Chapter Three

TWENTY YEARS LATER

"Your father is very ill now," the physician told Jane and Elizabeth Bennet. "You will need to prepare yourselves - and your sisters."

Elizabeth felt her voice was coming from somewhere else when she said, "I see." She took Jane's hand and squeezed it hard to try and somehow block the empty feeling that was already seeping into her.

"He would like to speak with you all," said Dr Fairlane. "Perhaps Miss Mary, Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia first? And then you two can go in to see him."

Mary, Lydia and Kitty were fetched, and sent in to see their father, not really understanding how serious things were. Elizabeth sat with Jane's hand clutched in her own, willing Mary and Kitty to hurry, wanting to keep all the time Father had left to herself. Neither Jane nor Elizabeth spoke, but the clock ticked loudly and pulses rushed less loudly and finally the door scraped open, and her three younger sisters, whey-faced, stumbled out.

Elizabeth walked in quickly, followed by Jane. "Father," she whispered, and knelt down by his bed, as Jane followed suit. He looked so old and frail, and what was it? Half a week since he had been fit and healthy, attending their mother's funeral - in fact, he was only going to outlive her by several days. His forehead was damp with sweat, and he only just managed to reach for his two eldest daughters' hands.

"Jane. . . Elizabeth. . ." he murmured, and attempted a weak smile.

Elizabeth felt the tears spill out of her eyes. This could not be happening yet. This could not be happening, she repeated to herself over and over again, hoping she was about to wake from a particularly bad nightmare. First her mother, and then her father? It was too much to bear.

"I think you know as well as I do that this is to be my final hour," he whispered with a wry smile. "One is always supposed to say amazingly profound things on one's deathbed, but I don't think I quite have the knack for it yet."

"Father, please don't trouble yourself," whispered Jane faintly, gripping the side of the bed like she was hanging off a cliff.

"No, Jane, you know I never trouble myself, and I think the one place I should at least pretend to trouble myself is on my deathbed. Elizabeth. . . Jane. . . You know I have always loved you two, don't you?"

They nodded tearfully.

"As if . . . I think I should tell you something . . . but I fear it . . ."

Elizabeth leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Say whatever you want, Father."

He sighed, and moved slightly on his pillows. All was silent for a few moments. Mr Bennet then opened his mouth to speak again. "Girls, just remember this - I love you, and remember these names: Lara and Vivian."

"Lara and Vivian?" Elizabeth said, confused. Jane twitched slightly beside her. For a moment she thought her father had lost his senses, but looking into his face again, she knew he had not.

"Yes," he said, and suddenly a spasm of pain crossed his body, and he winced. Jane ran for the physician, who hurried in and busied himself while the two girls looked on. Finally Mr Bennet sighed, and laid his head back on the pillow again. "Oh, it's difficult, trying to be wise. . .on your deathbed of all places. . ."

"Father?" said Elizabeth, but he didn't reply, and when she realised what had happened, she turned away, not wanting to see him, and turned to Jane, squeezing tight her sister and shut her eyes.

*****************

"What on earth did he mean, Jane?" Elizabeth said as they stood at the graveside a few days later, after the funeral had been borne.

"By what?"

"Lara and Vivian," she said.

"I don't altogether know," said Jane slowly, "but Lizzy - in some strange way, the names seem familiar! Lara. . . Thithian. . ."

"Thithian?!" Elizabeth almost laughed.

Jane shook her head. "I don't know why I said that."

The two girls' aunt came hurrying up. "Jane, Lizzy," she said, holding her shawl tight around her. "It is time for the reading of the will. You will come, won't you?"

"Yes," said Jane glumly.

"If we must," said Lizzy.

Mrs Gardiner sighed. "You poor things. Now, I want you to know, before the will is read, you and your sisters will always be welcome at Gracechurch Street. You know that, don't you?"

"Thank you, aunt," said Jane, "but it is altogether too great a thing to ask of you."

"Don't be silly," said Mrs Gardiner. "You come inside now. It's cold."

They joined the rest of the family, seated inside the Longbourn parlour waiting for the two eldest Bennet girls. Lizzy paused at the door. Everything seemed so dismal. All the people in the room wore black, and all had sorrowful expressions on their faces. Kitty seemed to have grasped what it meant to be an orphan now, and was slightly trembling as she looked up at the lawyer standing in front of them, and Lydia's eyes were wide and anxious. The only non-miserable person there was Mr Collins, thought Lizzy angrily, coming to stake out his claim in the estate, with a toadish air of satisfaction.

"Oh, here you are," said Mr Evans, the lawyer. "Shall we commence the reading of the last will and testament of Mr Bennet?" Nods from all around. Mr Evans cleared his throat. "I, James Humphrey Bennet, do hereby bequeath my various possessions and finances to the following persons: to William Algernon Collins, in accordance with the rules of entail, the estate of Longbourn, who will be bound by the rules of entail towards his own offspring. To my five daughters the sum of five thousand pounds, which will be distributed in the following manner - to Jane Arabella Bennet, one thousand pounds. To Elizabeth Frances Bennet, one thousand pounds. To Mary Sophia Bennet, one thousand pounds. To Catherine Emma Bennet, one thousand pounds. And to Lydia Anne Bennet, one thousand pounds. Most of the household furniture, farm equipment and animals is bequeathed to William Algernon Collins, except for the pianoforte, left jointly to Elizabeth Frances Bennet and Mary Sophia Bennet, and the mare Nelly, left to Jane Arabella Bennet. Thus ends the last will and testament of James Humphrey Bennet, witnessed by Charles Walter Evans and Edward Richard Gardiner."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at Jane while Mr Collins heaved a great sigh of accomplishment, and stood up, looking around the parlour with a decided air of ownership. Poor Charlotte was obviously embarrassed, and was finding it hard to meet her friend's eyes. Elizabeth hurried over to her. "Oh Lizzy," Charlotte said, "I feel so ashamed having to be the one who has to turn you out of your home."

"Don't think twice about it, Charlotte," Elizabeth ordered her. "You know it had nothing to do with you. I own, I will be sad to leave, but I am going to London for the time being, as you know, and that is always exciting."

"Not so much as usual, I imagine?" said Charlotte cautiously. Lizzy nodded. "Lizzy, you know that you are always, always welcome to come and stay with me."

Elizabeth hesitated before speaking. "I think," she said carefully, "that it may take some time before I will be able to, Charlotte." Charlotte nodded, understanding. "But if I find myself expelled from Gracechurch Street in disgrace, I will know who to turn to!"

Charlotte laughed. "I hope so."

Elizabeth returned to Jane, clutching her hand. These days, Jane was the only one she felt she could really talk to, openly. The two eldest had always been closer to each other than to the younger ones, and Lizzy felt the two youngest, especially, did not understand that their futures were now in jeopardy. Yes, they had received a little money from their mother's own small fortune, and the thousand pounds from their father, but unless they married soon, there could be no hope of ever living in the same style as before. Lizzy worried too about the two youngest - of course there was no need to worry about Mary scrimping and saving - but Lydia was extravagant and thoughtless, and Kitty easily led, and once they reached their majorities, their was no telling how quickly the money could disappear. And so she confided in Jane.

"Lizzy?" Jane was saying now. "Our aunt is calling us. I think she wants us to leave now."

"Oh," said Elizabeth, awakened from her reverie. "I will just go and fetch my reticule." She ran up the stairs. Longbourn. The home she was born in and had always known. And now she was to leave it. She snatched up her reticule off the bed that was once hers, and ran downstairs, not wanting to prolong the agony of leaving.

*****************

"Here we are!" said Mr Gardiner, leaning slightly out of the window. "Gracechurch Street again." Elizabeth and Jane looked up at their new home with slightly dismal expressions on their faces. Their uncle laughed. "It's not quite Longbourn, I agree, but comfortable enough."

They schooled their expressions back to normal again, and assured their uncle that they were perfectly happy - although Lydia was not so polite - even though already they missed the casual elegance of Longbourn and the smell of fresh air. Elizabeth, for one, was perfectly aware what a burden five more girls would be on a family of six, and of a hopeful seven. She and Jane were to share a room, and the three youngest another, but their cousins were to be moved into each other's rooms as well to make room for the Bennet girls. The Gardiner family, including the children, were such a generous, happy family that it could not make them at all upset, but still Elizabeth felt like a deadweight on them. And then there was the cost of caring for them and feeding them. At least they could help a little there, but she knew the Gardiner's would not accept much.

Before, she had not realised what it was going to be like when this day finally came. She felt embarrassed, irksome, and humiliated.

"Oh, Lizzy," whispered Jane as they unpacked their valises later, "I feel so terrible to be here!"

"I know," said Elizabeth gloomily. "Our aunt and uncle are so kind about it too, but even they must see that five girls our ages, with no other able connections, are going to be a tiresome burden."

"I just wish we were back at Longbourn," said Jane softly. "I wish Father was still here. I wish we had a brother." She wiped her cheek and Elizabeth was suspicious. "I wish I was married; then, at least, I could help you all."

Elizabeth's heart broke for the hundredth time that fortnight. Since Mr Bingley had gone away, and it had been certain he was not coming back, Jane had been so doleful and quiet. Her anger rose again at Mr Darcy for keeping them apart, and then just as quickly it was subdued, thinking about her unjust accusations to him. She almost blushed as she remembered her rudeness when he had proposed to her in Kent, only a few months ago. "Jane . . ." she said, "what has happened, has happened, and there's really nothing we can do about it now."

Jane sat down on the side of the bed. "But Lizzy, don't you see? Soon we'll be accepting offers from any half-respectable man, the way we're feeling now! It can only get worse. And I just wish . . . if only my half- respectable man could be . . . oh, it does nobody any good to think about it, and I shall keep him out of my mind."

Elizabeth couldn't think of anything to say, for once. She was wondering how long it would take her to desperately accept any proposal that came along. Although she shuddered at the very thought, she knew that Jane was right in her rare moment of pessimism when she said it could only get worse. And the way she was feeling now . . . how long could it take for desperation, and would she give in to it?