Chapter 12

The School Room

Longbourn

Two Days Later

28 th October, 1811

The floorboards creaked beneath Mrs. Bennet's feet, and she leaned heavily on the banister in the narrow stairwell as she ascended the steep staircase. She breathed a sigh of relief as she attained the cramped corridor that ran along below the eaves of the house, automatically ducking her head. There was not quite room for someone tall to stand all the way up, but it was at least level, and she walked swiftly down it to the door at the far end.

The room beyond had once been divided into many, much smaller rooms, where the servants had slept. Some thirteen years ago, separate servants' quarters had been built, and the upper attic room had been renovated into a schoolroom. Mr. Bennet had deemed it a sufficient space for his bevy of disappointing daughters – far from his library, so that he would not hear their noise, and he had disregarded Mrs. Bennet's initial pleas that it would not suit for their children. It was too hot in the summer, she had pointed out, and too cold in the winter, and the children would not be comfortable.

Mr. Bennet had impatiently dismissed her concerns. In the summer the windows could be opened, he said, and the large fireplace – that was even now lit – would suffice to warm the space. Mrs. Bennet had not protested again, quickly realizing one great advantage of the location – her husband would not navigate the numerous stairs to reach the attic, and thus the girls were safely far from their father's biting comments and sardonic eye.

Over time, the Bennet women had decorated the schoolroom like the haven it was. A thick rug covered the floor, a boon to cold feet in the winter, and cheery pink curtains hung at the windows. A vase of flowers sat in the middle of the table, and Kitty was now sketching them from her seat beneath one window, the curtains drawn back to let in the sunlight across her page. Lydia and Mrs. Montgomery were over beside the fire, their heads together over a book as Lydia painstakingly read the French words, and the governess occasionally corrected her pronunciation.

Kitty adjusted her sketchpad and glanced up at the flowers and thus noticed her mother. She hastily set aside pencil and paper, standing. "Mamma! I did not see you come in!"

"I did not want to interrupt," Mrs. Bennet said with a fond smile, stepping farther into the room. "Please, all of you, continue. I will just sit here and rest for a moment."

There was another chair drawn up by the fire, which had once been in the drawing room downstairs. Mr. Bennet had, one winter, grown entirely disgusted with his wife's decoration choices of the drawing room and ordered her to fully redo it the following spring, and she had whisked her favorite chair up here to the schoolroom. Now she settled into it with relief, the tension draining out of her as she gazed contentedly into the warm, orange flames licking along the logs. It was nice to steal a little time away, content in the knowledge that her elder three daughters were in Meryton with their Aunt Phillips, and she and her younger two were, at least for the time, beyond Mr. Bennet's harsh tongue.

She stretched out her legs toward the fire and forced herself to think sensibly about her third daughter. Mrs. Bennet had initially been horrified at Mary's confession that she might marry Mr. Collins. The heir of Longbourn was utterly absurd, and Mrs. Bennet did not believe that he would be a good husband to Mary. He did not, she admitted to herself, show any signs that he would be a cruel man, merely very foolish. But then, Mr. Bennet was very clever, and he was certainly not a good father to any of his daughters, but especially to sober, plain Mary.

Nonetheless, Mr. Collins's description of Lady Catherine worried her. The woman sounded autocratic, at best, and entirely rude and unbearable at worst. Mrs. Bennet did not like the thought of any of her daughters moving from living under dread beneath their father to living under dread beneath another tyrant. Would a comfortable home in Kent and a kind, if foolish, husband really be enough for Mary if she was forced to live under the reign of a despotic old woman?

Mrs. Bennet wanted happiness for her girls, but it seemed so entirely out of her hands. She drew comfort from the knowledge that it was not only her hands holding their futures, and as she tipped her head back, letting her daughter's halting French and the warmth of the fire lull her into a pleasant nap, she prayed that God above would open His hands and pour out His peace and strength and wisdom upon all of them.

/

Meryton

Elizabeth gathered her pelisse in her hands as the group made their way down the dusty main road of Meryton. Concentrating on keeping her skirts clean was as good an excuse as any to avoid having to engage with Mr. Collins, who was walking beside her. Jane and Mary walked on his other side as the three sisters and their cousin returning from Mrs. Phillips's house.

Elizabeth suppressed a smile as she thought of the previous half-hour. It had been a rather absurd visit, all told. Mrs. Phillips was always delighted to see her nieces, and was endlessly kind, but she was not terribly clever and had a tendency towards the vulgar. She had set out tea and scones and then turned to Mr. Collins and asked about his life and situation.

It had been like opening a dam. Mr. Collins had begun speaking at once about the advantageous setting of his parsonage, the kindness of his patroness, his own comfortable position in life, the cleverness and condescension of his patroness, the glories of Rosings, and the wisdom of his patroness in executing her own estate. There had been little call for anyone else's participation in the conversation, and in his rare pauses for breath, Mrs. Phillips – listening with shining eyes and bated breath – would refill his cup and offer him another scone and urge him to tell them more.

Elizabeth had endured, half listening with a polite half-smile and enjoying her tea. The visit had done little to modify her first opinions of the man, which were that he was unbearably foolish and entirely too enamored with the sound of his own voice. She could only be grateful for the discussion with her mother two nights previously, when Mrs. Bennet had assured her that she would do her utmost to protect her daughters from an unwanted marriage to the blithering oaf.

"Mr. Collins," Mary said, stopping and turning an attentive face toward the heir to Longbourn, "would you be willing to accompany me to the bookstore so that I might purchase some hymnal music? I am eager to improve my skills in that area."

"My dear cousin," Mr. Collins replied, his plump face alight with joy, "I would be most pleased to do so! Indeed, I can only congratulate you on learning such arrangements. There can be nothing better than to play to the glory of our Lord. Why yes, I am certain that Lady Catherine would have been quite the most adept player in all the kingdom if only she had learned!"

Elizabeth repressed a chuckle at this absurd statement, which transformed, moments later, into concern. Mary showed no sign of laughter, but merely smiled agreeably and reached up to tuck back one of the curls framing her face. She had dressed in her pink dress today, which flattered her coloring, and arranged her hair with care, forsaking the dowdy knot on the upper back of her head she usually wore. Beside her sisters, Mary would never be handsome, but she looked genuinely pretty.

None of Mary's sisters or her mother had ever teased her for the dull colors and severely plain hairstyle she favored. They were all quietly aware that it was a defense mechanism. Their father took every opportunity to deplore his middle daughter's lack of beauty, and if she dared to beautify herself, his mockery would be relentless. It infuriated Elizabeth that her sweet younger sister had to endure such cruel belittling at the hands and tongue of their father, but she well knew that her own interference would only make affairs much worse.

She pondered, then, why Mary was putting the effort into making herself look prettier. Elizabeth could only think that her sister was trying to impress Mr. Collins, but why? Surely she did not wish to wed him? Even to escape their father, that would be a dreadful sacrifice indeed. Elizabeth would be unspeakably miserable in such an arrangement, but then, she and Mary were very different people. Perhaps Mary would be able to find contentment and even happiness as long as she was far from their sire.

She stepped into the bookstore in the wake of her sisters and Mr. Collins, and shook her head to clear it.

The smell of ink and paper and leather helped her to relax. The bookstore was her favorite shop in Meryton, with its treasure trove of knowledge and stories. It was not a large building, but the deep-set fireplace kept it warm, and between every shelf stood a tall window, all the way around, so that the sun came in no matter the time of day to pool across the dark green and blue carpets on the floor. Mr. Haynes, behind the desk, had a smile and a quiet greeting for them. He was always endlessly patient with Elizabeth's many questions and observations, and she could listen to him talk about his favorite books for an hour.

At the moment, though, her attention was more on the people in the bookstore than the books themselves. To her surprise and uneasiness, several members of the Netherfield party were present, including Miss Anne de Bourgh and, over by the music selection, Mr. and Miss Darcy.

"Miss de Bourgh!" Mr. Collins exclaimed, having caught sight of the lady. He surged forward, bobbed his head, and continued, "I had no idea at all that I would have the exquisite honor of seeing you in this little town. I am most pleased to find you here, and especially in the company of your esteemed cousin, Mr. Darcy! Perhaps I will have the privilege of once again serving as officiant of your wedding, though this time…"

"Mr. Collins," Darcy snapped, arriving on the scene with flashing eyes and a rigid jaw, "I will thank you not to speak of our family's private affairs in a public place."

Mr. Collins looked so horrified at such a blunt rebuke that Elizabeth actually felt sorry for him. She was also enormously embarrassed – this man was her cousin, after all, and for him to behave in such a way did not reflect well on the Bennets.

"Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary," Mr. Bingley said, appearing from around a corner and hurrying over. "It is so good to see you today. I hope you are well?"

"We are," Jane replied, and Mary said, "We were visiting our Aunt Phillips this morning, and I wished to purchase some sheet music."

To Elizabeth's surprise and gratitude, Darcy's expression softened, and he said, "Perhaps you would care to join my sister and cousin? Georgiana is also looking through the available music, and Anne has particular interest in Bach's music."

Mr. Haynes, who had been previously ignoring the conversation, stepped forward with a smile and said, "I do not pretend to have nearly the stock of the larger London establishments, but I hope you will find something of interest, Miss Mary."

Mary, Miss de Bourgh, and Mr. Darcy followed the proprietor to the corner where Miss Darcy was looking over sheet music, and Bingley began speaking enthusiastically with Jane.

Elizabeth reluctantly turned her attention on Mr. Collins, who was still pink with humiliation, and said, "I know that you are fond of sermons, sir. I believe that Mr. Haynes has some over here."

"Yes, of course, Cousin," the heir of Longbourn agreed meekly and followed her into a small nook out of sight of the others. Elizabeth pointed at the shelf in question and retreated a pace or two, not wishing to be in close proximity to the man.

Her gaze shifted to Jane, who was staring joyfully into Mr. Bingley's face, and she noted the delight in the gentleman's eyes. Elizabeth did not think Jane knew Mr. Bingley sufficiently to wed, but at this juncture, they seemed well matched.

She then glanced over to see Mary and Miss Darcy speaking with one another about music and could not help but smile at the sight. She was well aware that her younger sister had a passion for music unmatched by anyone in her family, but she rather thought that Miss Darcy felt equal enthusiasm.

Lastly, Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy and frowned as she observed the gentleman staring intently at Jane and Bingley. Was it possible, as her mother had suggested, that Darcy was the sort of man who could not bear his own friend capturing the attention of a most beautiful lady?

A moment later, Darcy turned his head to look at her, and she felt herself flush at the intensity in those dark eyes. She felt a brief inclination to turn away, but she would not. Mr. Darcy might be wealthy and tall and exceptionally handsome, but she would not permit him to interfere with Jane's relationship with Mr. Bingley!

Even as she watched, Darcy broke away from the three ladies talking about music and strode over to Jane, who looked up in surprise.

"Miss Bennet," he said, loudly enough that Elizabeth could hear him easily, "I hope you are well today?

"Very well, thank you," Jane said with a slight curtsey. "I am pleased to see that you and your relations are enjoying our little town."

"We are enjoying it very much," the gentleman said and then, after a quick glance at Bingley, continued, "I have been thinking about the ball at Netherfield in a few days, and I hope, I wonder, whether you might be willing to dance the supper set with me in addition to the first set."

Elizabeth stiffened in outrage at these words and took a hasty step forward, while Jane paled a little and said, after a moment of deliberation, "That is very kind, Mr. Darcy, but I must decline. It would cause a great deal of talk if we danced two dances together, and I would not care to have our names bandied about in such a way."

"You are entirely correct, Miss Bennet," Darcy said instantly and took a step away. "Please forget I ever made such a foolish suggestion."

"She will," Elizabeth said, stepping up next to her sister and glaring at the master of Pemberley.

He stared back at her in obvious confusion and said, "Thank you. Miss Elizabeth, if you have the supper set available, would you do the honor of keeping it aside for me?"

Elizabeth blew out a breath, cogitated, and forcibly pinned a smile on her face. "Yes, Mr. Darcy, of course. I would be delighted to dance with you."

"Thank you," Darcy said and looked around. "Miss Elizabeth, do you know whether this establishment has any books on history?"

"Certainly," Elizabeth said coolly and marched over to a bookshelf not far from where Mary, Georgiana, and Anne were speaking of music. Mr. Darcy's obvious pleasure at the selection, along with intelligent remarks about some of the books, improved her mood rather a lot, and when it was time to depart for home, Elizabeth was feeling calmer again.

Jane, who had spent the rest of the time speaking with Bingley, blushed as the two parties separated, and said, "It was wonderful seeing you today, sir."

"The pleasure was entirely mine," Bingley replied, bowing.