Chapter One
There are few things more readily expected than the continued exertions of a useful daughter.
Where such exertions have long been given without complaint, they come at last to be regarded as part of the ordinary course of life; as natural and unremarkable as the changing of the seasons. The possibility that they might one day cease is seldom considered until circumstances make their absence unavoidable. Elizabeth Bennet's approaching departure from Longbourn had therefore occasioned far more discussion regarding the inconvenience it would produce than the loss of her company.
"The harvest accounts. You have left the margin notes legible, I take it."
"Clearly written, sir. The upper field wants watching in the third week. I have noted the dates. Mr. Hayes has agreed to keep an eye upon it."
"And the south lease?"
"Renewed. The terms are in the second column."
"And the drainage?"
"Settled before breakfast. The men have their instructions."
Mr. Bennet turned another page.
"I cannot think why this journey must be undertaken in summer. It is a great inconvenience."
"My uncle's affairs require the timing, sir."
"So I am told." He did not look up. "I suppose there is nothing to be done about it."
Elizabeth made no reply. Closing the ledger, she placed it beside his elbow before rising from her chair. She had scarcely crossed the hall and taken up her bonnet from the side table when Mrs. Bennet appeared upon the stairs. Descending with evident purpose, she paused at the bottom and took in at a glance the travelling dress, the bonnet still in Elizabeth's hands, and the gloves mended at one finger.
"Well," she said, "I suppose you are nearly ready."
“Yes, ma'am.”
"It is not what I would have chosen," said Mrs. Bennet, taking the bonnet from her hands, "to lose you in the middle of summer when there is so much still to manage. But your uncle has his affairs, and Madeline always did like to have you about. You are useful in a household. I will give you that much."
Before Elizabeth could answer, Mrs. Bennet settled the bonnet upon her head and began retying the ribbon.
"Mind you do not go tramping about at all hours in that way of yours. London is not Longbourn, and people do notice such things. And do try to listen to your aunt on the subject of your appearance. If you would only attend a little more and go about a little less, you might do better than you suppose. You have perfectly good features when you take the trouble. Jane had only to stand still and she was admired. But then Jane listens."
"I shall try to do better, ma'am."
"I am sure you will. I only say it for your own good. I always have."
Mrs. Bennet gave the ribbon a final tug and appeared satisfied with the result. "There. That is much better."
She headed back toward the parlour, but before she reached the doorway, Lydia called down from the stairs. "If Lizzy is goingto the sea, I want something from it. A shell or a curiosity or one of those little boxes made of fish scales. Everyone is getting things from the sea this year. And not a tiny shell either."
"You shall have something," Mrs. Bennet said from the parlour doorway.
"She always forgets."
"I shall not forget," Elizabeth said, working at her glove buttons without looking up.
"You said that about the new La Belle Assemblée."
"It was sold out by the time I thought of it."
"That is the same thing."
Mary emerged from the breakfast room with a volume in her hand.
