Mr Bennet closed his book and sat forward. “Those are not novels, they are literature!”
“Oh…then pray explain to me the difference between a novel and a work of literature.” She smiled expectantly, and the young women hardly dared blink, lest they interrupt the exchange.
“A fictional story may be called literature if it deals with matters of substance, suitable for serious contemplation,” he answered with assurance.
“I see.” She nodded thoughtfully. “I am assuming you would not include matters of the heart in that category.”
“Generally, no. Not as the primary topic, certainly.”
“But a work of fiction which looked deeply into such issues as class, society, and economics, which also contained a romance between two of the many characters, that would be worthy of the higher designation?”
“Likely, yes,” he agreed.
“I find it curious that by your standards,The Taming of the Shrewis not literature, whileEvelinais.”
Mr Bennet sputtered. “Shakespeare, not literature? Preposterous!”
Mrs Hurst smiled. “The play I mentioned centres around two romances. There are other elements, of course, but those are at the core of it. And if you revise your definition to allow for matters of the heart to drive the plot, you will only be allowing for more of mysilly booksto be classed as literature.”
“And what serious topics does that book you were just recommending to my daughter canvass?” he enquired acerbically, put out to find that he was suddenly losing an argument he thought he had well in hand.
“Class and morality,” she answered without hesitation. “In particular, the poor manner in which the gentry may be treated by higher society, and the ruinous decadence of some in the highest spheres. I thought Kitty might like it because the heroine is just her age, and has lived entirely in the country before events unexpectedly take her to London.”
“And there, I suppose, she meets and marries a lord?”
“You may read it, sir, and find out.”
Mr Bennet laughed and held up his hands. “Very well, madam, you have bested me. I shall read this book of yours, if you will lend it.”
* * *
Handing the book back to Mrs Hurst at breakfast the morning after he finished it, he said, “Madam, you were correct. I enjoyed the story and it certainly did give me much to think upon. I shall never deride novels in general again.”
His daughters gaped, but Mrs Hurst smiled. “May I ask the substance of your reflections upon the story?”
“It put me in mind of Jane and Lizzy, and what they may soon face,” he replied with a furrowed brow. “Lizzy will not allow anyone to make her unhappy for long, but my Jane is not so indomitable, nor will she have the protection of the Darcy name, or the Darcy glower.”
She nodded sympathetically. “I think shewillhave the protection of the Darcy glower, as she will be his sister, but I see what you mean. Unlike Darcy, however, my brother and Jane may easily retire to the country and give them all no further thought if they do not enjoy London. Or they may choose to move in less exalted circles.”
“Does your brother not wish to raise the Bingley name?” Mr Bennet asked.
Mrs Hurst shrugged. “By purchasing an estate and marrying the daughter of a gentleman, he will do so. His children will be born into the gentry, which is no small thing.”
“I simply do not wish to see Jane made unhappy, even long enough for them to decide they want no part of that circle.”
“She will not have a life free of sorrow and trouble. That is not granted to any of us,” she reminded him gently.
“No, indeed. But I would change that if I could.” He was silent for a moment, and then regarded her with something of his usual droll humour. “Tell me, Mrs Hurst, do you read the papers, or only the ladies’ magazines?”
She smiled to herself and answered demurely, “I have often heard it said that ladies who take the papers will end as bluestockings, scorned and ridiculed.”
“You will not hear such a thing in this house, I assure you! My girls have always been encouraged to understand what is occurring around them, though some are more interested than others.”
“Well, in that case, I shall admit to sneaking a peek on occasion,” Mrs Hurst replied with a dimpled smirk.
Mr Bennet laughed. “Excellent, most excellent, indeed! Tell me, what think you of this business with the Welsh Calvinists?”
* * *
