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“Someone must act for our future, Jane; else we will be out in the hedgerows! Once Mr Collins asks us to remove from this house, we can only seek refuge with my sister in Meryton. My brother cannot accommodate us in London—he has only a single attic bedchamber to spare. If you and Elizabeth are creditably established, then the rest of us can squeeze into the two rooms that your Aunt Philips can offer us. That is all we can look forward to now. My five thousand pounds will provide us with no more than two hundred pounds a year, which will not even keep clothes on our backs! So, you must send us as much of your pin money as you can spare, else we will be destitute! Oh, Mr Bennet, why did you have to leave us so soon!”

And having delivered this speech, Mrs Bennet’s command of herself abandoned her, and she broke into loud sobs.

Jane moved to soothe their mother, but Elizabeth could stand no more. Mortified by her mother’s demand of Mr Darcy and repulsed by her loud wails, Lizzy abandoned her tea untasted, hobbling off as fast as she could manage to the fastness of her father’s refuge.

Chapter 6: Mourning

Elizabeth arrived in Mr Bennet’s study to find the curtains closed and the room lit only by a single candle. Picking this up, she used the flame to light the two branches of candles that Hill had prepared, then retrieved the book her father had been reading. It had been placed on the side table with his bookmark inside. Sitting down in her papa’s chair, Lizzy opened the volume and ran her fingers along the bookmark that he had so recently touched in life. Ignoring the bier, Lizzy tried to imagine he was sitting at his desk as he had so often done when she occupied the wing chair.

She felt she had somehow reverted to her childhood through the events of the past day; back to the time when she was the naughty girl who could do no right. She had rejected her cousin’s offer of marriage and thus security for her family, stupidly fallen off a balcony, and through her mother’s attempts to secure their future, now likely earned the contempt of a man she was powerfully attracted to. It did not matter that there could be nothing further between them—Mr Darcy had engaged her mind as well as her sensibilities, and she hated to think that he was likely thinking ill of her. The facade of sophistication she had steadily cultivated as she grew to adulthood, increasingly aware of the power she wielded over men, fell away in an instant, and she was a wild and slightly grubby girl again; her confidence battered.

Now, when she needed him more than any time before, Elizabeth had lost her most important mainstay in the world. Her father had been a rather unreliable anchor, but one that had held her steady through many troubles. The Master of Longbourn was gone, and so too was the Bennet sisters’ social status. From the squire’s daughters, they were reduced to indigent ladies, and the veneer of quality their father had loaned them was already being eroded by their mother’s frantic opportunism. A tradesman’s daughter, Mrs Bennet had never acquired the polish to complement her beauty, which had won her the position as Mistress of Longbourn. She had remained staunchly refractory to her husband’s attempts to educate her manners, and he had eventually given up and replaced his solicitude with contempt.

Elizabeth immersed herself in memories of her father until the knocker on the front door roused her from her reverie. She recognized the voice of the curate, Mr Elliot, talking to Hill. Clearly, he had come in place of the rector. She heard the clergyman go into the breakfast parlour, but before she could return to her thoughts, Sarah appeared in the study.

“Begging your pardon, Miss Elizabeth; Mr Hyde, the undertaker, is at the back door. Would you mind dealing with him? I dare not bother the mistress.”

“Very well, Sarah. Send him in, though he may have to wait until the curate is finished. Could you please request Jane’s presence so decisions may be made?”

“Certainly, ma’am,” said Sarah, nodding and retreating.

In the end, Mr Hyde had only quickly taken some measurements before enquiring of the nature of the arrangements the Bennets desired. Jane had entered the study soon after. In the light of their circumstances, Lizzy had advocated prudence, knowing her father would have mocked spending a large sum on his departure. But Jane had been more conscious of appearances; certain standards must be upheld. She confided later that they could rightfully draw on the estate for the master’s funeral without consulting Mr Collins as it would merely be considered their father’s due. A woollen shroud and a lead-lined oak coffin were decided on, whereupon the undertaker left a pamphlet, letting them deliberate over the choice of a headstone.

Shortly after, the curate entered the room accompanied only by Mary, who had donned one of her drab grey dresses and covered her head with a black shawl. Clearly, their mother could not bring herself to re-enter the study, even to help her husband into the afterlife. Mr Elliot was around twenty-eight by Elizabeth’s calculation, having been curate to Mr Delaney since the rector’s first illness came upon him, around ten years ago. Although Elizabeth would not have described him as handsome, he was reasonably tall and well-knit with a pleasing, fresh-faced countenance, and earnest in his manner. The clergyman was carrying the Book of Common Prayer and, after expressing his condolences to the sisters, assumed a position at the foot of the bier to recite the litany.

All three sisters knelt at their papa’s side while the curate intoned the first prayer in his clear voice. During his recitation, Elizabeth heard the Hills quietly enter the room, and after the ‘amen’, the servants urged the ladies in whispers to use the dining chairs they had brought. Rising from their knees, Jane and Elizabeth gratefully sat down but when Mary expressed a wish to continue to kneel, Lizzy pushed their father’s footstool towards her, which comfort she did accept. Further prayers were delivered for the next hour, after which the curate closed his book, and bowing his head, offered a final silent prayer for the squire’s soul. The clergyman then proffered his arm to Mary to help her rise, and it was well that he did, for she had become sufficiently stiff from adopting the unaccustomed posture for so long that she wavered upon gaining her feet and might have fallen if Mr Elliot had not steadied her. He grabbed for her shoulders as she overbalanced and they both blushed profusely at the contact. Stammering his condolences, the curate departed, promising to return on the morrow to check on their welfare.

Elizabeth watched him go with some sympathy. She had suspected more than once before that the clergyman had developed a tendre for Mary; but as a curate he had no prospects, and he did not attend the Meryton assemblies or any but the driest social functions in consequence. Mr Elliot’s father had been a gentleman, which explained his son’s education, but Elizabeth had heard from Mrs Lucas that his father had lost all his money on ‘change. She understood Mr Elliot received fifty pounds a year from Mr Delaney, which was generous for a curacy; especially considering the living of Longbourn was not a particularly good one. But it was not an income that would allow the young clergyman to marry a lady. Clearly the curate had decided to remain celibate rather than marry beneath him.

Mary and Jane returned to support their mother, promising to replace Elizabeth in her vigil by their father’s body at her convenience. Lizzy sent Sarah to request one of her sisters not half an hour later, when the maid advised her that Charlotte was at the back door.

As Elizabeth made her way through the kitchens, she thought it strange, even ironic, that the next Mistress of Longbourn should be calling in such a way, but immediately realised Charlotte’s reasons.

“Charlotte, whatever are you doing out here?” Elizabeth asked upon reaching the back entrance.

“Shh, Lizzy. I got your note, and I am ever so sorry about your father, but not knowing your mother’s state of mind, I thought it best not to intrude.”

“If you are wondering if she knows of your engagement, then she does, and has accepted it remarkably well. But what of Mr Collins? Why is he not with you?”

“He had already departed for Kent, Lizzy, by the time I got your note. He wanted to start early so that he could make the trip in one day with a single pair of horses and not go to the expense of paying for accommodation.”

“Then I suppose we will have to write to him directly and apprise him of events.”

“That is exactly what I want to talk to you of, Elizabeth. Can you hold off for a couple of days?”

“Whatever for? What difference can it make?”

“I will write to him, Lizzy and try to reason with him to ensure you have adequate time to remove from Longbourn. Mr Collins expressed a wish for us to wed as soon as the banns could be read, but clearly that is impossible now. As the heir to Longbourn, it would be disrespectful for him to marry within the mourning period.”

“I do not think that stopped my parents, Charlotte,” replied Lizzy.

“There are many things to consider here, Lizzy,” returned Charlotte. “I have no wish to arrive at Longbourn when your father is hardly cold in his grave. I have spoken with my father and, as much as he is pleased that I will be the next mistress here, he thinks it would set people against us from the start. Then there is Lady Catherine to consider. Mr Collins only started as her rector at Michaelmas. Surely, she would not be glad to lose him within a twelve month?”

“There is much in what you say, Charlotte. What are you proposing?”

“That we marry and occupy Longbourn after the full twelve months of mourning.”

“And do you think you can convince my cousin of such a plan?”