“Parlour’s up there, first door on the right. My mistress is too ill to receive you, but Mrs Bennet says you can go up. Here, give us your things.”
Suppressing a smile at the unconventional welcome, Elizabeth handed over her coat, scarf, and bonnet and set off up the stairs, leaving Hannah to wait in the kitchen.
Mrs Bennet was standing in the centre of the room in a gown Elizabeth had never seen before. It suited her very well indeed, though it was considerably less modest than her usual style. Beneath her cap, her hair was rolled in what looked like silk strips and arranged to surprisingly flattering effect. In fact, for a woman whose family had been concerned she might be flagging under the strain of playing nurse, she looked quite remarkably well. She also looked excessively vexed.
“What are you doing here, Lizzy? I told you not to come!”
Elizabeth let out a small, incredulous laugh. “It is wonderful to see you, too, Mama. We have all missed you terribly.”
Mrs Bennet gave a somewhat chastened smile as she bustled forwards to take Elizabeth’s hands in greeting and kiss her on the cheek. “There, there, I have missed you too, but did you not heed my words about Mrs Randall? She is very ill.”
Elizabeth allowed herself to be flapped into a chair by her mother’s wafted handkerchief. “If you will pardon my saying so, Mama, she did not seem very ill when we met her last week.”
“How can you say such a thing? She is abed as we speak, scarcely able to lift her head off the pillow.”
If that was the case, Elizabeth wondered who had been scrambling about between rooms moments before. “It seems a strange sort of ailment that she should be able to answer the door to callers one day yet too weak to leave her bed the next.”
“That has been the nature of her suffering from the start. Just as we think she is beginning to recover, she takes another turn.”
A sceptical retort formed on Elizabeth’s lips, but she was saved from saying anything provoking when the maid returned with a tray of refreshments. She watched in silence as Mrs Bennet set about pouring her some tea without asking whether she wanted any, tapping the strainer on the side of the cup exactly as she always did at home. Elizabeth found herself smiling fondly. She had missed her—more than she realised.
“But how have you been, Mama? How was your Christmas?”
“I have made the best of it, as I always do in any difficult situation. But it has not been all doom and gloom. Mrs Randall has a very comfortable home here.”
“So I see! You look very well. That is a pretty colour on you.”
Mrs Bennet preened, running her hands over her skirts. “It was a gift from Mrs Randall. She has been exceedingly generous. Anything to make me comfortable while I am here.”
“I am pleased. I was worried you would be tired from looking after her for so long—and without Hill or any of us to help.”
“You must not concern yourself on that score. I cannot remember ever having such a quiet Christmas.”
Elizabeth took the cup her mother held out for her. “It has not been too dull, I hope. I know you like lots of entertainments at this time of year.”
“I do, that is true, but Mrs Randall has had plenty of visitors, so I have not been without company.”
Elizabeth could not help but bristle slightly. “How strange thattheywere not asked to stay away if Mrs Randall has been so terribly indisposed.”
Her mother sat up straighter. “You are being quite obtuse, Lizzy. She has obviously been able to get out of bed sometimes, as you saw for yourself. Good heavens, the poor woman would have gone distracted without the occasional diversion, thoughLord knows she pays the price each time. She insisted on attending services at St Paul’s on Christmas Day and then was quite spent for three days complete afterwards!”
Elizabeth felt bad pressing the point, and perhaps it was her father’s concerns playing on her mind, but she could not shake her doubts. “Mama, St Paul’s Cathedral is miles away. Mrs Randall must have been feeling particularly well that day.”
“No, no, not the cathedral—the church, around the corner on Bedford Street.” Mrs Bennet’s affront vanished, replaced with an animated expression. “All the actors go there you know. And you will never guess, but we saw Sarah Siddons! We did not get to speak to her, which was a shame, and quite the slight if you ask me, for Mr Randall was apparently acquainted with her before he died.”
“Was he?”
“Oh yes! He saw her perform many times over the years, though he was never able to arrange for Mrs Randall to appear with her on the stage.”
“Mrs Randall is an actress?” Elizabeth asked in surprise.
“She was, in her day. That is how she met her husband. Did you not know?”
“You never mentioned it. Is it quite respectable for you to be staying with her?”
“Perfectly!” Mrs Bennet snapped. “Besides, she has given it up, so it is neither here nor there.”
“Very well, Mama,” Elizabeth conceded resignedly. “In any case, it sounds as though you have, in fact, been merrily entertained.”
