Chapter One of my current WIP!

Celebrating the first day of the second half of the year ... albeit pretty darn late, lol ... here is the first chapter of my upcoming book:

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Friday, 1 February 1811

“Lizzy… I cannot do this anymore.”

Elizabeth Bennet lifted her head to gaze with some concern toward her elder sister, Jane Bingley, who stood at the drawing room window glancing forlornly out into the rainy day. So absorbed in her book had she been that she’d not even noticed Jane had put aside the gown she’d been embroidering for her daughter, let alone moved from the sofa.

Placing a ribbon between the pages to mark her place, Elizabeth stood and moved to her sister’s side. “Can’t do what, Jane?” she asked softly.

“This,” Jane replied, gesturing out the window before she turned and gestured again to the room they occupied. “Or this.”

A sigh escaped her as she turned once more to the misty, wet prospect beyond Netherfield’s window. “I’ve been out of mourning a week, Lizzy—just a week—and already Mamma has suggested I go to town for the Season to find a new father for Margaret.”

Shock seized Elizabeth’s tongue for half a minute, before she sputtered indignantly, “How abominably thoughtless of her!” She then slipped an arm about Jane’s waist and laid her head to her sister’s shoulder. “I am so sorry, Jane, that Mamma and her foolishness have upset you so.”

Elizabeth sympathized with Jane’s distress—the eldest Bennet daughter had loved Charles Bingley with all her heart, and they had been married just two years when he’d taken ill with such a dreadful infection of the lungs that he had been unable to recover. Jane Bennet Bingley was made a widow at only two and twenty years of age, and their infant daughter Margaret had lost a father she would never remember. Lady Bennet had for many years been certain of Jane’s “angelic” beauty securing her a very wealthy husband, and she had not been disappointed on learning that the young gentleman from the north who’d leased the vacant estate just three miles from their own was wealthy, single, and in want of a wife. Charles and Jane were married by Christmas that year, and Margaret—named for her father’s dearly departed mother—had arrived the following autumn.

The girls’ mother had been further hopeful that Jane’s marrying a man of five thousand a year would throw her sisters in the path of other rich men, but dear Charles had disappointed her there. Once settled in the country with his new wife, he declared that he was quite content to stay there the whole year round. Few of his wealthy friends were invited to Netherfield over the course of his marriage, much to Lady Bennet’s vexation, and what sojourns he made to Town were solely for business purposes; he always went alone and he always returned in a day or two.

It galled Elizabeth that her mother could be so insensitive to Jane’s feelings: she just wasn’t ready to move on. But Lady Bennet was apparently remiss to recollect that Charles’ fortune had been left unencumbered to Jane and Margaret—much to the vexation of his sisters, Caroline Bingley and Louisa Bingley Hurst, who had each received only family heirlooms upon their brother’s death (Caroline had also been granted control of her inheritance of twenty thousand pounds). Because of this remarkable legacy, Jane had not only the Netherfield estate but also a house in London, and enough wealth that she had no need of a husband’s income to support herself and her daughter.

In fact, with Bingley’s five thousand a year now being her own, Jane herself was quite the catch. To that end, Elizabeth was little surprised that her mother hoped to get her sister into Town for the season—wealth attracted wealth, and no doubt Lady Bennet had hopes of a second rich husband doing for her other four daughters what Jane’s first had not. Also, because Jane had married at twenty their mother was determined that Elizabeth should also—and she would be celebrating her twentieth birthday in a mere eight weeks, right in the middle of the London Season.

No doubt Lady Bennet was already planning her wardrobe, that she might finally marry off her most troublesome daughter and begin readying the third for her debut.

Recalling Jane’s words, Elizabeth asked her, “What did you mean, dearest, when you said you couldn’t do this anymore?”

“I mean to leave Netherfield, Lizzy,” Jane replied.

Elizabeth stood straight. “Leave Netherfield? So you mean to go to London after all?”

Jane shook her head. “No, not to London. Mamma would find me out and harangue me about taking part in the Season. I could not bear it.”

She moved away from the window then and went back to her seat on the sofa; Elizabeth followed and returned to her chair.

“Then where do you mean to go?”

“Be assured I have given the matter a great deal of thought this last year,” Jane began slowly as she picked up the unfinished toddler gown and held it in her lap. “The truth of the matter is, there are far too many memories of Charles here for me to remain. It has become so painful to move about in this house that at times I find I cannot even breathe. Thus, I have decided to seek an estate elsewhere. I mean to consult with Father as soon as the weather permits travel.”

Elizabeth frowned. “So… Do you mean to give up Netherfield?”

She almost couldn’t believe it. Charles Bingley had only leased the estate when he’d first come into the neighborhood near three years and a half ago, but as soon as he’d learned Jane was with child, he’d purchased it outright. It was to have been their home, where he could lay down the roots of gentrification for his offspring, as his own father had hoped for him, and from where she could raise those children but still be close to her beloved family. Jane had been so enamored of being mistress of so fine an estate, Elizabeth could hardly think of the place and not associate Jane with it.

“I think I shall lease it, perhaps,” Jane replied to her query. “Or maybe I ought offer it to our parents? In any case, I should like to keep the house for Margaret’s sake. She shall not have to be concerned for a home if she should decide never to marry. And I may well return in a year or two and live out my days here. It’s just that… for now…”

Her voice broke as tears filled her eyes. Jane brought the gown to her face and cried into it as Elizabeth moved again to her side to embrace her.

“For now it is too much for you,” she said softly, and felt Jane nod. “I do understand, Jane. And at risk of emulating Mary, I beg you would entreat me not to leave thee, for wither thou goest, I will go. Where thou lodgest, I will lodge.”

When Jane looked up at her with a teary, visibly relieved gaze, Elizabeth smiled. “I could not leave my most beloved sister to face the wide world alone, now could I?”

Jane threw her arms around her and held her tight. “I have been wanting to ask you and so afraid to at the same time! Forgive me being so dependent upon you now, Lizzy, when you are yet full young and have not known life outside of Longbourn.”

Elizabeth returned the embrace. “Jane, there is nothing to forgive. You are still mourning your husband—no matter that society thinks you ought to have done with it by now, let alone our marriage-obsessed mother—and you will need help, not only with your home but with Meg. It is my honor to be of what assistance to you I can be.”

***

The next day, on seeing that the rain had eased and the sun was shining through what clouds remained, Jane saw to Margaret’s needs before she and Elizabeth set off in the carriage for the three mile journey to Longbourn. They would arrive in time to break their fast with the family; afterward Jane would speak to their father about searching for a new home.

As the Bingley carriage trundled along, Elizabeth considered what her father’s reaction would be. She did not believe he would object overmuch—after all, Jane was past the age of majority and she had a sensible head on her shoulders. She’d been married, and had spent the whole of her widowhood almost entirely on her own; Elizabeth had stayed with her often, of course, and various other family members had made occasional two- or three-day visits. Their aunt Mrs. Gardiner had actually stayed an entire fortnight just after Charles’ death just to tend Margaret—who’d just turned a year old four months prior—as Jane had been inconsolable those first weeks and had barely risen from her bed.

The only real concern Sir Thomas might have with the plan was Elizabeth’s joining her sister in moving away. Though Jane could certainly be trusted as a guardian, the latter was the baronet’s favorite child, and parting with her would be difficult for him.

First objective, Elizabeth mused, would be gaining their father’s blessing. Second would be convincing their mother to accept that the decision was not hers to make. The third would be locating a suitable home to reside in—on this matter, she was sure, their mother would make her opinion known: only an estate would do, if Jane was determined to avoid Town. It need not be so large as Netherfield, but the daughters and granddaughter of a baronet would absolutely not be allowed to lower themselves so far as to reside in a cottage.

The former Mr. Bennet’s elevation to a baronetcy some fifteen years prior had given an already silly woman with weak understanding and an illiberal mind more airs than she was perhaps entitled to. But one could not convince Lady Bennet that she thought her family more important than they really were—after all, her husband’s title had been bestowed upon him by request of Prince Edward himself!

Shortly before the youngest of their five daughters was born, Mr. Bennet had been elected mayor in Meryton, the market town nearest their estate. To amuse his wife during her confinement, he made an address to the king, though without expecting any response. Quite surprised then, was he, to receive one, and as soon as Mrs. Bennet was out of her lying-in following Lydia’s entrance into the family circle, they made for London for his presentation. He’d expected little more notice than to receive a “trifling knighthood.”

However, upon discovering him to be the same Thomas Bennet with whom he had been engaging in an “ongoing private war” of chess-by-post for some years, Prince Edward had declared that a man of such intelligence and wit as he possessed deserved greater reward than a mere knighthood. It was then announced that he had convinced their Majesties to bestow upon him a baronetcy and a “small” fortune of twenty thousand pounds.

“How very necessary was that fortune, Lizzy,” her father had once said, “for it enabled me to provide you and your sisters dowries which you would not otherwise have had.”

Ever since their place in society had risen, Jane Gardiner Bennet had ceased to be overly concerned about the entail preventing Longbourn’s being passed to one of her husband’s children—for surely five thousand pounds and a titled father would attract many a wealthy gentleman. Jane had successfully fulfilled her mother’s dreams for her by capturing the attentions of the very young Mr. Charles Bingley, so Lady Bennet expected similar matches were to be found for the younger girls in turn.

As such, no daughter of hers would be allowed to live in a house meant for poor relations or tenants to reside in.

“We’ll have to find an estate, you know,” said Elizabeth aloud as the carriage turned up the drive to their childhood home.

“Indeed,” Jane concurred. “Mamma would never abide our taking only a cottage. A baronet’s daughters should be seen—”

“—to be living like a baronet’s daughters,” Elizabeth finished with a grin.

The two were greeted warmly by Mrs. Hill, the longtime Longbourn housekeeper, when they entered the front hall. Soon their youngest sisters, Catherine—whom the family called Kitty—and Lydia, came excitedly down the stairs, followed at a more sedate pace by the middle Bennet girl, Mary. The five sisters greeted each other with smiles, kisses and embraces as though it had not been only a few days since last they’d seen one another. The noise soon drew the attention of Lady Bennet, who was as profuse with her praise of Jane as was her habit, before she then scolded her for not bringing Margaret along.

“Why would you deny me a visit with my only grandchild?” the lady asked indignantly.

“I have denied you nothing, Mamma,” Jane replied calmly. “Meg is hardly of an age to be making morning calls, and you know you are perfectly welcome to come to Netherfield and see her anytime.”

“Well,” said Lady Bennet with a huff, “you can be sure I will at the earliest opportunity. I have been so very busy of late, you know—I am always visiting this neighbor or that, to show the charity and compassion the wife of a baronet ought to bestow upon her fellow man.”

Elizabeth only just stopped herself rolling her eyes in a very unladylike fashion at her mother’s pompous remark—which was really a euphemism for going about town and gossiping with her friends—though her restraint hardly proved necessary as Lady Bennet had already turned away to lead them into the dining room.

Breakfast passed pleasantly for about ten minutes until the lady of the house said to her eldest daughter, “So, my dearest Jane, when would you care to begin planning your Season? Margaret needs a father, and I am very sure your beauty and fortune will attract many admirers to your drawing room in Grosvenor Square.”

Before a startled Jane could even respond, Lady Bennet continued with, “Of course, we must take Lizzy with us—she is almost twenty and has also not had a proper debut, and you know I cannot bring Mary out in London without having the two of you married. Oh, for shame, I could not do it!”

Elizabeth was stunned by how oblivious her mother was to how much her talk upset Jane, and looked to her father to see if he would speak up on her sister’s behalf. Imploring him to act proved unnecessary, however, as Jane herself took up her own defense.

“Mamma, I shall not be going to Town for the Season,” said she in a voice that only just shook.

Lady Bennet’s eyes widened. “Not go to London? Not go to London?! But of course you must go! How else will you find another husband if you do not?”

Jane drew a breath, and Elizabeth’s pride in her rose as her sister sat straighter, looked her mother in the eye, and said, “I do not want another husband, Mother. Not at this time, for my heart is still held by Charles. Further, it is my intention to remove from Netherfield and find another home for Meg and me.”

Lady Bennet gasped; Mary’s eyebrows rose toward her hairline, and Kitty and Lydia giggled as they were wont to do whenever their governess wasn’t around.

Taking advantage of her mother’s shocked silence, Jane turned to Sir Thomas. “Papa, now the subject has been brought up, I should like to say that I intended to seek your counsel after breakfast, as well as your permission for Lizzy to come and live with me in my new home.”

“NO!”

All eyes turned to Lady Bennet. “Jane Bennet Bingley, I forbid you to take my granddaughter out of the only home she has ever known and away from her only grandmamma! And how can you be so cruel as to deny your sisters the chance to marry as well as you did? You know I cannot marry the rest of them if you are not!”

“Firstly, Mamma, you cannot forbid me from taking my daughter anywhere,” said Jane with a hint of fire in her voice. “Secondly, I have already been married—that will be enough for the society matrons you desire so much to become acquainted with, as well as their husbands, and the sons to whom you hope to marry your younger daughters.”

A rapid blinking of her eyes was Lady Bennet’s initial response, then she sniffed, raised her nose a little higher, and said, “Ungrateful child! Oh, you have no compassion for my poor nerves. Do as you will then—ruin your daughter’s future at your own peril by staying from Town to find a new father to protect her. But I’ll not allow you to ruin your sisters’ chances, young lady! You shall not be taking Elizabeth wherever it is you mean to run off to. Oh, my nerves—do you see what you have done? Such fluttering and spasms I now have all over me!”

“Oh, do please control yourself, Lady Bennet,” spoke up Sir Thomas at last. “Jane is not being an ungrateful child just because she refuses to bend to your whims, my dear. She is well within her rights to both refrain from visiting London—which I commend you for, Jane, as you know well my thoughts on that subject—and to remove with her daughter to any place of residence she should wish. As to Elizabeth’s joining her, that is for me to decide.

“Now, my daughters,” he went on, turning his attention to Jane and Elizabeth, “shall we retire to my study to discuss?”

The baronet did not wait for their response; he simply rose and took his leave, and expected them to follow. Neither minded; the sisters stood in silent unison and departed to the sound of their youngest siblings twittering madly and their mother sputtering nonsensically about betrayal and ill-usage in her own family.

Sir Thomas’s study was, perhaps, the only room within Longbourn that was not kept immaculately tidy. Oh, the housekeeper herself came in to dust and tidy up every day, but he was such a collector of books and maps that every available surface had been taken up by them—there were books even on the two visitors’ chairs that sat before his desk, which his two daughters had to move before they could make themselves comfortable.

“So, Jane… You truly mean to give up Netherfield?” Sir Thomas asked when they were all settled.

Jane cleared her throat delicately, and Elizabeth noted color in her cheeks; the poor dear had always been just a little intimidated by their father.

“Yes, Papa,” she replied. “That is, I do mean to move out and live elsewhere. I have no plans to sell the estate—I mean to keep it for Margaret, that she may be assured of a home if I should marry again.”

The baronet nodded slowly. “A very wise decision, my dear. It seems you have given the matter much thought.”

Jane inclined her head as well. “I have, sir. In the interim, I have thought to let the estate, or to offer residence to you, Mamma, and my sisters. Even before Mamma first spoke of my marrying again last week, I had made the decision to seek your advice. My heart is just too full of grief and memories of my husband for me to remain comfortable in our home. I need to get away, at least for a while.”

“And you are certain London does not appeal to you?”

“It does not, sir. I confess that I dread the very idea,” said Jane. “I have always lived in the country—I find that, normally, being surrounded by nature relaxes me. And I daresay it is a more pleasant and healthy environment for a young child than Town.”

Sir Thomas chuckled. “Indeed it is.” His eyes then flicked to Elizabeth. “What say you, Lizzy? Do you approve of Jane’s plan?”

Elizabeth glanced briefly at her sister before replying, “I do not think it my place to approve or not, Papa. Jane is a woman grown; she has been a wife, is a mother—and more, she knows her own mind. If she is determined to go, I daresay we cannot stop her. Or rather, we should not.”

“And does her wish to have you accompany her on this removal from Netherfield appeal to you?” her father pressed.

She chanced a smile. “It does indeed, sir. I should very much like to be of use to my sister in any way I am able.”

“So you’ve no desire for a Season in Town?”

Elizabeth laughed. “Oh, Papa! While I can imagine it would be delightful to attend many balls and parties, I have no desire at present to parade myself about in the hopes of securing a rich husband. I am not yet twenty—let me at least be the age Jane was when she married dear Charles before I must turn my mind to matrimony.”

Sir Thomas seemed almost relieved to hear her speak so, and smiled as he said, “Very wisely spoken, Lizzy.”

He sighed then and sat back in his chair, lacing his fingers over his slightly protruding middle as his expression turned contemplative. “I imagine that removal from Netherfield means also removal from the neighborhood, so Purvis Lodge is out of the question—as is the great house at Stoke.”

Elizabeth laughed again. “Mamma could never abide the attics at Purvis Lodge, for she has already declared them dreadful, and the drawing rooms at Stoke are not large enough for her taste.”

“But it is not your mother’s tastes we must appeal to,” Sir Thomas rejoined, though he grinned as he said it. His eyes then looked to Jane again, and when next he spoke there was a hint of emotion in his voice “My dear girl, I do understand your need to get away, thus I will not only offer my blessing but my assistance in locating a suitable home for you. And Lizzy may join you, as it is your express wish as well as hers.”

Jane’s relief was obvious. She blinked away tears as she rose and went around the desk to embrace him, before kissing his cheek and saying, “Oh, thank you, Papa! I cannot tell you how grateful I am for your understanding.”

Sir Thomas patted her arm. “Well, well, now… Now we’ve got the two of you sorted, I shall begin sending out inquiries on Monday. In the meantime, I will work to convince your mother it was all her idea in the first place—only then shall any of us have peace.”

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