Chapter 24

Drawing Room

Longbourn

Later

11 th November, 1811

"Father has returned from visiting Mr. Connolly," Jane warned, watching the Bennet carriage roll up the drive and around to the stables.

Mrs. Bennet, who had been glancing over a housekeeping ledger, looked up and said authoritatively, "Jane, Mary, please join the younger girls in the school room. You can work on Mary's clothing if you like. Lizzy, do you wish to accompany them, or would you care to go for a walk?"

"I would prefer to go for a walk," Elizabeth replied, setting aside her mending and hopping to her feet. "Are you certain you do not wish for me to stay and…"

"Go ahead, Lizzy," her mother ordered.

The Bennet daughters scattered hastily, and Mrs. Bennet put away the housekeeping ledger in a secure place and picked up a novel from the circulating library.

Ten minutes later, the sound of Mr. Bennet's cane and shuffling gait caught her sharp ears, and Mrs. Bennet took in a deep breath and stiffened her back. About half of the time, Mr. Bennet chose to retire to the library after visiting his old crony, Mr. Connolly, but when he decided instead to visit the drawing room, he was inevitably in a bad humor.

The door opened abruptly, and Mrs. Bennet looked up with a smile pinned on her lips as her husband hobbled into the room with the butler behind him, obviously prepared to catch his master if the gentleman tripped or fell.

"Mr. Bennet!" the lady said. "I have not seen you all day!"

"T'was deliberate, Madame," Bennet replied sarcastically, and Mrs. Bennet's heart sank. Years of living with her husband had enabled her to assess Mr. Bennet's mood, and she could see he was in a foul temper today. She could only hope that fatigue would win out over his obvious desire to harass his wife verbally.

"Las' thing I want is to…," her husband said, and then stopped, frowned, and looked around in confusion. "Where are the rest of … the pack of … my useless daughters?"

His wife blew out a slow breath and said evenly, "The girls are working upstairs on Mary's clothing. She is marrying Mr. Collins so soon that all must work to prepare."

Bennet's irritable countenance lightened, and he collapsed heavily into a wingbacked chair by the roaring fire.

"Cold outside, feels good," he muttered, and then shook his head as if to clear it. "They are all stupid girls, but at least Mary will be gone and … one less mouth to feed. What are you reading?"

" Camilla , by Frances Burney."

"Ridiculous novel, but can expect nothing else from … not a brain in the house save my own…"

Mrs. Bennet did not bother arguing. When Mr. Bennet was truly in his cups, as he was now, there was no point in debating him.

She returned to her reading, though her ears were pricked. She hoped that her husband would fall asleep soon, as he often did after drinking heavily.

"Heard an odd thing from Connolly today," Bennet grunted a few minutes later.

Mrs. Bennet set aside her book and said, "What did you hear, Mr. Bennet?"

"Darcy, that fellow staying at Netherfield – he ask … asked Jane to dance twice at that ball…"

Mrs. Bennet felt her stomach clench within her, but she managed to remain outwardly calm.

"What of it?" she asked innocently.

"True, then?" Bennet demanded.

"Yes, but it was nothing, sir; merely a…"

"Asked her in the bookstore, I understand. In public. He must want to marry Jane."

"I assure you he does not," Mrs. Bennet said rapidly. "He was simply being courteous."

Mr. Bennet leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes, while Mrs. Bennet waited uneasily.

When his eyelids fluttered open again, the master of Longbourn said, "Might be able to convince him that … that he has dishonored Jane … might be able to force him to make an offer."

Uneasiness gave way to alarm, and Mrs. Bennet said, "Mr. Bennet, I do beg you, pray do not! Mr. Darcy has no interest in Jane. It is Mr. Bingley who is paying her substantial attention…"

"Bingley, Darcy, I do not care," her husband grumbled. "Just want her out of the house as soon as possible."

Again, Frances Bennet tightened her lips and clenched her jaw, forcing herself to remain silent. There was no point in arguing with the man when he was so drunk, and she hoped that by tomorrow, he would have forgotten all about the matter.

Five minutes later, Mr. Bennet was asleep, and Mrs. Bennet crept away, leaving Stewart to watch over his inebriated master.

She groaned softly as she made her way into the kitchen, as it was time for her to speak with Cook about the next week's meals. If Mr. Bennet did confront Mr. Darcy, it would end very badly for the ladies of Longbourn. While Darcy's request for a second set from Jane was undoubtedly odd, and rather forward, the man had no responsibility toward Jane. Moreover, Jane would, her mother knew, refuse the man even if he did ask for her hand in marriage. Jane was a sensible woman who knew not to accept an offer from a man with whom she was incompatible.

For the thousandth time, Mrs. Bennet mourned her husband's injury, and occasional inebriation, cruelty and pig headedness. It made life very difficult at times.

/

On Longbourn Land

Leaves crunched beneath Elizabeth's feet as she strode briskly down the path, the house only occasionally visible through the trees. A nippy breeze with the first taste of frost on its wings tugged at her hair and her bonnet and her blue skirt before wisping away into the trees to set all the red and orange leaves dancing like flames. The tree trunks stood tall and straight and proud as Grecian columns, somber brown and winter gray, naked twigs trembling in the cold with the last of their raiment tugged away by playfully insistent winds.

In but a few more weeks, the chill in the air would turn to genuine cold, and the drifts of autumn leaves would be replaced with frost and snow. The trees would be dressed anew, in gems of ice and shawls of snows, their bark dyed a dark gray by the damp. Elizabeth would wrap up warmly and come out then too, careful of the cold, to enjoy the scenery and clear her mind.

She needed a clear mind now, and brisk exercise to facilitate the same. Despite Mrs. Bennet's orders, guilt lay heavily on Elizabeth's shoulders for abandoning her mother to deal with an irascible Mr. Bennet. He was always in an unpleasant mood when he returned from visiting Mr. Connolly, deep in his cups and with a tongue even more biting than was his custom. Old Mr. Connolly lived alone, his wife dead and gone these ten years and his daughters grown and married and moved away. His favorite activities were drinking and talking – mostly complaints about his life, and criticisms, and gossip about his neighbors. Though he lived some ten miles from Meryton and rarely came to town, his servants could often be seen going about his business, and local wisdom had it that it was his butler and housekeeper who passed on knowledge of the local doings.

He was a man after Mr. Bennet's own heart, not intelligent enough to be a rival but clever enough to sharpen his wit at his neighbors' expense and generous with his brandy and wine. The two men could, and often did, spend hours together lamenting their wives – living and dead – and the hardships of having a passel of empty-headed daughters. Mr. Bennet always returned from Connolly's drunk and mean as a wasp, and all the household breathed a sigh of relief when he went straight to his library.

In truth, Elizabeth knew it would be more harm than help for her to be there when her father was feeling more vicious than usual. He was not interested in any of his daughters, but he harbored a true antipathy towards her. It smarted, and when she had been quite young, she had often wept over it. Mrs. Bennet had done her utmost to comfort her second daughter and impress upon Elizabeth that her father's anger was not her fault. In the early years, Mrs. Bennet had whispered wistfully of early marriage, when Mr. Bennet would laugh and smile other than at the expense of his family and neighbors, when he was generous and even kind. He had always had a tendency for sardonicism and mockery, but it had not been as pointed and hurtful.

Elizabeth was glad that Mary, at least, was soon to be free of their father's withering tongue. Mrs. Montgomery was overseeing Mary's trousseau, and the third Bennet daughter was swiftly acquiring linens, towels, several dresses, and all the accessories inherent therein. Elizabeth thought of the completed work with contentment. Mary would not, perhaps, bring a large dowry into the marriage, but she would not go empty-handed to Kent.

Elizabeth wondered if Mary would see Mr. Darcy there, visiting his aunt. It seemed unlikely, given that Lady Catherine had descended on both Longbourn and Netherfield demanding a marriage that neither Mr. Darcy nor Miss de Bourgh wished for. But then again, the man was obviously serious about his duties to family and land, so perhaps, at some point, he would settle the quarrel with his aunt and return again.

If Jane indeed married Mr. Bingley, though, Elizabeth would likely see Darcy again, as the two men were clearly great friends. She hoped for such a meeting; Darcy was very handsome, after all, along with being clever and refined, and while conscious of his status, he was not haughty like his aunt, Lady Catherine. He plainly cared a great deal for not only his own tenants, but those living under the purview of his autocratic aunt, which showed not only a dutiful dedication but also a very real concern for the members of the lower classes.

All of which made it all the more odd that he had asked Jane to dance twice. Elizabeth was confident that he was not interested in Jane, as Mr. Darcy's social standing put him far above the simple Bennets. He could reach even into the nobility for a wife. Why had he so courted Jane's company?

And why, after all, did it matter to Elizabeth? He no longer paid Jane any undue attentions, but instead had retired from the field to make way for Mr. Bingley. What concern was it to Elizabeth now what his motive had been?

She wondered, briefly, what she would have done had he turned his attentions on her, before she caught herself. It was true; she was attracted to Mr. Darcy, despite the fact that he puzzled her exceedingly. What had he meant at that assembly, after all, when he had asked if she was handsome enough to tempt Mr. Bingley? It was such a strange thing to say. Neither an insult nor a compliment, and entirely odd.

Not that any of it really mattered. Mr. Darcy had not turned his attentions on her, and thus she had no need to decide what she would do. Elizabeth had never struggled with any issues of self-loathing or discontent and liked herself as a person. But she was not delusional, either; wealthy, handsome, well-connected Mr. Darcy would never look twice her way. Mrs. Bennet had cautiously posited an opinion that perhaps he was used to attracting young women to fall in love with him and had been piqued by Jane's lack of interest. It would not do for her to lose her heart to a man who showed no signs of caring for her at all.