The governess smiled and replied, “Oh, yes, indeed. Little Miss-Information recently told me geese do not mind fowl weather and find it just ducky. Miss Lydia, please repeat what you told me this morning about your pony.”
At seven years of age, Lydia Bennet obviously followed in her father’s footsteps and was a constant source of amusement to most of her family. Her dark eyes sparkled mischievously as she took great delight in responding, “I believe Miss Edwards is referring to the fact my pony has lately been giving me a lot of whoa.”
Kitty, as the family called Catherine, was much more serious and missish at one and ten years; she rolled her eyes as the others laughed at Lydia’s nonsense. In Kitty’s opinion, her young sister should not have been allowed to run on in such a wild manner, as she was no longer the baby of the family.
Mrs. Hill, Longbourn’s housekeeper, arrived with the rosewood tea caddy; Mrs. Bennet opened the ornate box with a tiny key that dangled from the chatelaine at her waist. A pot of the hot commodity was prepared, and the caddy was locked again and taken away by Mrs. Hill for safekeeping. When the two eldest sisters and their sleeping brother were alone with their mother, Mrs. Bennet said, “It is so pleasant to have you home again, my dears, for you have been greatly missed. I suppose I should prepare myself for eventually losing you both to charming young men. In the meantime, let us always make the most of our time together. So, tell me of your adventures in Derbyshire with my brother and sister-in-law and about your visit with our darling Mary in London, and then you shall hear of Hertfordshire’s latest news.”
Elizabeth carried the napping Robert to a sofa, gently transferred him, and placed a velvet cushion beneath his head. She then returned to her chair and explained, “I did not want to risk scalding him, which reminds me, Papa once said tea is very beneficial because boiling water raises your self-of-steam.”
“Lizzy, for the life of me, I do not know who is the worst, you, Lydia, or your father,” laughed Mrs. Bennet. “You are like three peas in a pod, in looks and in temperament. My goodness, speaking of legumes, do you remember the uproar when, at the dinner table, he told you to eat every bean and pea on your plate?”
Jane blushed and exclaimed, “Mother!”
Elizabeth groaned and changed the subject to their visit with Mary and their travels to and from Derbyshire. The ‘encounter on the lawn’, as the sisters referred to it, was entirely omitted from the narration about Pemberley.
Mrs. Bennet was glad her girls had new acquaintances whose family also owned a townhouse in London, for those friends might prove beneficial when she broached a rather delicate subject to Jane and Elizabeth; but she postponed it to relate bits and pieces of the happenings in and around Longbourn during their absence.
She spoke of the bout of gout suffered by Purvis Lodge’s butler. The former army officer, Lieutenant Domo, had been wounded and left the rank and file of the military without being promoted to Major.
Then she told her daughters about the wedding between the young and pretty Miss Greedy and the ancient but very rich Mr. Gerry Atric and how Sir William Lucas kept saying their marriage was “capital, capital.”
Lastly, they heard about the evening Miss Sylvana Forester became lost in the woods. “Yes, my dears, it was a horrible ordeal that stretched into the night and wee hours of the morning. A search party was organized to try and locate the poor young woman. There was quite a collection of helpers, you know, as the entire community was involved and desperate for her recovery. Well, your father sent out helpers from Longbourn to search in the dark and one of our young tenants, in particular, carried a torch for her. She was, of course, finally located; and I believe Miss Forester will soon become matched with our own Mr. Cresset, whose name, coincidentally, means torch.”
Longbourn’s sweet little heir, Robert Bennet, stirred; and the nursery maid was summoned. The boy kissed his mother’s cheek, gave his sisters sloppy raspberries, and then readily took Alice’s hand. He eagerly anticipated playing with his favourite toys and chattered happily to the maid as he skipped along at her side. The room’s three remaining occupants smiled at the little chatterbox’s retreating form.
Mrs. Bennet said, “Your father and I have been blessed with five lovely daughters and finally a heaven-sent son. It is our fondest wish you both have families of your own some time soon. We have already promised not to arrange marriages against your wishes. Nevertheless, because our own community suffers from a dearth of eligible young men, we have discussed the possibility of spending some time in London before long in order to broaden your sphere of potential suit … ” Jane and Elizabeth interrupted with protests but were cut off by their mother. “Girls, you know better than to interrupt. Please, just listen for a moment; and be assured your father and I will not forcibly push you into the Marriage Mart. He and I long ago agreed we would be heartbroken should any of our offspring end up in a loveless marriage. Even so, you must agree it is time to start considering your futures. So Jane, please tell me of your concerns and wishes.”
Jane, unsure how to begin, blushed and said, “Mama, I know you and Papa have our best interests at heart, and I thank you. However, it makes me cringe to imagine being paraded about at Almack’s similar to prize horseflesh at Tattersalls. Please tell me you have not arranged a voucher in order for us to attend that exclusive … den of iniquity!”
Lizzy snorted and instantly covered the sound by coughing delicately into her handkerchief. Mrs. Bennet shot Elizabeth a look before addressing her other offspring. “Shame on you, Jane. Almack’s is hardly a den of iniquity; in fact, the patronesses are extremely fussy about its members and would never allow impropriety of any sort. Be that as it may, I certainly have no intention of parading any daughter of mine through that … den of inequality and inimitable snobbish elitism of le bon ton. As for you, Miss Lizzy, while we are speaking of impropriety, please do not snort; it is most unladylike. So now then, Jane, how do you envision the course of your future happiness?”
“Truthfully, Mama, I simply want a loving relationship like you and Papa share. I wish to meet an amiable young man, fall in love, and have him return such regard without consideration of my £12,000 dowry. I realize, with so many sisters, the amount is not an overly tempting fortune. Just the same, I would wish to form an attachment that does not have money as its foundation.”
“I believe what Jane is trying to say, Mama, is she could never be one of those people who wed only for the matri-money; and before you ask, that is my stance as well.”
“Elizabeth Frances Bennet, I realize I have your other parent to thank for that saucy tongue of yours, but please be serious and tell me your thoughts on going to London for the Little Season. I should mention the purpose of today’s meeting between your father and Mr. Whitelaw is to discuss the family’s potential absence from September to November. It will be of little consequence to our steward if we are not at Longbourn for Michaelmas, and we would certainly return home in time for Christmas. If nothing else, Lizzy, think of the variety of entertainments in which we can all partake during those months in town. Perhaps you could even visit with your new friends while in the city.”
“Actually, Mama, I would very much enjoy visiting with Georgiana and Anna, attending a few art exhibits, perhaps the opera, and a Shakespeare play or two.”
Mrs. Bennet grinned and agreed. “A little Shakespeare would set me up forever.”
Jane slouched down in her seat, crossed her arms, and muttered, “And yet I am unmoved. I do not want to return to London again so soon. Lizzy and I just arrived home, and I would prefer to remain here in the country.”
“Oh, do sit up straight, Jane! Good heavens, girls, between the snorting and the slouching, I am beginning to have second thoughts about these new friends you associated with in the north. You both appear to have recently acquired the horrendous manners of barbarians.”
Seemingly out of the blue, Mrs. Bennet’s two normally ladylike eldest daughters had an uncontrollable fit of the giggles. Their mother hastily excused herself from the room and narrowly escaped succumbing to their contagious rampant laughter.
After collecting Mary at the seminary, two fine carriages, bursting at the seams, arrived at the Bennet family’s London townhouse. Each equipage deposited a parent and three offspring as well as a multitude of sundry belongings. Several carts had arrived earlier in the week with the numerous trunks necessary for eight residents to have an extended stay in the city, and many of Longbourn’s servants had also traveled to town in order to resume their duties with the happy family. Only a skeleton staff remained behind in Hertfordshire to keep the country estate operating in prime condition. Mrs. Susanna Palmer, the London housekeeper, had suddenly been inundated with questions and requests from many servants hustling and bustling about in order to settle the family comfortably.
Little Robert Bennet was thrilled by the novelty of an unfamiliar residence, as he could not remember being at the townhouse previously. Alice was challenged to keep her energetic little charge occupied in the nursery when
