Jane spoke carefully.“Take Sir William Lucas for example.He is a sociable and voluble man, and you decided long ago he was silly, and a little irritating, but essentially harmless.”
“I do not take your point.”
“Sir William ran a successful business for many years—successful enough for him to purchase Lucas Lodge.A silly man could not have done such a thing.”
Elizabeth looked thoughtful.
“And he was in the army for a time when he was younger.I have heard Papa mention it enough to know he is not harmless either.”
Elizabeth sighed.“So you believe I have misunderstood Sir William entirely?”
“Not entirely.After all, he is sociable and fond of conversation.”
“And of titles.”
Jane shot her a look.“But that is notallhe is.People are more complex than that.”
“I know people are complex, Jane.That is what makes them so interesting.”
“Do you truly believe that?Or do you think only certain people are complex, and the rest are there for your amusement?”
Elizabeth leaned back in surprise.“That is harsh, Jane.I do not think anyone exists merely for my amusement.”
Jane looked down.“Forgive me.I did not mean it in that way.I simply worry sometimes that you are looking at the world too cynically, as Papa does.We have heard him say it often enough: ‘What do we live for but to make sport of our neighbors?’It is a bleak outlook.”
“He also says they make sport of us in their turn, but I take your point.”She chewed the inside of her lip.“Do you truly think I have become so like Papa?”
“Not truly, but I fear you are headed in that direction.Papa is not a happy person, Lizzy.Surely you see that.I would wish better for you.”
Elizabeth was taken aback.She had not thought about her father’s happiness.He was always making sport of someone or another and often had a smile on his face—albeit a sardonic one.She would not have thought he suffered depressed spirits.
“I shall go for a walk while the sun is shining.”She rose and headed towards her door.
“I hope I have not upset you, Lizzy,” said Jane, distress evident in her voice.
“You have not.I merely wish for some air, and I will think on what you have said.I will confess that you have quite surprised me this morning.”She gave her sister a reassuring smile.“I shall return in an hour.”
Elizabeth wandered through the garden farthest from the house, thinking on what Jane had said to her.Was she cynical?Had she become too much like her father?And was he unhappy with his life?Only a few minutes’ contemplation answered the last for her.Of course, he was not happy.A man happy with his life did not hide away in his bookroom and ignore his family.
She felt a pang of sadness for her father.He had not chosen his wife well.To make matters worse, he did not have the disposition or the talent to improve the situation once he realized that.A more patient man might have been able to teach Mrs.Bennet, at least a little.A more disciplined man would have saved for the future or built a dower house for his wife to live in after his passing.
It was all well and good for Mr.Bennet to laugh about his wife’s concerns, but Mrs.Bennet was not entirely incorrect in her predictions of the future.She would not live in the hedgerows with a few hundred pounds a year and two brothers doing well in the world, but she was correct that they would not live in their current comfort, and their stations would necessarily decrease.Was Mr.Bennet pretending it would not happen?Was he paralyzed with indecision?Elizabeth cynically thought that was unlikely to be the case.Was he simply ignoring anything that appeared difficult, as he often did?It would be easy to ignore a problem when said problem would not show its face until he had shuffled off this mortal coil.
Elizabeth could not help but think it was terribly selfish of him, though, and cowardly.A grown man, a father, ought to face his responsibilities in life—even if he did not wish to.Mr.Bennet was intelligent, well-educated, and incredibly privileged.He could have easily told Mrs.Bennet their income was slightly less than it truly was and saved the difference.He could have, and indeed he should have, begun building a dower house after Lydia was born.Even before then!Just because they might have a son did not mean Mrs.Bennet would wish to live with him.
The more she thought on it, the angrier she became at her father.He had disrespected Mrs.Bennet in more ways than she could enumerate, and he had laughed whilst he did it—in front of her own children!Elizabeth felt a swell of sympathy for her mother.She was a silly woman and more than a little ridiculous at times, but her mother loved her family and was sincerely worried for their futures.She was going about dealing with their troubles in all the wrong ways, but at least she was making an attempt.Her father did nothing.Nothing!He only sat in his bookroom and made sarcastic comments he knew his wife could not understand.
Elizabeth stomped over the gravel paths winding through the shrubbery.Finally, guilt overwhelmed her.She had treated her mother with the same disdain her father had.Her own mother!She did not agree with Mrs.Bennet’s methods, and her mother’s ignorance was more than a little trying, but she was still her mother.Elizabeth may have the greater share of intelligence, but did that not mean she should have the greater share of patience as well?
She groaned and sank onto a stone bench, the cold seeping through her cloak and gown.She was a terrible daughter.Mrs.Bennet had risked her life to bring Elizabeth into the world, and how was she repaid for that selfless act?With sarcasm and disdain and impertinence.Elizabeth shook her head and told herself she simply must do better.She knew it would be difficult, but she could try to be kind to her mother and perhaps to show her the kind of understanding she should have gotten from her husband.
Suddenly, she realized why Jane was Mrs.Bennet’s favorite child.It was not only because she was beautiful and had a pleasant nature.Jane was unerringly patient with their mother and never treated her as if she were less than other members of the family.Elizabeth felt incredibly stupid for not having realized that sooner, ashamed of her past behavior, and excessively disappointed in her father.He should not have behaved so, and he should not have taught her to do the same.
She stood from the bench and brushed off her skirt, needing motion to calm her mind.She wandered through the shrubbery garden while running her hand aimlessly over the green leaves.Another thought came to her.She had seen many dreams in her future, but her parents had never featured in any of them.In one dream, she had read a letter from Kitty and remembered reading that her younger sister had been delivered of a baby girl, but she could not remember anything about her parents.She did not think there had been much about Mary or Lydia either in her dreams—though she would have to read through her journals to be sure.
What did it mean?Was she not in contact with her family?Had her parents died?Or was it similar to what she had thought about Jane before—the dreams were not whatwouldhappen, but whatcould?Could she change her parents’ fate or her sisters’?Did she wish to?And more importantly, should she?
Chapter 7
