Page 6 of Pride, Prejudice and Prudence

“Miss Bingley played exceedingly well,” Jane said.

“I did not say she did not,” their mother owned, having just moments before commented that Miss Bingley had been jealous of her girls’ talent. “She played a very technical piece,” their mother acknowledged before taking a bite of her toast. The discussion of the evening before had extended their breakfast because everyone had something to add. Lydia had commented on the finery the Bingley sisters had worn.

Lydia had always been interested in fashion, and the advent of Miss Farnsworth as their governess had allowed her to develop her interest in this area. Miss Farnsworth had a light hand in stitching, and she had instructed Lydia diligently in this skill. Lydia had embraced it further, copying designs from the fashion pamphlets which circulated between the young ladies of Meryton. All the Bennet sisters had benefited from her skill; they each had dresses which owed their style to Lydia’s work with the needle.

“I thought the piece not much to the taste of our neighbours,” Kitty said.

Mrs Bennet was prevented from replying by the entrance of the footman with a note for Miss Bennet. It came from Netherfield, and the servant waited for an answer, while Jane opened the missive. “It is from Miss Bingley,” said Jane, and proceeded to read it aloud.

“My dear friend,

If you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with Louisa and me, we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives; for a whole day’s tête-à-tête between two women can never end without a quarrel. Come as soon as you can on the receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers.

Yours ever,

Caroline Bingley.”

“Can I have the carriage?” Jane asked.

“No, my dear, I’m sorry,” her father said, “because it seems likely to rain, and then you must stay all night.”

“That would be a good scheme,” said Lydia.

“That would not be a scheme at all,” her father replied, without taking his eyes from his eldest daughter. “You know the stream is likely to flood in such weather at this time of year, and I will not have a daughter of mine staying in the home of a single man with no mature matron to oversee the proprieties.”

“Oh,” was the only response Jane gave. She sat for some moments in silence, the footman still awaiting a response. She then rose to her feet, saying, “I will pen a reply accordingly,” she said, while the footman followed her from the room.

Elizabeth could understand her father’s reasons for not wanting Jane to be trapped in Netherfield overnight. The incident that took place on her coming out some seven years before had made a lasting impression on her parents. They had ever since been more cautious of their daughters’ reputations, and Elizabeth, for one, was glad of it. She did not like to think about who her family might be, if not for this change in attitude. Particularly, the change in her mother. Elizabeth could still recall how her mother had insisted on Jane being brought out at fifteen, how she had expressed, again and again, that they needed to have all the girls married as soon as may be! But ever since that event, no mention was made of them marrying, except in the most nebulous of ways.

Chapter 11

“What is this? Someone must be dead!” Mrs Bennet said, clutching Jane’s hand.

The knocking at the door, coming as it had long after all the family had retired for the night, had given everyone a fright. Hill had retired, and her room was to the back of the house, so it was unlikely she had heard the knocking. Mr Bennet, wrapped in his nightcoat and wearing a nightcap, raised his eyebrows at his wife’s pronouncement, but they all knew that good news rarely came in such a way. He proceeded down the stairs; a lamp raised above his head to light his way. Elizabeth ran back to her room and peeked around the curtains of her window. Her room, situated at the front of the house, had a fine view of the entrance.

She was most surprised at the sight, for it was Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley. She could not help noticing how Mr Darcy’s clothing clung to his form; the rain had soaked him right through. Elizabeth felt a most disconcerting sensation and felt a blush suffuse her entire body. She moved back from the window and fanned her face. She did not think to question why she had had such a reaction to Mr Darcy and had completely failed to notice that Mr Bingley was in a similar state. She shook her head and went back out to the upper hallway, joining her mother and eldest sister. The gentlemen were now entering Longbourn, invited to do so by Mr Bennet, and Elizabeth was desirous of hearing what was being said.

“Help me dress, Jane,” her mother instructed, and Jane followed her into her bedchamber to do as requested.

Elizabeth remained on the landing, “the stream between Netherfield and Meryton has burst its banks, and the bridge is down,” Elizabeth heard Mr Darcy explain.

“Come into the study,” Mr Bennet instructed. “The fire has not completely died,” he said, and his voice grew fainter as he moved to the back of the house. Elizabeth, realising there was nothing more to hear, joined Jane in her mother’s room. Her mother was nearly dressed, and Elizabeth collected her brush and some pins. She had never done her mother’s hair before; Hill always performed that service. Hill was their housekeeper, not their mother’s lady’s maid, but the household could not afford for their mother to have a separate maid, so Hill often helped Mrs Bennet.

“I will do your hair, Mama,” Elizabeth said, and Jane looked relieved. She was not good at doing hair, except her own, which was very fine. Mrs Bennet had strong hair, and although fair like Jane’s, it had the same consistency as Elizabeth’s darker locks. Elizabeth had it pinned in a tidy but not fashionable style, in no time. Mrs Bennet took one look at her reflection and agreed it was good enough.

“You girls go on back to bed,” she instructed. “There is nothing you can do tonight. Your father and I will take care of the gentlemen.”

Elizabeth could not disagree with her mother, however much she wished to know all the details of the circumstances that had brought Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley to their door at such an hour. They both did as they were told, but Elizabeth sat for some time at her window, not that she expected the gentleman to leave. It seemed clear that they would need to stay the night at Longbourn, if not longer, dependent on the weather or when the flooded stream cleared.

While she remained there, she heard the Longbourn staff, who had been roused from their beds, begin readying the guest rooms. She heard her mother issuing instructions for John to get up to the attics and find any old clothing of Mr Bennet’s that might work for the gentlemen. This made Elizabeth’s eyes go wide; she could not see how any of her father’s clothing would fit either man, but particularly Mr Darcy, who was a good deal taller than her father. She heard her mother leading the men to their bedchambers. And finally, she heard her father instruct John that he was to station himself in a chair at the intersection of the guest rooms and the rooms of the daughters of the house, and that he was not to leave his station until either he was relieved or the family arose.

Chapter 12

Elizabeth and Jane entered the breakfast room together the next morning. Jane was not usually so inclined to rise at such an early point in the morning. But the prospect of seeing Mr Bingley, plus a great curiosity as to the events of the previous evening, called her from her bed. Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley were already seated to table, as were Mr Bennet and Mrs Bennet. An elaborate array of breakfast foods was set out on the counter, including eggs three ways and a variety of meats. Elizabeth could see that her mother had made sure that nothing was missing that their guests might wish to have, as this was not the standard Longbourn breakfast!

The gentlemen arose and bowed to acknowledge their entrance, and Elizabeth barely managed to suppress a giggle. Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley were both attired in Mr Bennet’s old clothing. The clothing was of excellent quality, although out of fashion by at least twenty years. Mr Bingley did not look so bad; the clothing was a trifle loose and unbecoming on him, but Mr Darcy looked entirely odd. Elizabeth could see that one of the staff had made some rudimentary alterations to the trousers. They had been cinched in at the waist to ensure they at least remained in place on his slim form, and they were tucked into his boots, Elizabeth supposed, because they did not reach his ankles. The shirt he wore was of the finest quality, and it fitted him quite well. It must have been one kept for best when her father was a young man.

A blush suffused his face as he noted Elizabeth’s amusement, but Mr Bingley displayed no such embarrassment.