“Oh, if only you were prettier—I had hoped. Oh, why would he choose you, my ugliest daughter, to dance a full set with? Out of all the room you were the only person not of his own party. And he even did this after Lydia had not met his high standards.”
Mary’s expression was flat. She was trying to hide any emotion, but she clearly was hurt by the fervor with which Mrs. Bennet said this. “It does not signify. It has no import. As many have written, ‘Carnal beauty is but skin deep.’”
“Nonsense! Stop saying such hateful nonsense. There is nothing more important about a girl than how she looks,” Mrs.Bennet exclaimed. “These books have rotted your brain. Mr. Bennet should not have let you read so much. It has not been good for you. Look at me. It was not my brains which drew Mr. Bennet to marry me.” She laughed thinly. “Quite the opposite.”
“I know that I am not as pretty as the others, nor so likely to make a good marriage. It is for this cause that I dedicate myself to useful accomplishments,” Mary replied in a tone that showed to Elizabeth that while she was striving to show the respect these books told her ought to be directed towards her parents, that the girl was deeply upset by the words of her mother.
“If only you were pretty!” Mrs. Bennet said again. “You have a face which only a mother such as I could love—It tortures my nerves! I feel such fluttering and pangs when I think of how little worth looking at you are.”
Mr. Darcy was near them again, and he gravely observed this conversation.
“Heavens,” Mrs. Bennet added, “I do not know how we’ll support you when Mr. Bennet dies. Nor you either, Lizzy. I do care for you, but you shall need to find a place for yourself. My resources will be saved for my blood.”
“That is only proper,” Elizabeth replied automatically. “I am always very grateful to you.”
“Don’t think Mr. Bennet shall do anything for you. He only thinks of us. You have gotten enough frommyresources by being raised as a gentlewoman. Oh! I am so anxious. So anxious when I think of how I have four girls, all out, and not one of them in the way of being married.”
Mr. Darcy withdrew. Perhaps he had noticed that Elizabeth had noticed that he was close enough to hear them again.
Elizabeth did not feel any of the anxiety which Mrs. Bennet no doubt hoped to reduce in herself by pushing iton Elizabeth. She rather expected that Mr. Bennetwoulddo something for her, though it would no doubt be quite modest. But unless circumstances made it requisite for Elizabeth to be informed earlier, Mr. Bennet would only inform Mrs. Bennet about this terrible kindness in his will.
Even if she should not rely upon this, it was difficult for Elizabeth to think about the future.
She could not try to attach a gentleman while her illegitimacy was hidden. This may have been why Mr. Bennet kept her birth hidden. If no one, including Elizabeth, knew, she could have tried to find a gentleman to marry. No one’s conscience would need to be guilty but Mr. Bennet’s own.
Elizabeth could not forget. Her bastardy had been beaten into her.
But besides marriage, there was nothing that she could do. Elizabeth did not have the education to become a governess. Except in the case of dancing, where Mr. Bennet had insisted that Elizabeth would learn what was necessary, Mrs. Bennet excluded Elizabeth when masters had been brought for the other daughters.
Instead, she had learned Latin and Greek from Mr. Bennet, sitting on his knee. He’d taught her to shoot, both hunting rifles and a small lady’s pistol that he encouraged her to keep about her, and he’d taught her mathematics and astronomy.
The man she wished she could callPapahad taught her to take joy in the things that he took joy in.
Chapter Four
Shortly after that party at Lucas Lodge Jane received an invitation to spend the day with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. Elizabeth could only smile at the way that the letter had been written, “A whole day’stete-a-tetebetween two women can never end without a quarrel.”
The claim seemed mostly true.
At least whenever Bennet daughters were all forced together due to inclement weather, inevitably quarrels arose. Elizabeth, however, had the right to retreat to Mr. Bennet’s library to escape the commotion, a right which he gave to neither his wife nor to any of his daughters.
Jane was sent off on horseback into the cloudy sky, which soon turned into pouring rain.
Though she had a little worry for the eldest daughter of the house, Elizabeth thought little about Jane for the rest of the evening. She enjoyed the view of the rain from Mr. Bennet’s library, watching it soak the trees, and the garden swing set out in the yard beneath Mr. Bennet’s window.
They spent their daily thirty minutes of conversation in Greek, for the sake of maintaining the proficiency that Mr. Bennet treasured, and she then turned to a novel in English. However, upon completing this gothic romance, Elizabeth decided that it had been too long: She took Papa’sIliadfrom the shelf, for the first time in two years, and began to read.
Surprisingly she found herself wholly engaged.
Both the effort to read in Greek, which was always slower than English, and the tale of foolish men, wrecking ruin upon themselves and the women around them, enchanted her.
Achilles’ baneful wrath resound, O Goddess, that imposed infinite sorrows on the Greeks, and many brave soulsloosed from breasts heroic; sent them far to that invisible cave that no light comforts; and their limbs to dogs and vultures gave.
The evening brought no return of Jane, but the morning brought news: She was ill, she begged them not to worry, and she had been given leave by her dear friends Caroline and Louisa to rest in their house for however long it would take for her to recover.
This letter was sweet nectar to Mrs. Bennet’s soul.
Her scheme of sending Jane off into the rain by horse had been repaid manyfold. To have Jane resident as an invalid in Mr. Bingley’s house for a period of days! What a joy!
