Welcome to another chapter of WRTMB! Thank you all for sticking with the story, and to the new readers, I hope you enjoy it! Someone asked if the Vivian Jones mentioned in the previous chapter could be the same Vivian Collins that Mr Bennet mentioned to Jane. No, she isn't the same, she is intended to be Mr Jones' daughter (Mr Jones being the apothecary). Vivian Collins is definitely dead, and while it would be interesting to have Vivian Collins be alive in the disguise of Vivian Jones, I'm simply not able to integrate such a difficult backstory into an already difficult and unfleshed out story. However, I hope you enjoy all the same.
The day that the Gardiners arrived was a bittersweet day for both Jane and Lydia. Bitter, because it meant their mother's funeral was a day away, and sweet because neither had seen their aunt, uncle and cousins for a full year. There was also the knowledge that Mr and Mrs Gardiner would know the grievous acts they had committed, and the punishment they would receive, and neither wanted the approbation of their dearest Aunt and Uncle to be endured by themselves. Thus they met the Gardiner family at the door with mixed feelings and very small smiles. Naturally Edward and Margaret Gardiner were concerned when Lizzy and Thomas stepped forward to greet them. It was out of character for Lizzy to supplant Jane, but there was obviously a reason for that, if she was being placed in charge as Mistress of Longbourn instead of Jane. When all the greetings had been given, Lizzy ushered them inside and went to lead them into the drawing room, but she was halted by her father.
"Ah Lizzy, I should like to have a word with your aunt and uncle if you please. I think a half hour should suffice however." Elizabeth inclined her head to her father regally.
"Very well father. Hill, could we have tea for the drawing room in a half hour? I think the little ones might benefit from a few lemon cakes also." That good matron nodded, and Elizabeth turned to her young cousins and gestured to the parlour. As they were led into the room, Mr and Mrs Gardiner noted that Jane and Lydia took the last place behind all their sisters, and their cousins. And though it was hardly noticeable, they saw that Jane was half a step behind Lydia. They watched them all till they were out of sight, and then turned and followed Mr Bennet to the study.
"Have a seat, have a seat." He offered them, and turned to Edward. "Brother, would you care for a drop of Madeira?" When Edward shook his head in the negative, Mr Bennet took his seat behind the desk and eyed them uncomfortably before he spoke. "I am sure you noticed that Elizabeth had taken the place of Jane as Mistress of Longbourn, and I am equally sure that you noticed both Jane and Lydia seemed uncomfortable." He paused and eyed them again, before he launched into his story, informing them as succinctly and briefly as possible what had occurred between Jane and Lydia. Both their jaws dropped, and when he had finished telling them the girls' punishments, they leaned forward at the same time.
"Jane!? Our Jane! Gentle Jane!? She beat Lydia with a poker!?" Margaret cried, and Thomas nodded unhappily.
"Aye, I saw it for myself. The poor child screamed so loud that Lizzy heard her from the garden. I could not have condoned any one of my children receiving such a punishment no matter how ill they acted."
"I cannot believe that Lydia said such awful things about her own sister! Especially Jane! From whence did that diatribe come from?!" Edward said, and Thomas looked down at his hands.
"Grief does strange things to people. Even those who are of the most stable countenance. I have since learnt however, that the younger girls were always jealous of Jane and Lizzy. For Lydia it developed into hatred. I never noticed it." He replied in a quiet voice, and Edward and Margaret exchanged a glance. They neither had seen what Thomas had realised. It was even more upsetting to realise it took the death of Fanny for them to see what had long been concealed. It was unfortunate that none of them had never taken the time to really notice the younger girls. But as they had gotten to know them they realised the girls were different from their elder sisters and so had never really taken the time to see past the differences. Jane had been the perfect mix of Fanny and Thomas's guidance. Under their tutelage, she had blossomed into a pretty, intelligent, young lady and Fanny had crowed at her success. She had wrestled long with Elizabeth and had not prevailed. There was an underlying stubbornness to the girl that could never be shaken, and so her education had been given up to Thomas. He had given her knowledge a plenty and quenched her thirst for learning. Fanny had despaired of taming her wild ways, but as Lizzy had grown from an unruly girl into an adolescent young woman, she had underwent a mental change that had taken her from a wild creature to a more demure woman, well worthy of the title of lady. Mary had been despaired of from birth for her plainness, and as her mind was thirsty for knowledge she too had been given up to Thomas. But Mary had lacked Elizabeth's quick wit and easy learning, and so despite her slow gain of education, she was given up by both parents and mostly left to fend for herself. Fanny seeing Lizzy's behaviour as a result of her father's teaching, decided that since Kitty and Lydia were so lovely, their education should be hers and hers alone. Thus any hope of instilling sense and decorum in the two youngest had been lost, or so they had thought. Now of course the sudden knowledge arising from this incident meant that there was a chance to reunite with them and attempt to repair the broken connection, but neither of the Gardiners believed that Thomas would do it for very long.
Finally, after a long silence they all roused themselves and made for the parlour, where they were greeted by a very pleasing sight. Edward and Eleanor were playing quite contentedly with Elizabeth and Mary at soldiers. Edward, having the privilege of being the younger child had been paired with Elizabeth, who could better teach him the game. Despite the handicap of age and inexperience, he played remarkably well against his sister and Mary, who put up quite a decent fight. Peggy, who would soon exchange that name for the more grown-up Margaret, was sitting with Lydia and Kitty, excitedly giggling over scraps of fabric and between the three they were creating a most outrageous bonnet. And young Freddy was seated on Jane's lap talking to her animatedly about frogs and insects with a sweet little lisp, common among the very young who haven't yet learned to talk properly.. A more pleasant scene hadn't been displayed at Longbourn for quite awhile and they lingered by the door until Mrs Hill happened upon them bearing the tea-tray and Sarah following with the delicacies. At the entry of the tea, all games were forgotten and the children leapt up as one with bright eyes, for travelling is a tiresome excursion to undertake at the ages of two to eight. There was a brief moment of confusion when both Elizabeth and Jane rose to preside over the tea-tray and after an awkward pause, Jane hung back to let her sister pour the cups, where she simply passed them out. Mr Bennet had a brief moment of discomfort when he witnessed Lydia smirking at the interaction between Jane and Elizabeth. It passed however when Mr Gardiner sat down next to Mary and made himself comfortable.
"Well Mary, and how are you? Still playing the pianoforte?" He asked genially and Mary after a moment's hesitation answered.
"Yes, I'm still playing, I practice almost daily."
"Indeed, excellent. Have you any need for new sheet music?" He asked and Mary's whole face lit up.
"Oh yes! For there have been twelve concertos that I have been dying to play and hear, but I have not been able to get the sheet music here in Meryton." She exclaimed and Mr Gardiner leaned forward and patted her hand.
"Write me a list of the concerto's, and I shall send you the sheets from London." He said and Mary gaped for a brief moment, before floundering uncertainly.
"Oh, well, but Uncle, I couldn't possibly-" She was promptly interrupted.
"No need, Mary, no need. But if it makes you uncomfortable to not do anything in return, I might ask for a nice pair of knitted socks for each of your little cousins. You do such excellent needlework with socks and they do love them so." He smiled at her kindly, and Mary feeling as if she had struck a wonderful bargain could only nod in return. After a moment, he turned the conversation to books and they struck up a lively debate on the merits of Aristotle over Plato, which Mr Bennet joined in. It was rather unfortunate for Elizabeth, for they were talking of a subject she dearly loved to debate, but good manners and her hostess duties required her to talk to her Aunt Gardiner and organise their rooms, the meals and see that everything was prepared for the wake tomorrow. A small seed of resentment against Jane wormed its way into her heart, and for a moment she entertained it, before shaking it off. Resentment wouldn't aid her in recovering from her grief, nor would it make her sisterly relationship any easier. While the Elizabeth of old might have been able to nurse resentment as she pleased, this new Elizabeth had duties to her family that needed fulfilling. She talked sweetly with Jane and Aunt Gardiner, but when Jane's attention was dragged away by Freddy, Margaret Gardiner leaned forward to talk to her headstrong niece.
"How do you fare, Lizzy, keeping control of the household?" She asked. "I know that Fanny taught you all briefly how to manage the household and to care for your tenants, but learning is quite a different thing to putting it in practice. Is there anything you are uncertain about?" Elizabeth stared at her for a single moment and then looked away seeming to struggle with her thoughts.
"In truth Aunt, most days pass so quickly I could not tell you how I have managed the household. But I have asked Mrs Hill to assist me in this matter and so far she has had no recommendations for me to change what I have already done. I don't really know what else to do. I must see to the meals and the wake and the tenants, and there is so much to do that it confuses me." She admitted slowly, her brain racking for any mistakes she might have made. All her uncertainty about her new position was brought to the fore and she shrank back in herself, which did not go unnoticed by her Aunt.
"Well Lizzy, if the excellent Mrs Hill has no problem with your management, you must be doing a wonderful job. Indeed, you have captured all the elegance and grace of being the mistress of a great house such as Longbourn. I was most impressed when you greeted me at the door. I do ask my dear Lizzy that if you have any questions that you come to me as soon as you may. I am more than willing to help." She said sweetly, and Elizabeth looked up at her Aunt happily and nodded.
"I thank you, Aunt. But I believe the only help I require from you now is to do with needlework." Margaret Gardiner stared at her in surprise.
"Needlework, Lizzy? I thought you had given up on that endeavour quite some time ago." She replied, and Elizabeth shook her head ruefully.
"I thought so too, but recent events have turned my hand back to needlework and I find I must try again." Aunt Gardiner laughed lightly.
"Are you turning yourself into a lady of accomplishments, Lizzy?" She asked and again Elizabeth shook her head.
"No indeed, Aunt, I have no desire to be able to paint, sing, draw and be as accomplished as other ladies wish to. I shall do very well being merely passably decent at needlework." Elizabeth replied, and Aunt Gardiner smiled.
"I do declare, Lizzy that you should take up piano again. It will do your fingers good after you have plied them with needlework. At least that is what I have found." Mrs Gardiner suggested, and for several seconds Lizzy contemplated it.
"I suppose it wouldn't harm me to try. Although I find that my fingers oft betray me."
"Indeed for quite some time they will, but if you practice daily you may find that they will betray you less and less." Mrs Gardiner replied, and Lizzy smiled at her merrily. They discussed the benefits of pianoforte over needlework, before Lizzy noticed that Lydia had risen and moved towards her, wincing. She finished her sentence and turned an inquisitive eye towards Lydia.
"If you do not mind Lizzy, I am a trifle fatigued and I should like to retire for an hour or so." She asked politely, and Margaret Gardiner hid her surprise very well. She had never known boisterous Lydia to behave so ladylike, and the change was welcome, if not slightly alarming. Lizzy nodded and then rose.
"Of course Lydia, I shall escort you if you do not mind. I have something I must discuss with you. Pray, excuse me Aunt." She said, and Aunt Gardiner nodded, sipping her tea. Placing a sisterly arm around Lydia's waist so that she could support her if necessary, Elizabeth drew Lydia from the room with a smile for any curious glances. They meandered slowly from the parlour to the stairs and Lizzy assisted the younger girl upwards. They were half-way up before Lydia spoke.
"What did you wish to discuss with me, Lizzy?" Lydia asked anxiously, hoping that she had displayed no bad behaviour worthy of punishment. Her fears were easily allayed.
"I wish to know if you will manage bearing the casket tomorrow, Lydia. You are much recovered, but I fear it may be a strain on you. I shouldn't wish to redo the damage." Elizabeth said and Lydia slowed her steps thoughtfully.
"In truth I think I shall manage bearing the pall, but it is all the sitting I must do during the wake. I find being active is less harmful than sitting." Elizabeth nodded.
"I don't believe anyone shall think less of you, if you stand throughout the wake. I was not intending to be seated." She replied, and Lydia shrugged.
"I suppose I shall be well then." Silence fell as they ascended the stairs. Once they had gained the landing, Lydia turned to her door and parted from Lizzy with a small smile. Elizabeth waited until the door was firmly shut before she descended the stairs rapidly. Anyone observing her might have noticed the difference that she hadn't yet noticed. The usual thumping that preceded Lizzy's arrival was tempered into a swiftly elegant rustling of skirts as she swept down the stairs, rather than a gallop. Rather than turning to the parlour however, she went quickly through the nondescript door near the entryway. She continued down a narrow corridor until she came upon the kitchens. Mrs Hill was there next to the cook, and several girls were helping her. Silence almost immediately fell upon the house when they noticed Elizabeth's arrival. Mrs Hill turned immediately to her and came forward with an anxious smile.
"Good afternoon Miss Elizabeth, is there anything you need?" She asked, and Elizabeth smiled back kindly.
"I was just coming to see if all the preparations were ready for the wake tomorrow."
"Oh aye, ma'am. Cook here has prepared a very fine selection for the tea service, and a nice meal for the dinner." Mrs Hill replied and Elizabeth nodded her thanks to the Cook (a woman known to the village as Mrs Mary Tanner), and then turned back to Mrs Hill.
"Mrs Hill, if you would be so good as to ensure the nursery is filled with plenty of toys for my young cousins tomorrow, I should be delighted. I am sure they will not want to participate in the wake downstairs, and I think it wiser that they be distracted from the goings on. If you could ensure they receive a small tray as well, and I think perhaps set Lucy to watch over them, I should be most grateful." She said and Mrs Hill nodded.
"Very good, ma'am. I shall see to it straight away. Will you be wanting tea to be served directly when you return from the funeral, or a short time afterwards?" The good matron asked and Elizabeth hesitated.
"Directly, I believe. And a fresh pot of tea not long after the men arrive as well." She replied, and Mrs Hill bobbed a curtsy to her.
"Very good, ma'am. Anything else you require?"
"No, thank you Hill, I believe that is all." Elizabeth turned and looked at Lucy before nodding around the room and leaving. Lucy was an excellent choice for child-minding. The eldest of twelve children, she had grown up helping her mother care for her siblings since she was three. She was a fun companion for children, and had a keen eye for rising disputes. She was often put in charge of the Gardiner children when they stayed, and even in charge of some of the local children, when their mothers would visit. Elizabeth was confident that Lucy would manage them until after the wake was over. She walked directly back to the parlour, and helped herself to some of the strawberry shortcakes still left on the now devastated pastry tray. As she looked around the room, Kitty caught her eye and patted the seat beside her. On her lap was a shy, but smiling Eleanor and Elizabeth crossed the room and sat beside her, smiling down at her young cousin. They passed the afternoon pleasantly, and finally sat down for dinner. For a moment, Elizabeth was ready to cede the role of mistress to her Aunt, but Mrs Gardiner sat on Mr Bennet's right hand, opposite her husband, and everyone took their places from there. Peggy, by dint of being eight years old in two months, was allowed to sit at the table with the grownups 'just this once'. Dinner passed quietly with little mishap, and almost immediately afterwards her Aunt and Uncle retired. The day of travelling had left them weary and they would need to be fresh for the funeral tomorrow. Mary had the last night of vigil, and had subsequently slept in very late that day. She played the piano quietly, until the ninth hour chimed, and then rose.
"I believe I shall start my vigil now." She said quietly, and they all nodded, letting her leave without much fuss. Lydia, sore from sitting for so long, went up to bed not much later. One by one they trickled from the room, until Jane was the only one left. The minutes seemed very long to her as she stared at the dying fire, her posture slumped, and she lost track of how long she sat there. She only realised she had slept when the clock struck one, and the fire had long died. Stretching out the cricks in her neck, she rose and sleepily made her way upstairs. She passed by her mother's room and stared in through the door. Mary was still holding vigil, but her eyes were drooping. The book in her hands was falling steadily towards her lap, and her head tilted back. Jane took pity on her and slowly crossed the room and placed her hand on Mary's head. Mary looked up, startled by the sudden appearance of her sister. Jane nodded to another chair by the window, and looked down at her sister.
"Would you mind if I join you?" She asked quietly, aware that her presence may be seen as an intrusion. Mary however sat up sleepily and nodded quickly. Jane took her seat before Mary could change her mind, and sat watching her mother's corpse for several long moments, casting about in her mind for something to say. It was Mary however, who broke the silence.
"It seems strange that she is so quiet. In life, I can never remember her being so still except in sleep. It feels as though I am waiting for her to awaken from a long sleep or an illness, but I know that she never will." Jane looked up at her, slightly startled.
"Even in sleep she was restless. I recall Papa saying once that if restlessness was a battle tactic, she'd have won the war against Napoleon." Mary chuckled lightly.
"I'm sure Mama was delighted to hear that." She said, and Jane received a strong impression of Elizabeth coming from Mary. She had never thought that any of her other sisters had the same wit and verbosity as Elizabeth, and the realisation made her as unhappy as it made her glad.
"I'm sorry Mary! I haven't been a very good sister to you, and I have failed in that regard. I wish I could express all the regret I feel, but-" She was halted by Mary.
"I suppose it's just as well that I don't care for apologies. I used to dream of being included in your games with Elizabeth, and as I've grown older and been forgotten I found that I no longer cared. If you want to make apologies to me, then change your ways. Include me; and mean it. I don't want pity, or sympathy, or regret. I want change. Mama never loved me as well as you, and I don't expect that Papa ever will. If you want to be a sister to me, do it out of love, not because you feel you aren't being a good sister and you want that title." And Mary rose and left the room, uncaring for her vigil. Jane heard her go, and felt her eyes fill with tears. She pulled the chair closer to the bed and laid her head in arms and wept bitterly.
Mary went back to her room crying softly. Frustration welled up inside her, and she crossed the room to pound her fists against her little writing desk. In an attempt to restrain her emotions, she paced back and forth across the room, tears spilling over. Occasionally she punched the air, and once she punched the wall; very quickly regretting the action as a most unladylike curse spilled forth from her lips. She stilled and listened, but no one seemed to stir, so she quickly moved back to her desk and pounding her fists against the desk, over and over as hard as she dared, she let one particularly profane four-letter word spill from her lips with every blow she landed. Each blow she landed only seemed to enrage her more and more and finally she threw a punch at the wall again, with a loud, keening, cry. The impact split the skin on her knuckles, and the already torn and roughened fist began to bleed. Mary, feeling all the frustration, bitterness and anger of years of neglect and sadness, sank to her knees and began pounding her fists against her thighs, crying openly and earnestly. Her sobs choked her so much that she began to hiccup amongst her tears and she made no effort to restrain herself until she heard a frenzied knock at her door.
"Mary?!" The urgent tone belonged to Elizabeth, and Mary immediately stuffed a knuckle to her mouth to try and repress the uncontrollable sobbing, but she still gasped loudly and hiccuped every few seconds, and that was more than enough to bring Elizabeth into the room. She stopped short at the sight of Mary, bloody fist clutching at her dress so tightly the material was close to tearing, red-faced and snotty with tears still falling fast down her cheeks, and a fist stuffed to mouth to try and prevent the sobs and hiccups from overflowing, her eyes filled with hopeless anger and overwhelming sadness. Elizabeth nearly threw the candelabra she was carrying onto the nearest dresser, and quickly righted it when it wobbled and threatened to fall to the carpet. Once the light was secure, she fairly flew to Mary's side and knelt beside her sister. Feelings of sisterly concern that had once been suppressed welled up and she was bubbling with instincts that demanded she protect her little sister.
"Oh Mary, Mary tell me sweet sister what is wrong?!" She asked hastily, and began patting her sister down, checking her for injuries, tutting at the bloody hand, and holding the younger girl close to her bosom. Mary, for her part, was unable to answer she was crying so. Elizabeth, after a moment, rose, drawing Mary with her. She quickly led Mary into her own room and set her down on the bed, flying to the washstand with a handkerchief to wet it. As tenderly as a mother might, she gently bound Mary's hand, and then drew another handkerchief. This, once dampened, was used to wash Mary's face, all the while Elizabeth muttered almost incomprehensible words in a soothing tone. Gradually under the tender ministrations of her sister and the soothing feel of the cool handkerchief, Mary began to calm down. Once or twice, Elizabeth opened her mouth as if to ask a question, and then thinking better of it, closed her mouth and continued to sooth her sister. At long last, Mary was crying quietly and Elizabeth rocked her back and forth in her arms. Somewhere along the way though neither could remember, Elizabeth had ended sitting up at the head of the bed, with a pillow at her back and Mary curled up against her bosom. Elizabeth didn't know what Mary was crying about, but nonetheless she stared into the now dark room, and thought hard. Her brain swirled in motion, dredging up endless regrets and thoughts. Automatically she rocked back and forth, wishing she could change her past actions and letting warm, salty tears soak her own cheeks. With reddened eyes she stared straight ahead, wishing to change and wanting something different. It was only when the faint grey of dawn crept slowly into the room that she noticed that Mary's sobs had long ceased, and the seventeen year old was fast asleep in her arms. Slowly, she pulled the coverlet up and leaned back, letting sleep claim her steadily. They were found like that a few hours later, when Aunt Gardiner peeped in. She had just come from Mrs Bennet's room where Jane had cried to her and confessed all. Unable to find Mary in her own room, she had subsequently searched the house until she found the sweet sight of the little lamb safely curled up in her sister's arms, both fast asleep and weary. Jane, right behind her, felt her heart break into pieces and she turned away to go wake the other girls and go downstairs. Margaret Gardiner watched them for several minutes and finally closed the door softly behind her, leaving them to sleep a little longer. The funeral wouldn't be for another four hours yet.
Thank you all for staying with me for another chapter! I hope you all enjoy this one, next chapter is Mrs Bennet's funeral and the wake. Until the next chapter! -Anne Douglas