A/N: I could never pretend to own anything created by Jane Austen.
The Security of Longbourn
It was the occasion of Charlotte Lucas's marriage; Mrs. Bennet was obliged to attend the event, however distasteful it was for her. Just thinking of the agony of watching Charlotte Lucas marry Mr. Collins, and of having to endure the prattle of Lady Lucas and her infuriating mother-of-the-bride behavior knowing all the while that it should be her daughter instead, set Mrs. Bennet into a fit. During the whole of the day she was unable to speak to her second daughter. The whole affair, she regarded, was Lizzie's fault.
"She should've done her duty to her family and secured Longbourn and all of our futures," she exasperatedly spoke to Jane.
"Mamma, she would never have been happy with our cousin." Jane tried to reason with her.
"Of course she would have been happy; she and the rest of us would be safe. She would have been able to raise her children in peace and serenity. Even that Charlotte Lucas can see that safety and security are the most important attributes of a marriage."
"Lizzie's temperament will never allow her to marry any man without some degree of affection, Mama. Surely, you can see –"
"I don't see anything!" she cut Jane off. "She has almost certainly singlehandedly ruined us all! Foolish, headstrong girl!"
The wedding ceremony concluded as soon as any, and the couple left for Kent from the very church door. The Lucases could little afford an elaborate wedding breakfast, and Mr. Collins felt that he could not be away from his post at Lady Catharine DeBourgh's right hand for much longer. Mrs. Bennet was astonished that such a vital standard of celebration should be overlooked even if it was for the sake of economy. She resolved that none of her daughters would endure such a shame. At the same time she was grateful she would not have to suffer the pleased looks and irritating conversation of Lady Lucas.
The day wore on to an evening that was passed in a very dull manner. Most everyone was at least a little out of sorts because of the wedding, the manner of its guests, the lack of officers that attended, or the rain that had just started up. Very little of entertaining conversation was to be had among anyone in the house. Mr. Bennet had retired to his library soon after dinner as was his manner, and left the women of the house to their own devices. Pleading illness, but not wanting any attending, Mrs. Bennet retired to her bedchambers a little time later.
As Mrs. Bennet shut the door to her room the tears welled up in her eyes, and she moved to the little sofa and let herself weep quietly on the cushions. She was not a person of much understanding, but she did know a certain number of things and one of them was that all of their futures were now seriously in peril.
When her daughters were born, all that she wanted for them was to have everything in life that she did not. Marrying Mr. Bennet was a stroke of luck that she had never really figured out and in truth, she hadn't even bothered to try. When Jane had turned sixteen it had become the object of her life to make matches for her daughters, for although they were a gentleman's daughters, they found themselves in much the same situation that she had been three and twenty years ago. They had no fortune, little in the way of accomplishments, and only Jane had any quantity of real beauty. Lizzie, although Mr. Bennet had the most regard for her, was too impertinent for most men's taste. Mary was far too severe in temperament, and would in all likelihood never marry at all. Kitty and Lydia were outgoing and vivacious, but their charms and beauty lay solely in their youth, so she encouraged them to enter society, for if they did not find husbands in the next few years they would certainly end as old maids with Mary.
She had seen real hope this fall with Mr. Bingley and Mr. Collins both coming, and now one was gone to London, leaving her most desirable daughter broken-hearted and the other was married to their neighbor. 'Confounded Lizzie! She should have seen that the chances of her sisters being able to carry off a match of enough significance to support all of them after Mr. Bennet's death were very slim,' she thought. Now that Mr. Collins was married to Miss Lucas, Mrs. Bennet had a very real and nagging fear, for one of the other things that she knew for certain was that Mr. Collins, for all of his pompous religious posturing, was not a good man. Once Mr. Bennet was in his grave, he would certainly remove them from this house with very little regard as to where they would go, or on what they might support themselves.
Yes, she was scared, scared of the poverty that she came from being visited on her girls. Mrs. Bennet saw that it was going to take quite an effort to get any of her daughters married to anyone of standing and even then it might not come to anything, as had been the case with Mr. Bingley. So she wept. Not having the capacity to think of any plans or schemes that would mitigate the impending doom that she felt, she simply wept for their collective futures.
Without calling for her maid, Mrs. Bennet made herself ready for bed, and laid her aching head down on her pillow. Yet, as being unable to think of anything but their impending ruin was not conducive to sleep, she laid awake for several hours in the growing dark. She was still thinking of Elizabeth's betrayal when there was a cautious knock on her door; Mr. Bennet soon followed his knock into the room.
Having heard of her behavior after dinner he thought that he might check on her, surely there would be something of amusement to be gained in her ill-worded, useless complaints and irrational flutterings. He was however, shocked to see that the face that greeted him was neither irrational nor overcome by nervous sentiment. She was quiet, she looked as though she was thinking clearly, and she was crying.
"My dear, I heard that you were unwell…" he paused waiting for a barrage of complaints of twitchings and headaches, but none came: "Whatever is the matter?"
"Mr. Collins" she managed to get out between sniffles.
"Surely, you are not still mourning over his loss! Seeing your recent behavior towards him, I would have thought you would be glad to be rid of him." Mr. Bennet said in his flippant manner trying to put this situation back to some sense of normalcy. The wounded look that he received in response made him regret his choice of words. He continued in a serious manner, "I would never have agreed to his marrying Lizzie."
"But it would have been a good match," she said slightly exasperated. "Am I the only one who sees that?"
Sighing, Mr. Bennet sat down on the bed. "No, my dear you are not, and were he a different sort of man I would not have any objections, but as it is, we are well to have avoided his having a more intimate presence in our family."
"He will turn us out of here the very day he has claim over the property, if he had married one of the girls, he would have to let us stay."
"He is a Christian, a parson, and exceedingly vain, surely he wouldn't be seen shoving you and the girls out into the cold." Mr. Bennet said reassuringly.
"He is a pompous, denigrating, vindictive little toad." Mrs. Bennet said tersely.
"Mrs. Bennet!"
"You think less of him than I do!"
Mr. Bennet sighed, "Your brother will not see you starve."
"Edward was a young family, he cannot easily support the addition of six to his household," she rather uncharacteristically reasoned. "Mr. Collins' offer was the only one that any of the girls have received, and she tosses it away like so much moldy bread!" Mrs. Bennet said, crying more freely by then. "I don't want to see my girls poor, Mr. Bennet." she added in a voice close to a whisper.
Mr. Bennet was sincerely affected by this little speech, and the fear that he recognized in her eyes. Thusly, he found himself for the first time in a great while, in the position of having to comfort his wife in her distress.
Mrs. Phillips would not give up the house she shared in Meryton with Mr. Phillips for anything in the world, for her house was at the center of what she considered the only important thing there was in life, that is the neighborhood gossip. From her drawing room overlooking the main street in Meryton she could see the comings and goings, the meetings and partings of almost everyone of her not inconsiderable acquaintance.
She had made it her business in life to discover and spread the details of everyone else's. From the bay window of this house she could see ladies, gentlemen, or their servants enter the shops across the way or down the street. She could inspect their purchases, or go out into the lane and trap them into taking tea with her. She might call out the window and stop their servants to extract what information she could. Once she compiled everything, she spread it about to the very corners of the neighborhood through either the same measures or her normal rounds of calls.
Today there wasn't much happening, but it was early yet. It was sad that the onset of winter took many of the residents (and therefore much of the gossip) to London for the season. It could certainly be a dull time for her and therefore she spent more time than usual at her post before the bay window. It was there that she spied Mr. Jones' shop boy, Ben, hurrying down the street.
'La, here will be something at least,' she thought. With one deft motion, she opened the window and stopped little Ben right underneath the window.
"Ben, wherever can you be going in such haste and in such cold as this?" she said with mock concern for one of her husband's lesser client's children.
Inwardly the boy smiled, he had fabricated hurried his pace so that she would notice him. It was the game that they played, for he was just as eager to divulge information as she was to receive it. "I must get this draught to Longbourn, ma'am. It is a most urgent situation, I am told. Mr. Jones was called there much earlier this morning! From his home!" he said.
"Goodness me! Whatever can be the matter? Is there someone near death?" Mrs. Phillips asked with some alarm.
"I don't think so ma'am, I don't think that a tincture of ginger and herbs could be useful to someone almost dead, but then I ain't no medical man." Ben responded.
At this information Mrs. Phillips balked. "Ginger and -? Why! That's usually for-! Goodness me! Did he say who the draught was for?"
"Mrs. Bennet," the boy replied.
"Mrs. Bennet! Are you sure, Ben?"
"Yes ma'am. She's in much distress, I am told. The whole house has been turned upside down, he says."
"Good gracious! Mrs. Bennet!" Mrs. Phillips said, a smile just forming on her countenance, one that she saw mirrored in the face of Ben.
"Well get on with you then, there is not a minute to lose," she said tossing the boy a coin which he caught easily and pocketed instantly.
"Yes ma'am," he said turning from her and continuing on his way.
Mrs. Phillips shut her window, and was quite unable to contain her herself. "Good gracious me! My sister, a baby!" This information was simply too delectable, she set out for Mrs. Long's immediately.
September 28, 1811
Lucas Lodge
My dearest sister,
Oh, you will never believe! The whole neighborhood is a flutter talking of it, Mrs. Bennet has had her baby, and what do you think? It is a boy! Kitty tells me that they are going to call him Samuel…
The letter from Maria had come earlier today while Mr. Collins was with Lady Catharine. When he had arrived home he found that his wife was in an ill humor and not inclined to speak much. Upon his inquiries, she had simply handed him the letter and shut herself in her sitting room. When he read the letter, his shock and disbelief had been so great as to accuse his wife's sister of fabricating the whole thing. But his wife's manner suggested that she believed the account to be an accurate one.
Of course, this outcome should've been at least considered, for they were not ignorant of Mrs. Bennet's condition. Somehow, the idea that this late child could ruin his future inheritance had never really taken hold in his mind. The conceited thought that he was somehow favored by God in the preferment of someone so noble as Lady Catharine DeBourgh and the surety of becoming a landed gentlemen on his cousin's death had prevented any real contemplation of a negative outcome to the situation. He read and re-read that section of the letter several times before the information it contained could sink in.
He was now out in his garden tending to (or rather pruning with sever prejudice) his plants and reflecting on his changed circumstances. 'Two thousand a year this little upstart cost me!' he thought while whacking away at one of the bushes that was already dangerously close to skeletal. Despite what he had professed to his cousin on her departure, he knew his wife had married him simply because he would one day be a respectable gentleman and her wellbeing would be secure. Longbourn was to be the scene of their greatest and happiest years together.
What were they going to do now? It was not as if he could simply earn enough to replace the loss, he had chosen the church for a profession. Although his patroness was the great, kind and condescending Lady Catharine DeBourgh, the church would always be a poor profession. They would have to be achingly frugal from here on out, as well as increasingly flattering to Lady Catharine; she could not ever see reason to toss them out. Mr. Collins still conceitedly believed that the magnanimous Lady Catharine would never be able to part company with him and the services he provided, however, it had happened to others before him and therefore it must be guarded against at all costs.
Thinking these thoughts and making other plans Mr. Collins continued his attack on his garden, and as he was doing so creating, fostering and reveling in a deep hatred for the newborn child that was his ruin.
Six years later…
Mrs. Bennet took in the scene before her. They were having a picnic on the grounds; it had been Samuel's wish for his birthday. Her daughters, Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy as well as the rest of their families had come down to Longbourn for Kitty's wedding (she was now Mrs. Saunderson), and had been convinced to stay for at least a fortnight. The house was full to the brim, but everyone was getting along very nicely. Her daughters' children were a little trying to her nerves, but she found the ability to manage that with some peaceful time spent in her sitting room with one or another of her neighbors.
She sat a little off to the side and reflected. God had certainly been good to them. Four of her daughters were now married. Some months ago Mary had expressed a disinclination for matrimony which had been vexing at the time, but now Mrs. Bennet was able to regard that too as a blessing, for at least she would never be without someone to talk to. Mr. Bennet was still in excellent health, and had expressed that having a son was extremely invigorating. It was a very good thing as well, for Mrs. Bennet would have no idea how to raise the rambunctious boy that her little Samuel was becoming.
She sighed contentedly, life was certainly good, she thought. It was just then that a wail from down the lawn was heard, both of her daughters jumped up and ran towards the sound, and Mrs. Bennet waited with baited breath. Soon Mrs. Darcy was seen coming back looking quite amused, and knowing everything was alright Mrs. Bennet was able to calm her racing heart.
"Samuel dared little George to climb the big oak, and he fell out of it," Mrs. Darcy explained.
"I have told that boy a hundred times not to…" Mr. Bennet said walking off to find his son.
The End
A/N #2 Okay, so this is a first fic, so please be gentle. Before you start spouting flames about Mrs. Bennet being too old to have more children let me explain that in my little world here she was just eighteen when she married Mr. Bennet (who would have been less than thirty) making her forty-one here. That is, admittedly, a bit on the outside but certainly not unheard of, add that to the fact that she was supposed to still be quite beautiful, and that Mr. Bennet is still a man, and you get a recipe for an alternate universe . I hoped you enjoyed it.
