A typical meal at the Bennet household could best be described as chaotic. Mrs. Bennet lived for these family gatherings, storing up several weeks' worth of gossip, complaints and pointed remarks that were intended to bring her two eldest daughters into a more desirable state of life: namely, the marriage state.
In an effort to head off some of the emotional hysterics that would invariably occur, Jane and Elizabeth planned to go over earlier than the scheduled dinner time. The hope - possibly a vain one - was that by breaking the news of Charles Bingley's forthcoming presence well in advance of his actual arrival, Mrs. Bennet would have the opportunity to get her initial reaction over the news out of the way and perhaps show a bit more decorum when actually face to face with their guest.
Having arrived at their parent's modest house several minutes past, Jane and Elizabeth hesitated outside as the elder woman attempted, with limited success, to assure herself that all the stars in heaven would align perfectly and somehow, miraculously, this dinner would go well.
Aware of what Jane must be feeling, Elizabeth remained with her as she delayed going inside and breaking the news. She chose not to say anything, but to lend Jane silent support and give her encouraging smiles whenever their eyes met.
"This is ridiculous," Jane huffed at last, turning with decision towards the door. "The sooner I tell her, the more time she'll have to calm down."
Thinking privately that Mrs. Bennet had never in her life missed an opportunity to demonstrate the full extent of her sense of the dramatic, Elizabeth nevertheless agreed that it would be better to just get it over with.
"It's like a bandaid. One quick tug, a lot of shouting, and then it's done," she assured Jane.
"Just... stay with me," Jane asked faintly. "But let me handle Mama."
"Oh, I would only make things worse," Elizabeth observed cheerfully. "She's all yours."
On a final deep breath, Jane pushed open the front door without knocking. Her determined progress into the house ended as suddenly as it began as she came up short with a horrified expression on her face.
A step or two behind, Elizabeth was on the point of asking what the matter was and then the awful scent hit her, too. Making a gagging noise, she retreated back outside, pulling the door wide open and leaning away from the house.
"What is that?" she demanded, waving her free hand frantically in front of her face. "It's the most awful thing I've ever smelled."
Jane had followed her out and now looked pale, whether from forcibly suppressing the churning in her stomach that threatened to bring up her last meal or from the fresh realization of horror at the prospect of having Bingley over to a house that smelled so vile was unclear.
"I don't know," she panted. "It's like someone set a rotting garbage heap on fire."
Elizabeth groaned, closing her eyes and scrunching up her face. "I could do without the visualizations."
"Sorry." Jane paused and then peered back into the house, clearly unwilling to actually move any closer to it. "Do you think anyone is in there? Or conscious? Because I hate to be grim, I really do, but I don't see how anyone could stand being inside right now."
As if in answer to the unspoken question about whether any of their family were actually alive, a shrill cry rang out from the interior of the house. "Oh! Mr. Bennet! This house is so drafty and unpleasant. I am sure we shall all catch our deaths if you do not do something about it. You must come and see where all this cold air is coming from!"
The sound of her voice grew closer as she continued; Mrs. Bennet was clearly coming to investigate the source of the cold, fresh air herself.
She came into view and stopped inside, frowning in instant disapproval at Elizabeth who was still holding the door open.
"What are you thinking of?" she scolded. "Holding the door open when it is so cold and miserable outside. Are you trying to run us into the poorhouse? It costs money, you know, to keep a house warm when the weather has gotten to be so bad. Why do you just stand there like that? Come inside and close the door!"
"Mama," Jane broke in, her voice gentle in the way it usually was when she was trying to talk sense to her flighty parent. "You must surely be aware of how terrible it smells in there. What happened? Did something die?"
Mrs. Bennet's face screwed up into a puzzled expression. "Did something die?" she echoed. "What nonsense! What would have died in here?"
"I don't know, Mama. But, that smell," Jane trailed off helplessly.
"Oh! I suppose that will be Lydia's contribution to supper. Or it was meant to be, before the oven malfunctioned so badly - everything in this house is quite decrepit, you know - and burnt the poor dear's dish all to ruin! She was most terribly distraught, I can assure you!
"But do stop standing about letting all this cold air in!" The disapproving frown was back as she rounded on Elizabeth. "Just come inside and in only a few moments you won't even notice any smells."
Exchanging helpless looks, Jane and Elizabeth both moved to do as their mother commanded, Elizabeth privately plotting to open a few key windows or doors to encourage some air flow through the house. As soon as Jane got around to telling her mother the happy news of Bingley's forthcoming arrival, Mrs. Bennet would be sure to be suitably distracted from noticing anything so trivial as a draft.
They followed Mrs. Bennet to the small parlor with west-facing windows that would have admitted what sunlight there was had the curtains not been drawn tightly against the outdoors. An aldetric lamp cast a pool of yellow light, but the whole room had a dismal air that spoke of poverty or depression or neglect.
Catching Jane's petrified expression, Elizabeth decided at once that her sister would require a small push. Moving with decision, she strode past where her mother was settling herself onto the end of the couch closest to the lamp and grasped the edges of the curtains and flung them apart.
"This room needs a bit more light," Elizabeth declared, speaking loudly over Mrs. Bennet's immediate and piercing cry of distaste. "And I think we need to spruce things up a bit," she continued, casting an eye at the dusty surfaces and random bits of household clutter.
"Spruce up?" Mrs. Bennet managed to actually sound both shocked and disapproving as she opposed her step-daughter's words. "I don't see why we should. I imagine you suppose that this standard of living isn't quite up to your expectations, hmm? I imagine you fancy yourself to be a better housekeeper than I am, never mind that you are young and strong and unburdened with by the cares of a husband or children!"
She was poised to continue the rant, Elizabeth could tell. Thankfully, Jane broke in at her mother's pause for breath.
"Mama, you know Elizabeth would never think any such thing," she admonished. "She is only concerned for my sake."
"For your sake?" Mrs. Bennet's face softened predictably as she returned her attention to her eldest daughter, but her voice and fears were no less strident. "Are you feeling well? Oh! When I think of you surrounded by all those little germ factories all day, every day when you could have remained here and not had to pay rent and suffer in that wretched flat you have, it nearly breaks my heart!"
"I am not ill," Jane replied patiently, once again taking advantage of a pause for breath.
Behind Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth pantomimed ripping a bandage off her arm before mouthing the words just tell her.
"I have invited a friend to join us today," Jane said, giving Elizabeth a wide-eyed look of helplessness. "He is very impor-"
"He?" Mrs. Bennet demanded, her voice somehow managing to achieve another octave in pitch as she shrieked the question. "You have a man joining us today?"
Hardly giving Jane the opportunity to reply, Mrs. Bennet rose, looking about the room wildly and calling loudly for her husband and Lydia to attend to her at once. In between shouting their names, she issued a steady stream of contradictory orders regarding how the house ought to be cleaned, which rooms needed the most immediate attention and who ought to see to what. Occasionally, she would ask a question about this friend of Jane's. What was his name? What did he do? Did he have a good income? How could Jane be so sly as to keep news of such great import from her own mother right up until it was almost too late to make the house presentable?
Giving her sister a look of laughing compassion, Elizabeth quietly slipped out of the room which was now a whirlwind of frantic activity and noise, leaving Jane to try to stem the hysterical tide as much as possible.
Keeping in mind that her mother had said the source of the awful stench that still permeated the house had originated in the kitchen, she made for that room first, meeting Lydia in the hallway as her younger half-sister made her way to investigate the great tumult of noise that could be clearly heard from probably any point within fifteen yards.
"Lord," Lydia said upon seeing Elizabeth, "what is Mama fussing about?"
Elizabeth grinned. "Jane has just informed her that she invited a guest to supper."
"Oh," Lydia looked unimpressed, her round face losing the interest that had temporarily lightened her features. "I don't see why that should be a cause for such a racket."
"You know Mama," Elizabeth replied lightly. "Besides, Jane's friend is a Mr. Bingley, and I am sure you can now guess at the reason for all the excitement."
"Oh!" Lydia came alive once more, clapping her hands together and holding them under her chin in a gesture that perfectly imitated one made frequently by Mrs. Bennet. "Jane and a man! How exciting that is! Are you certain they are just friends, Lizzy? Or does he mean to marry her?"
Not for the first time, Elizabeth found herself reflecting that this particular apple did not manage to fall even an inch away from the tree, and she sighed internally before redirecting her younger half-sister away.
"I believe that Mama is attempting to get Jane to admit to that very thing right now. Perhaps you had better go and see why she has been calling for you?"
With a squeal, Lydia was off, light brown curls bouncing in time with her hurried gait.
Repressing a sense of guilt at having abandoned Jane to deal with both mother and sister, Elizabeth continued on to the kitchen, a small room that was made to feel smaller by dark cabinets and an excessive amount of clutter on the limited counter space. There was one window over the sink and this admitted what little light it could, being inconveniently north-facing.
A charred ruin made of ingredients Elizabeth could only guess at sat squat and sullen on the stovetop. The smell in the kitchen was, if anything, ten times as putrid at it had been at the front of the house. Wondering at the mindset of people who could manage to ignore and fail to deal with a problem such as this, Elizabeth repressed the urge to heave a sigh (not wishing to take the deep breath such an action would require) and set to work.
The dish went directly into the trash, along with several other items of questionable nature that were near to hand. Stale bread, overripe fruit, empty containers and unscraped plates of leftover meals contributed to the general miasma.
Mrs. Bennet was a lazy housekeeper, but this was beyond the pale. Wondering at what could be going on in the house to demand so much attention that not even a pretense of keeping up with chores was maintained, Elizabeth worked in a grim silence until she had collected everything that could be thrown out.
Prying the window open to let the kitchen begin to air out a bit, she took the collected garbage out of the house to the bins that stood just outside the back door. Even standing right next to those, the air smelt so much fresher out of doors and she stood for a long moment, turned away from the bins and gulping down great lungfuls.
At last sated, Elizabeth turned back to the house, feeling a measure of reluctance as she did so. She had expected nothing better than the conditions that she found in the Bennet household. Growing up, she and Jane had often been responsible for managing the house. Ever since they had moved out, there had been a steady decline in terms of cleanliness and maintenance. She had first thought that eventually the lack of clean dishes and clothes or the inconvenience of not being able to find anything in the disorganized piles of clutter would eventually have some effect on the remaining inhabitants. Mr. Bennet might demand that Lydia actually take on more of the chores that had been Elizabeth and Jane's. Mrs. Bennet might gradually change her lazy ways.
Such was apparently not to be the case. Each time they visited, it was worse than the time before. For her part, Elizabeth did not know whether to burn more with anger or with shame. She felt both emotions equally, the anger at having been responsible for the upkeep of a family home with little thanks and not even the courtesy of continued care to demonstrate the value of the service and the shame at having come from such a family, where preference for one child was made clear in a way that was detrimental to that child.
Lydia seemed more likely than not to grow up without having ever been forced to learn anything that might be construed as a useful skill. It was a concern, but not one that Elizabeth felt she could deal with properly in that moment. After all, Charles Bingley was going to arrive within a few hours. She could do nothing to improve her family or make them more presentable, but she would do what she could to improve the house. And though her mother might think that the act was for her, Elizabeth would know and Jane would know that it was all for Jane's sake.
Much was accomplished in the time they had before Charles Bingley at last arrived. The door chimes sounded promptly at 7:00, and Elizabeth spared a glance from putting the final touches on garnishing the serving platters to share a knowing smile with Jane.
Charles Bingley, careless and easy going and usually late, was exactly on time.
The moment was immediately shattered by a flurry of activity from Mrs. Bennet and Lydia, both of whom had been gently pressed into service by Jane. Lydia had been setting the table, but at the sound of the summons to the door, immediately dropped her handful of silverware with a clatter, exclaiming, "Oooh, Jane! Who do you think it is? Could it be your lover?"
"Lydia!" Elizabeth reprimanded the younger girl sharply. "Do remember what you were told about saying such things!"
Lydia turned long enough to put out her tongue at her older sister and then said defiantly, "I do remember. And besides, the rule was to mind myself when he was here and as he hasn't made it in the door yet, I can say anything I like."
Jane had whipped off her apron during this exchange and crossed from the counter where she had been working to head towards the front door. Her cheeks were stained red, but whether it was from the heat of the stove or the inappropriateness of Lydia's remarks, she still managed to only look more beautiful for it.
"Now Jane," Mrs. Bennet lectured from her chair where she had at last consented to fold some napkins, "be sure to keep that demure look about you as you greet your beau.
"Lizzy! Fetch your father from his study. And remind him that he is sure to be greeting his future son-in-law tonight and to keep some civil manners for a change!"
Giving Jane a compassionate look that was far from being the first or last one of the day, Elizabeth left to do as she was told, happy enough to escape witnessing the awkward greeting Mr. Bingley was sure to receive from her family.
Heading up the stairs to her father's sanctuary, Elizabeth rapped lightly on the closed door and waited until she heard his voice calling for her to enter before slipping inside.
"Ah, Lizzy," he greeted her, looking up from a worn book as she entered, "it would seem that there is some sort of extra excitement surrounding this evening's dinner. I take it Jane's young man has arrived?"
"I am certain he must be at the door right now," Elizabeth replied, slumping against the wall. "Mama says to remind you to be civil this evening."
"Does she?" Mr. Bennet briefly returned his attention to his book, his sanctuary within his sanctuary. He had once said he needed a place for his mind to retreat from life in his household as much as he required the physical retreat into this room. Elizabeth might have resented the sentiment had he not often allowed her to escape with him from the terror that was Fanny Bennet.
"And what do you think, Lizzy?" Mr. Bennet asked after a pause, finally setting his book aside, his place carefully marked with a bookmark that Elizabeth had made for him when she had been a child. "Is this young man worth the effort of civility?"
"Papa," Elizabeth scolded gently. "Of course you must be nice to him. He means a great deal to Jane."
"From what information do you draw such a conclusion?" Mr. Bennet asked, blinking in apparent surprise. "Surely not by the fact that she has brought him to her home to meet her dear mama and ignorant sister. I should have taken that for a strategy to scare him off."
"Perhaps she has brought him to secure your good opinion."
"Doubtful." Mr Bennet sniffed as he stood and stretched leisurely before crossing the room to stand near his daughter at the door. But he seemed pleased at the notion rather than wholly dismissive of it.
"Well then," he cocked an inviting eyebrow at Elizabeth, who straightened and stepped away from her resting spot against the wall. "Shall we go down and rescue this Bingley from having to be polite in the face of the most ridiculous nonsense he's likely to have ever encountered?"
Laughing, Elizabeth agreed and they descended the stairs together, the hubbub of Bingley's self-appointed welcoming committee audible long before they were visible. Sharing a grimace with her father just before they entered the small living room just off the entrance, Elizabeth hastily rearranged her face into a welcoming smile.
The scene that met her eyes could have been comical in the extreme had she not cared so much for Jane's happiness. Bingley stood pressed almost against a wall, a smile of determined friendliness on his lips but a touch of panic around his eyes. Lydia and Mrs. Bennet, both so short by comparison to his lean height, all but frisked about him like over-eager puppies.
Had this been the woods, Bingley would have been a cornered stag and the Bennets a pack of ill-trained hunting dogs.
But that was not the worst of it, as Elizabeth immediately saw. For Bingley had brought along a guest and that tall figure was holding itself with rigid disdain, looking almost on the verge of flight but having nowhere to go that was not blocked by the energetic yapping of Mrs. Bennet or Lydia.
On the edge of this tableaux stood Jane, blushing red in mortification but clearly at a loss for how to handle it. Elizabeth wasn't certain that she had any better notions, but she gamely broadened her smile and moved to meet the guests.
"Mr. Bingley, Miss Bingley, how nice to see you both!" she greeted them enthusiastically, subtly herding Lydia out of the way to allow them both a path out of the corner they had been backed into. She drew them past an abruptly silenced Mrs. Bennet by extending an arm in the general direction of the room's entrance where Mr. Bennet stood observing and, from the sparkle in his eyes, undoubtedly laughing to himself. "May I introduce you both to my father?"
After making all the parties acquainted with each other, she beckoned Jane to her side and gave her a nudge in the form of an encouraging smile. "I'll just leave you to get to know each other then. If you'll excuse me, I just need to check one or two things in the dining room."
She gave Lydia and Mrs. Bennet meaningful looks as she turned to go, not at all surprised when Mrs. Bennet remained wholly oblivious and Lydia purposefully turned up her nose in response to the silent hint to absent herself.
Aggravated and hoping her family wouldn't embarass themselves too badly, she went to hastily arrange another spot at the already cramped table for Caroline Bingley, wondering the whole while what it meant that Charles would think to bring her at all and what sort of impact her presence would have on what was already certain to be a difficult evening.
"Oh Jane," she murmured, finishing the small chores left undone by her flighty mother and sister, "I hope this wasn't an enormous mistake."
A/N: Oh, hullo there. Sorry to have fallen off the face of the earth so completely. The whole "alone at work" thing nearly killed me and ever since I've been not alone at work, I've been wishing for a return to that state of affairs. It's not that I liked being alone, per se. It's more than my new coworker is dumber than a whole sack of Mr. Collins. There's also been a bout of illness for me, a longer bout for The Husband and some oral surgery thrown in for good measure.
Anyhow, life has been dicey lately! I worked on this chapter as I was able and will start on the next as soon as I get this posted (assuming work doesn't throw me any curve balls), but I'm afraid I'm off the weekly posting schedule for the foreseeable future. And I know I promised you all the dinner, but this was running so long that I had to let the Bennets be themselves by themselves for a bit and will add dear Caroline to the mix in the next chapter. It should be fun. Like mixing explosives and open flames is fun.
As always, thanks to everyone who sticks with me through this thing. Much love to those who are kind enough to leave a comment. I totally look them over when I'm having a rough day and can't find any motivation. It never fails to cheer me up and inspire me!