The second day... Lot of things are happening within a few little hours, don't you agree ? Well, the second day will be as action packed as the first...

As you've seen you got this one sooner than was in my previsions. But Mr. Bennet has this effect on me: the words come without thinking. It's no as long as usual but it's --I hope-- worth the read.

Chapter 9: News form Pemberley

Hertfordshire – Longbourn – Thursday August the 6th 1801

The courier just left, letting Mr. Bennet standing in his courtyard with a letter in his hand.

The sun was just coming up and the courier who had brought the letter had looked like hell. Poor man, and he would not stay even for a tea.

He heard voices coming and soon Mrs. Bennet and Kitty were at his side.

"Mr. Bennet, what's the noise? Are the wretched Frenchmen coming after us to pour our blood in the fields as they chant in that ugly hymn of them?"

"No dear, sorry to disappoint you it is not today that our entrails will be spread all over the country. It was only a horseman with a letter."

"Mr. Bennet are there news from my dear Lydia?"

"I fear not, Mrs. Bennet. A bit early for the Post. And for news from Brighton, I fear we will have to wait the taking over by the French of the Royal Postage Service. And the courier spoke old plain English. I hope, the taking over will not be very soon..."

"Oh, Mr. Bennet! How can you be so heartless to joke while my dear Lydia is in jeopardy somewhere in French occupied England?"

"Dear Mrs. Bennet, I will reluctantly admit that the French has been able to take our Land, I will even accept that they could have imprisoned our daughters but there is one thing I refuse to let them deprive me of, it's my sense of humor."

"Then what's the matter with this letter of yours?"

"The messenger was a special courier coming from the North and going to London. So, sorry, there's no chance that they could contain news from our daughters. Perhaps Elizabeth, but I don't see why my brother would have used such an expensive mean..."

"My God, something happened to Elizabeth! Open it, please open it!"

"All in good time, Mrs. Bennet. I'm certainly not going to open this letter in my courtyard, in bed clothes and in slippers. First things first, let's go to my study."

"Have a little compassion on my nerves, Mr Bennet. You tear them to pieces with your stalling. Hurry up!"

They all went to Mr. Bennet's study where he lighted a gas lamp and sat in his favorite armchair. His wife and Kittie, too nervous to sit were hovering over him.

He broke the seal.

"Dear, dear, how surprising" said he while looking at the sender.

"What is it? Pray, Mr. Bennet. What is it?"

He looked up and made a face at her.

"Don't be so impatient Mrs. Bennet, I was just wondering why Mr. Darcy would want to write us."

"Mr. Darcy? What could this awfully arrogant man want from us? Does he not live in Derbyshire where my brother and his wife have taken Elizabeth in place of the Lakes? What does he want?"

"I don't know Mrs. Bennet, I just broke the seal. If I could have some moments of peaceful reading I'll probably be able to say more about the content of said letter."

Mrs Bennet began to squeeze her shawl.

"It's once more because of Elizabeth. He has complains about her! Once more your daughter has given us reasons to grief. Am I not right ?"

"Yes and no, Mrs. Bennet. Yes and no..."

"How can it be yes and no, Mr. Bennet? Such is not possible. Please have a little compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces with your unfeeling words."

"Would you give me the opportunity to explain it you, you would have no more reason to wreck your poor nerves and your shawl. Had you let me speak you would already know!"

Mrs. Bennet shook her head and made an approving gesture.

Mr. Bennet took a deep breath, adjusted his glasses and looked at the text of the letter.

"Yeesss?" said his wife.

"I'm getting to it, I'm getting to it" replied he while showing her the two leafs of paper. "It's a long letter and I would not want to make mistakes in misunderstanding what it says..."

He looked back at the text and went, once more, through it, singsonging all the while.

His wife was just at the brink of bursting when he looked at he.

"You were right, there is a mention of Elizabeth in Mr. Darcy's letter!"

"I knew it, I knew it! What did she do? What did this wretched daughter of yours do to him?"

He took off his glasses and looked thoughtfully toward his wife.

"And what he says about her is quite surprising!"

"Mr. Bennet. Stop playing with my nerves! Tell us immediately what is in this letter of yours! Did your Elizabeth anger Mr. Darcy?"

"Well, since you insist!"

Mrs. Bennet looked at the heavens and made a tremendous effort to stay calm. What with the horrible news of the French invasion that had taken its toll on her poor nerves. It would take only a little more tension to wreck her definitely. Did Mr. Bennet have no feeling for her. Did he really ignore that she was at the edge of collapsing?

Mr. Bennet put his glasses back on his nose, took a long breath and lifted his eyes toward his wife.

"Well, what do you want first. The 'yes' or the 'no'?"

"I don't care! Speak without delay!"

"Then it will be the 'yes'" said Mr. Bennet. "It seems that your daughter rejected, last April his proposal..."

Mrs. Bennet went white as linen.

"She did what?" cried she. "She rejected his proposal? Last April? She rejected him and his ten thousands a year?"

Mr. Bennet looked up a whimsical look in the eyes.

"That I do not know. Nowhere in his letter does he say that she rejected his ten thousand a year."

He took a few seconds to think.

"But I do suppose it was included in the proposal. As it was included in the rejection, if one thinks about it..."

"Oh, Mr. Bennet! This is all your fault. The perfect proof that you failed in educating her. This same year, your daughter rejected not one, but two perfectly acceptable proposals. First poor Mr. Collins and than poor poor Mr. Darcy. Half of Derbyshire and ten thousand a year." She could do nothing but wail like a banshee. "What can this girl think about? Does she really wish my death?"

"Dear, you were willing to sell her to Mr. Collins. I could imagine lesser reasons to hate someone and wish his death..."

"Jane would have done it... Had I known that this Bingley was only a sham, I would have proposed Jane."

"And I would have refused all the same, Mrs. Bennet. I would even have refused if it would have been Mary! Mr. Collins is not a husband I wish to my worst enemy's daughter. I very much fear that poor Charlotte will never have a happy moment in all her years of marriage! Nothing I wish to any of my daughters."

He lifted a hand.

"But in her case, it's her fault. She chose him knowing what sort of insufferable fellow she was going to marry. Let her live with the outcome of her choices."

This was too much for Mrs. Bennet, her legs could no longer support her and she let herself fall in the nearest sofa.

"Hiiiillllll, my breathing salts! Hurry, my poor nerves... I'm dying..."

Hill, probably listening to everything from the Hall, was immediately at the side of her Mistress, breathing salts ready to be used.

"Oh, Hill," said Mr. Bennet. "Thanks for being so speedy. Please take Kitty with you and the both of you, please begin to prepare everything for a journey. My wife, my daughter, the Gardiner children and as many of the staff you deem necessary are departing as soon as possible..."

Thanks to the salts and a very alive curiosity, Mrs. Bennet came immediately out of her fit and looked at her husband.

"A journey? Where to?"

"But of course to Pemberley, Mrs. Bennet. At Mr. Darcy's..."

She looked at him eyes full of real astonishment.

"What for? God! Why should we go at Mr. Darcy's?"

It was Mr. Bennet's turn to look into heavens. He exhaled heavily.

"Have you listened to nothing, Mrs Bennet? You go there because Mr. Darcy is inviting us to join with Elizabeth and your brother who, at this very moment, are his guests at Pemberley..."

She looked at him, all surprise.

"But why would such haughty unsympathetic man invite them?"

"Because he asked me the permission to make a second attempt at gaining the hand of Elizabeth and if he succeeds, we would be necessary for the ceremony..."

This time there was no words capable to describing Mrs. Bennet's state of mind.

"He will ask her again? Owwww! Dear Mr. Darcy! What a stout and respectable fellow. With faithfulness and such good taste." She jumped up. "Of course we leave immediately. Hiiillll we leave. Immediately!"

On this outcry she rushed to the stairs followed by a smiling Kitty and a worried Hill. Mr. Bennet's smile took tremendous proportions and he gave himself a few minutes to rejoice in his little prank.

"And this answers to the 'no'" said he to an empty study.

He would stay behind and go in search of his other daughters. Even if he was very happy that Elizabeth has found a man she could love --he very much hoped it was the case-- he would not go to the safety of Pemberley leaving behind him Jane, Mary and Lydia. He knew he was not the best of fathers but one thing he would not do: hide in the safety of the North while his daughters were in danger.

First he had to write a letter to Elizabeth and her Darcy to give them his blessing and to explain why he would not be with them. He had excuses --who could have foreseen the invasion?-- but he was not so sure those excuses would be sufficient to erase the frown on Elizabeth's brow when she learned that he had sent Jane and Mary to Brighton to get Lydia back as soon as possible.

The choice of his two most reliable daughters for this mission had given him a certain feeling of rightfulness and safety he no longer felt. At the time it was a good idea. He knew Jane and Mary would not let themselves be convinced to stay for more than a few days in Brighton. And they would have had the pleasure to have been in Brighton.

For once, the obedient daughters would have had a share of the pleasure...

Now, thanks to his grandiose idea, he had lost three of his jewels and innerly he was fearing what could have happened to them in a war ravaged zone.

Jane and Mary, with a bit of luck would have been stuck in Hunsford. He prayed for it every second of the day. If it was the case, they were probably safe. If not...

He refused to walk this lane.

As for Lydia, well, as usual she had managed to be directly in the thick of everything. At the same place where the French came ashore. If she survived he hoped she would not come home with a Frenchman. But who could say with Lydia? One thing was sure: she would survive. She had it in her...

He looked at the map of Britain.

First Kent and Hunsford. And from there it would depend on the French. Where were they? Not yet in London and no more in Brighton, so much he knew. But where in between ?

He'd have to go and try...

Next chapter : Lydia's back