by Nicky Roth
'You.. - I... - No! I am not - well you know...'
'Yep, no worries, your father cleared that up before I made my way upstairs to use the toilet. I was almost stuck using the potty, but fortunately, your dad gave me a hand and I managed to climb across all the purchases currently stacked in front of the staircase. Well, and on it. - Your mum really wants to have grandchildren, doesn't she?'
'You have no idea, Will. But seriously, how the heck did she manage to organise all this stuff within such a short amount of time? She went to get medicine for me, quickly stopped by my aunt on her way to the pharmacy and there she heard I might be pregnant and voilà - came back with nappies, baby clothes and a rubber ducky alongside some shampoo and wet wipes and now you are telling me she's also managed to clear out half a furniture store?'
'Argos. And yes, by the looks of it she did. Perhaps she had a ready-made list she only needed to hand in or something.'
'I wouldn't put it past my mother,' Elizabeth sighed, burying her face in her hands.
This was so silly, she couldn't even laugh about it anymore. If given the choice she would take Mary dancing any time over this disaster.
'So, when is our baby not due then? - Oh, and we have to think of names, not to give our baby. I think we should start with Balthazar and Fitzwilliam, don't you agree? Those are both names not to give to a baby, especially one that isn't on its way...'
It was hard not to laugh at his mock-serious tone.
Odd, he should be equally mortified, but instead, he tried his best to make her feel better. However she had expected him to react, this was most certainly not it.
'It's not funny!' she could not help chuckling at seeing his expression from between her fingers and at last she dropped her hands again. 'Seriously, now I have to worry that every time I have an upset stomach my mum will assume that I am expecting. I can't even drink any more for fear I might throw up. Not that I drink much anyway, but that fact alone makes it more likely that I end up puking by the end of the night. Sorry, I know TMFI, but it's a fact.'
'Oh, I'm not fussed. Remember, I'm an older brother and as it is, my sister has thrown up all over me more often than I care to count. Right from the beginning. My mother had just nursed her when I was allowed to hold her for the first time… - Needless to say that at twelve years old I wasn't exactly thrilled. But later on she grew on me and now I wouldn't trade her for the world. And besides, my bread and butter is shovelling shit and mucking around in the dirt, so to say.'
'Yummy!'
'Yep. So, feeling better?'
'Yes, actually I am.'
'Good. - Prepared to go downstairs for lunch?'
'Not really, but I will put on a brave face and weather the storm, or rather my mum's shopping...'
'Do you have hiking boots? You might need to climb a minor mountain to get to the kitchen, but it's not the Eiger north face, promise.'
'Good to know. - And thank you!'
'What for?'
'Warning me. I am not prone to fainting, but that would have been cause for a fainting fit.'
As Elizabeth soon found, Darcy had not exaggerated. The vestibule was large by most modern houses' standards and yet, it seemed to literally burst at the seams with all that was currently stacked into it. Alone the boxes most of the things were packed in, were large and sturdy enough to use as building material for a medium-sized villa. Okay, she had to say as much, the things she could see looked actually quite nice, aside from a few items that were nothing but tacky, like the gigantic pink bunny and the grinning potty. Who the heck could take a dump when a toilet was staring into one's back?
They found her mother and father in the kitchen, the former crying the latter looking exasperated.
'What do you mean, you have lost the receipt? You only bought that stuff yesterday, Fanny.'
He didn't even sound angry, only tired.
'I know, but it isn't in my bag.'
'Have you looked in the car?'
'When was I supposed to do that then?'
'I'll have a look,' Mr Bennet sighed, getting up from his chair. 'You take care of the food before it burns.'
His limp had become more prominent again over the course of the day, Elizabeth noticed with some concern. With another sniff, her mother made her way over to the stove and brought the pot over to the table with shaking hands.
'It's nothing but a bit of stew for lunch, I'm afraid.'
'Mum, we never have anything other than a simple meal at this time of day,' Elizabeth soothed, wondering where that now came from.
'Yes, but with Mr Darcy as our guest.'
Of course...
'Oh, I love a good stew, and yours smells delicious,' he quickly assured and though it could have been a phrase he actually seemed to mean it.
In fact, it did smell lovely, Elizabeth had to say, and she had never been very fond of stew. However, chicken stew was one of her favourites, when it came to that and whatever her mother's faults might be, she was a good cook. Elizabeth was just serving them all a bowl of soup when her father returned looking chagrined.
'Well, it's not in the car either, you were right there, my dear, I hate to admit it.'
'What are you looking for?' Elizabeth inquired.
'The shopping receipt to return all this stuff to where it came from.'
'But the invoice will do, won't it?' Darcy piped up, stirring his soup.
'I didn't get one. The driver hardly spoke any English as it was and... - Well, the receipt must be somewhere.'
Good, finding it was definitely a cause worth fighting for, even though she already felt as if both her father and she would be more like Don Quixote and Sancho Panza than Lancelot and Gawain, while her mother made herself quite comfortable
in her role as damsel in distress.
'Have you looked inside your jacket?' Elizabeth prodded on.
After all, the blasted thing could hardly have vanished into thin air, could it?
'Yes.'
'How about the trousers you wore yesterday?'
Please, please, please... - But her mother paled visibly at the mention of her unmentionables.
'What is it, mama?'
'They are in the washing machine...'
Okay, according to Murphy's law, that meant the receipt was in its pocket and also that once it came out of the wash, there would be nothing left of it.
Her father obviously thought along the same lines, judging by his expression, and that Will thought so, too, was equally apparent by his asking: 'Okay, shall we bring the stuff into the attic then?'
'Do you think your friend might be able to lend us a hand as well?' her father inquired, looking up from his plate. 'By the way, where is Jane?'
'Over at Netherfield. Charles has asked her to give her opinion on some alterations he intends to make to the building.'
'So that is what it is called now. Right, perhaps keeping all that stuff isn't such a bad idea after all.'
'Oh, dear me, what is all this crap?' Lydia exclaimed even before she had entered the house. 'Wow, I like that bunny. Can I have it?'
Wordlessly her father held it out for her and squealing she flung her backpack aside in order to take the fluffy monstrosity from him.
'Ooooh, thank you, dad. - Oh, you're back!' for a moment she looked puzzled but then pressed the pink bunny into Darcy's hands just as he had been about to pick up the rocking horse and flung herself at her father.
Okay, that Elizabeth had not seen coming. Lydia, though exuberant, never really showed much affection towards her dad, being a typical mummy's girl. In all fairness, though, Mr Bennet didn't show too much affection towards his youngest daughters either, so that was presumably fair enough.
'I'm so glad you are back,' the youngest Miss Bennet beamed, while her father didn't quite know what to say.
'Well, yes, so it would seem,' he at last managed.
'And what is all this stuff? Is mum having another baby?'
'No, she just likes to be prepared...'
<
br /> 'Oh, okay. Shame, I hate being the youngest.'
And with that, Lydia let go of him, took her giant hare with her and skipped up the stairs to her room, her school things all but forgotten in the middle of the hallway. Not that it made much of a difference since chaos was reigning anyway. Actually, by comparison, the tattered bag with the glittery unicorns looked quite neat.
'Oh, by the way,' Lydia all but yelled from the top of the stairs, 'Kitty and Mary will be a bit late, but we, at last, managed to convince Mary that she could do with a new haircut and Kitty volunteered to go with her to the hairdresser so she won't chicken out at the last minute.'
'And you didn't join them?' Elizabeth asked with some surprise.
'No. I mean I would have, but I didn't know dad was back so I thought you might need my help.'
'Yes, very likely,' her father mumbled.
'Oh, she did a great job yesterday, I have to say. Mucked out the pigsty and helped with feeding and milking the cows,' Darcy interjected, once more reaching for the rocking horse.
'And you have not suffered a nervous breakdown?'
'I was close, at one point, and so was Lydia, but in the end, we got along quite well, didn't we, Lyddy?'
Lydia voiced her agreement before slamming her door and Darcy carried on: 'Kitty was also a great help, taking care of the chicken coop, but she eventually left to do some gardening.'
'Wow! - And Mary?'
'Well, Mary also put in some effort, and helped to milk.'
'How did it end?'
'Well...'
'In a disaster, I take it.'
'It could have been worse.'
'Really?'
'No. - Lizzy, please, take a rest. There is no need for you to help us drag these things up the stairs and may I remind you that you are still ill. Just because your medication works fine doesn't mean you should be jumping about.'
'And may I remind the two of you that my father isn't supposed to carry heavy things as yet?'
'That is why we wait until Bingley and Jane arrive to bring up the really heavy stuff...'
'...and why I have my arms full of baby clothes and cuddly toys,' her father added, picking up a cushion formed like a doughnut and a fluffy piggy, a little less pink than the garish bunny had been.
'I can carry cuddly toys just as well as you without exerting myself.'
'Then, by all means, take this pig and off to bed you go!'
Chapter 27:
Hidden bodies in the closet
'Good morning,' Elizabeth yawned as she went into the kitchen to have some breakfast and then resume her duties.
'Morning, my love,' her father greeted her. 'And what are you doing up so early?'
'I always get up at this time. Why?'
'Because I think that another day in bed might do you good. You know, in your delicate condition and all,' he smirked over the rim of his teacup, putting aside the newspaper he had been reading.
'Seriously, the joke is getting old, Papa,' she answered timidly, popping two slices of bread into the toaster.
'Yes, I presume it is. Shame, I will have to find something else then to tease you and your mother about. Though I guess with your mother it'll still do for the moment. But I was serious about you taking another day of rest.'
'I'm fine, Papa.'
'You look like a ghost and a scary one at that. You almost had me scream when you came in. - No, Lizzy, you will stay in bed.'
'You know, I am not a child anymore,' Elizabeth tried to reason, though she should have known better.
'Wrong, you are my child and always will be, no matter how old you are.'
'Right, but I am not a toddler anymore.'
'Yes, and thank goodness for that. You were a handful. Stubborn as a mule and curious as a goat. Well, not that you ever really grew out of it.'
A goat? Okay...
'Cheers, dad.'
'You're welcome,' Tom Bennet replied with a smirk and then picked up his paper again.
'Can't I at least do something fun? I mean one can only watch so much Netflix and read and sleep. - And as it is, I have run out of books anyway.'
'Fun like what?'
Well, at this moment in time, even darning stockings sounded like a good alternative to bore oneself to death lying in bed. - Or actually, sorting out her wardrobe.
It was something she had put of for weeks now. Not that it had made much of a difference since she had worn her work-clothes day in day out for most of the time and the rest of the time had made do with a pair of jeans and a couple of T-shirts and tops. Her undies were in a sorry state as well, ever since Mary had accidentally managed to put her new green blouse in with the whites. The result was an interesting shade of faded vomit-green that refused to be washed out. Figures, considering that the bloody dye hadn't had any concerns when ruining the rest of the laundry in the first place.
'You're really bored, aren't you?' her father asked when she had answered thus.
'You have no idea,' Elizabeth sighed, buttering her toast and spreading a generous amount of jam onto it.
'Alright, here is the deal: You go and sort through your wardrobe, make a list and come Monday you can go and get yourself whatever you need. Fortunately, I can rely on you not to buy everything the shop has to offer as your sisters would, undoubtedly. And I really can't have you running around in sickly looking knickers. One never knows who'll get to see them after all. - And there is all this baby stuff that no-one needs at present and which perhaps should put to good use.'
'Ha-ha!' she answered sarcastically, pulling out her mobile to text Charlotte to ask if she had time on Monday.
'Oops, yes, I forgot the joke is old.'
Elizabeth had been just about to reply that he was definitely right there when Kitty and Lydia stormed into the kitchen.
'Morning!' they beamed which in itself was astonishing enough since it was just past seven.
Apparently, their father was just as surprised to see them up this early for with some suspicion in his voice he asked: 'And pray, what are you two up to?'
'Oh, we just want to eat something before letting out the chickens and feeding the pigs, why?' Lydia asked unconcernedly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
'You what?'
'Want to let out the chickens, see if they've still got enough water, collect the eggs and then feed the pigs. - And then we can help you with the cows, dad,' Kitty repeated her sister's words.
With raised eyebrows, Tom Bennet looked at an equally stunned Elizabeth.
'You... - you two want to help on the farm?'
'Sure. I mean Lizzy is still sick, isn't she?'
'Yes,' was their father's careful answer.
'See, and you could do with a bit of help as well,' the youngest of the family stated matter of factly.
'Yes...'
'Good! Well, then. Lovely morning, isn't it?'
'Kitty, Lydia, what is it you want out of this?'
Now it was on Kitty and Lydia to look puzzled. Odd!
'Well, nothing,' Kitty at last answered. 'Why?'
'Oh, it is because we never do anything just to help, isn't it? We always want something in return,' Lydia bristled up. 'Okay, here is what Kitty and I want: Respect!'
'Respect is to be earned, Lydia.'
'To an extent, yes, but seriously, if one is never given the change, earning respect is fucking well impossible, you know? And besides, one should respect people for who they are just as well as for what they are and what they do.'
'Wow, is my daughter turning all philosophical all of a sudden?'
'You know what? Just forget it!' Lydia spat and stormed out of the kitchen, knocking over Elizabeth's cup of tea, as she slammed her own mug down, the hot liquid emptying itself all over the table, drenching her father's paper and naturally Lizzy's phone before dripping down onto the floor, just barely missing Elizabeth's legs and feet.
Well, her mobile was ruined now, that much was certain. Bloody fantastic! A moment later the fr
ont door was slammed shut.
'You know, Papa, she has a point,' Elizabeth said with a frown, seeing Kitty sobbing silently as she fished the teabag out of her tea with shaking hands. 'She has done great these last couple of days. Both have Kitty as well as Lydia. They really put in an effort.'
'Hm,' was all her father's reply as he shrugged his shoulders and then, once more folded his now sodden paper and put it aside, getting up from the table gulping down the rest of his tea before leaving.
If he thought her stubborn, she knew exactly where she inherited that trait from.
Right, the mood was ruined for today. Thank goodness, that at least her mother hadn't been there as well or there wouldn't be an end to it for the next couple of days if not weeks. Fanny Bennet really knew how to make the most of situations like this.
Picking up the remnants of what once had been her phone, Elizabeth made her way back upstairs, after cleaning away the puddle, clearing the table and then giving Kitty a squeeze. Only half an hour ago she had been determined not to keep to her room for another day, but now the prospect seemed a promising one. And besides her wardrobe was waiting with all its “bodies” in it.
Pulling out one item of clothing that hadn't seen the light of day in months after the other, Elizabeth was actually surprised to see how much stuff there was. Wait, that wasn't hers for sure! She didn't wear neon-yellow and the skirt was a length, if one could call it that, that would at most cover half her butt. Okay, that alone was a good indicator that it was either Kitty's or Lydia's - unless Gloria's attire had somehow appeared inside her closet out of thin air. Not likely.
Ugh, and that blouse certainly wasn't hers either. Nope, it looked much like something Mary would wear. By the way, thinking of Mary, why the heck had she refused to take off her hat last night at dinner? It couldn't be that bad, could it? Hm, her own hair could do with a little trim as well, if she thought about it. Right, another thing she could see to on Monday when in town.
'Hey Lizzy,' Jane stepped into the room, looking as perfect and lovely as ever. 'Dear me, I have slept in, but I have to admit I was tired. What are you doing?'