Chapter 40

40

P apa bade her enter, and Elizabeth closed his library door behind her.

"Well, my dear, have you told him? What did he say?" Her father must have been waiting impatiently for her to tell him what had transpired.

Elizabeth's lips twitched. "I will give you the salient points first. No, he said nothing about the facts, but automatically thanked you and me for the consideration of not having him confronted with the knowledge at the wedding. Then he said it was time to leave." She shook her head. "I think he was angry — perhaps because I had kept it from him until today — and did not wish to speak intemperately."

"And what did you think of that?" Papa's eyes were bright and interested.

She shrugged. "He is like all proud and wealthy men; looking down on Uncle because he is a tradesman and lives in Cheapside!"

"No, my dear. I meant what did you think of the fact that he did not speak out intemperately in anger?"

Elizabeth sighed. "He is being careful, because he still wants to possess my voice, Papa. But it does not matter, he is too clever not to know there is something else." She looked her father in the eye. "Once he discovers Santorio, he will be even more eager to annex my earning power and my fortune to his — and I will never be safe once it is public."

Papa glanced instinctively at the door. "Try not to worry too much, little Lizzy. It may be that he will not think of the truth, and it is likely we will be able to hold the situation until after Jane is wed. Then I will explain the various possibilities that Gardiner and I have considered if it becomes necessary."

"You have?" Elizabeth sat down. "Now you have me curious!"

"No, Lizzy. It is too near lunchtime, and I, too, do not wish to speak intemperately to you, for I know you are still quite angry at a certain gentleman."

He stared at the far wall, his eyes unfocused, and Elizabeth wondered at him. But she sat silently, trying to be patient. What did he mean, various possibilities? Would she have to marry the least-worst choice? Might she have to leave Longbourn and enter society, with all their staring and snide remarks?

She sighed. And Papa had not done anything about sending Lydia and Kitty to school. It was just like him, she realised; saying he was going to do something, and thinking that meant he had done it. And meanwhile, their ‘imprisonment,' as Lydia called it, was turning Longbourn into more and more of a powder keg.

She knew what she needed to do. And she would speak to Papa about it after lunch, although it meant her own choices would be fewer. And she must spend time with Jane this evening. Her time with her sister was getting shorter; and although she would see her at Netherfield, nothing would ever be the same.

There was a knock on the door, and her father started. "Enter."

"Luncheon is served, sir." Hill was obviously concerned she had needed to knock, as Papa usually arrived in the dining room without prompting.

But he nodded, unflustered. "Thank you, Hill." And he turned to Elizabeth.

"Come along, my dear. I am sorry for my inattention, and perhaps you would permit me to take up some more of your time this afternoon."

"Yes, Papa," she murmured, determined to have more of a say when they returned to his room.

Lunch had been noisier and more mortifying than ever. Papa had said little, his eyes glinting at Lydia and Kitty as they bemoaned not being able to go out without a ring of footmen and an elder sister with them, and complained that they would have no opportunity to ever dance with officers.

"They are so dashing in their red coats, Papa. Why may we not dance with handsome men?"

His eyebrows went up. "If you are sighing over red coats, Lydia, then it is much less trouble to hang one in your bedroom. And in the meantime, if you are bored, then I will send a book upstairs to you. You may read the first three chapters and then you and I will discuss it tomorrow."

Elizabeth frowned at him; he was not taking this seriously.

When she followed him into the bookroom after the meal, she did her best to look properly severe, and she did not sit down, but stood with her back against the door, her arms crossed.

"That was not helpful, Papa. You should not have suggested that your daughters run up and down the stairs for exercise if we could not go out. It proves to me you are not taking this seriously."

"Oh, I am, my dear." Papa waved at the pile of ledgers on the small table beside his desk.

Elizabeth huffed crossly. They were always there. It did not mean that Papa had looked at them recently.

She met his eyes. "You had said you were considering sending Lydia and Kitty to school. Yet you have not done so."

He raised an eyebrow. "You do not think I am trying to make Longbourn look bad enough that they will be keen to go?"

"No."

She went forward, and sat in the chair in front of him. "I will pay the fees, Papa, if it is money that is concerning you."

"Never!" Papa sounded indignant. "That is my responsibility."

"And yet, you do not appear to have begun making any arrangements."

He looked a little shamefaced. "I have been in contact with some schools, Lizzy, and now I have asked the steward to examine the overwintering crops to see if any may be harvested early and sold."

Elizabeth leaned forward; it was quite an admission. "Perhaps it would be better if that was delayed a little to the usual time when you would get more money for the full-grown crop. If you will not permit me to just pay the fees, then, if it makes you feel better, I will lend you the money needed — it may be best to keep it informal, just between us — or, if you insist, it can be a formal loan to the estate, through Uncle, so that I am a creditor if Mr. Collins should be unwilling to comply with any repayment arrangement."

She reached her hand forward. "Papa, my sisters may be mortifying and embarrassing in their behaviour, but I love them dearly, and I am in a fortunate position where I may be able to make them safe — but only if you permit me to."

Papa's eyes moistened. "You would do that for them?"

"Of course. How could I not, having the means to assist?"

"Let us discuss the matter, then, and how you think they may be reconciled to my decision."