Longbourn- The Early Days

by Margaret Lynette Sharp

  The blow to her pride had been without precedent. Even worse was her self-imposed embargo of discussion of this topic with Jane. Never before had she felt compelled to keep her own counsel. Never before had she felt the need to deal with such tumultuous feelings. Never before had she felt even a touch of jealousy towards Jane, her most beloved sister.

  “Whatever is the matter, Lizzy? Did last night’s festivities wear you out? – for I am not accustomed to seeing you so pale and tired. Surely, someone of your tender years should be in possession of greater resilience. My child, might you be ill?” Mr Bennet gazed with fatherly concern at his favourite daughter.

  “Indeed, Mr Bennet,” added his wife, before Elizabeth had had time to voice her reply. “I have heard from my sister Philips that our village is in the midst of an outbreak of summer colds. I always think that summer colds are harder to bear than winter colds. It seems to me that such ailments at this time of year fly in the face of nature.”

  “Be that as it may, my dear Mrs Bennet,” returned her husband, “it does nothing to resolve my concern. Need I send for a doctor, my dear Lizzy?”

  “Upon my word, Papa, you are judging without cause. I am not ill – just, perhaps, a trifle weary, after a long night.”

  “It was rather a long night,” cried Mrs Bennet, “and I am sure that you danced with more young men than did any other young lady in attendance – even your sister Jane. I must say I was surprised, though, that on more than one occasion, your sister chose to converse – rather than to dance – with that charming young gentleman we first met last winter: Mr Grey.”

  To her horror, Elizabeth blushed and blushed again.

  “Oh, Lord!” cried Lydia, pausing from her breakfast. “I believe Lizzy is jealous! Her favourite chose to spend more time with Jane than with herself!”

  “You are mistaken, Lydia, if you believe that Mr Grey is my favourite, or, indeed, that I have reason to be jealous of anyone with whom the gentleman in question engages in any way,” replied Elizabeth with warmth.

  “La! Pray tell, why then did I spy you staring at Jane whenever she and Mr Grey were together? Though I must say,” continued Lydia, “that to my mind he is not nearly so handsome as Captain Peters – especially when the Captain is wearing a red coat. Do you not agree, Mama?”

  “My dear Lydia, you are very young to make such an observation. But I cannot deny that there is something very appealing about seeing a gentleman in a red coat. I have the fondest memories in this regard.”

  Mr Bennet gave an enigmatic smile before stroking his chin.

  Elizabeth sat in silence – at length, taking a sip of tea.

  “I did hear from my sister Philips,” continued Mrs Bennet, “that there is a rumour circulating throughout Hertfordshire, that Mr Grey is not a gentleman of such good fortune as one might imagine. But, I suppose, ‘tis as well to remember that it is merely a rumour – for everything about him suggests the opposite.”

  “Upon my honour, I see no reason for your concern, Mrs Bennet,” added her husband. “Is he to be considered as anything more than a passing visitor? For, as I understand it, his home is Kent.”

  Mrs Bennet frowned a little. “But, Mr Bennet, do you not see he would make a fine match for Lizzy? Perhaps not so for Jane – for her beauty is the talk of Hertfordshire, and I am in hopes of her marrying a Lord.”

  Elizabeth changed colour.

  “But, Mama, how can you say that when, last night, his attentions were firmly directed towards Jane?” asked Lydia. “And did you not notice Jane’s pleasure in their receipt?”

  “My dear Lydia, have you ever seen Jane behave in any other way? Nay! ‘Tis not in her nature, for hers is the sweetest, kindest disposition in the world.”

  Normally, Elizabeth would have heard with pleasure such praise of her sister, but on this occasion, it aroused in her a feeling of inadequacy about herself.

  So absorbed in her thoughts was she that she failed to notice Jane’s approaching footsteps.

  “My dear Jane,” cried Mrs Bennet, “I am glad to see you looking so well this morning – unlike Lizzy, who seems both pale and dispirited, despite last night’s gaiety.”

  Jane’s gaze met Elizabeth’s. “Dear Lizzy, are you unwell?”

  “Nay, Jane – just a trifle weary.”

  Jane took a seat, after casting another anxious glance in Elizabeth’s direction.

  “Jane, Jane, you must tell me, for I am longing to know,” began Lydia. “That nice Mr Grey: I saw you last night, deep in conversation. Pray, whatever did you find so interesting?”

  Elizabeth frowned at Lydia. “Do you think that such conversations are for everyone’s ears?”

  “I hereby swear to secrecy!”

  Elizabeth sighed, shaking her head.

  “Perhaps it would be for the best if I spoke now,” said Jane, “for Mr Grey has asked me to make his news public today.”

  Elizabeth inclined her head. “Pray, of what are you speaking? – for he made no such comment to me last night.”

  “Dearest Lizzy, our friend had a reason for acting so – he did not wish to risk spoiling your pleasure at the Ball.”

  Elizabeth’s curiosity was piqued.

  “More than anyone, you – Lizzy – will know the truth of this. Mr Grey fears that he has raised expectations in you – expectations that have, now, no hope of coming to fruition,” began Jane in quiet tones.

  Elizabeth said nothing. Her heart thudded.

  “It seems our friend has not been entirely honest in his dealings with the community, and especially with you, dear Lizzy. In fact, he believes his transgressions have been of such seriousness that he cannot face you, and has asked me to beg for his forgiveness.”

  “Oh, Lord!” cried Lydia. “Is he already married, or a criminal, perhaps? For either would be catastrophic!”

  “He is not married, nor is he a criminal,” Jane answered calmly.

  “Then, whatever is it?” Lydia gazed with prodigious eagerness at Jane.

  “At this very moment, I believe Mr Grey is on his way to Kent, to meet his cousin Emma, who will soon become his wife.”

  Elizabeth gasped.

  “Try not to think very ill of him, dear Lizzy. ‘Tis for the sake of his family that he takes such a step,” said Jane in a half-whisper. “He and his cousin have been tacitly engaged for over two years, but Mr Grey thought it impossible that their marriage would ever take place, for he has insufficient income to support a wife.”

  “But his clothes – his shoes…! Everything about his person suggest that he is wealthy!” cried Mrs Bennet.

  “He was, once, but his fortunes changed after he made an imprudent investment. ‘Tis the reason why his marriage could not take place. But, as late as yesterday, his fiancée sent word that her father had passed away and that she would inherit his estate.”

  Elizabeth shook her head in amazement.

  “Oh, Lizzy, all this must be hard for you to understand. But I implore you, try to forgive him.” Jane gave a half-smile,

  “What is there to forgive?” asked Elizabeth, summoning courage. “We were never engaged. The subject was never even discussed. Pray, do not magnify my supposed distress. ’Tis nothing!”

  “Well, I do believe he used my daughter very ill!” cried Mrs Bennet.

  “Believe what you will, Mrs Bennet,” said her husband. “If Lizzy is not distraught, then I see no reason to detest the man. What say you, Lizzy?”

  “Nay, Papa,” replied Elizabeth with spirit, “Indeed, I confess to a certain relief at the receipt of this intelligence.” She felt no need to elaborate.

  The end

  Flirtatious

  A ‘Pride and Prejudice’ Variation Vignette

  By Margaret Lynette Sharp

  Copyright 2019 © Margaret Lynette Sharp

  Appreciation to omelas

  “My dear Eliza,” began Miss Lucas, “It pains me to mention this to you, but I fear I must – for, should Papa hear of it, I am sure he would mak
e haste to Longbourn House, and demand an audience with your father.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “Upon my word, dear Charlotte, I am at a loss to guess at the substance of your concern. I implore you not to prolong my unease a moment longer.”

  Charlotte gave a half-smile, and after glancing around the verdant vista, replied, “Let us first take a seat under the chestnut tree. I expect our conversation will be of considerable duration.”

  A sudden wave of apprehension gripped Elizabeth, and she was glad of the opportunity to rest.

  “Eliza, we have, I believe, for many years been more than mere, casual acquaintances. In truth,” she continued, gazing into the eyes of her companion, “I regard you with affection equal to that I feel for my own sisters.”

  “I thank you most sincerely for the compliment, which I certainly reciprocate.”

  Charlotte gave a slow nod. “I am, therefore, more than a trifle concerned that, should my father hear of the improper and potentially damaging influence of your youngest sister upon my own sister, Maria, he might react with such animosity that our friendship would be materially damaged.”

  “Pray, Charlotte, enlighten me!” cried Elizabeth with energy.

  “May I speak plainly?”

  “Indeed!”

  “Oh, Eliza, I have it on good authority that Lydia and Maria have been seen together in Meryton, flirting quite outrageously with officers of the militia.” Charlotte paused, casting her eye upon her companion. “Lydia’s reputation is, I am sorry to say, not of the sort that could ever be met with Papa’s approval. On the other hand, until very recently, Maria’s behaviour was that of a quiet and genteel young lady.”

  Elizabeth blushed with shame and embarrassment. “I see what you are thinking, Charlotte, but let me hasten to assure you that I have, already, reasoned with Papa on the subject of Lydia’s unladylike behaviour. The sad fact is that Papa refuses to heed my words.”

  “Then, perhaps you might choose to make another attempt – for I am quite certain that my father would not at all approve of the behaviour described to me in detail by Miss Illingworth, who happened to have been passing by the officers, on her way to the milliner’s.”

  “Oh!” Elizabeth’s blushes deepened. “I suppose we cannot doubt the word of a clergyman’s daughter.”

  “Upon my honour, Elizabeth, my sense of mortification as I listened to her intelligence was scarcely to be described.”

  Later that morning, after having left Charlotte to explore the delights of the Meryton milliner’s, Elizabeth walked with quiet deliberation all the way to Longbourn House. A sense of hopelessness, of misery, engulfed her. ‘Almost certainly, Papa will fail to act,’ thought she, resolving first to try another approach.

  As Longbourn House came into view, so, too, did her youngest sister, who hastened towards her.

  “Lydia, may I have a word with you?” she cried.

  “Yay, but before I forget to ask, Mama wishes you to lend me your ruby necklace – for I have been invited to dine next Sunday at Lucas Lodge. La! Imagine: me, not you – for I am the especial friend of Maria Lucas, whose birthday celebration is to be held on that day.”

  Elizabeth took a deep breath, before exhaling with a sigh.

  “You are not willing to let me wear it, Lizzy? I promise not to break it!”

  “Lydia, it would be a most unsisterly act for me not to agree to your request. Upon my honour, you are welcome to display it.”

  Lydia smiled, and seemed to be preparing to walk away.

  “Pray, Lydia, I must speak with you on a matter of some urgency.”

  “If it is about my attendance at next month’s Ball at Chesterfield House, then pray, do not worry. Papa has already given his approval for ordering a new gown for me. My blue one got sadly torn, last time.”

  “’Tis not about next month’s Ball – though I shudder when I consider how you behaved at the most recent gathering.”

  “Methinks you were jealous when Captain Williams chose to dance with me, more times than he did with you!”

  “I will try to excuse you, Lydia, because you are young, and perhaps unaware of the ways of the world. But please, heed my advice. It has been brought to my notice that both yourself and Maria Lucas have been seen in public, each of you behaving in a most unladylike, flirtatious manner with officers of the militia.”

  Lydia’s eyes rolled. “And pray, who told you such a story? For I would like to wager that it was that stuffy little Miss Catherine Illingworth… I saw her last week, glaring at me in Meryton.”

  Elizabeth made no reply.

  “I do believe she is jealous of me – for no officer worth the acquaintance would be seen chatting with such a spotty, ugly little creature!”

  “Do you see nothing amiss with behaviour such as yours?”

  “Oh, Lord, no! Pray, would I have so many friends if my manner was not pleasing?”

  “Oh, Lizzy, whatever is the matter?” asked Jane, as she joined her sister for a cup of tea.

  Elizabeth sighed. “’Oh, Jane! I fear that Lydia’s antics are bringing our family into more and more disrepute.”

  Jane shook her head. “My dearest Lizzy, do not burden yourself with such worries. I am sure that the world in general will recognise Lydia’s actions as being nothing more than the consequence of her being in possession of extraordinarily high spirits.”

  “I wish I could share your confidence, my dear sister, for I have it on good authority that there is a belief in the wind that our sister is leading young Maria Lucas astray.”

  “Oh, Lizzy, surely that is a gross exaggeration!”

  “I would like to believe that it is, but in my heart, I know otherwise – for it has been many months since first I became aware of our sister’s propensity for inappropriate displays of affection in public.”

  “Then, you must speak again with Papa!”

  Elizabeth arched her eyebrows. “I suppose there is no option.”

  With a sense of apprehension. Elizabeth entered the library where her father was to be found, seated – in his arm-chair, reading, apparently, a heavy-looking volume. With a thud, he closed the book as his eyes met hers.

  “Papa, I feel compelled to speak with you again, on the subject of Lydia and her wild behaviour.”

  A weary look passed over his face, as he replied, “My dear Lizzy, pray, do not burden yourself with worry on account of Lydia. Do you not recall, just three months ago, I gave you to understand that your sister would simply pass through this stage – becoming, in a few years, as fine a young lady as any in Hertfordshire?”

  “Pray, Papa, listen to what I have to say, for it concerns the daughter of your friend Sir William Lucas.”

  “My dear, are you speaking of Charlotte Lucas?”

  “Nay, Papa – ‘tis her sister, Maria, who lately has become an intimate friend of Lydia’s, and of whom there is a report in circulation: a report that is causing prodigious harm to the reputation of both herself and Lydia.”

  “My dear Lizzy, if such a report is in circulation, then why has it not yet reached my ears?”

  Elizabeth sighed. “I suppose that the friends of Sir William Lucas – and himself too, were he aware of it – would be doing their utmost to suppress it. Such persons would surely be aware of the harm a blemish in reputation can (and must) do to the reputation of his family and, in particular, the prospects of marriage for his daughters.”

  Mr Bennet smiled. “Yours is such a serious mind!”

  “But surely, Papa, you are aware of the truth of my words?”

  “My dear, let me calm your mind by telling you of my dealings with Sir William Lucas – for we went fishing together, yesterday morning.”

  “Indeed…?”

  “In contradiction of your ideas, Sir William had nothing to offer but the highest praise for Lydia! It seems he is delighted by the improvement in Maria’s disposition, ever since she has been in the company of your youngest sister.”

  “But, Papa, surely he cannot be aw
are of their behaviour with the officers at Meryton!”

  “My dear, he and I are in complete agreement: ’tis far better to be able to mix with ease in society than to risk the misery of social isolation.”

  Elizabeth almost gasped. “So, that is his true opinion – and yours?”

  “Lizzy, this will amuse you! Sir William is more concerned with the prospect of Charlotte’s becoming an old maid, than any rumoured misbehaviour on the part of Maria! In truth, he is toying with the idea of suggesting to Charlotte that she take a leaf out of Lydia’s book!”

  Elizabeth’s thoughts at this suggestion cannot be described.

  “Lizzy, take heed of my words! Lighten up!”

  She closed her eyes for a few moments, and slowly walked away.

  The end.

  About the author

  Margaret Lynette Sharp is an award-winning Australian writer – the wife of Ronald Sharp B.E.M., the creator of the Grand Organ in the Concert Hall of the Sydney Opera House. The couple live in a quiet suburb of Sydney, with a little white rescue dog named Chicki, and two budgerigars named Albert and Victoria.

  Margaret is a keen swimmer, and she has been competing at local club level for over thirty-five years.

  List of Titles available on Amazon Kindle

  Jane Austen Fan Fiction

  Longbourn Revisited

  An Encounter at Longbourn

  A Party at Longbourn

  And From Longbourn, a Wedding Comes

  Much Ado at Longbourn

  After the Pemberley Ball

  An Auspicious Day in Derbyshire

  Expecting the Unexpected in Derbyshire

  From Longbourn, With Love

  Longbourn and Beyond

  Lady Catherine’s Lover

  News Comes to Pemberley

  Pemberley: The Next Generation

  Pemberley: Fitzwilliam Goes to London

  Pemberley: A Ball to Remember