Chapter Seven

Elizabeth Bennet sat down to breakfast with her mind awhirl. Their normal, in retrospect dull, existence had of late been quite disrupted. A gentleman had let Netherfield Park. An unmarried gentleman. One who, moreover, could afford to let the finest property in the region.

Rumor named him Mr. Bingley and said he was quite handsome. The former Elizabeth believed. The latter she suspected would be said about any gentleman who could afford to let Netherfield Park. Regardless of his visage, having him as part of their community should prove diverting.

And Elizabeth had not even managed to unravel Kitty’s odd behavior yet, which continued every morning. Since uncovering Kitty’s mourning rambles about Longbourn, Elizabeth had also become suspicious of the number of walks into Meryton her youngest two sisters took. Lydia always returned with a new ribbon or a hat to make over, or any number of small purchases, but Kitty generally came back empty-handed. What was she doing in the village if not shopping with Lydia? When next the two went into Meryton, Elizabeth intended to follow them to spy on Kitty. Between her sister’s odd behavior and the arrival of Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth’s boredom was suddenly conquered.

Which was why she did not even notice her mother and youngest sisters joining her, Jane, Mary, and Mr. Bennet at breakfast until the three sat down. Elizabeth looked up from her thoughts, blinking. Mrs. Bennet, seated at her end of the table, cleared her throat and opened her mouth to say—

With a rustle, Mr. Bennet lowered his paper, preempting his wife’s words. “I hope, my dear, you have ordered a good dinner today, because I have reason to expect an addition to our family party.”

“Who do you mean, my dear? I know of nobody who is coming, I am sure, unless Charlotte Lucas should happen to call, and I hope my dinners are good enough for her.” Mrs. Bennet tipped her chin up, smug. “I do not believe she often sees such at home.”

“Who is it, Papa?” Lydia asked, her eyes bright with interest.

“Yes, Papa, who?” Kitty echoed.

Elizabeth took in the amusement glinting behind Mr. Bennet’s spectacles. He obviously found his knowledge entertaining. Or perhaps the entertainment lay in taunting them all.

“The person of whom I speak is a gentleman and a stranger.” With that, Mr. Bennet returned his attention to his paper, as if they need know no more.

Kitty and Lydia exchanged delighted squeals at that. Beside Lydia, Mary winced, a sentiment with which Elizabeth sympathized. Their two youngest sisters sounded like a pair of jays fending rooks from their nest. Jane, her gaze abstract, did not appear to notice Mr. Bennet’s words or Kitty’s and Lydia’s squawks.

Mrs. Bennet leaned forward, her expression eager. “A gentleman and a stranger? It is Mr. Bingley, I am sure. Why Jane, you never dropped a word of this, you sly thing.”

Jane blinked at the sound of her name, turning a confused look on their mother.

“Well,” Mrs. Bennet continued happily, “I am certain I shall be extremely glad to see Mr. Bingley. But how unlucky. There is not a bit of fish to be got today. Lydia, my love, ring the bell. I must speak to Hill, this moment.”

Lydia popped up from her chair, Kitty following, although it certainly did not take two of them to yank the bell pull.

Mr. Bennet’s paper dipped. “It is not Mr. Bingley. It is a person whom I never saw in the whole course of my life.”

Kitty and Lydia stilled, bell un-pulled.

“Mr. Bennet, you attempt to vex me,” Mrs. Bennet snapped. “Is this one of your riddles?”

With slow care, Mr. Bennet folded his paper and set it aside. “It is no riddle, but rather a conundrum. I recently received a letter, and speedily replied, for I thought it a case of some delicacy, and requiring early attention.”

“A letter from who, Papa?” Elizabeth asked when he fell silent. Really, he need not take quite such pleasure in their torment.

“A letter from my cousin, Mr. Collins, who, when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases.”

“Oh! my dear,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “I cannot bear to hear that mentioned. Pray do not speak of that odious man. I do think it is the hardest thing in the world that your estate should be entailed away from your own children. To a stranger no less, and you tell me he is to arrive here today?”

“He is, much to my surprise. His previous letter mentioned November, but he has since written to move forward the time of his visit, as you can readily note.”

Mrs. Bennet stabbed a sausage with such force that Elizabeth feared for the integrity of her plate, and declared, “He is obviously eager to set eyes on what will someday be his. To think, that man here, in my home.”

“At least his visit will render him a stranger no more,” Mr. Bennet observed and reached once more for his paper.

“Do not stand there gawking, Kitty. Summon Hill,” Mrs. Bennet snapped.

Lydia, one hand still on the bell pull, yanked, calling in a maid.

“What time is Mr. Collins to arrive, Papa?” Elizabeth asked as Lydia asked the maid to send in Mrs. Hill, Longbourn’s housekeeper.

“Sometime between four and five, I imagine.” Mr. Bennet opened the paper with care and once more raised the pages before him.

“Four?” Mrs. Bennet looked about in panic. “Why did we rise so late? Where is Hill? There is hardly time to make ready.” She aimed a glare at the newspaper at the other end of the table. “You should have given me more warning, Mr. Bennet.”

He gave no reaction to that, but Elizabeth suspected the lack of warning to be purposeful. Time remained to ready the room guests used and to add to dinner, barely. Were Mrs. Bennet given more time, preparations would be more elaborate, and she would have that much more opportunity to ferment her anger for Mr. Collins.

Mrs. Hill entered then and Mrs. Bennet set to discussing dinner with her, while arbitrarily adding asides to Elizabeth and her sisters about what they must see done before Mr. Collins’ arrival. From the calm way Mrs. Hill reacted, even to the demand of fish, Elizabeth suspected that, though her father hadn’t seen fit to warn Mrs. Bennet of their impending guest sooner, he had warned the housekeeper.

After breakfast, Elizabeth and her sisters were sent scurrying about, helping the staff air out bedding and sweep the cobwebs out of the corners of the room Mr. Collins would occupy. Elizabeth opened the window and took down the curtains to be shaken out. Kitty and Lydia together brought the small rug outside to beat. Jane helped the maids dust the dressing table and wardrobe, and Mary gathered up the coverlet for a treatment similar to the rug’s.

In little time at all, they had the room nearly ready for their unwanted guest. Kitty even brought in a small vase and some late blooming flowers. She set them on the dressing table, then pushed them into better order, saying, “Do you imagine Mr. Collins will be a kind gentleman?”

“Can he be, when our side of the family dislikes his side so excessively?” Mary asked from where she smoothed the coverlet.

“We know only that his father and ours did not get on.” Jane spoke quietly from her place beside the window, where she held up the final curtain for Elizabeth, who stood on a stool, to rehang.

Lydia dropped to sit on the side of the bed, disarraying Mary’s efforts. “I only care if he is a handsome gentleman. He is to have Longbourn someday, after all. One of us could marry him.”

Silence settled as they all considered that.

The final curtain hung, Elizabeth hopped down from the stool. “I, for one, will not marry anyone odious simply for an estate. Not even our own.”

“It would mean he would never cast us out.” Jane turned from the window looking very serious. “It would ease many worries.”

“If he is handsome, I will marry him,” Lydia declared.

“Why you?” Mary tugged uselessly at the coverlet, as Lydia still sat atop it. “He is a clergyman, is he not? He likely requires someone with a serious mind.”

“He likely requires someone fun because being a clergyman is so dreary, you mean.”

Mary and Lydia glared at one another.

“How do you know he is a clergyman?” Kitty asked.

Mary cocked her chin. “I asked Papa.”

“What a novel way to procure information,” Elizabeth murmured.

Jane’s lips twitched into a smile.

“Girls,” Mrs. Bennet’s voice called down the hall. “If you are done in there, change for tea. Jane, Lydia, wear your best gowns.”

Elizabeth chuckled. “I see it has occurred to Mama that he might marry one of us as well.”

Lydia stood. “You may have him, Jane. I will have Mr. Bingley.”

“We have not even met Mr. Bingley,” Jane protested.

Mary leaned over to finish smoothing the coverlet.

“No, but he is rumored to be quite wealthy. Far wealthier than a clergyman.” With that, Lydia sailed from the room.

“Papa said Mr. Collins has a wealthy patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and enjoys her especial attention,” Mary said as she straightened. “I will go change as well.” She left with a determined expression.

“Kitty, come help with my hair,” Lydia’s voice screeched back down the hall.

Kitty leaned down to sniff the flowers she’d brought in, then sneezed. Wrinkling her nose, she left.

Jane turned to look out the window once more. “It truly would be best if one of us could marry him.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “You have not even met him yet. Nor have you met this wealthy Mr. Bingley. The entail will not matter if one of us marries such a gentleman as Mr. Bingley.”

Jane let out a sigh. “It all seems very mercenary.”

“It is not our fault. We did not make the world this way, and we cannot change it.” Elizabeth paused with a grimace. “Unless we marry men who can, and we push them to do so. Until then, we are subject to our fathers and then to our husbands, with little recourse.”

“Which is why one of us must ensure we are not cast out of Longbourn.”

“No.” Elizabeth shook her head. “It is why we both need to ensure we marry worthy men whom we can love.” Jane gave no reply, so Elizabeth caught her arm. “Come. I will help you with your hair and you need not even shout about it.”

Jane managed a slight smile at that, as Elizabeth had hoped.

***

Kitty scuttled off down the hall, not wanting Jane and Elizabeth to catch her eavesdropping. Keeping her footfalls light, she ducked into the room she shared with Lydia and quietly swung the door closed.

“There you are.” Lydia presented her back. “Do my buttons.”

Kitty crossed to comply, taking in the ridiculous peach confection her sister had pulled from the wardrobe. “Is this gown not a bit, well, much for tea?”

“Precisely. Mr. Collins will not fail to notice me.”

As if anyone ever failed to notice Lydia. Taller than the rest of them, even Jane, with rosy skin, bright eyes and curls, and a boisterousness that often crossed from delightful into untoward, Lydia dominated any room.

Which Kitty used to mind, but not since she secured her position as a caricaturist, and built K. B. Hert’s reputation for being one of the best in England. K. B. Hert didn’t care how much people ignored her for Lydia. In fact, K. B. Hert preferred to be ignored, the better to spy out people’s oddities and truths so she might illustrate them for the general amusement of all.

“Come help with my hair.”

Kitty complied, her hands moving by rote as she contemplated a sketch of a group of fashionable ladies holding tea in a hedgerow, while a pompous looking gentleman with a busty, crassly gowned woman on his arm stood outside a lovely manor house in the background. Could she convey that the pair were interlopers? Would readers understand, or must she use the word ‘entail’ in the caption? Would her father or Elizabeth be made suspicious by the similarity to circumstances here?

“Owe,” Lydia yelped. She reached up and took the pins from Kitty’s hand. “Honestly, you are not good at anything.”

But she was, and she had the funds to prove so. Kitty smiled as she left Lydia in favor of the wardrobe. Not that anyone knew about her funds except Uncle Phillips. It galled Kitty that she must share her secret with anyone at all, but when the letter had arrived informing her of her first acceptance and asking for details on where to deposit her payment of five pounds, she’d no means by which to open an account. Fortunately, Uncle Phillips proved eminently trustworthy. He’d even negotiated up her fees several times now, and he’d kept her from signing anything that forced her to work with only one paper.

She changed her gown and arranged her hair, assisting Lydia several more times, and they went down to join their parents and sisters in the little front parlor. Mama wasn’t wrong in her continued complaint about the size of the room. Longbourn had a rather lovely drawing room that could be employed for formal occasions, but had no view out the front of the house. The front parlor possessed that important advantage, even if more than a few callers rendered the space cramped.

Kitty let Mama’s and Lydia’s voices, occasionally punctuated by comments from her other sisters, wash over her as she refined her sketch in her mind. Perhaps she could send it to the Herald or the Gazette. Papa only read the Chronicle and the Times. She need not submit the piece to one of his preferred papers to be paid. Yes, she enjoyed seeing her work, and her father’s and Elizabeth’s reactions, but better to miss those things than to be caught.

The clock on the mantelpiece chimed out the fourth hour, pulling Kitty from her thoughts.

“…and did you know, Lady Lucas overheard the Miss Longs speaking about Brighton, as if the Longs can afford Brighton.” Mrs. Bennet was saying.

Lydia swivelled to look at Mr. Bennet. “Why can we not go to Brighton?”

“A carriage,” Mary said suddenly.

Kitty, along with everyone else, turned to look out the front parlor window.

“He is very punctual,” Elizabeth murmured.

“That seems a very fine conveyance for a clergyman.” Mary’s voice held condemnation.

“It is the largest carriage I have seen.” Lydia pointed, as if they were not all looking out the window already. “And a team of four. No one has spoken of Mr. Bingley having more than a team of two. Perhaps I will marry Mr. Collins after all.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Kitty saw Elizabeth raise her gaze heavenward.

The carriage halted and one of their footmen hurried down the front steps to open the door. A tall, broad, puffy sort of gentleman stepped out, then turned back to offer his hand. He assisted down an older woman wearing the most exquisite gown Kitty had ever seen. Perfectly cut, rich with warm gray and violet tones, and trimmed in some sort of fur, with a hat to match. Her tall, lean frame did her garments justice, and as she released the gentleman’s hand, she looked Longbourn over with a slight frown.