Mrs Cuthbert poured herself tea and, by placing the pot back on the table, rattled it so much that Elizabeth’s roll did just that and landed on the floor. “What say you, my dear Jane, to having your youngest sister come to stay after Eliza returns to Longbourn?”
Jane gave a smile of sweet complacency. “I know Lydia very little as she was only nine when I left home. Lizzy and I are of an age to have a more equal understanding. Besides, I do not know if Lydia would wish to leave my mother.”
Lydia had wanted nothing more since she was twelve than to have a Season in town with Jane. When Kitty had been invited along with Elizabeth, Lydia had wept for two days from vexation and envy. The fact that Kitty had quickly “caught herself” Captain Redmond while Lydia “had no flirting in Meryton beyond militia officers too poor for her” had strained the bond between Elizabeth’s two youngest sisters.
“This is your home, of course,” Mrs Cuthbert said as though she did not believe it, “and Eliza may come if you want her. I only thought she had grown old for such enjoyments. I do feel it would not be inspiring sisterly affection if, after having Eliza so often here and Kitty last winter, you do not also invite your youngest sister to have her turn to enjoy the London amusements.”
Lydia’s idea of amusements would be to get herself a husband, a task Mrs Cuthbert would love her more for accomplishing. Elizabeth suspected that Lydia would accept the first attractive man of moderate income who offered, just so she could leave Longbourn. Whether that income came from property, the church, the law, the navy, or through business or trade mattered as little to Lydia as his age, temperament, or connexions.
All Lydia needs is a pulse and a purse and a handsome face.
“In fact”—Mrs Cuthbert put down her teacup, and both Elizabeth and Jane braced themselves—“Lydia can join you when you take the children sea-bathing. With Eliza back where she belongs, she and her mother can help Mrs Collins when her time comes.” Mrs Cuthbert gave her an expressive look. “You know your duty to your family, do you not?”
“I would do nothing inconsistent to my duty I owe my family.”
Jane gave Elizabeth an apologetic smile. “I will write to my mother and extend an invitation to Lydia to join us at South End in September. Dear Lizzy, you know I shall miss you, but are you looking forward to returning to Longbourn?”
Elizabeth’s chest tightened but the stab did not build into the sharp pain that she kept hidden from everyone. She put on her polite smile and pronounced that she had no dread of the months she would spend at Longbourn.
She setout from Gracechurch Street for the town nearest to Meryton, being transported like a parcel in the Cuthberts’ carriage to where Mr Collins’s carriage would meet her to convey her the rest of the way. Once upon a time, her sisters might have met her at the inn for a lively dinner, but Kitty was now in Portsmouth with Captain Redmond, and Lydia rarely acted on any fleeting considerate thought without encouragement.
Her reception at home was as she expected: Mary was sombre, Mr Collins used three words when one would do, Mrs Bennet asked about her grandsons’ health, and Lydia talked in a voice louder than any other person’s about herself.
“I must write directly to Mr Cuthbert,” Mr Collins said as they later sat at table, “and thank him for his hospitality in keeping you for so long. I know you were of use to your sister whilst she was lying-in, but to keep you six months, all the way until Easter, without asking for a shilling from me, is the utmost in generosity.”
Elizabeth could not stand to listen to her cousin’s speeches, but she was dependent upon Mr Collins’s kindness and had to be polite to her sister’s husband. He had studied to enter the church, but the death of her father meant Mr Collins never took orders before he inherited Longbourn; and, intending to apologise for being next in the entail, he married one of the Bennet daughters. Elizabeth had been in town with a pregnant Jane when her father died, and Mr Collins arrived at Longbourn before the eldest daughters returned to Hertfordshire, well after he had already offered to Mary.
Elizabeth had seen the thwarted expression in Mr Collins’s eyes when she first entered the house as he observed the superficial differences between the daughter he had proposed to and the elder, unmarried daughter who came home a week later. She suspected Mary had seen his disappointment also.
“After all,” he went on, “since your father’s death, you were exposed to a sudden and irreversible fall in fortune. I will add a few lines to my letter expressing your own overwhelming gratitude for his consideration.”
“It may not be an irreversible situation. I hope I may be as fortunate as Mary in my own time.” Elizabeth smiled at her sister and avoided making eye contact with her cousin.
“Being well-settled is what women should aim at,” Mary replied gravely, “and is the only way you have of being of use and raising yourself in the world.”
“That is not true,” Lydia cried. “Lizzy is always useful when Jane has a baby.” Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed. “Iwon’t die an old maid, and I promise when I am married, I will chaperon you to all the balls!”
Elizabeth felt the first twinges of another paroxysm around her heart, and wondered if it would be a brief tightening and palpitations, or a full attack of pain like she had felt yesterday. “Thank you, Lydia. Mamma, have you had many letters from my aunt Gardiner since I have been away? I received only two since the new year.”
“No, it has been above a month. My brother is likely murdered by natives, and my sister and the children, too!”
“Mamma! He is in Canada meeting with merchants who carry trade in partnership with fur traders.” As a linen merchant, Mr Gardiner wished to expand his province. “He is not in any danger.”
“It is a disreputable scheme!”
How she wished for Jane in moments like this to help her mother see reason. “It is perfectly respectable. He is meeting with the North-West Company in Fort William this summer, and my aunt and the children will remain in Montreal. The North-West Company has secured an extensive fur trade, and you know how my uncle wishes to carryfurs along with his assortment of linen goods. I think the venture a fascin?—”
“They will all die of some dreadful colonial disease. Who wants furs anyway?”
“Any woman visiting the London shops wants furs. Our uncle’s business might appeal to more wholesalers if he can supply furs as well as linens, calicos, and muslins.”
“My brother is secluded from all society as he travels farther west, and my sister Gardiner is little better in Montreal! It takes above half a year for her letters to arrive.”
“A letter takes four weeks to travel from Montreal to Longbourn, Mamma. It is April; you could write to my aunt and have her reply to your news before July.”
“La, you are all dull!” Lydia cried.
She went on about dress and officers while encouraged by her mother, and Elizabeth had to pretend she was interested. Mary interrupted to say that such things had no charms for her, and her husband interrupted as often as possible to say nothing of note. The conversation then moved on to every article of news that happened since October within a five-mile radius of Longbourn House.
