Chapter 10

~A good life flows with the tides of change, finding strength in the calm and adventure in the storm.

Ten years later

"Do you think lavender will suffice?" Jane asked, standing before the mirror with a critical eye as she adjusted the bodice of her gown. "I daresay it brings out the green in my eyes."

Elizabeth, reclining on the window seat with her legs crossed, let out a derisive snort. "Green? Oh, yes—precisely the shade of seaweed. You'll look like an underwater plant in that gown."

Jane shot her sister a glare, though a laugh escaped her lips. "Elizabeth, must you turn everything into a jest?"

"It's only the truth," Elizabeth replied with a teasing smile. "Still, I suppose it's rather pretty. Not that I care for lavender—it's all so fussy. But at least it's better than resembling a walking kelp bed."

Jane rolled her eyes, her lips curving in a reluctant smile. "I shall wear it regardless of your opinion. But what of you? Have you decided on something more fitting for a lady of your wit?"

"I won't be trapped in something stiff and proper," Elizabeth declared with a theatrical wave of her hand. "If I must wear a gown, it will be one that flows, with a hint of the ocean breeze—something that calls to the sea! Wind in my hair, salt in the air—utter perfection."

From the doorway, Mr. Bennet chuckled. "You may end up looking like a walking storm, but if that pleases you, who am I to object?"

Elizabeth grinned. "Better a storm than a seaweed-covered plant, Father. At least a storm stirs things up."

Mrs. Bennet entered behind her husband, sighing softly. "Thomas, must you indulge Elizabeth? She's already as wild as the ocean itself."

"Oh, let her have her fun," Mr. Bennet said with a grin. "A storm is far more interesting than any perfectly placid evening."

Jane, steering the conversation, asked, "But what of tomorrow night, Father? The assembly—will you be able to enjoy yourself? You've been working so hard."

Mr. Bennet leaned against the doorframe with a thoughtful expression. "I've laboured like a horse, to be sure. But tonight, I intend to do what all gentlemen do—appear politely interested while enduring endless talk of crops and fashions."

Mrs. Bennet frowned, her hands twisting anxiously. "I fear my nerves coming on, with all this talk of horses and storms."

"Your nerve? I haven't heard of that friend of yours in ten years. Where have you hidden it?" Mr. Bennet quipped, crossing the room to take her hand. "But truly, my dear, you mustn't worry so. We've weathered far greater challenges, have we not? Longbourn thrives, and the girls grow like well-trained ivy—climbing ever higher, thanks to your tireless efforts with them."

Mrs. Bennet's voice softened. "But it may not be enough, Thomas. They'll need more than beauty to secure their futures."

"More than beauty?" Elizabeth interjected with a mischievous grin. "Surely you don't mean my charms alone won't have suitors queuing at the door? And it's only an assembly! We've attended them often enough over the years."

Mrs. Bennet looked stricken. "I didn't mean—"

"Oh, Mother, we know," Elizabeth laughed, cutting her off. "But if beauty alone could save Longbourn, we'd be one of the wealthiest families in England by now! After all, you've five beautiful daughters and two devilishly handsome sons."

After the devastating loss of their unborn son towards the end of their stay at Ramsgate, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet believed they would never have another child. With the encouragement of the Darcys, Mr. Bennet devoted himself entirely to the estate and other ventures, working alongside Gardiner to increase his daughters' dowries. Mrs. Bennet, too, was not idle. She took to economizing and adopted the schedule that Lady Anne had employed for her daughter Georgiana, using it to teach herself and her daughters the finer points of behaviour. Through diligence and perseverance, she became accomplished in all matters of propriety and so were her daughters. After nearly five years of hard work and with a great sense of achievement, Mrs. Bennet was with child once more. Their prayers were answered, and within the next three years, they were blessed with two sons, Edward and Edmund.

Mr. Bennet chuckled. "Aye, and if beauty could till the fields, I'd have spent my youth lounging about, watching crops plant themselves, seeing as I was one of the handsomest gentlemen in Meryton back then.

Elizabeth winked. "You'd make a fine crop whisperer, Father."

Jane smiled. "And yet, your hard work speaks for itself. Longbourn has flourished so much over the past ten years under your care."

"Not without help," Mr. Bennet replied with a nod. "One might be surprised, though, at the lessons hidden in a turnip patch."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "And which philosopher, pray, would pen the finest treatise on turnips?"

"Pythagoras, perhaps," Jane said with a teasing smile. "He appreciated the order in nature."

Elizabeth laughed. "Pythagoras? How dull. Give me Aristotle—surely he'd find more passion in a turnip."

"Well, Elizabeth, let us not grow too philosophical," Mr. Bennet said, amused. "But you're not wrong—a little wit and wisdom go a long way, alongside beauty."

Jane blushed, her fingers nervously adjusting the lace at her collar. "Still, I hope my art will distinguish me more than my gown."

Elizabeth's teasing softened as she replied, "It will, Jane. Your paintings and poetry with flowers could charm any heart. Just be sure your conversation is as captivating as your art."

Mrs. Bennet smiled faintly. "You're all quite perfect as you are."

"Perfection isn't handed to us, Mother—it's found through effort and adventure." Elizabeth said.

"And a sharp tongue?" Mrs. Bennet asked with a laugh. "Won't that frighten suitors away?"

Elizabeth winked. "Perhaps, but the right man won't mind. A biting wit might be the very thing to catch him."

Jane's voice turned thoughtful. "Though it's the right heart that truly matters."

Mr. Bennet gazed at his daughters, his smile warm and proud. "Remember, my dears, life has a way of surprising us. Whatever tonight may bring, there is far more to you than gowns and assemblies. You'll each find your place, lavender or no lavender."

Elizabeth grinned. "Perhaps I'll find mine aboard a ship, sailing the ocean!"

Jane laughed. "Ever the dreamer, Elizabeth. But I believe we all have something special to offer."

Elizabeth nodded, her tone softening. "And I wouldn't trade any of you for all the philosophers in Athens."

"Well said," Mr. Bennet agreed. "Now, let's ready ourselves for the evening. Who knows? Perhaps a philosopher—or a sailor—awaits at the assembly."

"Do you think we'll all fit into the carriage tonight?" Mary asked, glancing at her sisters with wide, anxious eyes. At sixteen, Mary had a reserved beauty, her features softened by the round lenses of her spectacles. Her dress for tomorrow boasted the highest neckline of them all, modest and unadorned, which only served to emphasize her serious demeanour. Though she didn't possess the delicate prettiness of her sisters, there was a striking charm about her. Her gravity suggested a mind prone to deeper thoughts, promising a touch of intrigue beneath the surface. "We might have to squish together like sardines!"

"Better sardines than sea cucumbers," Elizabeth said with a wink. "They're the true champions of squishing."

Mary giggled despite herself, while Kitty, who had been quietly reading by the fire, looked up with a thoughtful expression. At fifteen, Kitty was a delightful blend of Jane and Elizabeth, with soft brown curls framing a pretty but slightly fragile face. Her slender frame and delicate complexion gave her an almost ethereal quality, though there was a sharpness in her eyes that hinted at hidden wit. "I do think we'll all make it, though. We're hardly the size of a barrel of salted fish."

"Not even close," Elizabeth replied, her grin mischievous. "But in any case, I'll be the one leading the charge into the assembly. All of you will have to keep up with me, of course."

"Don't you think that's a bit much, Elizabeth?" Jane said with frown. "You do have a habit of leading us into situations where we must make our own escape!"

Elizabeth shrugged. "If we're going to make an impression, it should be a grand one, shouldn't it? Besides, who could resist a ship captain like me?"

Kitty raised a sceptical eyebrow. "A captain? You do realize, don't you, that the only ship you're captain of is the Royal Impertinence?"

"Impertinence is the finest ship there is!" Elizabeth declared, then turned her attention to Mary, who was still fidgeting with the edges of her dress. "What's bothering you, Mary? You're not afraid of the assembly, are you?"

Mary shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not afraid, but… what if I don't know how to converse properly with new gentlemen? Or worse, what if I make a fool of myself?"

"Oh, dear Mary, you'll do no such thing," Mrs. Bennet said, gently taking her hands. "You have a grace all your own. Besides, it's far more important to enjoy the evening than to fret over every conversation."

Elizabeth snorted. "Mama is right. Besides, if you do make a mistake, just blame the air. No one ever blames the air enough."

Mary giggled despite herself. "You're so silly."

"That's because we've had years of practice," Elizabeth replied with a grin. "But seriously, Mary, don't worry. You'll be wonderful. Just keep your chin up, your mouth shut if you don't want to talk and your feet moving."

"And if you do happen to trip, just make it look like part of the dance," Kitty added, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Exactly," Elizabeth said, nodding. "See? Kitty understands me perfectly."

Lydia, who had been tying ribbons onto her hat with great concentration, glanced up with a laugh. "That's all well and good, but I'd rather dance with a horse than some clumsy gentleman stepping on my toes!" At thirteen, Lydia already stood as tall as Jane, her frame surprisingly womanly for her age. Her auburn hair, always a bit untamed, framed her lively face, where a constellation of freckles danced across her nose. Her passion for horses was unmatched, and it spilled into almost every conversation. "And if we're all going to be squished like sardines, I'd much rather ride one of the horses pulling the carriage! At least they've got plenty of room to stretch their legs!"

Mrs. Bennet chuckled. "Oh, Lydia, don't be so dramatic. It's just an assembly. You'll all find someone to talk to or dance with. It's not so dreadful."

Elizabeth grinned mischievously. "Yes, no one is going to pass by my Bennet sisters without taking a second look. Why do you think all the sailors are always so eager to get back to shore? They want to see the treasures waiting for them at home—though I daresay it's not just the wind that pulls them in."

"Elizabeth," Mrs. Bennet said with gentle reproach, "please don't tease your sisters."

Jane chimed in, her tone reassuring. "And remember, tomorrow night isn't about impressing anyone. It's about enjoying ourselves. The right people will see you for who you are."

"Yes," Elizabeth added, her eyes sparkling with mischief, "and if any of you does something foolish, I will blame it on the ocean. It's full of surprises, after all."

Kitty raised her hands in mock surrender. "I'm beginning to think we'll all need a ship just to escape Elizabeth's antics."

"I like that idea," Elizabeth said, her grin widening. "A ship, a crew, and no men to tell us what to do! Who's in?"

"Let's focus on the evening first," Jane said with a laugh. "Then we can plan our sojourn on the high seas."

Mr. Bennet shook his head. "Are you all ready for tomorrow, then?"

"Not quite, Father," Elizabeth said. "We're still in the middle of planning our escape to the ocean."

"Ah, well, just be sure not to steer us into any rocks."

"No promises," Elizabeth replied with a grin.

The mood shifted as Mrs. Bennet's voice grew quieter, almost as if sharing a secret. She fussed with her lace shawl. "By the way," she began, her eyes darting around, "the Darcys will be attending the assembly tonight."

At the mention of the Darcys, all five sisters turned to look at Mrs. Bennet, their expressions varying from curiosity to mild surprise. Elizabeth, who had been humming and swaying to some imagined tune, froze mid-step. "The Darcys, you say? Mr. Darcy, the charming and kind old gentleman who advised Father so earnestly about keeping the estate in better order and not letting anything slip through the cracks?"

Mrs. Bennet nodded. "Yes, and they've rented Netherfield for a few months. Last winter was quite harsh in Derbyshire, and the cold was too much for Lady Anne's health."

"I remember Lady Anne is sensible and composed, though I'm sure she'll appreciate a little warmth," Elizabeth said, her lips twitching with amusement. "But don't worry, Mother, I'll keep her occupied with an utterly riveting lecture on the charm of beachcombing for treasures in the sun. That should stop her from worrying about the cold."

Jane, who had been silently listening, glanced at Elizabeth before turning to their mother. "And will Fitzwilliam Darcy be there, too?"

Mrs. Bennet nodded. "Yes, Fitzwilliam is home after his grand tour, and I believe he's learning to manage the estate from his father. He's twenty-four now, Lady Anne said he has grown up so much. He'll be in attendance tomorrow, too."

At this, Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Fitzwilliam Darcy, eh? I remember him being all brooding and serious, but then again, who wouldn't be with such a name?"

For the first three years after the Darcys and Bennets left Ramsgate, Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth exchanged letters through their fathers. But when Fitzwilliam turned 17 and left for university, Mr. Bennet and Mr. Darcy thought it best to end the correspondence, as it was deemed more appropriate for young people their age to focus on their studies and social circles, rather than maintaining a childhood connection. Even though the parents kept up their correspondence.

Elizabeth, always quick with a philosophical interpretation, had accepted the change with a light-hearted shrug when it was explained to her at age 11. She'd humorously adapted a quote from Aristotle, saying, "It is not the letters that matter, but how we respond to their absence," and then added with a playful grin that the end of the letters meant fewer chances for her to tease Fitzwilliam.

Fitzwilliam, however, felt the loss more keenly. The bright and witty Elizabeth had carved a special place in his heart, and the end of the correspondence left a noticeable gap. Still, he soon saw the merit of the decision, recognising that his focus should now be on his studies. Although he missed their lively exchanges, he buried himself in his work, his longing for her fading as his academic duties occupied his thoughts.

"I hope you will not tease Fitzwilliam too much," Jane said. "The joke may come back to bite you."

"Tease him?" Elizabeth said with mock innocence. "I was simply going to ask him if he's discovered any interesting ways on the Continent to turn a serious estate into a lively one."

Mrs. Bennet sighed. "Just mind your manners, Elizabeth. The Darcys are good people, and they've been very kind to us over the years."

Mr. Bennet nodded. "Fitzwilliam may have learned something useful from his grand tour."

Elizabeth leaned over with a smirk. "Oh, I'm sure he's learned plenty, but I do hope he remembers the basics of conversation—no one wants to spend the evening discussing Michelangelo's statues a dozen times. We've all heard enough about naked marble men to last a lifetime. What would we do without a little talk of the ocean and treasure to save us from that?"

"Elizabeth!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, her voice a mixture of gentle reproach and an unbidden smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You most certainly must not bring up Michelangelo's creation with Fitzwilliam! What would Lady Anne think of my teaching, if she heard of it?"

Mr. Bennet spoke up. "And what about my girls here? Do you suppose you've grown into fine young ladies, ready to make a lasting impression tomorrow night?"

With that, the room became a whirlwind of activity as the family continue their preparations for the evening tomorrow.

The next morning, Elizabeth walked to the large oak tree at the edge of Longbourn, her feet light on the soft grass as she neared her secret spot. The oak tree had been her quiet refuge for years, a place where she could retreat whenever she needed solitude to think or clear her mind. Today, however, she came to check on the dragon's pearl.

She carefully climbed a few low branches, her fingers brushing the rough bark as she positioned herself to reach the hidden spot. The small oilcloth bundle, tucked into the hole in the trunk, had remained undisturbed since that unforgettable summer at Ramsgate. Elizabeth gently retrieved it, unwrapping the cloth with care. The sculpture with the pearl gleamed softly in the shade, its iridescence as mesmerising as ever. Holding it between her fingers, she couldn't help but smile at the secret she kept safe.

The thought of Fitzwilliam Darcy entered Elizabeth's mind, and she recalled one of the last letters he had sent her through his father when she was 10 years old.

She smiled as she relayed the words to her family. "'Fitzwilliam says he's become quite the expert on… crabs.'"

Mrs. Bennet raised an eyebrow. "Crabs?" she inquired, her tone puzzled. "What in the world does that mean?"

Elizabeth leaned forward, eager to explain. "I do know something about crabs! And I suspect I may know exactly what Fitzwilliam has learned. Do you recall, Mother, when we spent that summer by the beach? Fitzwilliam and I spent hours collecting crabs, and I might have shown him a trick or two about handling them."

Jane blinked. "What sort of trick?"

Elizabeth smirked. "Oh, it's quite simple. If you want to avoid getting pinched, you just have to be clever about it. Fitzwilliam—well, he's clever, but I'll wager he was clumsy at first."

Mrs. Bennet chuckled softly.

Elizabeth continued, "'It seems Fitzwilliam became quite absorbed in the study of crabs during a school trip at Eton to the coast. He and a group of friends spent some time trying to catch them in the most... unconventional way. There was talk of a piece of string, an old boot, and, what I can only assume, was an elaborate contraption.'"

"I had no idea crabs could be so... fascinating," Mary said, her eyes wide.

Elizabeth's grin grew. "Yes, I taught him most of the tricks. We made quite a mess of it. Fitzwilliam grew rather impatient when he realised the crabs were smarter than he'd given them credit for! He ended up tangled in the string and covered in sand."

Elizabeth paused for effect, then added, "'Back at Eton, while this pursuit may not have earned him scholarly praise, it taught him something valuable: perseverance in the face of the most unexpected challenges. Though frustrated, he learned patience—and, more importantly, how to laugh at himself.'"

Jane and Mary giggled at the thought, while Mrs. Bennet smiled warmly. "It seems Fitzwilliam learned more than his tutors intended! Perseverance, you say? I can certainly understand that. If he can learn something useful from crabs, surely he can manage the estate with patience when he grows up."

Elizabeth shrugged dramatically, her tone playful. "Oh, I'm sure he'll be perfectly capable, Mother. Though it's a pity the crabs didn't teach me anything about proper behaviour for a lady. But then again, you don't often see a crab needing to maintain a graceful gait."

Mr. Bennet, overhearing the conversation, gave a teasing smile. "Crabs, eh? If they teach perseverance, perhaps we should keep a few on the estate to ensure everything's running smoothly. What do you think, Mrs. Bennet?"

"Oh, please," she groaned, "no more crabs!"

Elizabeth traced the smooth surface of the dragon's pearl, her mind wandering back to that summer in Ramsgate. She remembered how Fitzwilliam had looked at her as they stood on the beach, the dragon's pearl in their hands. She recalled the day they shook hands, vowing to remain friends.

She was glad that the Bennet family had flourished in the past ten years, and that she had not needed to ask her uncle to sell this precious treasure. But then, she recalled Fitzwilliam's gaze—so intense at the time, and she had not understood it. Was he worried about something? Or was it just the treasure that fascinated him? She shook her head, her thoughts racing. Why had he looked at me like that?

A sigh escaped her as she climbed up the branches and tucked the dragon's pearl back into the hollow and covered it with moss. It felt strange to think of Fitzwilliam after all this time.

Her fingers lingered on the tree for a moment, as if holding onto some fleeting memory. What will he be like now? she wondered, her heart fluttering slightly at the thought. What if he's changed? What if I've changed?

Her smile returned, though it was more teasing than wistful. "Of course he's changed. He's probably more serious than before. But surely he hasn't forgotten how to smile." She gave a little laugh, imagining him with the same brooding expression she remembered, but now with a more mature, refined air about him.

A flicker of doubt crossed her mind. What if he had changed too much? What if the university and grand tour had turned him into one of those pompous rich gentlemen—arrogant, with bad habits like carriage chases, boxing matches, and gambling? She shook her head, dismissing the thought with a rueful smile.

Elizabeth brushed off her skirts, her expression softening. "It will be strange." She glanced back at the tree one last time before turning toward the house. "But if it becomes too awkward," she thought with a mischievous grin, "I'll simply bring up the tides and crabs, and we'll talk about that instead."

Like Michelangelo seeking a second opinion on David, can you help chisel my work into a masterpiece with your feedback?