Author's note: Thanks for the feedback! And thanks to those who pointed out I said Hertfordshire was south. Good grief. I blame it on my kids who have been driving me crazy this past week ;)

For those who are wondering about Darcy not having the funds, he is being cautious. He *could* afford to lease Netherfield, but it would put a strain on things. He's already paying a premium to bring winter wheat from Russia, which may just be a ton of money out of pocket. He's waiving rents for his tenants (paid quarterly), probably for an entire year since their income usually depended on that harvest. Plus, while he is very wealthy land-wise, that's different than having tons of liquid assets in the bank just lying around. He also doesn't know how long this bad weather will last (maybe a few years? Maybe a decade even?) and doesn't want to use more than he has to in case he needs it later. I hope that makes sense. So if Bingley is willing to help share the burden, but also have his family provided for if this does work, and get training on an estate, then it's a good idea for both parties.

Chapter 3

"Here's your supper, Mama."

Elizabeth pushed the door open to her mother's chambers, not bothering to wait for a response. While her father's intervention three days before had succeeded in cleaning the room, it had not done much to rouse Mrs. Bennet from her melancholia.

Jane sat next to Mrs. Bennet's bed and put down the book she had been reading aloud. "Why, look, Mama," the eldest Bennet daughter said with forced cheerfulness, "there are some turnips in your stew!"

Stew was the primary dish served at both lunch and dinner for the moment as the citizens of Hertfordshire stretched the last of the wrinkled vegetables they had been able to harvest.

"Hill found it in the garden when she was digging up the potatoes," Elizabeth said with a smile. "It is nice to have a different flavor."

Mrs. Bennet made no response to either of her daughters. She continued to stare listlessly out the window, her unseeing eyes looking blankly into the cloudy, gray horizon.

Elizabeth gave her sister a questioning look, who shook her head in response. Mrs. Bennet had not spoken a word since Mr. Bennet had demanded she allow Hill and the servants to clean the room and eat.

Laying the tray down next to the table, Elizabeth bent over her mother and kissed her cheek. "Get well soon, Mama," she whispered, smoothing a gray wisp of hair back from Mrs. Bennet's face. "We need you."

Mrs. Bennet did not move or acknowledge that she was in any way aware of her surroundings. Elizabeth left the room. As she closed the door, she heard Jane pick up the bowl of stew and gently cajole her mother into swallowing a few bites of the broth.

Elizabeth leaned back against the door, tears leaking from her eyes. How much longer can this go on?

After allowing herself several minutes of indulging her desire to cry, Elizabeth wiped her eyes and headed down the stairs with renewed determination. She walked into the drawing room, flinging the door open a bit more forcefully than she intended. It crashed open and back against the wall. Lydia and Mary jumped at the noise.

"Goodness, Lizzy!" exclaimed Lydia. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing," Elizabeth hastily assured her sister as she caught the door on its return swing. Closing it much more gently than she had opened it, she blushed slightly and said, "I was merely lost in my thoughts."

"Would you care to share them?" Mary asked, setting down her needle.

Mary had taken upon the task of mending their clothing and sewing warmer clothes for tenant children who had outgrown their clothes from the previous winter. To everyone's surprise, Lydia eagerly requested to assist her sister and astonished them with her skill at sewing a tight, even stitch.

Elizabeth hesitated, then said, "I'm worried about Mama. She still won't respond and she hardly eats, even at Jane's urgings."

Mary frowned. "Perhaps we could make her some of her favorite foods?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "We don't have much by way of variety. Not even to make a simple rice pudding. I wish -"

She abruptly stopped speaking and stared off into space for several moments.

"Lizzy?" asked Lydia in bewilderment.

"Rice!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "That's it! Mary, you're brilliant!"

Mary flushed at this unexpected bit of praise. "Why, thank you?" she said uncertainly.

"What does rice have do with anything?" Lydia demanded to know.

"We use to rice as a way to thicken the rice pudding. What if we used rice to thicken our stews and broths? To make them more filling?"

Mary and Lydia exchanged glances. "Isn't rice expensive?" Mary asked hesitantly, at the same time Lydia said, "I didn't think rice grew in England."

"It doesn't," Elizabeth said, "but it does come from Asia. Do you know what else comes from Asia?"

"What?" both girls responded.

"Silk!" cried Elizabeth triumphantly. "And tea."

Lydia frowned in confusion, but Mary's eyes widened in understanding. "Uncle Gardiner imports silk and tea."

"Precisely! He already has trade set up between here and Asia, like China and India. Rice is expensive because of the cost of shipping. What if Uncle Gardiner were to import rice along with the goods? It would cost a less."

"It would still cost more than wheat, wouldn't it?" asked Mary.

Elizabeth shook her head. "I think that wheat is going to be very expensive this winter. Oats and barley as well. The harvest is so poor this year, and everyone in England will be looking for food. Rice will cost more than wheat does now, but in the middle of winter, rice will be the less expensive option."

"If anyone even thinks of it," Lydia added. "I never would have."

"I wouldn't have either," Elizabeth admitted, "if Mary had not spoken about rice pudding."

The three girls looked at one another in silence for a moment. "So, what do we do now?" Lydia asked.

"I will ask Papa to send a letter to Uncle Gardiner. He will know best what he is able to order," Elizabeth replied.

"We're going with you," Mary said. "Perhaps if the three of us urge Papa, he will actually be moved to write and send the letter today."

Elizabeth smiled at her sister's accurate observation of their father's indolence. Together, the three girls made their way to their father's study.

"Enter," Mr. Bennet called in response to Elizabeth's knock at the door.

The three girls crowded into his study. Mr. Bennet looked up from his desk, mild shock on his face at finding so many of his girls in the room at one time.

"Is everything well?" he asked.

He pushed aside the ledger he was studying. Elizabeth was surprised to find him at work, as opposed to reading. Mr. Bennet typically spent as little time running the estate as possible, preferring instead to pass away the day with a good book.

"Are you working, Papa?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Mr. Bennet frowned at her. "Yes, I am," he said. "I do that on occasion, you know. The tenants do not direct themselves."

Elizabeth flushed slightly at the rebuke in his tone. "Forgive me, Papa."

Mr Bennet sighed, then waved a hand in the air. "Never mind, Lizzy. You are right to question me. I dare say you know my habits better than anyone. I should not chastise you for remarking on a change from my natural indolence."

He shifted in his chair, then said, "The truth of the matter, girls, is that your mother's condition and the poor harvest has made me fully aware of the precariousness of our situation. I ought to have been putting aside money over the years, but I confess it was easier to allow your mother free reign with the funds. Kitty's death has caused me to realize how delicate our situation is."

"Oh, Papa," Lydia said sympathetically.

Mr. Bennet blinked his eyes several times and cleared his throat. "Now, my dears, what can I do for you?"

Mary and Lydia looked at Elizabeth. "Go on, Lizzy," Mary urged. "It was your idea."

Mr. Bennet looked at Elizabeth quizzically. She took a deep breath, suddenly nervous for some unknown reason, and said, "I think we should ask Uncle Gardiner to place an order for a shipment of rice."

"Rice? Are we to make pudding this year?" Mr. Bennet asked, a small smile on his face.

Elizabeth bit her lip, but pushed forward. "I was thinking we could use the rice to thicken stews and broths this winter, to make them more filling."

The amusement on Mr. Bennet's face quickly fled as he furrowed his brow in concentration. "Rice in our stews?"

"You said yourself, Papa, that harvest is very poor this year. I do not think we will have enough grain to feed ourselves, our tenants, and the livestock. We can slaughter much of the livestock for meat, but at some point it will not be enough. If we use rice instead of wheat, then we can save the grains to feed the animals."

Mr. Bennet sat back and stroked his chin with his hand. "It is a good idea, Lizzy, but I do not think we have the funds to make such an order. It is quite expensive to bring a shipment over from Asia."

Mary, who had been waiting quietly until now, piped up. "Could we ask Uncle Gardiner if he could order it?"

Mr. Bennet's expression cleared. "Ah, I had not thought of that!" He snapped his fingers and said, "I will write to him and ask."

"Will you write to him now, Papa?" Elizabeth asked.

Mr. Bennet gave his daughter a knowing look. "Now, Lizzy, I know you are aware that I am a terrible correspondent. However, this is important and requires immediate attention. If we are to get supplies from Asia, it must be done at once. I will write to your uncle this very moment and have you girls take it into Meryton to send it as an express."

Lydia clapped her hands. "Thank you, Papa!"

"Yes, yes," Mr. Bennet said gruffly. "You girls go along and prepare yourselves for the walk. I will write the letter."

Elizabeth and her sisters filed up the stairs towards their rooms. Along the way, Mary whispered, "Should we invite Jane with us?"

Elizabeth shook her head and replied, "Jane does not handle the cold well, and Mama needs her. I will ask Lydia to sit with Mama later and share the news from town so Jane can have a respite."

Mary nodded and entered her room. She shivered at the sudden chill she felt. With fuel costs beginning to rise, Elizabeth had determined to do without a fire as much as possible. It was clear as she put on her heavy pelisse that she would need to begin having a fire at night.

If only we could find a way to stay warmer without a fire.

Elizabeth stared around her bedroom, lost in thought. A knock at the door shook her from her musings. "Are you ready, Lizzy?" Mary asked.

"Just one moment!" Elizabeth called, hastily buttoning her coat. She put a shawl over her shoulders and opened the door. "I'm ready!"

Lydia exited her room as well, and the three girls made their way down the stairs. Mr. Bennet was just finishing his letter as they arrived. After sanding the ink, he folded the paper and sealed it closed.

"Walk quickly, girls," he said, looking out the window. "It looks like it might rain soon. I would ask you to stay and go tomorrow, but I'm afraid we must send this letter before the rain makes the roads impossible for the messenger to travel."

Elizabeth took the letter and said, "Don't worry, Papa. We will go quickly, and if it begins to rain before we leave, we can stay with Aunt Phillips for a while."

Mr. Bennet nodded, though his face still showed his concern. The girls bid the farewells, then opened the door and made their way towards Meryton.

At first, the cold air made their exercise pleasant. After a quarter of an hour, however, the breeze picked up. It was as if the wind went straight through their skirts as they trudged along the well-worn path towards the little village near their home. The girls walked swiftly, with Elizabeth encouraging them to run.

"It isn't ladylike," Mary said as she gasped for breath,

"Who cares?" Lydia retorted, her cheeks chapped with the wind and cold. "I do not want to stay outside any longer than necessary!"

Practically running, the girls finally made it into the town. The first few sprinkles of rain began to fall as they entered the building were they would find the postmaster.

"Papa wishes to send this express," Elizabeth told the familiar man behind the desk.

Mr. Shelley gave the girls a welcoming smile, which faded into a frown at Elizabeth's words. "I trust everything is well?" he asked kindly, concern knit on his wrinkled forehead.

"Mama is still out of spirits, but we are all well," she replied with a smile.

Mr. Shelley gave a sigh of relief. "This is the third express I have sent today, which is more than we usually get in a week! I was concerned something had happened at Longbourn, too?"

"Did something happen?" Lydia inquired, always alert for news about their neighbors.

"I'm afraid Old Mrs. Long passed away two nights ago, and her daughter has sent for a relative to take charge of her nieces until arrangements can be made."

"Poor Mrs. Long," said Mary sympathetically. "To lose both her husband, her brother, and now her mother-in-law all in two years."

"I shall have to call on Sarah Long," Lydia said. "I hope she will not have to leave."

Mr. Shelley shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't know any more than that, Miss Lydia."

"Who was the other express from?" Elizabeth asked.

Mary jabbed an elbow into Elizabeth's side and hissed, "Lizzy, it is not our business."

Mr. Shelley pretended not to hear the middle Bennet daughter. "Your uncle, Mr. Phillips, sent an express related to some business, I believe."

Elizabeth, who had frozen upon hearing her uncle's name, relaxed. "Thank you, Mr. Shelley. Being in mourning means we do not get to hear as much of the news from our friends as we would like."

"Does this mean you will not be attending the assembly next week?" he asked.

"Oh, Lizzy, an assembly!" cried Lydia.

Mary hushed her sister, who stuck her tongue out in return. Elizabeth rolled her eyes at her sisters' antics, though she was secretly heartened to see Lydia's spirits somewhat revived. Kitty's death had been hard on them all.

"We shall speak to our father," Elizabeth told Mr. Shelley, who nodded in understanding.

The sound of raindrops interrupted the conversation, and the girls turned to the door in dismay. "It is raining!" wailed Lydia unnecessarily.

"Thank you for that astute observation," muttered Mary still mildly peeved over Lydia's earlier childishness.

"You are welcome to remain here, if you wish," Mr. Shelley told the girls kindly.

"No, we are going to stop by our aunt Phillips," Elizabeth said. "It is only a few doors down. But thank you," she added hastily, not wishing to seem ungrateful.

Mr. Shelley smiled as the girls linked arms and dashed into the rain. They sprinted down past the buildings until their reached their Uncle Phillips's home, where he worked from some offices on the first floor. A maid-of-all-work admitted the girls, and they burst into the home, bringing the rain in with them.

Lydia looked at Mary and burst into laughter. "Oh, Mary! Your hair!"

Elizabeth turned towards her middle sister and bit back a giggle. "Here, Mary, allow me to help you."

Mary looked into the mirror in the entry and let out a gasp of dismay. Half of her hair had fallen out of the severe knot she typically wore. She immediately began to push it back up with hair pins, but it refused to stay.

Mrs. Phillips came down the stairs. "My dear nieces!" she cried. "What on earth brings you out in this weather? No, never you mind answering now. Come in and dry yourselves in the parlor!"

The sisters followed their aunt into the room, and Elizabeth forced Mary into a chair. Elizabeth batted her sister's hands away and began to repair the damage to her coiffure. Meanwhile, Lydia explained to Mrs. Phillip the express they had just sent to Mr. Gardiner.

"It is a strange idea, putting rice in the stew," mused Mrs. Phillips. "Do you truly believe things are so grave?"

Elizabeth had settled herself by the fire. "You haven't seen the fields, Aunt. Almost nothing has grown, and it's that way all over England. Plus, with needing to have fires almost all summer, we will be short on fuel for the winter."

Mrs. Phillips's eyes widened. "Do you expect prices to increase much?"

Elizabeth hesitated, then nodded her head. "I believe they will at least triple, if not more."

Her aunt gasped in horror. "Good heavens, how will anyone be able to afford to eat or stay warm?"

"They won't," Mary said grimly.

Elizabeth gave her sister a sharp look. "We are trying to think of ways we can all work together, but we haven't been able to come up with many."

Mrs. Phillips looked miserable. "I remember as a girl having to sleep with all three of us in our parents' bed one winter. The cold was brutal, and we only had enough fuel to keep one fire going."

"That's it!" cried Elizabeth.

"What's it?" asked Lydia.

"We can share bedrooms at Longbourn! Jane can come in with me, and you two girls can share as well," Elizabeth answered. "That way, we are only lighting two fires instead of four."

"If all four of us shared, we could light just one fire," Mary suggested.

Lydia snorted. "Not the way you kick in your sleep!"

The two girls began to bicker slightly, but the teasing smiles assured Elizabeth that it was merely banter, as opposed to the vicious arguments that used to occur before the summer - if one could call it a summer.

Elizabeth looked over and saw tears shimmer slightly in her aunt's eyes. "What is wrong, Aunt?"

Mrs. Phillips withdrew a handkerchief from a pocket and dabbed at her eyes. "I thought when I married your uncle that I would never have to worry about living in such poverty again."

Sympathy welled up in Elizabeth's chest, and she reached out to clutch her aunt's hand. "Don't worry, Aunt. We won't let you."

Mrs. Phillip gave her a watery smile. "Dear Elizabeth, you are too good."

"You must have me confused with Jane," teased Elizabeth, drawing a reluctant laugh from her aunt.

The pair sat in thoughtful silence, each lost to their own musings. After a few minutes, Lydia drew Mrs. Phillip into conversation about the Longs and others of their acquaintance. An hour passed in lighthearted conversation before Mary spoke. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Lydia asked impatiently, having been interrupted in the middle of a particularly humorous tale.

"Exactly," Mary said.

Lydia turned to Elizabeth. "Has Mary lost her senses, do you think?"

Mary rolled her eyes, and Elizabeth giggled. "I believe Mary is pointing out that the rain has stopped."

Understanding dawned on Lydia's face. "Well, she could have just said that," she said petulantly.

Mary gave her sister a smirk and rose from her seat. "We had best be on our way home before the rain begins again."

Mrs. Phillips nodded. "Please give my best to your poor mother. Does she still take to her bed?"

Elizabeth nodded mutely. Mrs. Phillips sighed and said, "I will call on her soon. Whether she admits me or not, I will see her."

The girls smiled at their aunt, then took their leave. As they left, Elizabeth turned to Mrs. Phillip forlornly watching them through her window.