabeth's eyes flashed, and she laughed merrily. "Where else?"

Jane came around the bed to stand in front of Elizabeth. "Do not be too confident in that sentiment, Lizzy dear. Perhaps the man you seek could be standing right in front of you, and you would never know."

Elizabeth's smile fell away. "Well, there is no need for me to worry overly much about marriage. With the militia here, Mama will have husbands picked out for all of us by the end of the week."

They shared a laugh. Elizabeth only wished she were jesting. Knowing Mrs Bennet, the statement was all too likely to be true.