When Elizabeth returned from Kent, she went straight to Jane's closed bedroom door and entered without knocking. Mrs. Bennet, for all she had grown over the past few weeks, was not above putting her ear to the door whenever she passed over the course of that afternoon. It was as if the girls knew that they might be overhead – she could only make out whispers, and the occasional faint exclamation. It was easy to distinguish which of her daughters those came from. Elizabeth always had a characteristic indignation to her tone.

Dinner that evening was muted. Mrs. Bennet had come to expect the silence from Jane, but never when Elizabeth was around. For Elizabeth's part, Mrs. Bennet had always wished for her to be quieter than she was. Now, her daughter said scarcely a word and kept her eyes on her plate throughout the entirety of the meal. Had they been home, Kitty and Lydia would have covered for their sisters' uncharacteristic actions, but the Gardiner children were too well-mannered to interrupt the adults over dinner, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner seemed to sense the same unease she did. Mrs. Bennet exchanged a look with Mrs. Gardiner. What in the world were they meant to do?

After dinner, Elizabeth sat at the pianoforte, fingers drifting over the keys without any real purpose or melody. Jane sat near her, but they didn't exchange a word. Mrs. Bennet was ready to throw her hands in the air in frustration. What was a mother to do when her children were clearly upset by something, but refused to come to her about it? What else was a mother for?

Mrs. Bennet tried to remember the last time one of her eldest daughters had come to her for something. No memory surfaced. Jane and Elizabeth, since they had entered society, had kept their own counsel on nearly every topic. Every piece of information they had shared with their mother had been information she had pried out of them through persistent questioning. Jane told Elizabeth everything, and likewise, and Mrs. Bennet assumed that behind the closed study door, Elizabeth shared her life worries, whatever they might be, with her father. Worse, Mrs. Bennet hadn't noticed.

There was a time, once, when she was her daughters' ally. She could remember – they must have been young, perhaps eight or nine – when they were playing a game of hide and seek on a rainy day with Mary, Charlotte, and some of the other neighbor girls their age. She couldn't remember who had been seeking, but Mrs. Bennet had walked into her morning parlor to prepare for calls when she realized that the room was not empty. She could hear two voices furiously whispering back and forth from beneath one of her couches. She paused, and by the time she realized who the voices belonged to, the whispers ceased as the owners of those voices realized that someone else was in the room.

It was at that moment that Mrs. Hill knocked on the parlor door and announced the presence of Mrs. Goulding and Mrs. Long. Mrs. Bennet quickly took a seat on the very couch that the whispers had been coming from, and bade Mrs. Hill to show the callers in. She took pride in her sturdy yet fashionable furniture, and had no fear that the girls might be crushed underneath the couch. If she was being honest, she was rather intrigued to see how long the girls would keep up the charade.

The visit proceeded like any other, until Gertie Goulding came bursting into the room. She couldn't have been more than thirteen at the time, still young, but old enough to know how to behave in company. She displayed no such decorum. "Jane, Lizzy, I know you're in here!" she yelled, making a dash to fling aside the curtains and peek under tables, before realizing that not only was the room occupied with visitors, but that her mother was among them.

"Gertrude! Apologize this instant. Is this how a young lady behaves?" Mrs. Goulding scolded.

For her part, Gertie looked properly ashamed. "No, Mother. My apologies, Mrs. Bennet, Mrs. Long. I did not mean to be rude." The young girl sketched a clumsy curtsy.

Mrs. Bennet had nodded her forgiveness. A faint giggle snuck out from under the couch.

"Have you seen Lizzy and Jane? I've searched everywhere, and I can't find where they're hiding. It's been an awfully long time." Gertie asked, while still attempting to look penitent.

The giggles quickly stopped. Mrs. Bennet shook her head. "I'm sorry, Gertie, I'm afraid I haven't seen the girls since you and Miss Lucas arrived this morning. Have you perhaps checked the dining room?"

Gertie shook her head, and after another curtsy, ran out of the room. Mrs. Goulding shook her head in exasperation. "I have no idea what I'm going to do with that girl. Absolutely no sense in her head. Her governess is at her wit's end with her, and I have to say, I feel the same. How she ever expects to function in society when she goes tramping about without a care in the world, is beyond me. Be glad your girls are still young, Mrs. Bennet. They're much better listeners when they're young."

Mrs. Bennet could have snorted. Lizzy, even then, was showing her headstrong side. Jane hadn't yet gone shy, and so joined her sister in all sorts of unladylike pursuits that left their dresses muddy and embroidery forgotten. They most certainly did not listen to their mama. Yet, they were good girls. Good girls who were listening from beneath the very couch on which Mrs. Bennet sat.

"Oh, every girl has their challenges and their delights. But yes, I'm very proud of my daughters. They will get on well when their time comes, I'm sure."

Mrs. Goulding and Mrs. Long departed soon after, and no one arrived for several minutes to replace them. Mrs. Bennet carefully rose from the couch and closed the parlor door, and then turned to face the couch with her hands on her hips. The front flap of fabric covering the open space beneath shifted slightly, as if someone had exhaled heavily behind it. Mrs. Bennet walked over carefully, bent down, and flipped up the fabric. She smiled, and then laughed when her eldest daughters shrieked at being discovered.

"Alright, girls, out you go. Gertie, Charlotte, and Mary have probably turned the whole house upside down looking for you," Mrs. Bennet had said with a chuckle.

Jane and Lizzy clambered out from beneath the couch, making a big show of dusting themselves off. Mrs. Bennet shook her head. Her silly girls. They curtsied, as they had been practicing with her during their lessons, and then ran out of the room, leaving their mother smiling behind had only been gone a few seconds when Jane pranced back in. "Thank you for not giving us away, Mama."

Mrs. Bennet's smile faded with the memory, as her eyes refocused on the somber scene in front of her. What she would give to hear her daughters giggling once more, and to be in on the joke in some small way. To help them, even if they never knew, and never thanked her. She looked over at Mrs. Gardiner, who sat at a table helping her own daughter puzzle through a difficult French passage. Mrs. Gardiner looked up, catching Mrs. Bennet's eye, and furrowed her brows. Mrs. Bennet shook her head silently, willing the tears away.

The time for her girls' laughter and whispers echoing around Longbourn was quickly coming to an end. Mrs. Bennet was unsure if they were aware of it, and was unsure which of the men in their lives would be the ones to do it, but she knew her daughters needed to leave. She had been going about it the wrong way, but the truth was still there, for all to see. For their own safety and happiness, they needed to go. She only hoped that they would come back to her every so often, and perhaps ask her a question or two about married life. She could be of use to them then, Mrs. Bennet thought.

She stood up quickly. Her movements drew Jane out of her reverie, but Mrs. Bennet, for once, paid her eldest daughter no mind. She walked over to the writing desk, and withdrew a pen and paper. Her daughters needed her help. She might be able to talk to Jane, to try to understand what was going on behind the closed-off, perfect face. Jane would tell her what happened at the ball, and possibly more, if Mrs. Bennet pressed. Elizabeth, on the other hand, was her father's favorite. Now, she could be his problem. For the first time since coming to London, Mrs. Bennet sat down to write a letter to her husband. Talk to Elizabeth, she wrote, or I will be forced to return from London early and assure her well-being myself.

She harrumphed softly in satisfaction. That would take care of the Elizabeth problem, she decided. Now to deal with Jane.

AN:

I never meant to abandon this story, and I know this chapter doesn't have a ton of plot. I hope you enjoy it all the same, and I hope to return with another chapter (with slightly more Jane and slightly more plot) soon.

In some way of explanation, in the last two years since I updated this story, I've been working towards getting into medical school. I was reading back through the author's notes from the first few chapters, and it's wild that I was still in organic chemistry when I started this story, and I began med school this summer. There hasn't been a lot of time or energy for writing, but I really want to keep going with this. The story took a turn (Teddy's fault) that I was not anticipating, so I have no idea how many chapters this will be now. My apologies if the writing style has changed - I finished my English degree this spring, and I think in the time since I last added to this story, my writing has changed quite a bit.

Thank you for reading, and thanks for your patience and love with this story :)