Page 89 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

“And I trust that a load of gossip will be bandied about if we permitted any of our daughters to involve themselves in a potentially compromising bit of foolishness,” Papa rebutted, his tone severe.

Lizzy’s mother gasped. “Our Jane?”

“She is one of our daughters is she not?”

“Mr. Bennet,” their mother said severely, “Jane and Mr. Bingley must have time together if she is to catch him.”

Lizzy, Jane, and Mary drew back in shock at their mother’s blatant revelation of her matchmaking dreams. The angry energy stifled the air in Lizzy’s lungs. She wanted her parents to stop talking, to stop fighting. Wishing she dared cover her ears, Lizzy closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. Jane’s hand squeezed her arm, comforting Lizzy.

“I am happy to have Hattie with me,” her sister said in a firm, quiet voice. “Her presence is no more than Mr. Bingley will expect.”

In spite of Jane’s remark, their mother released a sort of muffled shriek, making Lizzy flinch and open her eyes.

Their father looked approvingly at his oldest daughter. “Thank you, Jane. I can always count on you to be sensible. Mrs. Bennet, Hattie must go,” he stated in a cold, hard voice.

“I am certain Mrs. Hill needs Hattie,” their mother said through gritting teeth. “If we had another maid—”

“Jane takes a maid with her, or she does not go. If you wish for another maid, madam, I am happy to reduce your allowance by twenty-five pounds in order to pay her wages.” He took his gaze off his furious wife and looked at Kitty. “Kindly pass me the applesauce.”

“Yes, Papa,” Kitty said in a quiet voice. She exchanged a look with Lydia, and they concentrated on their meals.

Lizzy wondered how any of them could eat. She wished she could slip away and spend an hour or more with her animals. They always calmed her after turmoil. Before she might make the attempt, her father spoke.

“Lizzy?”

“Yes, Papa?” She glanced his way, twisting her fingers in her lap.

“What are your plans for today?”

“I…” Lizzy paused and looked furtively at her mother, before meeting her father’s gaze, “I thought I would take Jeffry to the lending library. I mean to show him to the guests—with the proprietress’s approval, of course—and see if anyone recognizes him.” Lizzy bit her lip and waited for condemnation to fall upon her head. Sometimes, she wondered if her mother had ever known her second oldest daughter at all. Every day Lizzy endured some remark or comment from her mother in regards to her animals as though they were a new hobby, instead of one of long-standing.

Her mother inhaled sharply. “What? Are you mad?”

“I…” Lizzy frowned, unable to go on.

“I think it is a splendid idea,” Jane said in a hearty voice. “What do you think, Papa?”

“I am certain our Lizzy will ask the patrons in a tasteful way,” her papa said, an amused light in his eyes.

In a familiar lament, her mama moaned, “Lizzy will never find a husband.”

Mary dropped an opinion into the silence that followed their parent’s comment. “I do not think that is likely at all.”

Lizzy blinked at her sister.

“Oh? And what do you know about it?” their mother snapped.

After blinking at her mother owlishly, Mary looked down at her plate, began cutting her slice of ham, and made no reply to the clear insult expressed by her mother.

“Thank you, Mary,” Lizzy whispered. She passed her sister the condiment pot of Durham mustard. Mary accepted it with a nod of thanks.

Lydia and Kitty abruptly stood, putting their napkins on their chairs. Lydia spoke for both of them.

“Papa, may we be excused?” she asked. “We wish to begin our reading immediately so we will have more time to visit Aunt Phillips.”

“You are excused. When I come to my bookroom, we will spend some time discussing what you have read this week.”

“Yes, Papa,” they said together.