It's a truth universally acknowledged that a young woman not of sufficient social standing to be presented at court would still dream of a London season. Even though she might be one of many sisters, all out, and frequently found to be dining with the four and twenty families that made up society in her local town of Meryton, she might still dream of being given admittance to Almack's, or being asked to dance by an eligible gentleman of the peerage. She might wonder of a presentation in front of the Queen, and to wed in her presentation dress, of her engagement ball, of all the new friends she might make while shopping at the modiste, or eating ices at one of the many tea rooms lining London's streets.
That young woman, however, was not Elizabeth Bennet.
"Oh, Lizzy, you have no wish of it, truly?" Jane whispered to her younger sister, as moonlight crept across the counterpane, turning the cream linens frosty with the moon's silver glow.
"I do not," Elizabeth confessed back, keeping her voice low, not out of fear of alerting their parents to this late-night tete-a-tete, but of snooping younger sisters who might be creeping out of bed. "A season, in London? I would rather bury myself in books, then be forced to dance with a man who I did not have any interest in."
"It would not be so bad as all that, would it? To have a season in London, to have a chance at finding a husband?" Jane was ever the romantic, but even she must see that the chances of their father securing them a Season would be nothing short of a miracle.
"There are husbands here, enough of them that many women we know have them, cursed or blessed in the receiving and having of them they may be."
Jane giggled at Elizabeth's words, and sat up, her profile lit by the silvery moonlight. Elizabeth thought her to cut a very fine figure, even with her hair down, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes shining. She was a beauty, and a rare one, to be sure, and why she didn't have more offers, Elizabeth couldn't figure to it. There was that one gentleman... but then... he hadn't been the marrying type.
"But you don't want a husband, do you?"
"I will admit to wanting a husband, as most young ladies of my age will want one. For the companionship," Elizabeth said, "for the pin money to buy my books-"
"Your books," Jane said, reaching out to tousle Elizabeth's hair, pushing it away from her brow. Jane gave her sister a most affectionate smile. "I would think it to be clever were you to marry a writer, or better yet, a man of business invested in the publishing of books. So you might never deplete your pin money for want of a few more tales to add to your collection."
Elizabeth grinned and nodded. "It would be most ingenious indeed. But the gentlemen who live in this neighborhood are not likely to find such professions, and the few that do have already found their wives." She wrinkled her nose and sighed.
"Then, London would be the answer to your problems-"
"Or Bath," Lizzie replied quickly, "But our parents do not have the amount of funds to send either of us to either of those fine locales. No, my dear sister, we must content ourself to local society here in Meryton, and taking calls from what few gentleman here we find tolerable."
"Tolerable, I can't content myself with merely tolerable," Jane's tone was almost forlorne, and Lizzie sat up to curve an arm around her sister's shoulders.
"And neither should you have to," Lizzie replied, giving her sister a hug. "There are men out there who will not find you tolerable, nor even acceptable, but rather, will find you the most beautiful woman they have ever seen. And hopefully you can find them not just tolerable, but agreeable, even pleasurable to keep company with."
Jane's cheeks flushed and she laid back down. Elizabeth pulled up the sheets, covering her sister's frame so she might not take a chill from the air.
"But London... I wish we could take a season in London, just to see what it was like, to be seen, to experience all that it has to offer..." Jane's voice was fading away, as sleep stole over her.
"And maybe God will answer your prayers," Lizzie whispered, even as Jane's breathing deepened and evened out. "But for me, I can't imagine it ever happening..."
Perhaps God, or the Fates had heard her words and chose to make a mockery of them, as three days hence, the late-night conversation with Jane long-forgotten, Elizabeth's predictable day was rudely interrupted.
The noise, a gaggle of voices all shrieking over each other at once, alerted her and quickly chased away the peaceful calm she had enjoyed on her walk. The sun pouring down chased her as she hurried up the walk to Longbourn's front door, the sound of her sisters getting more voluminous as she went.
She pushed open the door and was greeted with the sight of her sisters, all four of them, and her mother, all gathered around the front hall, the closed doors into the drawing room the focus of their attentions.
"What is happening?" Elizabeth asked, dropping her reticule and the book she had brought for company onto the hall table, and looking around at her sisters, the younger three at least, as her elder sister, Jane, was listening at the door, her ear pressed to the wood.
"Papa's closeted himself away with Mama, and they have been shut up in the room for nigh on an hour!" Lydia declared, her hands planted on her hips, her lower lip thrust out in an almost perfect pout. "Mama gave to shouting out, although about what, we don't know."
"And I'm certain that Mama would not approve of you all pressing your ears to the door," Elizabeth said, stepping around the other girls and pushing them aside, gently, "and neither would Papa, when he emerges."
"Oh Lizzie, can you believe it?" Jane whispered, refusing to be pulled away. "Aunt Gardiner has written to Mama, and Uncle Gardiner has written to Papa-"
This was not an unusual state of affairs, there was always letters coming to and from the Gardiners, especially since Elizabeth and Jane had such an understanding with their aunt.
Elizabeth furrowed her brow, confused as to why that would cause Jane, or any of the sisters, to erupt into flutters.
"-that they will be taking a Season, a full one, in London," Jane said, and Elizabeth frowned.
"A Season? The Season, but-" The Gardiners had no daughters to marry off or sons of age to find good matches for. Elizabeth stood there, a chill running up her spine.
"They intend to take us with them," Lydia whispered frantically. "All of us!"
The sisters erupted again, Kitty and Lydia squealing and Mary exclaiming, and Jane finally pulling away from the door, her face white, her expression a mixture of hope and apprehension.
"You cannot mean it," Elizabeth said, turning towards Jane, ignoring the others for the moment. "Us, a Season in London?"
Jane nodded.
Elizabeth looked from her sisters back to the door. She reached out and pushed it open, peering inside. She could see the two chairs pulled close in front of the fire, and her parents seated together.
Mrs. Bennet, her mother, was weeping into her handkerchief, her father patting her shoulder.
"I cannot believe it," Elizabeth murmured. Why would their mother be weeping at such good news? Although Elizabeth herself felt quite beside herself at the moment and was not sure what to think. Jane's excited face was like a splash of cold water across Elizabeth's face.
"Come away, Lizzie, before they see you," Jane whispered, grabbing Elizabeth by the arm. "They shall tell us when they are ready."
"But when, when will they?" Lydia asked.
"I suppose, at dinner, or perhaps, when they call us into the drawing room?" Jane suggested, but Elizabeth didn't feel the excitement she should, the joy that her sisters were showing. "Now come, let's leave them to it." Jane took Lydia by the hand, and cast a glance at Elizabeth over her shoulder. "Lest we give them any reason to turn down this most handsome invitation."
Dinner was a most strained affair, as Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Bennet were still closeted together, and the girls were unable to find out anything. When Mr. Bennet and his wife came to the table, neither gave any indication that something was afoot, and Mrs. Bennet did not eat more than a few bites before excusing herself to go rest.
Elizabeth watched her mother and father closely throughout the meal, but neither one spoke out of turn, and when the ladies had returned to the drawing room, it was almost a relief.
"Girls, come, sit down," Mrs. Bennet called to them, waving her hand and fan.
Lydia and Kitty took the sofa, and Jane settled into a chair, and Mary found her place at the pianoforte. Elizabeth perched on the window seat, feeling quite outside of it all.
"Your father and I have received the most extraordinary news from our dear brother and sister, the Gardiners." Mrs. Bennet held the letter in her hand, but she did not bother to read it to her assembled girls. "But I am afraid-"
Elizabeth lifted her chin to look at her mother. Mrs. Bennet looked like she was a cross between beside herself with joy and also trepidation.
"Afraid? Whatever is the matter, Mama?" Jane asked, reaching out and laying her hand on Mrs. Bennet's forearm.
Mrs. Bennet patted her eldest's hand, and then smiled, but it was tremulous and wan.
"The offer does not extend to all of my daughters, and surely Mrs. Gardiner must know the strife it will cause amongst all of you-"
Immediately the three youngest burst into cries, their voices so loud Lizzy was worried it might shake the dust from the rafters.
"It's not fair," Lydia cried, "it's not, and I shan't have any part of it."
"Who is to go? And who is to stay?" Kitty whined.
"But why would they only invite some of us? We're all out, and I should like a Season, and I should like to have a proper ball and be feted in London-" Lydia continued. Mary remained composed, and quiet, although Elizabeth noted that her younger sister's fingers trembled on the keys of the pianoforte.
"Please," Mrs. Bennet begged, her voice rising, "please, be silent!"
"If I may," Elizabeth rose, and moved to stand by her mother's side. "If Mrs. Gardiner and Uncle Gardiner are kind enough to allow some of us to go-"
"Jane, and you," Mrs. Bennet said softly, and that chill Elizabeth had felt earlier, returned. "My brother and his wife feel they are only up to handling the society events for two young ladies, not five, although I daresay I would be able to manage it if I were-" her tone became waspish, and Jane sat forward, her eyes wide and bright.
"Then Lizzie and I will have a Season," she breathed. "And Lizzie will finally get a chance to see all the sights of London, and-"
Elizabeth sat down in a chair. Her legs, they didn't feel as though they could hold her weight any longer. She felt the tears burning the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She swallowed, hard, and forced her hands not to tremble. A season, in London. A proper season? It couldn't be. Longbourn's estate could barely support them all, and provided only for modest dowries for each daughter.
The budget could not stretch to accommodate gowns, fripparies, new bonnets, gloves, all sorts, the expense of it all was surely to be three times what the modiste in Meryton could command.
And the Season, in London, the cost of rooms, the cost of a townhome, the cost of all the balls and dinners and the vouchers for Almack's. It was a cost her father couldn't possibly afford, no matter how much money the estate made. With five daughters to think of, spending the Season in London for even just one of them was entirely out of reach.
Elizabeth lifted her eyes and looked at her sisters.
Lydia was sulking, her lips pursed, and Kitty looked put out, and Mary was still stroking her fingers over the keys the pianoforte, as if she dared not press down.
"A fine... a fine kettle of fish," Mrs. Bennet hissed, looking up at Elizabeth. "You must go, for you are the second daughter, and your uncle and aunt would be disappointed were you not to accept."
"And if I should refuse?"
"Lizzie, why would you refuse?" Jane cried, shocked.
Elizabeth opened her mouth to answer, and her mother raised her hand, silencing her.
"Do not," Mrs. Bennet commanded, her voice a low growl. "For this is an opportunity I, bereft to lose any of my daughters, cannot say no to, and I implore you Lizzie, do not test me, or I will find every reason to reject it." She pressed her hand to her mouth, eyes fluttering shut. "Oh, but my nerves, my brother knows only how tender they are, and he is to take away my two eldest, to London!"
Elizabeth sighed, and bowed her head. There was no arguing with her mother when she was in one of these fits, and her father, who had slipped into the room unnoticed, had taken up a post by the window, was paying attention to nothing and would not rescue them from Mrs. Bennet's moment of vapours.
Jane caught Elizabeth's gaze with her own, and the smothered excitement in it told Lizzie she had but one choice: to accept.
And pin all hopes on securing a match for Jane during the Season. That would be the only outcome that would make the whole misadventure worth it.