“What do you suppose we should do when the regiment departs?” asked Elizabeth of her father that morning after breakfast.
Mr. Bennet regarded her, apparently understanding her reference at once. “You speak of their behavior beyond what we witness in the company of the officers.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Preventing Lydia from going to Brighton will not reform her or make her more sensible, Papa. She and Kitty will still be ignorant, heedless girls—the coming of the regiment did not provoke their poor behavior.”
“No, I suppose it did not,” mused Mr. Bennet. “Kitty had only just come out months before the regiment arrived and your mother insisted leaving Lydia at home would be cruel; I recall one night in particular when Lydia returned from an assembly claiming to have danced every set and teasing Mary about her lack of partners.”
“That was the first assembly the Netherfield party attended,”replied Elizabeth. “Of course, Lydia overstated the matter. Mary rarely has many partners, and she prefers it that way, but shedoesdance, the same as any of us. I have stood up with her a time or two when gentlemen were scarce.”
“In some ways, Mary is just as silly as Kitty or Lydia,” observed Mr. Bennet.
“Perhaps she can be,” said Elizabeth. “Yet Mary’s deficiencies are not the lack of understanding or the prevalence of high spirits.”
“No, in Mary’s case, it is her reliance on Fordyce and her sonorous dirges.”
“Papa,” chided Elizabeth. “Mary would grow much if guided properly.”
“Yes, I suppose she would at that,” replied Mr. Bennet. “It is only that guidance requires effort, and I do not know if I possess the endurance to provide it.”
“Then we should establish a more structured environment,” said Elizabeth.
“You may be correct,” agreed Mr. Bennet, appearing thoughtful. “Let us table this discussion for now, Lizzy. I shall need to think on it.”
Elizabeth agreed and allowed the subject to rest. There was little reason to make herself unhappy about it, regardless of how much her sisters’ lack of good behavior worried her. That her father had seen the necessity of barring Lydia from Brighton was the greatest relief. For anything else, she would need to wait, offer her opinion when asked, and trust that her father would not allow them to continue as they were.
After the departure of the two youngest Bennets, they received visitors at Longbourn. While Elizabeth was pleased to see Anne, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr. Bingley, and even Mr. Darcy, Lady Catherine’s society was more often a trial than anything else. Of more immediate interest, however, was the presence of Mrs.Hurst and Miss Bingley, for Elizabeth had thought they were not to come to Hertfordshire. Of Mr. Hurst, there was no sign, leading Elizabeth to suspect he had not thought his presence on a morning visit was necessary.
“Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley,” said Mrs. Bennet, showing the surprise Elizabeth felt. “Welcome to Longbourn. I had not thought you were in residence at Netherfield.”
Miss Bingley sniffed with disdain, but Mrs. Hurst possessed a firmer grasp of proper behavior as she answered for the sisters. “My husband, my sister, and I arrived yesterday. As my brother does not have a hostess, joining him here was desirable, and we had no other urgent plans for the summer.”
This was, Elizabeth knew, something of a fiction, for Mr. Bingley had sent his family to the north. It appeared they had decided against it, and Elizabeth was certain she understood the reason, not that she thought it would do Miss Bingley any good. Mr. Bingley, the moment he entered the room, approached Jane and greeted her, and while Miss Bingley made some attempt at a polite greeting, it was more distant and insolent than anything Elizabeth had ever witnessed toward her elder sister. Jane accepted Miss Bingley’s gesture with a muted greeting of her own, thereafter concentrating her attention on Mr. Bingley. It was fortunate that Jane had allowed her experiences with this woman to guide her behavior, for Elizabeth would not have her sister taken in again.
Then Anne stepped close and greeted her, leaving Elizabeth with no attention for Miss Bingley. “It is wonderful to see you again, my friend. Had yesterday not been a day for resting from our exertions, I might have braved my fatigue and visited.”
“Then it is well I prevailed,” said Lady Catherine from where she stood nearby. “You know how you need your rest, Anne.”
“Of course, Mother,” said Anne, presenting the picture of a dutiful daughter to her mother. In Elizabeth’s sight only, Annerolled her eyes, much to her amusement though she endeavored to suppress it.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy, stepping close after greeting Elizabeth’s mother, “how do you do?”
“I am well, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. Then cheekily she added: “I did not travel from Rosings yesterday, so there is no need to concern yourself for me.”
Anne’s tinkling laughter met Elizabeth’s statement, while Mr. Darcy only smiled and nodded. Thereafter, at Elizabeth’s invitation, they sat together. It did not escape Elizabeth’s attention that Miss Bingley did not appear to appreciate the proximity of either Mr. Darcy or Anne to her, but she decided she would not concern herself for the woman’s ill humors. Miss Bingley instead sat close to Mrs. Hurst and whispered to her, barely deigning to say a word to anyone else.
“Howareyou today, Anne?” asked Elizabeth quietly, careful to avoid Miss Bingley overhearing, certain as she was that the woman knew nothing of the events from two days before. “I hope you are recovered from your adventure.”
“Yes, I am very well,” said Anne. “Though my mother often bemoans my lack of constitution, I am not nearly so sickly as she would like to believe.”
“It comes from her experiences with your brother,” supplied Mr. Darcy.
“Brother?” asked Elizabeth, intrigued. “I heard nothing of a brother.”
“He died when I was naught but four,” replied Anne. “I do not remember him well at all.”
“I remember him better,” said Mr. Darcy. “As I am three years Anne’s elder, her brother was of an age with me, only a few months younger. So far as I recall, Peter de Bourgh was the picture of health until he suddenly took ill and passed away.”
“And as I was always a sicklier child,” said Anne, “Motherfeared the same thing happening with me, and coddled me to prevent it.”
