Eight
Breakfast the next morning at Longbourn was lively, if uneven in mood. The fire crackled in the hearth, and the teapot steamed, but no amount of domestic comfort could entirely smooth the edges left by the previous night’s events.
Mrs. Bennet was in fine spirits, a clear sign she had misunderstood the entire situation and believed everything was proceeding according to her matchmaking plans, which was obviously wrong.
“Well! I declare, last night was a triumph. Did you see how polite those officers were? And poor Mr. Wickham—so gallant, even after that unfortunate little mishap!” she said with eager satisfaction, ladling sugar into her tea as if to sweeten the memory.
Mr. Bennet regarded her from behind his spectacles with unmistakable dryness. “Indeed, my dear,” he said, tapping his spoon once against his saucer. “He will forever remember Longbourn’s hospitality as both warm and brothy. Poor fellow!”
Elizabeth hid a smile behind her cup, while Jane looked on with gentle concern.
As the eldest, Jane ventured carefully, “I thought Mr. Denny handled everything very well. He seems a kind sort.”
Mrs. Bennet nodded with enthusiasm. “Quite so! Very obliging, very polite—and so attentive to Kitty and Lydia. It is only prudent to encourage such connections.”
Mr. Bennet gave a mild snort. “Ah, prudent. Is that what you call squealing and giggling so much they nearly fell off the sofa?”
Kitty flushed.
Lydia scowled at her father and kicked at the rug. “Papa! We were only friendly. Mr. Denny likes us,” she insisted, her voice sharp with adolescent indignation.
“Yes,” Mr. Bennet said, one eyebrow rising. “He struck me as dangerously good-natured. Far too good for you, Lydia. He seemed to favour Kitty, which is better, but I suspect her candour reminds him of his sisters. Nothing more.”
Elizabeth choked on a laugh. Jane cast her a reproving glance, trying to maintain calm.
Mrs. Bennet ignored them both, charging ahead. “Really, Mr. Bennet! You delight in scolding them. I see no harm in forming acquaintance with officers. They are so respectable—and good marriages have begun with less.”
Elizabeth stirred her tea slowly, watching the steam rise. “Is it respectable to dodge every question Papa asked? If so, I thought Mr. Wickham was… interestingly evasive.”
“Lizzy… perhaps he did not want to speak of unhappy matters at dinner. It might have embarrassed him,” Jane said gently, frowning a little.
Elizabeth sighed but gave her sister a gentle look. “Perhaps. You are always kinder than I am.”
Mr. Bennet folded his paper noisily and set it aside. “Fortunately for the family, you are both present: one to suspect motives, and the other to forgive them.”
Mrs. Bennet made an exasperated sound and buttered her toast with unnecessary force. “You would see motives in a glass of water! Honestly, I think it was excellent they visited. And Mr. Bingley was the soul of good breeding! See how nicely he stayed to apologize for Wickham. He even sat for another quarter hour just to make sure no offence was taken. Such a considerate young man!”
“True,” Mr. Bennet admitted with a nod.
Jane’s colour rose delicately. She lowered her eyes. “He is very thoughtful,” she admitted softly.
“So thoughtful he risked Mama’s third round of questioning. Heroic, really.” Elizabeth leaned over to nudge Jane with a smile.
Mrs. Bennet brightened immediately at the mention of Bingley. “I like Mr. Bingley! Such manners, such a fine temper. Mark my words, Jane—you could do far worse.”
Jane sighed, trying to hide her pleased expression behind modesty. “Mama, please...”
Mr. Bennet cut in with dry amusement. “And you, Lydia, could do far better than any Militia officer, I hope—unless you wish to march with the regiment every season.”
“You are impossible, Mr. Bennet.” Mrs. Bennet slapped down her knife with a huff. “What would you have me do? Tell them to refuse to speak to any young man?”
“Not at all, my dear,” he said with perfect calm. “Only that they listen when young men speak. Mr. Wickham said little that comforted me about his prospects. And you, my love, would have him son-in-law before the broth cooled.”
Mrs. Bennet blushed scarlet and huffed. “Well! I shall not be lectured at breakfast.”
“But, Papa. You must admit the broth had the final word last night.” Elizabeth’s smile turned sly.
Lydia giggled wildly at that. Kitty joined her, while even Jane fought a reluctant smile.
