by Jann Rowland
Lady Catherine was not about to stand for it. Any young lady who stayed in her house would act with propriety and restraint. She would see to it.
As the two young girls in question resumed their seats at Lady Catherine’s request, she studied them with a critical eye. They were comely girls, but so all the Bennet sisters were. Given the way they carried on, however, she suspected that they frittered away their time in frivolous pursuits and were rarely required to think serious thoughts. She also suspected their accomplishments were nonexistent.
“Miss Kitty, Miss Lydia,” said Lady Catherine, knowing that she would need to handle them delicately, “I have asked you to stay because I would like to learn more of you.”
“Of course, Lady Catherine,” asked Miss Kitty. “What would you like to know?”
At least one of them was able to display a hint of manners when the situation demanded it.
“I merely wish to understand what your interests are, what accomplishments you have. As young ladies who are still not out, you must have something to fill your time. I wish to understand, so that I might arrange for this in the best way appropriate.”
“Not out?” demanded Miss Lydia. “Whatever can you mean?”
“Miss Lydia,” said Lady Catherine, immediately understanding the situation, “you might be out in your small society near your home, but you are certainly not ready for real society like that in London.”
Miss Lydia looked ready to protest, but her sister elbowed her and she subsided.
“Regardless,” continued Lady Catherine, “there is not much society in this neighborhood—one must go to Westerham to partake of society, and Anne and I rarely do. As such, you will need something to occupy your time.”
“You did say that it would be tedious in Kent,” ventured Miss Kitty. Her hesitance made it obvious who was the dominant sibling. “If we do not have something to do, it will be quite dull here.”
But Miss Lydia just rolled her eyes. “The sooner we can return to Meryton and the officers, the happier I will be.”
“Officers?” asked Lady Catherine. “Is there a company of militia stationed near your father’s home?”
“Oh, yes!” said Miss Lydia, her eyes sparkling with admiration. “They are ever so handsome and so very fond of me. Several of the men have had nothing but praise for my manners and my skill on the dance floor.”
Miss Kitty appeared like she longed to say something, but she held her tongue. Lady Catherine watched the two girls, her suspicions confirmed. But lectures could wait. For now, it would be best to ensure the two girls turned their energies to more useful activities.
“You are accomplished at dancing then? That is a good skill for a young woman to possess. What other activities do you enjoy?”
Miss Lydia turned a blank look on her, but Miss Kitty, after some few moments of thought, ventured in a timid voice: “I like to remake my bonnets from time to time with bits of ribbon and lace.”
“And do you draw or paint? Do you play the pianoforte, or do you have skill in other languages? Or perhaps embroidery is more to your taste?” Perhaps it was a little abrupt of her, but patience was not a virtue Lady Catherine possessed, and their constant silliness was wearing on her composure.
“I do like to draw, though I do not do it often,” said Miss Kitty.
Miss Lydia only snorted. “Why would I wish to do such things? I want to have fun, not sit in front of a boring pianoforte like Mary does all day.”
“There are many reasons why one would wish to undertake such activities,” said Lady Catherine, keeping her tone reasonable. “One provides enjoyment for others when playing and showing her works of art. Besides, gentlemen appreciate our efforts to become accomplished, and their appreciation often brings additional attention.”
That bit of information drew Miss Lydia’s attention, and she perked up, almost as a dog would upon catching the scent of a juicy bone. Then her countenance soured, and she appeared almost cross.
“But one must practice to become proficient at such things,” cried Miss Lydia. “And practicing is ever so dull!”
“Were you not required to practice to learn the steps of a dance?”
“Yes, but I enjoy dancing!”
“Then perhaps, if you practice some other activities, you would find that you enjoy them too.”
Miss Lydia blinked, as if she had not thought of such a thing before. “But Lizzy and Jane, and especially Mary, spend their time in such tedious pursuits. I have no wish to become as tiresome as they.”
“I believe you simply need to adjust your thinking, Miss Lydia,” said Lady Catherine, feeling the silly girl’s protests fraying the edges of her endurance. “No one can know what brings them pleasure unless they actually attempt it. From what your sister has said, I believe she would enjoy drawing, if she was ever given the chance. Is that not true, Miss Kitty?”
The girl gave her a shy smile. “I believe I might, your ladyship.”
Lady Catherine knew that the girl was easily led, her disposition far more flexible than her younger sister’s. She already felt a fondness for Miss Kitty, who was, she thought, often lost in the company of her more vivacious and confident siblings.
“Then it behooves you to attempt to make something of whatever talent you have been given.” Lady Catherine turned back to Miss Lydia. “But what you say is also correct. If you do not enjoy drawing and have little aptitude, it does not make much sense to spend your every waking moment in an activity which brings you little pleasure. You had much better try to find something that does.”
The girl appeared set against anything which gave the appearance of forcing her into something she did not wish, so Lady Catherine thought her approach was as likely to have success as any. Younger siblings were often more rebellious than their elder, especially younger sisters who were forced to wait for the elder to be married. Of course, from what she had heard, Mrs. Bennet had allowed all her girls to come out, not an unusual circumstance in country society, so that was not quite applicable. But unless Lady Catherine missed her guess, she suspected that Miss Lydia had a burning desire to outstrip her sisters in any way possible. That energy she could turn to something beneficial for the girl.
“Perhaps,” said Miss Lydia, her tone carefully noncommittal.
“Here is what I suggest,” said Lady Catherine. “My daughter’s companion, a Mrs. Jenkinson, has been with us for many years, and she is well versed in many of the subjects we discussed. For you, Miss Kitty, I will ask her to instruct you in drawing and painting, and perhaps in a few other subjects you might find interesting.” Lady Catherine smiled at the girl. “She is quite talented with a pencil and brush, as I recall.”
For her part, Miss Kitty smiled, and Lady Catherine thought she caught a hint of eagerness in her manner. “I would like that.”
Then Lady Catherine turned back to Miss Lydia, the more difficult of the two. “As for you, Miss Lydia, I will ask her to introduce you to a range of activities so that you may discover something you enjoy. When you do, she will instruct you, or if it is something in which she does not possess any ability, we can arrange with your father to employ someone who does. Is that acceptable?”
Though Miss Lydia made a great show of thinking the matter over, Lady Catherine knew she had convinced the girl, if only for the present.
“I suppose I could agree to that,” said Miss Lydia at length.
“Excellent. I shall speak with Mrs. Jenkinson directly.”
What Lady Catherine did not tell either girl was that she would also have a word with her daughter’s faithful companion about the behavior of the two girls, though she knew Mrs. Jenkinson would instantly recognize their wildness. Finding them accomplishments that they enjoyed was only part of the battle. They would be less likely to misbehave if they thought the instruction they were about to receive pertained to those subjects which interested them.
As promised, those at the parsonage arrived for din
ner that evening. Elizabeth watched as her mother entered on her father’s arm—Mary being escorted by Mr. Collins—with wide eyes and a disbelieving expression of shock on her face. Mrs. Bennet had not, so far as Elizabeth was aware, travelled widely, and she likely had not seen many residences of the rich. As such, she likely would not have had any true notion of just what wealth could bring.
“You have a marvelous home,” said Mrs. Bennet with breathy enthusiasm once they had all taken their seats and the three remaining Bennets had been introduced to Miss de Bourgh. For once, Elizabeth thought her mother’s tone held nothing but appreciation rather than an avarice—Elizabeth did not think her mother was of a grasping disposition, but her eagerness often made the observer think she was.
“Thank you, Mrs. Bennet,” said Lady Catherine. “I am proud of it, and of my husband’s heritage, though he was not titled. Rosings is the product of many years of arduous work by his forebears, and its current prosperity a testament to the many people who work to make it a success.”
It was clear the affinity between the two women had not waned since the previous day, and soon they were talking with one another, with animation from Mrs. Bennet, and more restraint from her ladyship. It was not long, however, before Mrs. Bennet turned her attention to her daughters.
“I hope you girls are behaving and not causing her ladyship undue trouble?”
“They have been excellent houseguests, Mrs. Bennet,” said Lady Catherine. “I am very happy to have them with us.”
Anne’s quiet snort suggested that she did not share her mother’s sentiments, but Lady Catherine only ignored her daughter.
“I had some instruction today with Mrs. Jenkinson, Mama,” volunteered Kitty, her manner tentative.
“Instruction?” asked Mrs. Bennet, clearly befuddled.
“Yes, Mama. Mrs. Jenkinson was teaching me how to draw properly. I think I will enjoy it very much.”
“Your daughter expressed an interest in it,” explained Lady Catherine. “Since Mrs. Jenkinson is quite talented, I asked her to help Miss Kitty along. Mrs. Jenkinson reports that she shows a great deal of promise.”
Her parents showed the same amazement that Elizabeth had upon hearing the news.
“Drawing, is it?” asked Mr. Bennet, regarding his second youngest. “That is quite remarkable, Kitty. I was not aware you had any interest.”
Blushing at the unaccustomed attention, Kitty said: “I have done a little drawing in the past, but I have always been too . . . busy to give it much attention. I believe I would like to learn more.”
“And you, Lydia?” asked Mr. Bennet, turning his attention to his youngest.
“Oh, I have no interest in drawing,” said Lydia with an airy wave. “A tedious activity, I should say.”
Kitty flushed in anger, but before any indignant words could be exchanged, Lady Catherine inserted herself into the conversation. “You are simply different from your sister, child. Did you and Mrs. Jenkinson find anything that interests you?”
“She said that with my exuberance I might learn to ride,” said Lydia, seeming to understand that she had said something she ought not. “She also showed me a few exercises on the pianoforte in her room. I believe I might find them tolerable, though I should not like to play the mournful dirges Mary prefers.”
“I play many things,” said Mary. “A little solemnity would not go amiss in you, Lydia.”
“That is good to hear,” said Lady Catherine, again speaking to avoid an argument. “You are welcome to use the pianoforte in the music room. I rather treasure the memory of my sister learning to play when I was young.”
“Do you play yourself, your ladyship?” asked Elizabeth.
“I do not.” Lady Catherine gave her an amused smile. “I confess I have little aptitude. I appreciate music, and I can be coaxed to sing on occasion, but the scales seemed to tie my fingers up in knots, and I was never able to become truly proficient. My sister, Anne, was a marvelous performer.”
Lady Catherine appeared to be caught up in memories of her sister, who Elizabeth assumed had passed, as the look in her eyes became distant and contemplative. But she was interrupted before long by Mr. Collins’s ill-timed entrance into the conversation.
“I am certain that had you learned, you would not have been anything but a true proficient, your ladyship. Indeed, I cannot imagine there being ten others in all of England who can boast the taste, the innate sense of what is good, which you possess. It is hard that we have been deprived of such inspiration. We must console ourselves that you have used your talents to become great in other matters, for we would be bereft without your graciously bestowed guidance.”
“Thank you, Mr. Collins,” said Lady Catherine, “though such praise is not warranted. I am naught but a woman, one who does her best regardless of the situation.”
Mr. Collins opened his mouth, no doubt to once again treat them all to his curious brand of continuous blandishments, but Lady Catherine looked at him pointedly, and he subsided. Clearly, she did not appreciate his ubiquitous praises as much as he would have liked. It was a situation which mystified Elizabeth. Lady Catherine clearly saw Mr. Collins for what he was, and yet she had installed him in his situation. Surely her ladyship must have seen the man’s faults upon first meeting him. If so, why had she given him the living?
They were called in to dinner soon after, and Lady Catherine proved that her table was as fine as her estate. And through it all, Mr. Collins kept up his monologue of compliments directed at Lady Catherine, Miss de Bourgh, the meal, and anything else which crossed his mind at the time. Nothing was beneath his ability to flatter, and he made use of the full range of his vocabulary. Lady Catherine, though she often rolled her eyes or shot the man exasperated glares, in the end did nothing to stop him. How he managed to be so voluble when he ate more than any other two people was a mystery, but there it was.
After dinner, it seemed like Mr. Collins had eaten so much that his tongue was stilled, and a lassitude settled over him; and the rest of the company was grateful for it. That evening, two interesting conversations took place, and Elizabeth was close enough to both that she overheard, though the second she could hardly have missed.
Lady Catherine continued in her interest in Mrs. Bennet, and during the course of the evening, Elizabeth thought their friendship was forged. Mrs. Bennet was her usual vociferous self, and Lady Catherine seemed content to allow her to speak, venturing only a few comments when she thought it most likely the other woman would hear her.
“I am grateful to your ladyship for allowing my daughters to stay with you,” said Mrs. Bennet after they had been speaking for some time. “I dare say they will enjoy themselves while they are here, and I hope you will have some small benefit from their presence.”
“I am quite happy to have them, Mrs. Bennet,” assured Lady Catherine. “They are good girls. Your youngest will have activities to occupy themselves, which I believe might have been a problem at the parsonage.”
It was clear Mrs. Bennet did not quite understand the thrust of Lady Catherine’s comment, so she ignored it. “I am glad Mary decided to stay with us, however. We have high hopes for her and Mr. Collins, you understand.”
Mary blushed as she overheard this comment, but as she was carrying on a—mercifully quiet—conversation with the man himself, she did not respond to her mother.
“Mr. Collins and Miss Mary, is it?” asked Lady Catherine, though more to herself. She allowed her eyes to rest on the couple and fell silent in contemplation.
“I believe so,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Mr. Collins wished to focus on Jane, but I do not see her as the wife of a parson. Mary is a much better choice.”
The nod with which Lady Catherine indicated her agreement was slow, but the lady’s conviction seemed to be growing as she considered the matter further. “I believe you might be correct, Mrs. Bennet. Miss Mary appears to be a sensible, pious sort of girl. Mr. Collins will benefit from both of those quali
ties in a wife.”
“I am glad your ladyship agrees.”
Lady Catherine turned a smile on Mrs. Bennet. “Of course, once the courtship progresses to a more formal agreement, Miss Mary will, of a necessity, be required to be removed from the parsonage. It would not be proper at all for her to live in the same house with the man who is courting her.”
Though once again puzzled, Mrs. Bennet readily indicated her agreement. “I will be guided in this matter by your superior understanding.”
With a nod, Lady Catherine changed the subject, and the conversation turned to other matters. It was at this point that Miss de Bourgh began to speak, and Elizabeth found her words to be far more interesting than Mary’s courtship.
“Did you know, Miss Bennet, my cousins are to come to Kent to visit?”
“Are they?” asked Jane, to whom the question had been posed.
“Yes, they are.” There seemed in Miss de Bourgh’s manner some great conceit, as if her cousin’s coming was a compliment to her in particular. “The will be here the week before Easter and are scheduled to stay at least three weeks. I am anticipating their coming very much.”
“The visit of dear relations is always agreeable,” replied Jane. “I hope to make their acquaintance while they are here.”
“That can hardly be avoided, my dear,” said Lady Catherine. “They will stay at Rosings, so an introduction is inevitable.”
“They are great men, you see,” said Miss de Bourgh, apparently intent upon making herself the center of conversation again. “My cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, is the second son of an earl, while my other cousin, Mr. Darcy, is the proprietor of a great estate in Derbyshire.”
“A colonel!” exclaimed Lydia at the same time Elizabeth blurted out: “Mr. Darcy?”
Miss de Bourgh chose to ignore Lydia, instead turning a suspicious eye on Elizabeth. “Do you know my cousins, Miss Elizabeth?”