PP FF
NON-CANON, AU GENERAL REGENCY
"Hearts in Hiding"
NOTE: To GUESTS: I have my reasons for considering my stories FAN FICTION, and not my own stories. I also have my reasons for not selling the stories on Amazon- Kindle for FREE (which is what I would do if I did consider them my own). You are , of course, allowed to disagree...however, those type of comments, or anything akin to them, WILL continue to be deleted as they have NOTHING to do with the content of the story itself. (for those that do not need reminders, my standard apology, I will -from past experience- end up having to put this note up againg).
Loss
Ch.1
The courtroom buzzed with voices, as if a thousand chattering red squirrels had been let loose in an unnatural habitat. The room was filled with the murmur of conversations, the rustling of papers, even a few side conversations about fashions rather than the subject at hand, and the occasional sharp rap of the judge's gavel. The high ceilings and tall windows allowed light to flood in, casting long shadows across the wooden benches and the polished floor. A chandelier aided the natural light, allowing people to see each other, the defendant, and the jurors sitting in their places, one of them being Thomas Bennet.
Thomas Bennet sat among the jurors, his face a mask of concentration as he tried to focus on the defendant's lawyer—or the closest thing he had to one. The lawyer's voice droned on and on, but Mr. Bennet's mind kept drifting back to Longbourn and his very sick wife. The weight of his duty pressed heavily on his shoulders, but his heart was miles away. Because, in spite of what others said, he did—in the best way he was capable of—care about his wife.
"Go to court. It is your duty. The girls are here for me," she had insisted, her voice weak but resolute.
Thomas had -in spite of what his wife had said- talked to the judge about being excused from jury duty. However, the one that was supposed to have been overseeing the case had refused to excuse him. So, although, him being there was not his fault -he had attempted to get out of it...the internalstruggle continued. He did not realize how intense the battle within him was until he saw Sir William hurrying into the room.
His heart began to race as Sir William spoke to one of the court officials, pointed in Mr. Bennet's direction, and the official quickly approached the judge, speaking rapidly. The judge, somewhat of a stern figure in his black robes, nodded and sent Sir William over. Mr. Bennet felt as if time had simultaneously slowed down and sped up.
"Follow me, we have no time to waste," Sir William's voice sounded distant, almost as if someone else were speaking. "Mrs. Bennet is dying and will not last much longer."
Everything became a blur after that. The hurried exit from the courtroom, the clatter of his shoes on the stone floor, and the rush of cool air as he stepped outside. Climbing into the Lucas's carriage, the six-hour drive back to Meryton—all seemed to pass in a haze.
A large chandelier shed its sparkling light as tiny diamonds tossed generously throughout the room and into harmless, shapeless splinters onto the marbled, polished floor below as Thomas Bennet walked into the ballroom. A young man full of hopes and dreams. And the top of his list was to find a wife, a mistress for Longbourn.
His eyes scanned the room and fell onto a young lady of exquisite beauty. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, her laughter filled the air, and people seemed to be drawn to her like moths to a rare moonbeam in the dark night's sky.
"Like that one, do you?" A voice chuckled beside him. "She is my friend's sister. Kind-hearted soul. Not much one on brains, but appears to know how to keep life in a party. Not a bad thing when it comes to all those necessary, annoying obligations men of our status are required to host or attend."
Other memories came, ones which made him sigh. He had not invested as he ought in securing futures for his girls. Sure, there were possessions in the house that were worth more than some of his neighbors were aware of. They might be shocked to know how much those items could garnish. But what good were they at the moment? His mind began to turn as to what could be done to show his daughters that though their mother would be buried, and their father no young man, Thomas C. Bennet did have redeeming qualities. His mind was so much on these things that time melted into nothing, scenery was non-existent, and all roads—whether they were straight, winding, smooth, or bumpy—were ignored. Pastures, houses, towns—big or small—might as well have vanished. And soon enough, Longbourn came into sight, and with it, the full weight of his emotions and thoughts crashed down upon him.
Vaguely, he was aware of another carriage in front of his home, other than the doctor's. A part of his mind shouted it should be known. Part of his brain screamed for it to be gone. In fact, every fiber of his being wanted to tie the heaviest boulder possible onto its wheels and sink it into a lake. However, it was not until he entered Longbourn that he understood why. It belonged to Lydia.
"What kind of husband are you?" Lydia spat out as she stood at the bottom of the stairs with Kitty. "You could not come before your wife passed away, but had to wait until she had already met her demise?"
"Mrs. Wickham!" Sir William was aghast. "Your father and I came straight home from the courts. With no detours!"
Mr. Bennet was too stunned to do anything but run up the stairs, past the two youngest girls and then Mary, wondering if Lydia had been telling the truth about her mother's passing, had he made it home too late.
Thomas rushed into the room which he had shared with his wife for so many years. The room was dimly lit by a single candle on the bedside table, casting flickering shadows on the walls. He ignored portraits of his daughters and wife hanging aroud the room. Heavy drapes were drawn over the windows, blocking out the afternoon sun. The large four-poster bed, with its simple carved wooden frame and heavy curtains, dominated the room as his wife had fallen in love with that particular piece of furniture from the moment she had first laid her eyes upon it. The bed was neatly made, except for the side where Mrs. Bennet lay, her frail body hardly making an impression on the mattress. The scent of roses, her favorite, lingered in the air, mixed with the faint smell of medicinal herbs.
"Mrs. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet!" Mr. Bennet knelt by his wife's bed with tears falling down his cheeks; Lydia had been correct; her mother had met her demise before her husband had arrived home.
Thomas's earlier thoughts were still reeling in his mind as he stood up and went to the bedroom door, and his feet froze. Kitty was talking to Lydia, and what she was saying hurt worse than what Lydia had said. He might have recovered from that, but only Mary's words toppled him over the edge.
"He has never been there for us before, why should that change now? Why should he care to show any kind of feelings to us now? And, why should he ever do what you just said? He does not care about what we think."
All three girls instantly shut their mouths once their parents' door opened. Their father's face was unreadable. It was so cold, it was scary. They had never seen it so emotionless before. His eyes might as well have not held the ability to blink. His mouth was flat. Looking at Lydia, he opened his mouth and rock-solid ice might as well have been propelled all over her body.
"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE! DO NOT COME BACK...EVER!" Thomas did not yell, but there was a definite emphasis and sharp, claw-like, bite to his words; even Lydia was not stupid enough to drag her feet in leaving. Turning to his other two girls, he sighed and gathered him into his arms.
He did not speak for a good solid five minutes. Finally, when he did speak his voice took on an eerie, ghostly sound. Almost as if it had been Mr. Bennet who had entered the room alive, and stepped out of the room dead.
"Gather together a small bag, I am taking you to Netherfield." When he heard a small gasp out of his daughters, Mr. Bennet continued on. "Rest assured, you are not being kicked out, Longbourn is your home. You are coming back." With that he gave them a quick hug and walked down the stairs and out the door.
"Do you think he heard us?" Kitty asked, worried. "We were not talking that loud. Surely, our voices did not carry up the stairs."
"How could he have? We were practically whispering, but we best do as he said. Take anything you really value. I have not seen him like this…ever."