As if summoned, Lydia and Kitty entered the room. “Maria!” Lydia shrieked, throwing her arms around the younger girl. “I am so glad you have come. Kitty, let us take her away so she might tell us everything.” Giggling, the trio hurried upstairs.
Jane, ever the hostess, turned to the tea tray and poured for their guest. Elizabeth accepted her cup with a nod of thanks, her eyes flicking towards Charlotte, who had already taken her seat.
“Well, Jane,” Charlotte said without preamble, “how did your Mr Bingley’s sisters receive you?”
Jane’s hesitation was brief, but perceptible. She took a sip of tea, then answered with a gentle sigh. “I hardly know. Beyond the initial introduction, they made little effort to speak with me. Every time Mr Bingley led me in their direction, they moved away.”
“They did not make a favourable impression,” Elizabeth added dryly. “The pair of them believe themselves superior, whispering behind their fans half the evening. I doubt they danced more than three sets between them.”
“That is harsh, Lizzy,” Jane murmured, though her expression betrayed some agreement. “Perhaps they were merely shy. It was our first meeting. And they know I am the lady their brother is courting.”
“And no one can form an acquaintance in a ballroom,” Elizabeth said with deliberate sarcasm, prompting Charlotte to chuckle.
Charlotte leaned forwards, lowering her voice. “Your sister has the right of it. I shall withhold judgement, but both ladies made more than one backhanded comment. They offered politeness but no warmth. Be cautious, Jane. I do not believe they are pleased with your attachment.”
Jane paled, her brows drawing together. “Mr Bingley is worth the cost of dealing with any…frustrations,” she said, her voice unusually firm.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Brava! That may be the harshest thing I have ever heard you say.” Though Jane had not been explicit, clearly she wondered if Bingley’s sisters would be a hindrance.
“I only meant you should be prudent,” Charlotte said. “Their behaviour is odd. And they are not so grand as they pretend—daughters of trade, though they’d never admit it. My father was in trade too, and yet with his knighthood, I outrank them socially.”
“It is all conjecture,” Jane said gently, placing her cup down. “But I thank you both for your honesty. I shall take care.”
Wanting to turn the conversation to a gentler topic, she asked, “How is Lady Lucas this morning?”
Charlotte gave a weary smile. “Abed with a headache. Do you think she would make these calls with me, had your mother not passed?”
“They were friends,” Jane replied. “She would have come.”
A quiet moment passed as each considered the sentiment. Then, with perfect timing, the younger girls returned to the parlour, followed by Tommy, who held his toy basket.
“Up already?” Elizabeth teased.
“Miss Lane said I could go,” he declared proudly. “I stayed quiet and tried to sleep. And then Miss Maria said we could play soldiers!”
His eyes sparkled with delight as he looked up at Maria, who was clearly enchanted by his childlike regard.
“Go on, then,” Jane said indulgently, watching them gather in a corner of the room. Soon, the floor was covered in rows of tiny wooden soldiers prepared for battle.
Charlotte leaned towards Elizabeth, whispering, “Maria loves Tommy as if he were her brother. She told me he is better behaved than any of our own—and more charming, too.”
They all laughed, watching young Thomas as he clambered into Maria’s lap and she adjusted her gown with her legs tucked beneath to sit on the carpet. He began organizing his soldiers with great solemnity, whilst the girls chattered and giggled in the background.
It was a peaceful scene, full of warmth and affection, and for a few blessed moments, the cares of society, status, and future uncertainty faded into the quiet comfort of home and family.
Charlotte and Maria departed soon after. Kitty and Lydia immediately launched into a detailed explanation of why they ought to be out, Maria’s good fortune being their first reason.
“You both know what Papa will say,” Elizabeth cautioned. “Tread carefully, lest you make him angry. He is likely to delay your coming out even further!” Both girls sulked but let the matter drop. When Tommy was through with his soldiers, he climbed upon Elizabeth’s lap and reminded her that he had earned his treat.
“Very well, here are your biscuits.” She put a few on a saucer and held it whilst Tommy ate. When he had finished, he and Lydia resolved to take a stroll in the little wilderness. Once assured he had bundled up adequately and was on his way, Elizabeth made her way to her father’s study.
Elizabeth stood in the doorway of the study, the familiar scent of ink and old books clinging to the air. Mr Bennet did not look up as she entered, his pen scratching steadily across the page.
“Elizabeth,” he said, his tone dry but not unkind. “How is my most sensible daughter this day? I have not seen you since breakfast.”
She stepped further into the room and took a seat across from him, folding her hands in her lap. “I am well, Papa. But you have been very busy today. What has kept you a slave to the ledgers?”
Mr Bennet put down his quill and leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. He adjusted his spectacles and regarded herwith a tired but affectionate look. “I am evaluating my investments,” he said. “You and your sisters currently have dowries of two thousand pounds each. There is no way to gain wealth quickly and honestly—not that I can discern.”
