by Nora Kipling
“We are no longer young girls, Jane, and if I do recall, I am at least an inch taller than you, and much broader in shoulder. Should you choose this method of information-extraction, I would take care that you should not become the victim of the very attack you wish to perpetrate on my person,” Elizabeth said with a sip her own tea. The hot liquid soothed her throat and she sighed, relaxing fully for perhaps the first time since she had risen in the morning. Jane let out a soft, happy laugh.
“It pleases me that in our old age we have not lost that which made us the best of friends as children,” Jane said with a low sigh, stretching her arms above her head and then relaxing as well. She sipped her tea, eyes closing in satisfaction at the rich flavor. “I do so love this tea. I am grateful that Papa has not reduced the household budget so much as to do away with our afternoon tea. Mama would have a fit of nerves if that were to happen, and nearly did when he suggested it last summer.”
Lizzy thought back on the grand argument that had nearly brought Longbourn’s roof down around all of their ears. What with the girls coming of age, and so quickly in succession as well, their father was having trouble making Longbourn’s income match the expenses that included dressing young ladies as they prepared to enter society. And they hadn’t even spent a Season in London! Mama was not the most economical of housewives, spending frivolously on dresses and ribbons for her daughters, whom she hoped to acquire the richest of husbands for one and all. Papa had not appreciated the added costs of all those ribbons, especially as they cut into his own allotted monies that increased his library books.
Woman! I shall sell you at the wife-auction if you do not cease your nattering for more fripperies and lace! The words that their father had yelled still made Lizzy’s shoulders shiver. Not that Mr. Bennet had meant the threat, but it had still resonated. Mrs. Bennet, unrepentant but somewhat cowed, had stopped buying so many ribbons and dresses for the daughters already out, and had asked their housekeeper to repurpose some of the older gowns for the younger girls. Lizzy, as the tallest, was secretly grateful to always get new dresses but at the same time felt guilty that her height had caused undue strain on the household budget.
More the reason to find her own love and remove herself from Longbourn’s responsibility. She was not on the shelf as of yet, but she was feeling already as if she were a burden to her parents, and limiting the opportunities for her younger sisters as they came out into society.
Still, she would marry for her own love and reasoning, not because her mother had pressured her to do so for the sake of society and finances.
Elizabeth eyed up her sister, who was gazing in a dreamy fashion out the window onto Longbourn’s fields.
“What are you thinking of?” she asked, and then her thoughts turned sly. “Is it Mr. Bingley’s noble mein that keeps you occupied?” Jane started, her cheeks flushing pink.
“Oh, do not sass me, or you will see how very real my threats of a good tickling are. You may be taller, but I am wiser, and cannier. I shall upend you, upon your bottom, and sit upon you until you cry for mercy,” Jane retorted, although the smile on her face took the sting out of her words. “If you must know, I wondered what it would be like to be a great lady, in such a great house, and having such enormous budgets as to almost have no limits to ones’ expenses. I cannot imagine spending even one hundred pounds in a year upon myself, not the five hundred pounds that some such women are granted by their husbands for their pin money! Can you even think of it Lizzy? Whatever would I do with such a sum?”
“Oh, but you would laze around upon a divan of the softest velvet, clad in only the finest silks out of Italy and Portugal, eating tea cakes prepared for you by your pastry chef from France as scandalous and unpatriotic as that might be. You might even, as has become the fashion in some circles, indulge yourself in opium cut for you by a particular man from the Orient,” Elizabeth teased, and laughed at her sister’s horrified and shocked expression.
“Lizzy!I should never hope to see or hear you speak of such excess… such immorality ever again! Opium! A pastry chef from France! No, not for all the pounds in Mr. Bingley’s coffers would I descend to such base acts. You are reading Papa’s salacious books with all too much regularity, I am afraid, and you have become vulgar, too vulgar for polite company.” With that Jane, set down her tea, a certain glint in her eyes as she stood. “An older sister must school the younger in polite, proper behavior,” she said, the only warning she gave before launching herself at Elizabeth, fingers outstretched to deliver the aforementioned punishment.
The upper halls of Longbourn rung out with Lizzy’s amused, and shocked laughter, the very adult concerns of marriage and husbands put from their minds for the moment.
Chapter 3
Elizabeth Bennet
Longbourn, Hertfordshire
* * *
“I’ve never seen such a sorrowed face. Tell me, why should such an English beauty as yourself be in distress? The French would be rapturous with joy at the sight,” a voice cut through Lizzy’s dreamings as she sat beneath a comforting old oak tree, an old friend to her and one she had spent many a summer reading beneath. She looked up to find dashing Mr. Wickham, in his bright red uniformed coat, standing feet from her. A flush crept up the back of her neck at him finding her in such disarray, with her bonnet in her lap, and her skirts an ungainly mess about her ankles.
“Oh Mr. Wickham, I did not hear you come up to me,” she replied as she tried to smooth the muslin and cotton of her dress as discreetly as possible. Mr. Wickham, to his credit, only met her gaze steadily and did not drop his eyes to the mess that was her person until she could straighten herself and set properly, as well as a young lady might when out en plein air as she was. He approached her with a low, polite bow, and a cheerful smile.
“Truthfully you were lost in your thoughts, and you made such the pretty picture that I did not wish to interrupt. But I am, after all, a man, and who could not want to seek you out for exceptional conversation as you always provide?” Wickham’s talent at complimenting her made her belly quiver in a delightful, if frustrating manner. The feeling spoke of something more, some longing for affection, that Wickham might be a balm to. Was she not right to feel such things? She was in search of a husband, quite obviously, and Wickham had been paying her exacting attentions that she could not mistake as anything but an honest interest in her hand. Her mother would have a fit- the idea of a Bennet marrying a common foot soldier, but as Lizzy looked at Wickham she wondered… not very idly, what it would be like to perhaps kiss him, for him to hold her as a husband held a wife.
The flush on her neck crept into her cheeks, warming her further still.
“Such pretty words, I do not think I have ever heard the like aimed at my own person,” she said loftily, trying to brush off the complicated web of feelings that were making themselves quite at home in her belly.
“And why not? Are you not the fairest of your sisters, indeed, perhaps the most desirable creature in all of Hertfordshire?” Wickham asked with a flourish of his hand, sweeping it across the air to indicate the lands beyond the wooded area in which they resided. His words startled a laugh from Elizabeth, and she held a hand to her mouth to cover her parted lips in surprise.
“Mr. Wickham! I dare say it is a bit early to be nipping at the Port, but you have made a job of it! The fairest of my sisters, the most desirable? Any man who says that would not have seen my elder sister Jane, for as soon as the eye lights upon her, all else falls away,” she said, with no hint of jealousy. Jane was more beautiful, soft and light, and pretty, the perfection of womanhood in her prime and the height of her bloom. Maybe Mrs. Bennet would forever compare the two girls, chalk and cheese as she liked to say, but Elizabeth would never begrudge Jane her beauty or her sweetness. Jane was perfect, in every sense, as both a woman and as a sister. If anything, Elizabeth prided on having such a lovely creature to call her sister. It certainly did not sit ill with her that men might find Jane more desirable than he
r own self.
“Yes, Miss Bennet it is a fair creature, and of excellent manners as well as temperament. One cannot walk a yard in Hertfordshire without hearing of the beautiful and sweet Miss Jane Bennet… but one could also not walk a foot without hearing of the dark and tempting, the delightful Miss Elizabeth either. I would be a fool to ignore you, and if the rest of all the men of England have passed you by in favor of your sister, more’s the fool are they. You are a beauty in your own right, and by far surpass any woman I have known in your knowledge of the arts, of politics, even, although you may dare not to admit it, of war. A well read beauty, and one who would keep my mind occupied on many a dark night in winter, that is the Elizabeth Bennet that I think upon…” he trailed off of his monologue espousing her many virtues, and Lizzy felt a fresh flood of emotion tumbling through her body. Did he really think so highly of her?
“Sir,” she said, getting to her feet, for it no longer felt right, to sit upon the grass in such a manner with a basket of books at her side, when he laid compliments so strongly. “Sir I can hardly think to understand the meaning of your words, for surely they can be only pretty little compliments-“
“Do not mistake me for your cousin, the venerable, if verbose, Mr. Collins,” Mr. Wickham interrupted her, and she fell quiet as he smiled. “I am well aware of his manner of doling out compliments as if they are sweets he is handing to young children at Christmas-time. No, I do not speak to merely compliment you, Miss Elizabeth, I speak with intention of courting you, of perhaps even deigning to ask for your hand, if you might have me.” His words were accompanied by a startled flush of confusion and anticipation, all at once, that mixed in her belly and made her feel quite nervously excited.
“I think, perhaps, if that is your true intention, Mr. Wickham, that I had best retire to my family’s estate, and I would ask you to make your wishes known to my father immediately,” she said, not hesitating for a moment. If he truly had intentions to offer for her, then she wanted to know he was serious, despite his jovial tone. While she had come to be rather fond of Mr. Wickham, with his good sense of humor and intelligent manner of speaking, she was not sure she was ready to commit to an idea of being in love with the man.
That very thought made her nervous to decide, since had she not, the very night before, chosen to make her own way in life and find for herself the partner for the rest of her days? Was she being fickle, in hesitating at the first man who was not the choice of her parents, nor the desperate cousin who she despised?
As Mr. Wickham’s smile flickered and then vanished for a moment - did he think she would celebrate him desiring her to the point of putting aside reason as well as conventional and societal niceties? She would not put her good name at risk, not even for the chance at love. He would declare his intentions to her family, if he truly intended to court her. She would not accept a man who could not be ope with her family, and she wondered how best to make it clear to him that she was quite serious in the matter.
“I did not think that you would wish me to disturb your father with such an announcement, so soon, Miss Elizabeth but…” he hesitated for a moment and then his smile came again, like the warming sun from behind a particularly hazy cloud. “If that is what you wish, then I shall proceed to him immediately and advise him that I have interest, strong interest, in the bravest, most bold of his daughters.”
Lizzy raised one eyebrow at the flattery, but let a smile grace her face, even as her gut rumbled with concern. Was he yet another Mr. Collins, albeit better dressed and comported? While he said he had no interest in paying false compliments, she did indeed wonder…
“That is as I wish, Mr. Wickham,” she said with her best, most opaque social smile, the one she had practiced in front of the glass with her sister until they had both felt they’d be ready for any event, large or small. Even though they might have been ‘poor country relations’ to some in society, looked down upon by the ton, neither sister had any attention of being caught unable to hold court at the various social functions a young woman might be asked to attend.
“Ah, women. You have such hearts, locked away in towers, from us men. It is often hard to discern what you might be thinking, since you guard your intimate thoughts as carefully as your reputations,” Mr. Wickham said as he turned towards Longbourn. His words pricked at her.
“Do you have much experience then, Mr. Wickham, puzzling out the intimate confidences of women?” she asked archly. He laughed and twisted to look at her again with a shake of his head.
“Do not think that I am the serial-chaser of fair ladies, Miss Elizabeth. I merely have observed a similar state in young Mr. Bingley. I believe his interests lay in the direction of your eldest sister, but he has been stymied as to the depths of her own feelings… do they run deep, or is it a superficial desire that brings her gaze to him? I am known to him through a mutual acquaintance, and had thought perhaps to speak to you regarding her opinion of him… at the very least, to alleviate his anguish so he might move on to a woman who does indeed return his feelings,” Mr. Wickham paused for one artful moment, waiting for Elizabeth to speak. She stared at him and then swallowed in surprise. Mr. Bingley wondered at the feelings that Jane held for him? Oh no. It could not be that he was confused. Jane was so sick with love she was practically transparent and wilting when he was not around… but therein perhaps lay the problem. If he were not around to see her when she pined for his presence, how could he know that Jane felt his absence so acutely?
“Mr. Bingley?”
“Yes, Mr. Bingley. You are acquainted with him now… he is of course, expressing interest in your sister, but I have heard she perhaps does not return that interest?” Mr. Wickham asked. Elizabeth did not appreciate the turn of conversation, and from his expression, Mr. Wickham noticed. He coughed and looked away. “Well perhaps it is not my affair, although, if I were to be your husband, the well-being of my sisters would be in the scope of my interests.”
Lizzy bowed her head to him in short order, a brief acknowledgement of his words, but something of the way he’d spoken set her on the path to discomfort. It was strange for a man of no actual relation to Mr. Bingley, or to the Bennets, to be thus concerned with the matter of matchmaking. She was at once both grateful and part concerned as to his interference.
“I appreciate your… caring, Mr. Wickham, and I look forward to you speaking to my father at your earliest ability. Then we might proceed as is appropriate,” she said, allowing herself a brief smile at him before gathering her basket of books. She would find a better place to read, closer to home. She left him there, and although she did not look over her shoulder to see, she was certain he did not follow her. He seemed a forward fellow, she supposed it must have come from his posting in them military, but she did not think he would pursue a woman who had so clearly dismissed him.
Chapter 4
Elizabeth Bennet
Longbourn, Hertfordshire
* * *
The first order of Elizabeth’s business upon returning to Longbourn and after partaking of a quick, stolen nuncheon from the kitchen made up of a bread roll and a thin wedge of cheese, was to send a note to Miss Bingley at Netherfield Park. While it would not have been appropriate for her to direct any correspondence towards Mr. Bingley, she hoped to that Mr. Bingley might seek to invite her and Jane to Netherfield… at least she might pique his interest. She needed to speak to him.
Her conversation with Mr. Wickham had cemented that fact. Jane would not be forced to accept an offer from Mr. Collins if Elizabeth had anything to say in the matter. Mr. Wickham’s words, if they had any truth to them which Lizzy had no reason to doubt them, meant that Mr. Bingley was unaware of the depths of Jane’s affections.
Elizabeth would stop at nothing to make sure that her sister’s happiness was assured, and that meant skirting the edges of propriety. She could, if necessary, come up with some reason necessitating a visit to Netherfield Park, could she not? Was she not, as her father had frequently assessed, the
most clever of her sisters? She would put her head to the problem of Jane’s blossoming relationship to Mr. Bingley.
Already, she thought her initial plan was clever enough - she had invited Miss Bingley to attend Longbourn, an invitation she knew that Miss Bingley would offhand decline, but would perhaps force a return invitation to some even at Netherfield Park. While Miss Bingley was not a charitable or kind person, even she would prefer the appearance of a solicitous personality over miserly social behavior.
By late afternoon, Elizabeth found that her assessment of Miss Bingley was not incorrect - a courier arrived with a note for her from Miss Bingley, inviting her to dine the very next day. With a smile at her own cleverness, Elizabeth went to sleep dreaming of speaking to Mr. Bingley in a confidence of sorts, and urging him to pursue courting, and an offer, with Jane.
Wearing her third-best dress the next day, she set off in the back of the wagon that was making it’s way from Meryton to Netherfield, stopping along the way with a few deliveries from the town. She was quite grateful to not have to walk, as she wanted to be at her best presentation when she arrived at Netherfield.
She waited with no small anxiety in the entrance of the grand mansion as she was announced, and then entered. To her surprise, and great (secret) delight, Miss Bingley was not there to receive her, and instead Mr. Bingley rose to bow to her, a broad smile on his sunny face.
“Miss Elizabeth, it is an absolute pleasure,” he said as he walked towards her. She curtseyed and then looked about the room. He answered her unspoken question without another moment to leave her to wonder. “Miss Bingley is indisposed at the moment, for which I apologize… I would have sent a courier to delay your trip, but I had assumed you were already on your way here when she fell ill. But I promise, I will attempt to host you with the same joviality and cleverness she would have.”