Jane sat bolt upright and stared at her. All of the delicate good-humour between them shattered. Her fingers fell to her lap like iron weights, and her face grew very still. “Do not say things like that, Lizzie.”
“But wouldn’t it be better to imagine…?”
“No! I cannotimagine orthink of your sweet words and tender kisses and how lovely it makes you feel. I cannot think ofanyof it, Lizzie! Oh, it is so cruel,socruel, to say such things to me! Would that I knew nothing! I would prefer to be innocent again and think that all women are the same. That they all must merely tolerate their husbands. Now I know better. I know that some women are fortunate, and that their men are patient, gentle and generous. We both know that some men arenot,don’t we Lizzie? And we know which kind of marriage I must endure.”
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. Jane had never spoken so harshly before, and it had seemingly come out of nowhere. She was still embarrassed by finding out that she had been observed, and reeling from Jane’s imaginings, so her answer came out sharply.
“Do not be such a martyr, Jane. You are of age! Refuse the marriage outright and stop acting like you have no choice. Act in your own interests for once in your life! Or else stop blaming me for your apathy!”
Jane flinched and clenched her hands into trembling fists. Two red spots appeared on her white cheeks. She bit her lip so hard that her mouth puckered into a single line.
Elizabeth pitied her, then. She knew Jane better than anyone else in the world. She knew that the sweet nature others admiredwas a rigid cage that their mother had built around Jane’s spirit from the day she was born.
Jane was obedient, not because she valued it in herself, but because the thought of disobeying terrified her. The mischief other children tried to recruit her into was like a foreign language to Mrs. Bennet’s precious firstborn. If she was dared to misbehave, Jane would cry or run away instead. It made her reclusive and shy, unwilling to risk the whims of any new friends. It was one of the reasons she was so close to Elizabeth: she trusted her younger sister to do therightthing, even when neither of them really wanted to.
As a child, Jane was punished for disobeying. As an adult, she punished herself. It was better to bow to any order - even one that would utterly destroy her - than to break the rules.
Her parents had told her to marry Mr. Collins, and from that moment Jane saw the command as a fact. The only rebellion she allowed herself was to delay, and even that was too much for her to do alone. She had needed to draw from Elizabeth’s stubborn nerve again and again. She could no more find that fire in her own spirit than she could fly.
Elizabeth knew all of this, and regretted her outburst, but did not apologise. She knew that it would only hurt Jane if she did. Her sister had to find her own defences, or else she would never be safe.
Jane had not moved. Small shining drops fell from her lowered face and splashed against her clenched fists. Her shoulders hitched, but she made no sound.
“Jane…” Elizabeth could not bear it. She reached out and touched her sister’s shoulder. Jane’s head shot up at once.
“I shall not ask you for any more help.” she croaked, her eyes searching wildly for comfort, “But… but Lizzie, may I still have your guidance?”
“Of course. Of course, my dearest.” Elizabeth wrapped her arms tightly around Jane’s shoulders and squeezed her tightly. “And all of my love.”
“I shall stand up for myself.” Jane whispered, her eyes lined with red and dark with new determination. Elizabeth smiled shakily and kissed her cheek.
“Yes, my love. You shall. But you shall not be alone.”
Chapter 47
The youngest Bennet sisters arrived at Pemberley four hours before they were expected. This was evidence of a restless night and an early departure, both of which were very in-character for the three girls. Kitty and Lydia were, naturally, beside themselves.
Mary was less excited, but she lived her life in a state of perpetual impatience. If she had a task to complete, or a destination to reach, then she could think of little else until it was accomplished. Anyone who dared interrupt her on this path lost her respect for good. They would witness rapid acceleration; she rushed to complete her task, instead of setting it aside for later. They would also hear loud tooth-grinding and a decisive snap as the book was finally shut, or the instrument closed. Onlythenwould Mary give them her full attention.
So it was with the visit to Pemberley; Mary thought only of the journey itself, and would not consider her arrival until the moment when it occurred.
Jane had warned her sister that the girls had been much altered in the time between Elizabeth’s departure and Jane’s rescue. In a few short months the Bennets had been transformed from a family of five loving children to something incomprehensiblydifferent. None of them felt loved; they were no longer children, and two of them barely felt as if they were welcome in the family at all. One had been married to a stranger without warning, and the other was being readied for marriage like a prize sow being fattened for market.
Fear had tempered much of the wild behaviour which had made Lydia and Kitty infamous.
Mary was fuelled by something far more specific: righteous indignation. She had been raised to see the world one way, and to behave accordingly. Now, without apology, her mother had changed all of the rules. How can one ‘behave accordingly’ when one does not understand? How was one to find their feet on ground that had turned into sand? Mary was incensed. Jane had acted perfectly yet was being treated like a disobedient chit. And Jane was the favourite! Ifhertreatment could change so completely, then what lay ahead for her sisters?
So it was that Mary became more animated and self-aware, and her sisters became more solemn and thoughtful. Kitty and Lydia did not want to draw untoward attention. They also knew better than to laugh at ridiculous things. Even the silliest notions, they discovered, could destroy lives.
The sounds of raised voices hushed when the carriage stopped in front of the house. The fact that they had been audible over the horses was, frankly, impressive. Elizabeth smiled ruefully at the coachman when he jumped down to open the door. He looked rather rattled - and distinctly glad to have arrived. Even the horses looked relieved. Generally, at this point they were looking forward to a nice warm oat mash, but Elizabeth wondered if this time they were just hoping for a bit of peace and quiet.
Lydia descended first, bounding out with her elbows raised to stop her sisters from rising from their seats. She grinnedwidely at both Elizabeth and Jane and then began to speak. She exclaimed loudly over the beautiful house, christened Lizzie a ‘lucky old thing’ and lamented theawfuljourney with herawfulsisters and theawful, awfulbook she had tried to read on the way.
Mary descended next with rather more decorum. She explained that the book had never even been opened and was doubtless too challenging for her sister to make the attempt. This had the happy effect of making Lydia mute with indignation. While the prattler was rattled, Mary kissed her sisters’ cheeks and greeted them warmly. Scolded by this reminder of her own shortcomings, Lydia copied her.
What of Kitty? She stepped carefully down from the carriage but did not move forward as she ought. She stood silently beside Mary, waiting for her turn to speak. Her kisses were light, her embrace heavy and trembling. Elizabeth was reminded at once of Jane’s arrival. She did not let Kitty go until her little sister stopped sniffling.
“It was mama.” Mary explained, fighting to be stoic against such overt emotion. “After Jane left…”
