1

20 December, 8

Longbourn, Hertfordshire

Elizabeth Bennet was having a terrible day. She knew she ought to be happy, even celebratory, but this only compounded her misery with guilt, regret, and simmering anger.

Kitty came to sit beside her on the sofa, offering her a cup of punch and reminding her of all the reasons she had to smile. Charlotte had married the previous morning, and had taken their tedious cousin Collins back to Kent directly. Jane and her new husband, Mr. Bingley, had returned from their trip to London in time for the wedding. The odious Mr. Darcy had failed to separate the lovers, and had taken his ill-humored brooding elsewhere. The Gardiners had come up from London, and would join the Bennets and Phillipses in journeying north to Mr. Bingley’s new estate in Derbyshire the following morning.

“And here come a few of the officers,”

Kitty cried, darting toward the window as if this was the most joyous news of all.

Elizabeth had never been so surly in all her life, and even the sight of Mr. Wickham sauntering toward the house, looking as handsome as ever in his regimentals, failed to cheer her. “I suppose we must be some consolation, after Mary King and her ten thousand pounds were whisked away to Liverpool,”

she grumbled.

Kitty gasped, as if Elizabeth had suggested the dashing lieutenant had warts and a leer. “It is very kind of the officers to call on us before we depart for a whole month - I am sure Lydia and I shall miss them desperately, and I know you will, too, Lizzy - after all, you are violently in love with a certain someone.”

“Hush, Kitty,”

Elizabeth cried, swatting at her sister as the three officers were shown into the crowded drawing room.

Kitty rolled her eyes before following after Lydia, who hastened to be the first to greet their callers. Three of the Gardiner children, who had been playing a loud and rowdy game for the last half-hour, scampered across her path as she moved to speak with Mr. Wickham. Mrs. Phillips scolded them sharply and Mrs. Bennet, who had consumed a fair bit of punch that afternoon, laughed merrily.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath as her temper was further strained by the antics that had given her a headache since early that morning. Mr. Wickham smiled as she approached him, and swept into a gallant bow. “What a lovely family party you all make.”

Mr. Bingley stood nearby, receiving the congratulations of Colonel Forster and Captain Denny. He turned and offered his new sister an apologetic smile. “We are indeed. Perhaps I ought to have waited until our departure on the morrow to have Netherfield closed up, rather than when Jane and I traveled to London to finalize the purchase of Macallister Manor, but my head was full of other concerns.”

He gave a good-natured shrug of his shoulders.

The colonel laughed knowingly. “A man’s wits are never entirely present when he is on the verge of marriage. But you are all departing for Derbyshire tomorrow, I understand.”

“Indeed,”

Mr. Bingley agreed. “We shall only be so crowded for one night, and my new Mamma assured me there are rooms and beds enough for everyone. We will all be sharing at the inns along the way, and then five rooms will seem quite a luxury!”

“Macallister Manor - that is not ten miles from Pemberley, if I recall correctly,”

Mr. Wickham said, giving Elizabeth a curious look. Lowering his voice, he said to her, “I fear you will see a great deal of Darcy while you are in Derbyshire.”

Half a dozen bitter retorts died on Elizabeth’s tongue; she only replied, “I mean to spend a great deal of time accompanying my Aunt Gardiner in calling on her friends in the area - she grew up in Lambton, you may recall.”

“Certainly. If you will introduce us, I should be happy to pay my respects, and ask her to convey my best wishes to a few old friends in that village.”

He offered her his arm, and they moved through the noisy drawing room to speak to Mrs. Gardiner.

Her aunt was seated near the pianoforte, and Mary was assaulting the instrument as if insensible to the clamor of their young cousins, whose father was perversely encouraging their boisterous game. Elizabeth and Mr. Wickham nearly had to shout to address Mrs. Gardiner, who could scarcely speak a word to the handsome officer without Lydia trying to lure him toward the mistletoe that hung over the doorway to the music room, while Mrs. Bennet attempted to draw her sister-in-law into a discussion about long sleeves and lace.

Once they had managed a few pleasantries, Mr. Wickham turned to Elizabeth and suggested a walk outdoors might be pleasant, for it was the warmest hour of the afternoon, and she would be cooped up in a carriage for the next few days. She accepted with a smile of relief, and had taken a few steps to retrieve her pelisse when one of her cousins scampered past, having stolen Mrs. Phillips’s cup of punch and elicited a shrill reprimand from the lady. And of course, the young lad collided with Elizabeth and drenched her white day dress with the entire cup of red liquid.

Mrs. Gardiner began to offer her apologies, which were drowned out by Mrs. Bennet. “Lizzy, you careless girl, you have made a mess of yourself! Oh, and all your best dresses have been packed away - whatever will you change into?”

At that moment, Elizabeth wished to change into a bird and fly away from all her chaotic relations. Mr. Wickham’s reminder that she was likely to meet with Mr. Darcy in Derbyshire conjured up a horrific scene in her imagination - would her family behave thus in his company? But of course they would, for they had applied themselves most assiduously to exposing themselves in his presence for the last two months. At least his derision had not deterred Mr. Bingley, who had proposed to Jane at the Netherfield ball and made her his bride as soon as the banns could be read; Mr. Darcy could hardly detach his friend from Jane now.

Elizabeth made her excuses and hurried from the drawing room, the clamorous din fading as she flew up the stairs and into her bedchamber, which she would be sharing with all three of her sisters that evening. She frowned at the empty armoire, which had once been full of Jane’s things, before opening her own armoire and retrieving one of the gowns her mother had deemed too drab to bring to Derbyshire.

The brown frock was warm enough, and would at least conceal any further stains she might hazard, between the dirt of the garden and the antics of her cousins. Reminding herself she loved her family dearly, she rang for Hill and tidied up her chignon as she waited for the housekeeper to come to her aid.

Most of the servants had been given leave to spend the next month with their own families during the time the Bennets were away, but Mrs. Hill was to remain at Longbourn with her daughter Alice and her son Johnny. The former would assist in giving the whole house a thorough deep cleaning, while the latter made sure the place was secure, a task Mr. Bennet was sure the lad could handle in such a quiet country village.

Mrs. Hill helped Elizabeth dress, assured her that Mr. Wickham would think her as lovely as ever in the rich chocolate color that matched her thick curls, and promised she would attend to the punch stain before it could set. “If I cannot remove the discoloration, we could always dye the dress a pretty rose shade,”

she suggested. As Elizabeth rubbed at her temples, the motherly woman drew a packet of headache powders from a pocket of her apron and silently handed them over.

By the time Elizabeth had returned to the drawing room, the officers had taken their leave. “Mamma invited them to dine with us, but the colonel said they had other calls to make in the neighborhood,”

Lydia said, looking smug at Elizabeth’s abandonment.

A dozen people crowded in the dining room was quite enough, as it happened. Even with the Gardiner children relegated to the nursery for their evening meal, Elizabeth’s relations remained as boisterous as they had ever been. Her mother speculated loudly about the eligible gentlemen her single daughters might encounter during their stay at Macallister Manor, suggesting perhaps one or two of them might reside with the Bingleys permanently if there proved to be good prospects for them in the neighborhood. Lydia chimed in with her demands that Mr. Bingley give a ball for the Twelfth Night, and their new brother took it in good humor.

Further down the table, Elizabeth could see a look of alarm flash across Jane’s face. Her sister met her gaze, but Elizabeth turned away. She recalled how warmly she and Charlotte had spoken to one another when the Collinses called that morning to take their leave, as if they shared some great secret as newly married women. It chafed Elizabeth, who had long believed it unlikely she should ever marry, since she required so much.

Jane was gentle and patient, and was satisfied with a husband who was kind and affable, while Charlotte was pragmatic enough to be content with a comfortable home - complete with shelves in the closet and the patronage of the estimable Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Elizabeth wanted a man of wit and intelligence, tremendous depth of feeling and superior discernment, a man who could inspire ardent love and affection, and would treat her as an equal and share in all her pursuits. She knew very well that there was no such man in existence, and so she would likely end an old maid, never able to share in the new status Jane and Charlotte had in common.

She did not wish to resent them for their happiness, and silently chastised herself until her father began to tease her. “Well, Lizzy,”

he chortled. “Your mother will be more keen to part with you than Jane - though I have never anticipated either prospect with much enthusiasm. But she is not a woman to be gainsaid. Do you think she shall carry her point, and find you a beau to meet beneath the mistletoe while we are away? Mr. Darcy is inflicting his brooding stares upon some other poor lady in London, no doubt, Charlotte snatched Collins out from under you, which was very well done of her, and Mr. Wickham departed the house before he could woo you with more tales of woe in the garden. Let us hope the gentlemen in Derbyshire are up to snuff, eh?”

Elizabeth tried to share in her father’s laughter, but it did not feel quite right. Was this all her life was to be, with the Bingleys moving away? She could remain a disappointment to her mother and a source of levity to her father here at home, with her younger sisters inevitably adding difficulty to the already slim chances another gentleman of means came into the area - or she could consent to be a burden on Jane and Charles, who were too amiable to deny her mother’s wishes.

Before Elizabeth could make any reply, her Uncle Gardiner turned to her and said, “I had thought to ask you to remain awhile in London with us, for I believe it is your turn, but Madeline has already agreed for Kitty to stay with us after we depart Macallister Manor. Your sister had promised to help little Ned and Betsy with their spelling and reading, for they drive your aunt to distraction, and Kitty has a very gentle way with them.”

Elizabeth was sure she would not have been cross with her younger sister, who had just stayed with the Gardiners last year, were she not already in a foul mood. She was not formed for ill-humor, and generally she could quickly laugh herself into better spirits when her family provoked her - this was so frequent an occurrence that she would have been in perpetual bitterness if she had not learned such a skill. But tonight, she simply could not find her way back to any semblance of good cheer.

She had little appetite, though the family remained at the table for nearly two hours - only after they had all adjourned to the parlor afterward did Elizabeth regret her peckish sulking as her stomach growled. She was ravenous by the time her mother recollected a family tradition they would not be able to enjoy in Derbyshire - Mrs. Hill’s special Christmas biscuits. It was well past the hour the cantankerous Gardiner children ought to have been abed, though Elizabeth had endeavored at length to organize her cousins and sisters in order to partake in their seasonal treat.

Mrs. Hill bustled in with peppermint tea and two trays of biscuits, ceremoniously placing them on a table in the center of the room. The warm scent of honey, vanilla, and cinnamon permeated the parlor. At the back of the room, Elizabeth paused and closed her eyes, drawing in a slow breath of the heavenly smell. She had waited a whole year for these biscuits, and she was positively ravenous.

The rest of her family all began to serve themselves from the two trays. One was piled high with biscuits baked with walnuts, and a smaller tray bore half a dozen biscuits made instead with cranberries, for Elizabeth, Mary, and Mr. Bennet were all prone to hives if they ate even a small serving of nuts. Mr. Bennet took two and then passed the tray to Mary, who did the same. They both moved away to speak with Mr. Phillips, leaving the tray on the table for Elizabeth.

But she was too late. Lydia grabbed up the biscuits and bit into one, letting out a contented hum as she savored the taste. “Lydia,”

Elizabeth cried, aghast.

Lydia smiled wickedly, then shrugged her shoulders before taking a bite of the other biscuit. “What?”

Lydia asked as she chewed, spilling crumbs onto her chest.

“But I cannot have the ones with walnuts, you know that,”

Elizabeth said, wounded by her sister’s deliberate malice. Her hurt turned to rage. “You did that on purpose.”

“I adore cranberries,”

Lydia said, taking another bite. “And surely you can have some of the other biscuits. It is hardly anything if you have a little rash from the walnuts, we shall be miserable enough sharing one bed for the four of us tonight, and for the nights of our journey - for you know how Mary snores! And then we shall be crammed in the carriage for three days! Tell her, Mamma!”

Mrs. Bennet had turned to observe the sister’s squabble; she waved her handkerchief as she leaned backward in her chair. “Oh for heaven’s sake, Lydia, I will not hear another complaint about traveling or your father will never bring us anywhere again! And it is so kind of Mr. Bingley to invite us all to his new home as soon as he takes possession of the place! And you, Lizzy - eat the walnut biscuit and be done with it, I am sure you will survive the ordeal! You have been petulant all day and I cannot think why!”

Elizabeth pressed her eyes shut for a moment as she attempted to measure her reply. She met Aunt Madeline’s eye across the room and resolved to suppress her vexation. “I apologize if I was unpleasant, Mamma,”

she said, reminding herself how wretched it would be to spend the next three days traveling if her mother remained cross with her.

But Mrs. Bennet did not let the matter rest. “It is no great wonder Mr. Wickham was in haste to get away this afternoon, with you looking so vicious - the poor man likely feared for his life, the daggers you were staring! Glaring at everyone all day, I cannot think what has gotten into you - not that I minded some reprieve from your usual impertinence - but you have done us all a great wrong, refusing to make merry at such a time! Scowling as if you might murder when Mary played Christmas carols, losing your patience with your dear, sweet cousins when you usually join in their games, and looking as if you would perish straight away when Charlotte came to call. It is as if you do not care a whit for your family!”

Elizabeth could not summon the words to assure her mother that she loved them all dearly, and could not at all account for her churlishness. As she looked around, everyone was staring at her. Her father shifted uncomfortably and averted his eyes, but did not speak up for her. Jane smiled sadly, as if lamenting some personal slight at Elizabeth’s hands. Lydia grinned. Mrs. Phillips tittered softly before suddenly growing interested in her cup of tea. Mrs. Gardiner looked as if she would speak, but her husband patted her on the shoulder before clearing his throat. “Now, Fanny….”

“No, Edward, I demand some account of Lizzy’s surliness, for all of you have spoken of it at some time or other today.”

Tears of betrayal and remorse pricked at Elizabeth’s eyes, but the triumphant set of her younger sister’s shoulders made Elizabeth resolve not to cry in front of her family. She might have been sorry for letting her beastly mood affect them, had they not all turned on her in such a way. The shame that had overpowered her gave way to anger, and she clenched her fists at her sides. “If my presence has dampened the spirits of the evening, I shall gift you all my absence. Good night.”

Elizabeth stormed out of the room, barely maintaining her dignified composure; once she rounded the corner and reached the stairs, she let out a ragged breath that was nearly a snarl. Covering her face with her hands, she hurried up the stairs, and wept alone in her room for a quarter of an hour. When her unaccountable distress was spent, Elizabeth began to gather a pillow and one of the extra blankets that Hill had brought in for the girls. Mary certainly would snore all night, and Elizabeth had no wish to be tempted to put a pillow over Mary’s face in the wee hours. She changed into her nightgown, grateful her sisters remained downstairs as she took the bedding and crept up into the attic. There was an old chaise longue covered with a large white sheet - this would suffice for the night.

She folded the blanket to add another layer of warmth over herself as she laid down to sleep, knowing as her head hit the pillow that slumber was hours away. She could only dwell on her own bitter thoughts.

Jane was leaving Longbourn forever. The week she had been away had been bearable with Charlotte’s company, but Charlotte was going away, too. Her two favorite people would no longer be a part of her daily life, save for mere letters. And she would be left with the rest of her family, her younger sisters making themselves ridiculous as her mother encouraged their folly and their father merely laughed at it. And even if another gentleman such as Mr. Bingley should come along, which was not terribly likely, her relations would behave just as they always did, and she would be pushed at him without any delicacy or discretion. Could there be another man who would tolerate their antics with such equanimity as Mr. Bingley? And could there be such a man who could endure their nonsense while being capable of deeper thoughts and feelings?

Elizabeth was sure she would end an old maid, a burden to either Charlotte or Jane. “The spinster in the attic,”

she mused aloud, and for the first time that day she laughed - at her own absurdity.