1785

My passion is as mustard strong,
I sit all sober sad;
Drunk as a piper all day long,
Or like a March hare mad.

Chapter 1

A tune was pushing itself around in her mind but it was only the beginning scraps of a tune, just a few bars, not an entire melody. Lisette found it provocative and annoying at the same time. She walked at a quick pace as she neared Longbourn, sneaking through a hole in a hedgerow to save her time from walking around the road. She spied the tall walls that surrounded the estate and denoted the house proper and the formal gardens and all their beauties. There was no way to scale the tall stone walls and she had to use one of the entrances, either the formal front entrance or work her way around the back to the smaller gate there. The east wall had a gate too, but Lisette had no wish to walk all that way. Her mother should not have missed her overly much. There was no one expected to call that particular afternoon.

A hello was called to her, a kittenish hello from a large ginger cat with slightly whitish stripes on his sides. He was outside the walls hidden in the shrubbery and she reached down to scratch at his head and his ears and under his chin. Le Poisson was the family cat, if there could be such a thing as a family cat, he lived around Longbourn and had been adopted and christened by the Bennet daughters when they were younger and full of mirth and thought that naming a cat "fish" was a hilarious joke. She gave him a final scratch and then left him to his activities and continued on her way.

The front gate had double doors and both stood wide open as she neared them rather than the left-hand gate standing open as was usual most days. Lisette frowned and cooled her pace as she untied her strings and then stopped short of the entrance. The double doors only needed to be both be open if a carriage was to be pulled to the front entrance of Longbourn and if no one was expected she had two guesses as to the visitor: her cousin or Mrs. Lucas. Neither was a welcome addition to her afternoon. She sighed, walked to the opening along the property wall and spied a phaeton and a sad-eyed pony in front of the house. Her cousin.

She took off her hat and let it swing from one hand as she walked up to the little shaggy-coated friend and spoke to him in soothing terms. He eyed her mournfully as he always did as though pleading with her to find him a new master.

"I am sorry if he is so poor at the reins and uses the whip," and she smoothed his mane and kissed his forehead. There were no more grooms at Longbourn so no one to tend to the pony while the Reverend Collins came to visit. Lisette ran her hands along the tracings to ensure they were not tangled and then gave the little pony one more kiss before she opened the door and entered her house.

Hillard was not inside the door to greet her as she expected. She threw her hat and gloves on a table and stood to listen though she knew exactly where Mrs. Bennet and the Reverend Collins would be having afternoon tea: the east parlor. Lisette patted her hair and made her way to the north wing of the house.

She opened the door and entered to a scene mostly anticipated: her mother dressed in lavender with frills and lace sitting in front of her tea set with their cousin sitting across from her in his somber clothes with his cup on one knee and his carriage whip across the other.

"Greetings Cousin Collins, Mamma," she said as she stepped into the room.

"I wondered where you got to dear, I suppose Hillard found you?" queried her mother who began to pour a cup of tea for her. The Reverend Collins had launched to his feet, saving his tea cup but his whip clattered to the floor and he turned to smile at her.

"Dearest Cousin Lisette! A pretty picture as always that dress is quite delightful if I may say," and he worked himself between his chair and the one next to it and came to claim her hand, to bow over it and then to kiss it. "I suppose this means you have given up mourning for your uncle?" He retained her hand while he looked up at her over it with his English blue eyes.

"This dress is an old one, Sir, I happened to wear it so as to not spoil my proper clothes when I went for a stroll," she pulled her hand free and used both of them to pull up the hem of her dress to show the length of mud that was attached to the hem. In places it had splattered up almost six inches onto the sprigged muslin.

He captured her hand again and began leading her to the seat next to his, "come now, I do believe it has been longer than three months since your uncle passed on to higher things, surely it is time to leave off your mourning?"

"You are correct, cousin, Uncle Philips passed on in February and it is now May if all the foliage is to be believed, thank you, Mamma," she took her cup of tea from her mother and sat down in the chair next to her cousin, the Reverend Collins.

"I have gone to half-mourning, do you see Reverend Collins?" said Mrs. Bennet indicating her lavender dress though the amount of frilled lace on the sleeves and her overlay of frilly shawls made it difficult to truly discern the color of her bodice beneath the cream of her lace.

"I had noted you were a picture of spring when I entered, ma'am," he replied as he sat down and once again perched his tea cup on his knee. Lisette hoped he would forget his whip at his feet. He turned to his younger cousin. "You, mademoiselle, are always a picture of spring even when in your blacks. It is noble of you to mourn your uncle even these extra weeks though you need only have been in black for three months you know, my plum cake."

"He was a well-loved man; one whose intelligence and wit I truly appreciated. He taught me to laugh. It has been a difficult time you know, Cousin Collins, losing such a loving and loved man so soon after Mamma lost her dear sister," and Lisette turned to look at her mother who seemed quiet and perfectly willing to let her daughter and her husband's cousin carry the conversation.

"Losing Amandine last summer was difficult, most difficult," said Mrs. Bennet is a soft voice. "Your grand-mère and I are still a wee bit in shock," she then seemed to think or recall some memory and shaking her head looked at her audience and asked, "More tea?"

"Thank you, Mamma," and Lisette handed her cup over.

"I believe, however, that," and her cousin paused to look at Lisette, "there can be no harm now in beginning to plan for the wedding." He held his hands up against any protestations though none came from either woman. "It would not be for a while yet; we would want the best venue and need to ensure that the church of our choosing is available. It should be one of the biggest weddings of the year; one of the biggest in London," his eyes glazed over as he imagined the lavish society wedding of his dreams, with his dear cousin Lisette.

Lisette pursed her lips. For almost a year she had managed to stave off the planning of the wedding between her and her cousin, the Reverend Collins—sanctioned by her father—but she had now run out of reasons to put him off.

Her mother's sister, Mrs. Philips, Tante Amandine, had passed away in August. It had been a blow to both her mother and herself as they had been close to her aunt who lived on a neighboring estate close enough to Longbourn that she had been able to visit as the whim took her and when their stables were larger.

Mrs. Philips had never been blessed with children so she had been a most indulgent aunt and welcomed Lisette and her sisters whenever the confines of Longbourn became too much and they wished to saddle a horse and ride over. Lisette had been a special favorite with them, perhaps because Tante Amandine had been, like Lisette, the middle child, or perhaps because she simply came to Pickneybush as often as she did and filled in that role of child of the house.

Mr. Philips too loved Lisette and took her under his wing to teach her beyond what was allowed by her mother and governesses, books and map learning, and even to the basics of shooting a firearm: a small fowler he found that fit in her hand as though it were a glove. Mr. and Mrs. Philips had been a second mother and father to her and she had mourned them deeply. Society only sanctioned three months for an aunt or an uncle while a parent was given a year.

"It feels so," and she tried to find one more excuse to stave off the march towards her wedding day.

"It feels so right, you are correct my dear," and her cousin reached over and clasped her hand. In doing so he lost control of his tea cup which clattered to the floor spilling its contents. He noticed his whip and picked it up and placed it beside him in his chair.

"I should have someone clean that up," said Mrs. Bennet who simply sat and stared at the tea on the carpet.

"Let me ring, Mamma," said Lisette and she pulled her hand free and stood to pull the bell chord. Hillard appeared moments later.

"Mr. Collins, Sir, you wished me to remind you of the time," the butler said bowing to his future master.

"Thank you, Hill," said Reverend Collins as he stood to bow to Mrs. Bennet and then to bow to Lisette. "I have some engagements this evening, my plum, but I shall come again tomorrow for us to begin our plans," and he left, tapping his whip against his boot with every other stride.

"Please have someone clean up Mr. Collins' spilled tea," said Mrs. Bennet as she rose.

"Mamma," said Lisette, "Why? Why are you out of mourning?" Her tone bordered on pleading.

Mrs. Bennet turned back to the last remaining daughter in the house. "Your father asked me to, Babette, he asked me to." She turned away and walked to the parlor door. No maid had come yet to clean or take away the tea service. "You know he has wanted this marriage for, well, since his disappointment," and she turned and walked through the door.

Lisette stared at the partially open door and then closed her eyes. Her fists balled at her sides and she stood attempting to contain her emotions within until a servant came in and she splayed her hands out, gathered her skirts in both hands, nodded sweetly and left.