"Lizzy," said Jane sleepily, snuggling beneath the covers, "why did Miss Fitzwilliam want to talk to you so urgently?"
Elizabeth lay still, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. Perhaps the most surprising element of the entire evening had come shortly before their departure. Elizabeth was, of course, aware that her decision to marry Darcy affected many people; but she had not understood how many until Cecilia took her into yet another unfamiliar and little-known room. She had apparently spent her childhood following after her older cousins, and discovered at least as many secrets as they.
"She wanted to thank me," Elizabeth said. Jane blinked.
"Whatever for? Did you do something kind to her?"
Elizabeth laughed. "No, not really. At least, I did not intend it that way."
She could see Cecilia before her again, light eyes swimming in tears. If it had not been for this, I should never have dared tell him - tell my uncle what I have done. You see, when Lord Ravenshaw took me in, he gave me a small fortune. It - it's mostly gone, now. We owe him everything, and if I had not been so silly! - I hadn't the courage, I just hadn't. Then Fitzwilliam - Fitzwilliam, of all people! the favourite, the one who always did everything he should, everything that was expected - he dared choose you, and you dared accept, even though you might have been thrown off entirely. And you weren't afraid, or deferential, like I thought you would be, and you had so much more to gain by it, you were brave. So I - I am going to be brave, too, and explain everything to my uncle, and I shan't pay another shilling.
Elizabeth opened her mouth to relay all of this, then shut it again. Jane did not mean to be inquisitive, certainly there would be no repercussions if she told - but it had been a confidence. She had given her word that she would not speak of it to anyone but Darcy. It was not the same as when she had confided the details of Wickham's perfidy; she had never dreamt Jane might someday meet Georgiana. While loyalty to Jane must take precedence, it was nothing to her but idle curiosity. It was Cecilia's life, and Elizabeth had given her word.
"I am sorry," she said, looking at her sister with tears in her eyes, "I gave my word that I would not tell anyone what she said."
"Oh! I shall ask no further," Jane said easily, and turned the conversation elsewhere before falling asleep. Nevertheless Elizabeth felt very uncomfortable. Her feelings for Darcy, and the truth behind Lydia's marriage, were the first great secrets she ever kept from Jane, but she had always meant to tell all, and had actually done so. Besides, not speaking of something Jane knew nothing of was somehow not the same as refusing to speak. It was perhaps a fine distinction, but Elizabeth, lying in her bed, thought that something in their relationship had changed, and would never be the same. Her first allegiance would be to Darcy now. She shivered, then her mind veered to Darcy's uncharacteristic exuberance that evening. Of course - Cecilia would have told him first. That was why he had been so pleased, to see good come of his own happiness.
Elizabeth thought once more of what Miss Darcy had said. Darcy did not want her associating too closely with Cecilia. How had she lost her inheritance? Did he think she would somehow corrupt his sister? He had seemed so fond of her.
She was still trying to come up with an explanation when she finally drifted off to sleep.
"Lizzy, Jane, your mother and I wish to speak to you. Mr Gardiner, I am sure, can entertain Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy for an half-hour."
The sisters looked at one another in bewilderment, but obediently followed Mrs Gardiner and Mrs Bennet. Mr Gardiner looked particularly grim as he re-set the chess board. Bingley, it seemed, was an abysmally bad strategist.
"Girls," began Mrs Bennet, her cheeks pink, "we must tell you about your . . . er . . . marital duties. So that you have time to prepare."
Elizabeth suppressed a giggle. Jane blushed. Mrs Gardiner remained silent, but Elizabeth thought she caught a smile playing about her aunt's lips.
"You are very fortunate, to be marrying such fine-looking men. I would warn you never to let your husband know, if you find him repulsive, but that does not look as if it will be a concern." Elizabeth thought of Polly's I should not want to marry a man so much prettier than me, and firmly pressed her lips together. "Still, gentlemen are not . . . built like ladies."
"I had noticed that, Mama," said Elizabeth.
Mrs Bennet paled. "Lizzy, you silly girl, what have you done?"
"I have done nothing wrong," she protested. "But, Mama, how could I not notice? Men simply do not look like ladies, even men like . . . even smaller men. Mr Darcy is over six feet tall."
"That is so," she allowed, "but not quite what I . . . meant. That is . . . well, you have seen dogs and cats and horses and such."
Mrs Gardiner coughed. "Your mother means that the differences between male animals and female ones are somewhat similar to the differences between men and women."
Jane's brow furrowed.
"Men have a great deal of hair. Ladies have hair on their arms and legs, of course, but not in such . . . abundance. And some of them - " Mrs Bennet glanced pointedly at Jane - "have it on their backs, too. Thankfully, your father did not."
Elizabeth swallowed. She truly did not want to know the specifics of her conception, and still less the source of Mrs Bennet's information as to the appearance of Bingley's back. Mrs Gardiner, thankfully, said nothing.
"The first time you lie with your husband," Mrs Bennet said hastily, "there will be some pain. If your husband is careful, as I am sure Mr Bingley will be, Jane dear, it should not be very much. Afterwards, it can be pleasant, if you encourage your husband to touch you properly. If you have any particular questions about that, after you are married, you can ask me, or write to Lydia."
Elizabeth shuddered at the thought. Fortunately, her mother seemed quite focussed on Jane and did not notice.
"Sometimes, however, it is very unpleasant. My dear girl, you are so delicate, I am afraid you may find it a miserable business. If that is the case, you must simply lie very still until it is over, the pain will be less that way."
"I thought you said it only hurt the first time," whispered Jane, her eyes fixed on the floor and her cheeks scarlet.
"Well" - Mrs Bennet looked helplessly at her sister-in-law. "Margaret . . ."
"It all depends," Mrs Gardiner said gently. "Not all gentlemen are the same, nor all ladies. Some women find the whole affair thoroughly disagreeable and simply endure it for their husbands' sakes. Others are more enthusiastic than their husbands. Most, I imagine, are somewhere in between. However, if you lack . . . fervour, it can be uncomfortable for you, and even painful if your husband is careless."
"There are excuses you may give," Mrs Bennet added. "Of course, when your courses come, he will not wish to be with you, although you may . . . well, never mind that." Elizabeth stared at her mother in wonder. She did not think she had ever seen her blush so much in her life. "There are always headaches, especially if you are planning balls or parties. You may even take something to make yourself feel unwell, but that is usually unnecessary - a locked door will make your sentiments clear. Once you have produced a son or two, you shan't have to endure it any longer, if you do not wish it. You may tell your husband as much, and it will be ended."
And everyone lives happily ever after, Elizabeth thought dryly.
"If you wish," Mrs Gardiner added. "That is far from obligatory."
"Of course, of course. Jane dear, if you do dislike it, you can also encourage your husband to take a mistress. For a man as impulsive as dear Mr Bingley, it should be no great task."
Jane turned white and stared at her mother. "But . . . I do not wish him to."
"Well, of course not now. But later . . ." She nodded her head knowledgeably. "Believe me, my love, when you are both older, and have five or six or twelve children, and Mr Bingley has grown fat and is losing his hair, and you have no beauty left to speak of - then, you will think quite differently."
"Not Papa, surely," Elizabeth exclaimed. Mrs Bennet sniffed.
"Let me tell you, Miss Lizzy, your father was always so proud that he never went elsewhere. Why, I would have been very pleased if he had, I assure you! If it had made him a little kinder to me and the other girls, I should have liked nothing better. Mary and Kitty would have been some other woman's daughters and then there would have been a son." She tossed her head. Elizabeth did not even attempt to follow this logic. "But, Jane, if you do like being with him, and you still wish him to stay in your bed, you must take of yourself. You are prettier than I was, and you will be richer. There are creams, lotions - after children, you may have to stop eating to get your figure back, but - "
"Jane," said Mrs Gardiner firmly, "you are a beautiful woman, and I am sure Mr Bingley finds you so now and will always continue to do so. He loves you, and he will be kind to you, I am certain. He is a sweet-natured, gentle man, and I have the idea that he probably knows what he is about." Jane looked perplexed, but Elizabeth remembered what Darcy had written, so long ago - I had often seen him in love before. And Colonel Fitzwilliam had thought that an unhappy love-affair was just the sort of trouble Bingley would get into. She bit her lip. Perhaps it was better that way, for Jane's sake, but she did not like the idea of it, especially if he had dallied with ladies that Jane herself might meet.
"Just in case, however, I told Mr Gardiner to talk to them."
Jane's eyes opened wide. "To . . . both of them?"
Elizabeth could not keep a chuckle from escaping at this. Doubtless it was very awkward and embarrassing, and if Darcy mentioned it to her she would be properly sympathetic, but the image it evoked was too ridiculous. Bingley, Darcy, and Mr Gardiner, men of twenty-three, twenty-eight, and thirty-six years, respectively, all sitting together down to discuss their "marital duties" - she could not quite picture it. She wondered if her uncle talked to them both at once, or took turns, and could not think which would be worse. No wonder he had looked so unhappy as they left!
"Yes," Mrs Gardiner said composedly. "For your sakes." She turned to her sister. "Jenny, I think that is all, except . . ."
Mrs Bennet sat upright, and, were it possible, coloured still more deeply. "You may go, Jane. There are just a few little things we needed to talk to Lizzy about. The children have been asking for you all morning, I am sure."
Jane looked bewildered, but nodded obediently and left to find her cousins.
"Lizzy, you are not like Jane," Mrs Bennet announced. "You are not tender like she is. We . . . well, there are some things that you should hear without your sister." Elizabeth's eyebrows flew up. "For her own sake - so she is not disappointed. She is a perfect angel, but she is not warm like Lydia and me, and you. You are more like us."
Elizabeth kept the instant revulsion she felt off her face. I am not like Lydia. She may be my sister, but she has neither scruples nor sense nor - That, however, was not what her mother spoke of - and Mrs Gardiner was not stopping her. Her vivacity did not come from her father, misanthropic and secluded in his library. Lydia had been the only one with anything like her love of laughter and the ridiculous - they were different, but they were also the same. She thought of Mary King again, and flinched.
"I do not think you will wish to simply do your duty and lie still," Mrs Bennet continued. "You will probably enjoy - it - as much as Mr Darcy. After the way you have looked at him, sometimes I wonder . . . Well, he is very cold . . . no doubt you will have to seduce him later on, when you wish his - attentions."
"Jenny," said Mrs Gardiner, looking sympathetically at her furiously blushing niece, "I daresay you can discuss that after they are married. If it is ever a concern, that time is still far away."
"I suppose," Mrs Bennet conceded.
"My dear Lizzy, when a young man and a young lady who are passionately attached to each other marry, their feelings, at first, are quite fervent. I do not think you can possibly comprehend quite how intense they can be, and for you certainly will be. Everything you have learnt about modesty, about decorum - "
"Which I taught you very well," Mrs Bennet chipped in.
"- All of those things have nothing to do with marriage, do you understand? They were there to safeguard your reputation, your virtue. But what you do with your husband is your concern, and his, and no one else's."
"Forget all of it," Mrs Bennet said helpfully. "It will do you no good."
Elizabeth frowned. A lifetime of maidenly modesty could not be put aside just like that. She was rather glad she had never followed those rules like Jane or Mary had. Still, she had never been - well, like Lydia. She blushed at simply the idea of wearing some of the nightgowns her aunt had insisted that she purchase. They were beautiful, but to think of Darcy actually seeing her in some of them - she felt terribly embarrassed, yet also half-anticipated his reaction.
It was, she decided, too confusing for words to express.
Mrs Gardiner cleared her throat. "Now, when you are first married - if you have not been improper together - you will not know what each other's preferences are. You may not know yourselves."
"And men simply do not talk," said Mrs Bennet. Elizabeth's head spun. "Even chatty men like Mr Bingley, and Mr Darcy is not at all chatty. That will be your part."
"Talking?" she repeated.
"Yes," said Mrs Gardiner firmly. Elizabeth stared. It was very strange to see her aunt and mother in such agreement. "And you also must convince him to talk, to tell you what he likes."
Elizabeth's hands went to her burning cheeks. "I couldn't," she said, feeling prudish and insipid, but - "How could I? I cannot even imagine it."
"There are any number of things you cannot imagine," Mrs Bennet said meaningfully. Elizabeth thought that every drop of blood she possessed must have rushed to her head by now.
"And you must tell him what you like," said Mrs Gardiner.
"Why?" Elizabeth asked plaintively.
"Because he will not know otherwise. No matter how brazen or immodest you think you are, tell him. My own mother told me nothing beyond what I might have guessed already, and horrible stories of pain and humiliation. I cannot say how frightened I was."
"I am not afraid," Elizabeth said.
Mrs Gardiner smiled. "We are not all as fearless as you, Elizabeth."
"I am not fearless, I am afraid of many things," said she, "but Mr Darcy is not one of them."
