Chapter 38

Breakfast Parlor

Netherfield Hall

Friday, 6 th December, 1811

The smell of eggs, ham, kidney, toast and marmalade, and coffee, arrayed generously across the Netherfield breakfast table, would satisfy the heartiest of appetites. However, the appetites of those gathered there – Darcy and his sister, Anne and Mrs. Annesley – were not particularly hearty at all. Their thoughts dwelt at Longbourn some few miles away and on the gravely ill patriarch there. Their desultory conversation was quietly subdued and of solemn nature.

The door opened, and Bingley entered, his expression grave and a piece of paper clutched in his right hand.

"Is there news?" Darcy asked, rising to his feet.

"There is," Bingley said and heaved a great sigh. "I just received word that Mr. Bennet passed away a few hours ago."

Georgiana cried out in dismay and Anne gasped, while Mrs. Annesley lifted a hand to wipe her eyes.

"I am so very sorry, Bingley," Darcy said sorrowfully.

"Please convey my deepest condolences to Mrs. Bingley," Georgiana chimed in.

"Yes, we are all profoundly grieved for our friends," Anne said.

"Thank you all. I will be escorting Jane to Longbourn shortly, as there are many decisions and plans to be made."

"Of course," Darcy said for them all. He waited until Bingley had disappeared out of the room, shutting the door behind him, and then took a seat next to Georgiana and resumed his interrupted breakfast.

The silence was profound for a full five minutes, and then Darcy said, "I think that given the sudden death of Mr. Bennet, our party should leave Hertfordshire for Pemberley."

Georgiana jumped and turned a bewildered look on her brother. "Leave? But I thought that you and Miss Bennet…"

She trailed off and turned pink, and Anne said, "The Bennets are in mourning, which means they will be little in company for some time. Moreover, it will be easier on the Bingleys if there are fewer people in the house."

"I understand," Georgiana said sadly. "I will miss the Bennet ladies; I like them very much."

"We will call on them to express our condolences before we depart," Darcy said. "Perhaps you could ask whether you could begin a correspondence with the ladies of Longbourn?"

Georgiana's mournful expression brightened at these words. "Yes, I will do that."

"And I will as well," Anne declared. Darcy, in the midst of his own disappointment over leaving the lovely, intelligent, and charming Miss Bennet, was hopeful that the ties between Pemberley and Longbourn would strengthen through letters. Perhaps, too, this was a useful test; he and Miss Bennet would be apart for some months at least, and it remained to be seen if any mutual affection would survive distance and time.

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The Library

Longbourn

Four Hours Later

Elizabeth sneezed at a little puff of dust and marveled glumly that any of her father's books had been let sit long enough to gather even small amounts of dust. It did not speak well of the servants, but then again, that was not entirely fair, was it? Her father spent most of his time in his bedchamber and his library, and she knew that the former master of the house had been outraged when he entered his bookish sanctum to find anyone messing about with his books. No, she supposed that it was no surprise that the books were rather dusty.

Elizabeth knelt on the carpeted floor, carefully comparing the list in her hand against the rows of titles before her. Mr. Bennet had acquired a great many books over his lifetime with which to supplement his already expansive library, and these, that he had purchased himself, were not included in the entail. Mrs. Bennet had swiftly decided that they would sell these books to augment the paltry income they would have now that Longbourn no longer belonged to them, and had tasked Elizabeth with going through to pull them from the shelves.

Elizabeth had obeyed at once, if uneasily. It felt odd, if not irreverent and disrespectful, to be pawing through her father's most precious belongings with the goal of selling them off when he had been but a few hours cold in his bed. Nonetheless, she obeyed with a will and swift hands. Mary, of course, would be in full sympathy with her mother and sisters and would have no objections to them selling off the property that did not belong to the estate. The views of Mr. Collins, however, were unknown. He might pardonably feel that, as the heir, he should have first pick of his predecessor's property, and it seemed best to avoid the disagreement altogether. An express had been sent off to Kent that very morning with news of Mr. Bennet's death, and there was no saying when the Collinses would hurry back to Longbourn to claim their rightful inheritance.

Thus, Elizabeth browsed carefully through the library, pulling from the shelves each book on her extensive list and handing them to Steven, the servant boy, to pack them into the crate he was lugging along. Three boxes sat by the door, already filled and closed, ready to be conveyed to Netherfield and there placed under a willing Charles's purview. The crates had been retrieved from the stables that morning, the cobwebs cleaned off and the dirt brushed away before being brought to the library. They would depart that evening to a spare storage room in Jane and Charles's house, there to be kept until the Bennet ladies had leisure to sell them.

A door closed, and Elizabeth paused momentarily to listen. She could hear, faintly, the sound of horses in the yard, servants hurrying around under the orders of their mistress, making ready the house for the new owners. Mr. Allen, the rector, had already come and gone, conferring with the widow about funeral arrangements and kindly overseeing the manservants as they carefully wrapped and carried Mr. Bennet's body down to the old back parlor. It was small and cramped, too hot in the summer, situated as it was on the southwest corner of the house, and too dim in the winter to provide for comfortable sitting. The windows had been opened to chill the room, and there Mr. Bennet lay in cold repose until he could be buried the following morn. Kitty and Lydia were currently sitting vigil over their father. In a few hours, Elizabeth would go down to take her turn, and Mrs. Bennet would sit with her deceased husband overnight.

Each woman had, that morning, carefully chosen a handful of gowns from her wardrobe and handed them over to Sally and Eva, the maids, to be dyed black. They would be in full mourning for three months, in strict observance of tradition, and Mrs. Bennet intended to stay in full mourning for the full six. As such, she had chosen nearly half her own gowns to be dyed, foreseeing that she would have need of many in the somber black.

Given her bleak thoughts, it was not surprising that Elizabeth's eyes suddenly filmed with tears, obscuring her view of the faded gold-embossed title before her. She frowned, reaching into her pocket for her handkerchief and aggressively dabbing at her eyes until her vision was clear again. Her work was of the utmost importance, and she could not afford to be hindered by ill-timed sentiment. There would be time enough later to mourn her father and all of what might have been.

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Dining Room

Netherfield

The master and mistress of the house were not present for another meal, as both were at Longbourn assisting in funeral arrangements and the like. Nonetheless, the aroma was mouthwatering. Caroline Bingley, as acting mistress of the house, had seized the opportunity to order a very fine dinner. Several pheasants had been roasted to a beautiful golden-brown and sat surrounded by potatoes, which were also roasted, crispy and brown-edged and gleaming with butter, and there were apple pies, and puddings, and vegetables, and bowls of fruit, and ratafia cakes, and tureens of soup. Darcy ate steadily, well aware that it would do no one any good for him to be weak from hunger, but he scarcely tasted the food, well-seasoned and delectable as it was.

"It must be so difficult for poor Jane," Mrs. Hurst said sympathetically. "To lose one's father the very day after her wedding! What a tragedy!"

"It is hard on Charles as well," Caroline said. "It was not at all what he hoped for in marriage, certainly not so soon!"

Darcy compressed his lips and was both startled and grateful when the usually quiet Mrs. Annesley said, "Part of the wedding vows, which the Bingleys made only two days ago, is the promise to comfort one another in times of trouble. Every marriage has its struggles, and Mr. Bingley has the opportunity to show, at a very early stage in his marriage, that he is willing to serve and love his wife in her time of need."

"Well said," Mr. Hurst remarked, rather to everyone's surprise.

Caroline Bingley sniffed a little but said nothing, and Darcy decided this was an appropriate time to speak. "By the by, my sister, cousin, Mrs. Annesley, and I will be departing for Pemberley in a few days."

Miss Bingley put down her fork, her eyes round with astonished dismay. "Mr. Darcy, I thought you and your party intended to stay at Netherfield for some weeks yet!"

"We were, but the death of Mrs. Bingley's father has altered our plans. She will be in deep mourning, and the Bennet family as well. We have decided it would be inappropriate to stay as guests under such circumstances."

"Oh, but you are my brother's closest friend," Miss Bingley protested.

"But Mr. Bingley owes his greatest allegiance to his wife," Mrs. Annesley pointed out.

"Perhaps we had better leave for London, Mr. Hurst," Mrs. Hurst commented, and then, at the irritated expression on her sister's face, said, "Caroline, Mr. Darcy is correct. Moreover, it will be frightfully dull for you here with Jane in deep mourning and unable to entertain."

Miss Bingley stared at Darcy, then at her sister, and then nodded. "That is true enough. Indeed, given the nature of the local society, it will be a great joy to return to Town. But come, Mr. Darcy, will you not journey to London as well? Pemberley is fabulous, of course, but in the winter, would you not prefer the delights of the opera, and the theaters, and the elegant dinner parties?"

"London does not agree at all with Miss de Bourgh and neither is it my preference to go there at this time," Darcy said calmly. "So no, we will journey to Pemberley."

Caroline sighed unhappily and took another bite of pheasant.