“There are a few in our family as well,” said Lady Oakham with a touch of tenderness, softening the atmosphere, which had grown oddly heavy for an afternoon conversation.
“I have one at home,” added Mrs Gardiner, which prompted laughter all around.
“In that case, I am somewhat reassured,” said Lady Matlock. “The young women such as those gathered here must be taught that they are as worthy as the men. If they do not already know it. While the men have to accompany them in this belief.”
“My brother is among those of whom we speak,” Miss Darcy said courageously. Even though she blushed, her voice was clear and earnest.
“I have included him, my dear,” replied Lady Oakham. “He seems to me the very image of a modern man—one who seeks a partner in life, not merely a mother for his children or a housekeeper—”
“Or a decorative ornament to be shown off in society,” Lady Matlock added, casting another glance at Elizabeth, as though wishing to say more.
“Unfortunately, many of us enter marriage accepting the preconceptions of our future husbands. It is the only way wecanmarry,” a young woman nearby said.
Miss Darcy whispered to Elizabeth, “That is Lady Roberta, Lord Sidmouth’s daughter.”
“Regrettably, I am aware,” Lady Matlock replied with evident annoyance. “But let us take comfort in the thought that among your generation, more men desire wives, not servants or dolls. I hope their number will only grow. Still, the change must also come from the women. To yield to family will, or to seek only wealth, these are the paths you must avoid—or at least reflect on the possibility of demanding more from life and the people around you.”
∞∞∞
“You did not expect such a serious conversation,” Mrs Gardiner said to Elizabeth that evening. “Lady Matlock observed you with interest.”
“Until Lady Matlock arrived, I was a little disappointed by the atmosphere,” Elizabeth said. “It felt as though I were at Longbourn or in Meryton, among ladies I have known all my life. But Lady Matlock fundamentally changed the topic and tone of the conversation, and I must admit I am surprised that a lady of high society should think in such a way. I had believed they were the very ones who most fervently clung to traditions passed down through generations.”
“That is generally true, but ladies like Lady Matlock are not only patrons of the arts but also advocates for the education of young women. Some even go so far as to finance academies for girls.” Mrs Gardiner’s voice was engulfed in emotion as she continued, “It is one of the reasons I wanted to become part of their society.”
“I like that,” Elizabeth said with great sincerity, obviously reflecting on all the implications such a conversation could have.
“Then, dearest younger sister, do what you must to become one of those broad-minded ladies yourself—soonerrather than later,” Jane said with a smile. Yet she knew her sister too well; Elizabeth might listen to advice, but only from their father, and often not even from him.
Elizabeth offered no reply, but that night, she penned a long letter to Charlotte, recounting all that had transpired within the Matlock household. Although she never stated it outright, every line moved quietly towards a resolution—not to surrender love, nor Mr Darcy. Yet to be truly certain, she knew she would still require her father’s counsel.
Chapter 30
Longbourn, a week later
“Miss Bennet!”
Elizabeth smiled and waved to her father, who observed her from the library window as she returned alone from her morning stroll.
“I am not Miss Bennet,” she retorted.
“You could have been had Mrs Bennet been more discreet in her public display of hopes and dreams.”
“Papa, hush!” Elizabeth implored, hastening her steps towards the library. “Do you take perverse pleasure in discussing such matters, knowing full well that Mama could overhear?”
“Perverse?” Mr Bennet laughed heartily, as he often did at Elizabeth’s words.
Upon entering the library, Elizabeth arched an eyebrow in surprise to see Jane and Mary there. True to her nature, Mary was reading in a quiet corner, while Jane occupied a small chair beside their father. They appeared to have been awaiting her arrival.
“A family gathering, it seems,” Elizabeth said, though she was not displeased. Since her return home, she had desperately wanted to share her experiences in Kent with her father, who had felt her turmoil. Mary paused in her reading, her curious and affectionate gaze fixed upon Elizabeth, making her realise how unfairly she had often excluded her younger sister. She had a close bond with Jane, and Lydia and Kitty had their own, leaving Mary in the middle, usually forgotten or overlooked, as they sometimes did not even see her. That had to change; they must forget the old relationships and their habit of sharing only news and gossip, and speak about intimate feelings and—why not?—also worries or dreams. It was a good thing that her father had invited Mary to be present.
“Where are Mama and Kitty?” Elizabeth asked.
“They have gone into Meryton,” Jane replied.
“Pray, be seated, Lizzy,” Mr Bennet insisted with an unusual vehemence, for Elizabeth had a habit of fidgeting or pacing when they engaged in conversation.
“I see an important discussion coming. You are so serious—all of you,” Elizabeth remarked with her usual appetite for jest.
