“True,” Lydia laughed, “I love our cousins dearly, however, I believe that two months of living with them might weary even myself. When they visited last, I could hardly keep up with them.”
“I think you have that backward,” Elizabeth teased as she sat back, her plate emptied. “The two weeks they stayed here exhausted them, for those racing games you created for them were grueling.”
“How else was I to keep my strength?” Lydia questioned, a glint of mischief in her eyes.
“For once I agree with Lydia,” Mary smiled. “It takes a creative mind to occupy four children without wearing yourself to the bone.”
“A devious mind,” Elizabeth countered. “I am only thankful you have not used it against the rest of us.”
“That you know of,” Lydia smirked before taking a sip of her tea.
A maid coming to take the dishes kept Elizabeth from her rebuttal, a welcome interruption given the day’s work ahead.Already they were late in starting.
“A letter from Mrs. Gardiner,” Mrs. Hill announced as she entered, the missive accepted with thanks before Jane opened it.
In light of a letter from their aunt, work could be delayed a little longer.
The eyes of all her sisters upon her, Jane skimmed its contents, her smile fading as her face grew pale, until, at last the letter fell from her fingers.
“Jane?” Elizabeth worried, rushing to her sister’s side.
“PaPa has been ill,” Lydia hurried, her eyes flitting over the letter as she picked it up. “Aunt says he is out of danger… but.”
“But?” Mary questioned.
“His physician says the cold damp is injurious to Father’s health… he suggests traveling abroad. To Italy or Spain!”
“Did they not obtain a second opinion?” Elizabeth asked Lydia, the distant expression in Jane’s eyes prompting Elizabeth to rub soothing circles on her sister’s back.
“They did,” Lydia said at last, her hands and the letter within resting heavy on the tabletop. “Each agree; Father’s health requires warmer climes than England is able to provide. PaPa argued against it, saying his duty lay with us, however… Uncle reminded him that his death would do none of us any good, our cousin inheriting should Father… should he… should he pass. Aunt says that, unless we protest, in less than a week they will see him on his way.” Voice soft and pained she added, “We are invited to come to London to see him off. So, that is something I suppose.”
“We will pack and be on our way before the day is out,” Jane said with a shake of her head, her eyes glistening as she raised her chin defiantly. “He has to go… he does. Yet, none of us will have him depart without first seeing him.”
Standing, Elizabeth frowned.The estate would manage? One week would not see Longbourn fall to ruin. But it was still far longer than they ought; not having a steward and expecting Mrs. Hill to accept their responsibilities. Yet, Mrs. Hill would accept them. She always accepted more than she ought in the care of their family.
Over the next two hours the girls, Mrs. Hill, and their staff worked to pack trunks and see to it that any last-minute preparations for their absence were accomplished. They would bring little on their travels, the week they would be gone unlikely to have them journey farther from their aunt and uncle’s residence than the nearby park. Still, those who had gifts for their father were swift to pack them, while those who did not hurried to rectify the lack of packable gifts–Jane preparing a soothing mix of herbs she knew him to enjoy, while Lydia wrapped several jars of his favourite preserves which she had helped lay aside the previous autumn.
Their two trunks taken from cart to mail coach, Elizabeth saw that their two youngest sisters were settled safely in the remaining seats inside before assisting Jane and Mary up to the open-air row directly behind the driver, the one remaining seat, by the driver, now hers.
That young man sitting in the warmth of the coach was no gentleman, for surely a gentleman would give his seat inside over to a lady. At least then another one of her sisters might be warm!
Before she even had her shawl wrapped firmly around her, the coach, with its fresh set of horses, sped off; the mail coaches of England waiting for no one.
Above, the sky, swathed in clouds, threatened to shower them with rain. They would reach London before the obscured sun would set; whether they would manage to hire transport to their aunt and uncle’s and then reach them before darkness fell proved far more difficult to predict, and one hour after departing it was fully apparent that no matter if they could outpace the sun, they could not outpace the rain.
Cold. The rain came cold, and fast, and uncaring.
Behind her, Jane and Mary huddled together, Jane’s wrap held over them as Mary’s worked to cocoon the pair of them.
Wiping at the rain which the speed of the coach whipped into her face, Elizabeth worked to settle deeper into the bench, her wrap drenched and her pelisse little drier. Beside her the driver glanced her way for half a moment, sympathetic and yet both unable and unwilling to help; the mail coaches having strict rules and timetables for all drivers.
The hours passing as slow and painful as any, Elizabeth allowed her thoughts to drift toward worry for her father. Though equally welcome and unwelcome, those thoughts swirled around, distracting from the cold rain, yet putting a chill in her heart far worse.
By the time they arrived in London, the eldest Bennet girls alighted from the outside benches stiff, and sore, and soaked to their chemises.
“Mary! Jane! Lizzy… you are soaked to the skin!” Kitty cried as she alighted from the coach.
“They were sitting in the rain half the day,” Lydia remarked, her eyes narrowing as the gentleman emerged from the coach warm and dry. “It seems gentlemen are scarce these days!” she all but shouted as he passed, the unmoved raise of his brow prompting her to scowl before turning toward her sisters. “Come, let us hire transport; you three ought to warm yourselves by a fire as soon as can be!”
