The next day ...
Mrs. Longden intended to test her three charges. She wanted to know the state of the clay she had been engaged to mould.
Lydia, Kitty, and Mary were seated at the dining room table. She had their attention, or perhaps it would be fairer to say that the yardstick she held in her right hand and tapped against her left hand had their attention. Their first test would be to write out the Lord's Prayer. There was to be no speaking to each other, or looking at someone else's work. Mrs. Longden did not say what the test was about; it simply was to test their memory, if they had ever memorized anything, surely it must have been the Lord's Prayer; and their handwriting. The only one showing any enthusiasm was Miss Mary, the other two appeared to be rather apprehensive. She reminded them it was not a race; they could take all the time they needed. Before Mrs. Longden could start her charges off, she noticed Miss Bennet standing with Miss Gardiner in the doorway.
"Mrs. Longden, if it is not too much trouble, Susan would like to sit in on the lessons," said Jane.
Mrs. Longden thought it would be no trouble. Miss Gardiner appeared to be about ten years old. If she happened to be more accomplished than Lydia and Kitty, then she might prove to be a 'good' example with which to beat them over their heads – metaphorically of course. Then inspiration flashed – she was curious about Mr. Bingley's angel, and the perfect opportunity to satisfy her curiosity was before her.
"Certainly, Miss Gardiner may join us; and you as well, Miss Bennet," replied Mrs. Longden.
Miss Bennet's response impressed Mrs. Longden. There was not the slightest hint of pique. She sat Miss Gardiner at the table, gathered writing materials for them both, and appeared to be all eager to start. Miss Lydia's smirk at her eldest sister did not impress Mrs. Longden.
The results of the test were about what Mrs. Longden expected. Miss Bennet's, Miss Mary's, and Miss Gardiner's written recitals of the prayer were all word perfect. Miss Bennet's handwriting was excellent; Miss Mary's was hurried, as if she wrote mostly notes to herself and not to others; and Miss Gardiner's was still childish but promised excellence with more practice. Miss Kitty's recollection of the prayer was jumbled, the words were there but not in the right order. Her handwriting was full of flourishes and curlicues – Mrs. Longden wondered what her drawing test would reveal. Miss Lydia appeared to have baulked at 'lead us not into temptation…' and never restarted.
Mrs. Longden was about to lead her pupils to the music room when Mrs. Bennet stopped them. "Lydia and Kitty get your pelisses; we are walking to Meryton to have tea with your aunt. Lydia, you can tell her all about your great adventure."
"No," said Mrs. Longden. "They are not out."
Mrs. Bennet glared at Mrs. Longden. She repeated "Lydia and Kitty are coming with me to Meryton."
"No," said Mrs. Longden. "They are not."
Mrs. Bennet harrumphed. "Lydia, Kitty come with me," she said.
Lydia and Kitty looked at each other. In unison, they looked first at their mother, then at their companion, and then in the direction of their father's bookroom. They looked at each other again. They both remembered how their father had raged at them; he had looked like he was going to beat them, or die of an apoplexy, or maybe one then the other; he had not, but it had been a close-run thing. He had made it clear to them - he had seared it on their souls - if there was any dispute between their mother and Mrs. Longden, they were to obey Mrs. Longden. In unison, they both moved closer to their companion.
Mrs. Bennet shifted her glare to her treasonous spawn, her look clearly promising consequences, unpleasant consequences, and then she spun around and marched off down the hall towards her husband's bookroom.
Mrs. Longden ushered her charges, official and unofficial, up the stairs towards the nursery, a strategic retreat being in order. Behind them they heard the door to the bookroom open, and then slam shut, cutting off something that sounded a lot like a squawk.
-}{-
Mr. Bennet sat safely behind his desk hearing out his wife. He could hear her but he had quit listening to her shortly after she had started her rant, the words 'walk to Meryton,' 'insubordinate servant,' and 'impertinent children' being enough to give him the gist.
He had thought he had made it clear the day before - Mrs. Longden was to be obeyed. Jane and Mary had easily understood. Kitty and Lydia had understood although only after he had shown them something of his dark side. The servants had understood, their understanding perhaps helped along by the threat of immediate cessation of employment. He had thought Mrs. Bennet had understood. Apparently not; you can take a mule to water, but you cannot make her think.
Mr. Bennet waited until Mrs. Bennet had to take a deep breath, then slapped both of hands down on the top of his desk. When she dropped back down into her chair he said "You failed Lydia as her mother." He tapped his right fist lightly on his desk. "I failed her as her father." He tapped his fist again but a little harder. "We both failed as her parents." He hit his fist down, hard. His ink stand jumped, but luckily did not spill. "We are lucky, thanks to Mr. Bingley, that we are not wearing the shame of that failure. Now, again thanks to Mr. Bingley, we have Mrs. Longden who perhaps can correct our failures. Maybe she will not be able to, but we are going to let her try. Do you understand?" Mrs. Bennet would not look at him, but she did nod. "If there is something she does that you object to see me first before you say anything to her. Do you understand?" When she murmured 'Yes,' he concluded "Good, I do not want to hear anything more of this from you. Now leave me to my books."
Mrs. Bennet got up and left the bookroom. As she was going through the door Mr. Bennet heard her mutter "Well, I never." He did not say anything but he thought 'Now you have, madam, now you have."
