PP AU NON-CANON GENERAL REGENCY

1st note: I have Mrs. Bennet being forty-four here and, yes, she married young.

2nd NOTE: Some of what Mrs. Bennet says, and what will happen in this story, I have taken from real life experiences whether my own, friends, or relatives. However, for everyone's privacy sake I will NOT be divulging which saying/events go to which living person/s. I am sure you will understand that; especially since I do NOT have THAT kind of permission.

Whispers at a Grave

Ch. 1

No clouds lazily floated across the sky, nor did they race as if there were a finish line at some far distance marker. There was, in fact, not a single cloud in sight as Mrs. Bennet stood at the foot of Mr. Bennet's grave. Her figure would not have been recognized by anyone who had not seen her in the past three years, for her weight had drastically gone down. Instead of a simple bun on the nape of her neck, her hair was now braided quite nicely on the back of her head. The dress she wore flattered a figure she had not had in years. However, the lady wore a simple gray dress and a veil over her face.

"You did surprise everyone, except me, Thomas," Larissa could not help but giggle then quickly sobered up. "They thought they knew you so well. And I suppose for many years they did. However, those same people never bothered to come to our house after Lydia married, did they? Never bothered to ask you questions, and they definitely never asked me any. And two of those were our own daughters, one that was supposed to be so close to you."

A dog barking off in the distance, followed by one very loud "MEOW," let Larissa know the local clergyman's cat was once again being chased by one very bossy neighborhood dog. That or, maybe, the cat was getting fed up with the mutt and was chasing him. A gray figure dashing past the fence let Mrs. Bennet know it was the first. Ignoring the two animals, Thomas's widow continued speaking.

"Your will left me enough that, if I handle things right, I will be all right. And, in spite of popular belief, I do know who to turn to for aid in that department. And, I have learned from life—hard knocks though they may have been." Sighing, Larissa went on. "Lizzie is not speaking to me. Blames me for all her ills in life, it seems. Though I have attempted to make right what I can, Jane writes occasionally. I allowed Kitty to move in with her only because her suitor is over that way and, do not worry, Sir Cumberland is an honest, good man, Mr. Darcy approves of him. And Mary is now wed to an Earl, can you believe that? Personally, between you, me and the bed post, good a man as Mr. Darcy is, I think -in the end I prefer the Earl and it is not for his title. That man could dig ditches and I would still prefer him, though his mother is another matter."

Silence fell as she thought of the fire that had taken her husband's life. It had taken place shortly after Lydia had married. She and Mr. Bennet were being visited by Mr. Collins, and a few men, on a matter she no longer cared to think about. They had all gone back to the smaller drawing room. Thomas and most of the group had left for something—she could not remember for what. Next thing, smoke could be smelled. So, she and the others left the drawing room.

"I could not believe how fast that place filled up with smoke. I remember very little after that. Only that you got me and Mr. Collins out." She took a deep breath. "Your lungs never did recover from it. The house—a good share of it was destroyed, you fell ill almost immediately and passed away. Instantly, Elizabeth blamed me for the destruction, though others squelched that accusation. Mr. Collins did not even thank you on your deathbed, ungrateful louse."

A gentle breeze picked up as if to caress the widow in sympathy. As if Thomas was around himself to say not to worry about the ingratitude shown to him.

"He did offer to let me stay in the dower house; however, I dare say that was only due to the pressure others put on him because they saw you pulling him out of the house. No one saw you leading me out; they assumed I got out by myself." Tears fell down her face. "Some were cruel enough to suggest that proved you did not care about me. Even our own daughter, Lizzie, spouted off such nonsense. Thankfully, Mary came to my defense, for she had seen you leading me out. However, I think our second daughter doubted her, for she has not changed her tune. And I guarantee you, one would think her fingers were broken for I never have heard from her though I do send her letters."

The sounds of wheels going by the graveyard got Widow Bennet to look up. It was Mr. Collins going by. His posture might as well have been that of an over-inflated balloon.

"Someone needs to poke a needle into his ego." Larissa looked down at the grave. "I only took him up on the offer for a short time. His arrogant manner drove me away. Seriously, Thomas, he acted as if I should bow down and kiss his feet, grovel to him for every little thing I needed, even though you left me enough. Man acted as if I was incapable of using my brains."

A bird overhead disrupted Mrs. Bennet and she looked up. It was a dove. Larissa gave a faint smile and then looked back at Thomas' headstone.

"It was as if I was living in ashes. I would do no such thing, still will not. I am not the woman you married when I was but seventeen. We both had very good -long- talks before that fire and, no, we did not have the best of marriages. However, our life was turning around. We were getting on pretty good ground, if I do say so myself. My spending habits had changed, and they remain different too. Plus, we both know what was in your will is not being honored but, alas, I do not have a copy and that...man...is not sharing his. And forget the court where it was filed, the place burned down."

After visiting the grave, Larissa made her way to the small room behind Mary's home. Mary had insisted on providing her mother a place to stay, but it was clear that Larissa no longer indulged in any luxuries. The room was basic, with plain wooden furniture and minimal decoration. A simple bed, a small desk, and a chair were all it contained. No fancy items, no frills—just the essentials.

Mary had left for town, leaving Larissa alone in the modest quarters. As she sat down on the bed, she reflected on how much her life had changed. The once grand house of Longbourn, the lively gatherings, the bustling household—they were all memories now. Yet, in this simplicity, she found a quiet strength. She was determined to make the best of her circumstances and to prove that she could stand on her own.

Larissa pulled out a letter from her dress pocket. It was from Jane, who now lived closer to Pemberley, filled with news of her child and the latest happenings. She gave a weak smile. Her eldest may not write a lot, but something was better than nothing. It was more of a connection to her daughter than had existed for quite some time, maybe, ever before. Therefore, Mrs. Bennet knew that her family, fractured as it was; would still be a part of her. And in this small, but simple room, she found a sense of peace that could not be found with a pompous fool romping around Longbourn acting as if he had gotten out of that crazy fire without any help. There was another letter laying on the wooden desk that had not been opened. The name Charlene Montgomery was clearly written on it. Mrs. Bennet would read it after her work in the garden that evening.