Page 2 of Pride, Prejudice and Prudence

Elizabeth could see that Jane would not be able to sleep, so once readied for bed, Elizabeth crawled in with her, and they whispered together for some time before finally, Morpheus took them.

Chapter 3

The next morning saw Mary, Kitty, and Lydia excitedly looking for Jane’s news from the Netherfield ball. It was perhaps more accurate to say that Kitty and Lydia excitedly awaited Jane’s news, and Mary waited with mild curiosity. Mary was twelve, but she had no interest in balls or dresses, preferring instead to play the piano or read. Her mother quite despaired that she would not even allow Sally to do something with her hair, which was as dark as Elizabeth’s, but fine like Jane’s.

Jane looked to their father, but she need not have concerned herself. It was one thing for their father to consent to her sister, who was but one year her junior, being told the truth. But her three youngest sisters were far too young to be trusted with a story that could be twisted in a way that would ruin every one of them.

“Tedious,” her father pronounced, saving Jane from having to lie. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mrs Bennet?” he asked their mother.

She looked momentarily nonplussed, but then she recalled herself and added, “Indeed, a complete waste of an evening. In truth, I don’t know what I was thinking! Why would our Jane of only fifteen, want to be dancing with the old men of Meryton? For you know, there is no gentleman in the neighbourhood of an age to her. Nor any worthy of my Jane,” her mother pronounced. Kitty looked disappointed at this news, and Lydia was devastated, for she had seen Jane’s coming out as almost a fairy story. Mary, on the other hand, looked mollified; she had, in the days leading up to the ball, pronounced that it was a waste of an evening. It seemed now that her supposition had been confirmed, which Elizabeth thought by the explanation their parents gave, it seemed it was. Elizabeth had a wicked thought that the one thing Jane’s evening had not been, was tedious. She thought that Jane would have wished it were so.

“I could not agree more,” her father added. “In truth, Jane, I think it best that you go back in for another couple of years,” he paused, and Jane made the expected nod of acceptance. “It is really not worth the expense to have you girls come out early,” their father said. “We must take into account the lack of suitable partners in the neighbourhood, and reconsider how we will make your coming outs when you are all of age.” And that brought the discussion to an end, much, Elizabeth could see, to Jane’s relief.

It was later that day that Elizabeth heard her parents in discussion in her father’s study. She knew she ought not to eavesdrop, but the conversation was loud enough that she heard the whole of it as she walked by.

“I have very often wished, before this period, that, instead of spending our whole income, I had laid by an annual sum for the better provision of the girls and yourself,” her father told her mother. Elizabeth did not hear her mother’s response, if she had made any.

“Both by way of dowries for the girls, and also to better protect you all if I should die before my time, or if you should survive me.” She heard her mother make some sound which might have been assent at the suggestion, or negation of the thought of his dying.

“We have been too unconcerned with the future, my dear,” her father continued. “When first we married, I believed economy to be perfectly useless, for, of course, we were to have a son. This son was to join in cutting off the entail, as soon as he should be of age, and thereby having means to provide for you all. But it has not transpired that way, my dear,” he said.

“We might still have a son,” Elizabeth heard her mother say, much to Elizabeth's surprise. Lydia was aged nine, and there had been no sign of another child, but she heard her father reply that this was true; however, they could not bank on it.

“We need to economise, my dear Mrs Bennet,” her father said. Elizabeth knew her mother had no great love for economy, and indeed, neither did their father. She knew they were not in debt, but he had made it clear to their mother numerous times, in Elizabeth and her sisters’ presence, that they spent the whole of the income of Longbourn each year.

She was aware that their mother had brought five thousand pounds by way of marriage articles, which would be settled on their mother and themselves. Elizabeth and Jane both knew that their home and estate of Longbourn were entailed away from them. She did not know if Mary was aware of the situation, but Kitty and Lydia were full young to concern themselves with such matters. She had been told the full of it on asking her father after hearing her mother mention the entail. She also knew they had little in the way of dowries, but she had never given their future much thought. She had supposed they would all marry well, and one or other of them would care for their mother. It seemed that this incident with Jane had made their father start to consider their future, and Elizabeth felt this could only be a good thing.

Chapter 4

“And it is not even Christmas!” Lydia exclaimed, her words expressing the delight her whole family felt on seeing their aunt and uncle Gardiner, with their two young children, arrive at Longbourn. Their usual Christmas-time visit had been above four months previous, so this unexpected arrival was a joy to them all, as they all loved their Gardiner relatives.

“And you have grown so much in these months I should hardly have known you at all,” their aunt said in reply. Lydia, her youngest sister, was indeed growing extremely fast; she was already nearly as tall as Mary, who was three years her senior, and she was also precocious and mature for her age. At her young age, there were also signs that she would be the equal to Jane in beauty, having the same fair hair and much of her mother’s looks. Her interests were fashion and dresses, not dolls and games, and Elizabeth quietly despaired at her lack of interest in obtaining any accomplishment at all.

“Come, my sweet,” Lydia said, grabbing the hand of Benedict, her young cousin of only four. Clara, the eldest of the two Gardiner children, did not wait for an invitation; they both worshipped Lydia above all, and she, in turn, doted on them. Lydia would bring the children up to the nursery, ostensibly to see them settled, but her toys still remained in that room, and the arrival of her young cousins allowed her an excuse to play with them. She would never be seen to show any interest in such pursuits with her older sisters.

“Gone off with Lydia, have they?” their uncle asked, having been in quiet conversation with her parents.

“As usual,” Mrs Gardiner acknowledged.

“She is so good with them,” her mother proclaimed, and no one could contradict her.

“Why have you come, Uncle?” Elizabeth asked, and her uncle did not immediately respond.

“A matter of business,” her father replied in his stead.

“Should we go to your study?” her uncle asked.

“No, no,” her father replied, “there is no haste. Make yourselves comfortable, settle in, and we can discuss the matter after dinner this evening.”

“Capital,” Mr Gardiner replied.

Elizabeth was even more curious now. What matter of business could her father have with her uncle? Mr Gardiner was a man of business in town, and her father was a country squire. She knew that this was not the time to enquire, but her father could often be persuaded to reveal information in the fullness of time.

The fullness of time in this case was four days hence. Elizabeth had watched in increasing concern as box after box of books from her father’s study were packed into the Gardiner’s carriage.

“Why are they taking your books, Papa?” Elizabeth asked, her concern showing in the frown tightening her face. Her Uncle Gardiner and her father had spent many hours in his study, carrying out discussions on she knew not what, but she had seen them sorting books into and out of boxes. Some of the books had been stored in the attic, and some had had a place on the shelves of her father’s study. Elizabeth had heard them discussing the merits of each book before it was either replaced or placed for the first time on the shelves, or consigned to a box.

“Books are of immeasurable value, my dear,” her father said, repeating a phrase she had heard many times before. “They give us knowledge and sometimes entertainment. They allow us to live in worlds we are unlikely to experience in our own lives, but books also have another type of value,” he said.