A/N: A guest reviewer 'faoi ng' yelled at your author that 'It's "HAD SHAKEN HIS HAND" and not "HAD SHOOK HIS HAND - I think you need an editor.' In response, all your author can do is paraphrase the immortal Elvis: "I'm all shaken up".
And now, after that message from your author, back to Longbourn:
Ever since Lizzy had left Jane had been experiencing the strangest visions. More and more, as time went on, she felt as if she were floating, 'lonely as a cloud' as that poem Lizzy loved so much said, but not above 'a host, of golden daffodils'; no, she was floating above her family, including herself, and they were most certainly not 'a jocund company'.
For two days after the wedding the house was quiet, that is to say, as quiet as a Bennet house could be. Jane floated above it all, watching: Mr. Bennet hiding in his book room; Mrs. Bennet laying sedated in her bedroom; Mary playing the pianoforte but softly, hardly touching the keys; Kitty sketching; Lydia reworking bonnets; and Jane, herself, stitching the same rose over and over again until it took on the aspect of a peony. But then Mrs. Bennet awoke.
Mr. Bennet came upon Mrs. Bennet in the breakfast room and made the mistake of saying "Welcome back to the land of the living, my dear. You are looking well rested today."
Mr. Bennet may have been sincere in uttering this commonplace pleasantry, but given his snide history, Mrs. Bennet was likely correct in not receiving it with any pleasure. Whether it was sufficient in itself to set off her rage is another question indeed, but enrage her, it did.
Mrs. Bennet threw down her napkin, stood and moved to the head of the dining table to confront Mr. Bennet. She jabbed her finger at him and hissed "You dare to say I look well? Are you just stupid or just deliberately blind? When I stand before you destined for the hedgerows when that cold heart of yours quits beating." She waved her hand at their daughters, whom were watching all appalled. "As are they, ruined as they have been by their sister; but of course, you don't care about them, she was your only favourite."
Mr. Bennet tried to placate her. "Now my dear, don't let your nerves get the best of you. Perhaps a dose of your tonic might help to settle them." He then made the mistake of picking up his cup to have a sip of tea.
Mrs. Bennet slashed her hand down on his arm causing his tea to spill into his lap. He stood up and shouted "That's enough. Be silent woman. Your situation has nothing to do with Elizabeth."
"I won't be quiet. You are a selfish, obstinate, conceited creature; oh, so superior to everyone else, and you made her in your own image. At no cost to her, in fact at great benefit to her, she could have married Mr. Darcy, and saved us all. But no, she jilted him and then she ran off to enjoy herself, leaving us behind to suffer in the wreckage, all the time knowing her dear Papa would support her, the way he did when she rejected Mr. Collins' proposal."
"I didn't …"
"No, you didn't do anything. That's your problem. You just read your books, drank your port, smoked your pipe and spoiled your pet, Lizzy. Oh, and when you got the itch, you crawled into my bed. But you didn't do anything for the rest of us. Well, you can slither back to your book room now, I'm going to see my sister. I know she is willing to help us."
Mrs. Bennet swept out of the room and, at her invitation, her daughters chose to join her. Mr. Bennet went up to his bedroom to change his breeches and then, indeed, he hid in his book room.
From her spot, floating above it all, Jane watched it all unfold. She focused on herself, she watched her face lose its happy aspect, her habitually smiling lips pursing as she was unable to reconcile the paucity of goodness in her parents.
After that horrid day her parents did not speak. The one day Mr. Bennet ventured a complaint about mutton being served for the fifth day in a row Mrs. Bennet did not reply; she just stood up, picked up the salt cellar, dumped the contents on his plate, and then left the dining room. After that Mr. Bennet took all his meals on a tray in his book room.
Mrs. Bennet abdicated all responsibility for the house, and since Mr. Bennet had long ago abdicated all responsibility for the estate, the dual roles of chatelaine and steward fell to Jane. She watched herself carry out the duties of these roles most credibly, but she was not conscious of making any decisions or doing anything at all. Her body was no longer hers.
When Lydia received an invitation from Harriet Forster to accompany the Forsters when the militia decamped to Brighton Jane watched herself refuse to let Lydia go. She watched Lydia go and whine at their father, who, in his sarcastic way, gave Lydia permission to go, adjuring her to marry a rich officer to save them all and please her mother.
In the days after Lydia left, as Jane watched herself, she saw that she was starting to fade away. A transparency was falling over her.
The Gardiners invited Jane to go with them on their tour of Derbyshire. She would have liked to escape the coldness at home but who would care for the Gardiner children if she did? She suggested Mary go in her place but Mary declined, saying it would be better if Kitty went. Kitty's pouting ever since Lydia had left had laid another layer of wretchedness on Longbourn that it could do without. So, Kitty went. Jane did not bother to ask permission for Kitty to go, or even mention Kitty's absence to her parents. She doubted they noticed.
The Gardiner children helped arrest the descent of Jane's mood but she knew it was temporary. They would go home and she would continue to fade away. Only Mr. Bingley could save her from the curst house of Longbourn; but Mr. Bingley did not come. She did not blame Mr. Darcy; he had made it clear that he was not guaranteeing the return of Mr. Bingley. Her promise of an open and honest display of affection must not have been enough for Mr. Bingley. He would not be coming for her.
Jane felt she was slowly going mad.