“Hedid!” said Mrs. Bennet, her eyes widening.
“If you watch him now,” said Jane, “it is beyond dispute that he has repented of that position. He seems to like Lizzy very well now.”
That, it seemed, was enough for Mrs. Bennet, for she nodded with satisfaction. Elizabeth turned back to Mary, and for a time they spoke of Georgiana and Mary’s desire to maintain a friendship with her, though that consisted more of Mary speaking of her hopes and Elizabeth listening. It was, she supposed, something of a departure for Mary, who had always seemed self-sufficient. That she had found a girl she thought well enough to wish for a friendship was welcome, for perhaps it would bring Mary out of her shell.
As for Mrs. Bennet, she kept a close watch on all her offspring that evening, though she watched Lydia and Kitty more particularly. Lydia’s jibes at Mary were not at an end, and every so often she made some cutting remark, which Mary or Elizabeth parried calmly. Lydia did not notice, but every time she spoke, her mother’s expression became a little darker. Finally, her mother’s temper appeared to reach a breaking point when Kitty and Lydia were giggling and carrying on about something or another—Elizabeth did not know what it was.
“Do you girls not have something to occupy yourselves?” demanded she. “Perhaps you should find something useful to do.”
“La!” exclaimed Lydia, quite put out. “Weareoccupying ourselves.” The girl paused and her expression turned dark as she spat: “If you had not prevented me from going to Brighton, I might be engaged in consequential activities at this very moment.”
“That matter is closed, Lydia,” snapped her mother. “It wouldbe best to allow it to rest.”
Lydia huffed and rose to her feet. “Come, Kitty, let us return to my room. It appears our family does not appreciate us.”
Kitty giggling by her side, the two exited the room, the sounds of their departure up the stairs echoing after them. Mrs. Bennet could take no more, for she rose, muttering as she went, and followed them from the room. Not long after, Elizabeth could hear her mother’s knocking on her father’s door.
“What do you suppose that is about?” asked Mary.
“I think we would do better not to ask,” said Elizabeth.
Mary accepted this, but Elizabeth turned her thoughts back to her mother. It seemed she was ready to act. How Lady Catherine’s advice would affect her Elizabeth could not quite say, but it appeared she was ready to speak to her husband and do something about her youngest.
Chapter XXVII
Mr. Bennet calling Elizabeth into his study was not an unusual occurrence. Father and daughter were close, often sharing a morning discussing their recent reading, or Mr. Bennet relating some matter of the estate that troubled him. Since the last time Elizabeth had approached him when she had argued against Lydia going to Brighton, she had spent little time in her father’s room. Yet she knew it was open to her whenever she wished, a privilege not so readily available to her sisters.
Thus, Elizabeth was not at a loss for the reason Mr. Bennet might wish to speak to her. If her suspicions were correct, her mother had approached her father, and he wanted her advice. Her father, however, proved more insightful than Elizabeth had expected.
“Did you know your mother approached me last night?” asked Mr. Bennet.
“I will own that I had some notion of it,” replied Elizabeth.
“And do you know of what she wished to speak?”
“Given her annoyance at Kitty and Lydia last night, I suppose it was something about the girls,” ventured Elizabeth.
Mr. Bennet regarded her, introspective and perhaps even a little speculative. “Then allow me to explain what happened. I was enjoying a good book yesterday evening when your mother invaded my study.”
After a momentary pause, Mr. Bennet chuckled to himself. “That was also a surprise, for your mother rarely remembers to knock, and when she does it sounds like an earthquake. Last night, however, I almost thoughtyouwere outside my door rather than your mother.”
“What did she want?”
“At first, I paid little attention to her. Your mother so often has a bee in her bonnet that it is easier to allow her to have her head when she is excited; she rarely requires a response when she is in such a state.
“Yet last night she came into my room, complaining about the behavior of our youngest daughters, certain they would ruin us all and render it impossible for her eldest daughters to marry. Not only did Jane, who has that puppy Bingley sniffing around her, figure prominently in her diatribe, but it surprised me to hear the names ‘Mr. Darcy’ and ‘Lizzy’ pass her lips together, apparently in relation to each other. Is there something of which you have not been telling me, Lizzy?”
It was hard, but Elizabeth held the blush from staining her cheeks—or she thought she did, for she remained calm. Mr. Bennet seemed to sense something of her mortification, for the chuckles in which he had been indulging since she entered his room returned.
“It was not as if I did not notice something of Darcy’s interest in you, of course,” said he, his tone completely offhand. “The gentleman has proven himself to be an excellent sort, and I am not so old that I do not recall the look of a man besotted with a woman. But your mother, for all her powers of perception for any men showing even a hint of interest in her daughters, remained stubbornly obtuse until last night.”
Mr. Bennet shrugged and added: “That is all interesting, of course, but hardly germane to the subject at hand. After she ranted at some length about your sisters, your mother made a most surprising demand.”
“And that was?” asked Elizabeth, curious to hear what conclusions her mother drew.
“Why, she wants to hire a companion.”
“That is . . . interesting,” said Elizabeth.
