Page 3 of Resilience

“Mr Bennet, wake up! You will be the death of me, I am sure!” Mrs Bennet wheedled. “How is Jane to marry this Mr Bingley without any dowry if you will not show her and the family to advantage?”

“Jane is not without a dowry.” Mr Bennet mumbled as he cut into his ham.

“Pish! One thousand pounds!” Mrs Bennet said disdainfully. “What sort of man would marry her for that? At the very least, this Mr Bingley must see that Jane has been raised to keep him well fed, and see to the awareness of others of his wealth and station by the table she keeps.”

“I had no desire to share this with anyone, least of all any of you,” Mr Bennet surveyed the table with distaste. “But Gardiner has refused to keep it a secret, and so you may as well know that I invested some money with our brother a few years ago, and the investment has matured. As much as I dislike sharing my affairs with those–like all of you–who will tell everyone you know by dinner, you all might as well be aware that Jane has a dowry of ten thousand pounds.”

“Ten thousand! Of course we must tell everyone, you silly man, what good is ten thousand pounds if no one knows you have it!” Mrs Bennet exclaimed, rising from her chair in amazement. “Now, when everyone finds out how well dowered our girls are, they–”

“I did not say all of our girls, Mrs Bennet.” Mr Bennet’s voice was shockingly firm. The table, which had erupted in girlish excitement, stilled instantly. “You have always claimed that Jane is the most beautiful and the most likely to attract a husband. This is one matter in which you have my full agreement, and so in the interest of her attracting a wealthy suitor quickly, and because she is also the eldest and most deserving, she is to have a greater portion than the others. Jane, if this endeavour is fruitful, I expect you to help your sisters later if they require it.”

“Oh.” Mrs Bennet seemed uncertain, but then quickly convinced herself that Mr Bennet was absolutely correct, and why not? Many families gave a much larger portion to their eldest girl. Fanny herself only received five thousand. Harriet, the elder of the two, who married a man from her father’s profession, inherited their father’s small fortune and her husband inherited his house and law practice, due to Edward’s not wishing to take up the law. Edward received twice as much as Fanny, but Harriet’s portion, which was now her husband's property, was considerably larger than that of her younger sister or even her brother.

Mrs Bennet addressed her husband. “Well I do hope dear Lydia will have a generous portion as well. She is a beautiful, happy girl, Mr Bennet, like myself, if you recall. With a good dowry, she will certainly marry quickly.”

“Lydia will receive the dowry she deserves,” Mr Bennet answered darkly. “As will they all. If I am not pleased by their behaviour or their matches, I will give them nothing beyond what they receive on your death. At this particular time, I am making no promises to any of our daughters except Jane. I believe I ought to have some time to enjoy part of my new fortune before I give it all away to my children, which I am certain I will do quickly enough just to be rid of them.”

“How much is there?” Mrs Bennet asked boldly. None of her daughters had the temerity to ask such a question.

“That is my business, but in the interest of having peace in my home and lessening your hysteria, you should know there is enough that you will receive an additional five thousand added to your widow’s portion. It can be, like the rest of your dowry, be split amongst the girls upon your death, raising the amount they receive then to two thousand each.” Mr Bennet paused. “If they have pleased us, that is. But when I pass, you will have another two hundred a year at your disposal, which should settle your fears. I hope that will quiet you a bit, Mrs Bennet.”

“Since when have any of us had to please you in order to receive our dowry?” Elizabeth asked. “I am not even certain that my youngest sisters have been educated for such measures, and that is no fault of their own. I find it strange that we were not treated as burdens until you obtained more money, and never before you actually had it.”

“Lizzy,” hissed Jane in concern. Elizabeth was sailing perilously close to the sun, turning her impertinence upon her parents, but Elizabeth bristled at her father’s mocking behaviour.

“Do not think that because I enjoy your company, Lizzy, that you will do better than your sisters,” Mr Bennet drawled. “You are clever, but as your mother is fond of saying, I do not see how you are any more deserving than the others.”

Lydia and Kitty jeered as Elizabeth’s face flamed. “I do not seek more than my share, that is, if I am deemed worthy of any share at all. My dowry is not my business until I marry, that is if it even exists at all.”

“I will take comfort in Philippians chapter four, verse nineteen. And God will meet all of your needs according to the riches in his glory of Christ Jesus.” Mary sermonised.

“Well, if you can take so much comfort in sermons, Mary Bennet, it will not hurt you if Lydia’s portion is larger than yours.” Mrs Bennet dismissed Mary with a shake of her head.

“Now Jane, let us take the carriage to visit your Aunt Phillips, and perhaps Mrs Long and Lady Lucas. They will do the rest for us once they know,” Mrs Bennet said to Jane, who wiped her mouth delicately with her napkin and rose with her mother obediently. “And Mr Bennet.” Mrs Bennet turned before she left the room. “Mrs Douglas from the market sent me a note that she is to receive from town a barrel of oysters that would go very well wrapped in bacon and broiled on Michaelmas, and artichokes for soup as well. I will not hear of any objections to the expense! Now, off to load your guns, sir, or call for the gamekeeper, for I require a haunch of venison as well. The rest of you may remain here at home today.”

When did the rest of us become such impositions? Elizabeth wondered as Jane followed their mother from the room. One might think that a windfall from an investment would make one’s daughters less of a burden.

Chapter Two

Bennet wished he knew why his wife insisted that he be present at the Meryton Assembly on Friday. “You know that Lucas will give you the introductions you seek. For all that you paint our neighbors as self-interested, the fact remains that they are our friends, and would never treat you or our girls in such a shabby fashion.”

There was no persuading Mrs Bennet. She would have her husband on hand the very moment the opportunity to meet the new resident of Netherfield arrived. She would certainly not wait for the charity of Sir William and Lady Lucas.

Mr Bennet accepted his lot and boarded the top of the carriage with the driver, and the family made their way into the village. The new neighbour that his wife was so excited to meet was bringing a friend with him. A bookish friend, the young man had claimed when Bennet visited him. Well…if the number of books in Mr Bingley’s study was any indication of the interests of his bookish friends…Bennet would probably be disappointed in the fellow, but there was always hope.

Darcy did not have much hope of a peaceful evening when he entered the Meryton Assembly. When Anne died, he took the opportunity to withdraw from society for six months, and then only re-entered it lightly for another six months after, even though he could have worn an armband and returned to the ballrooms immediately, had he wished. He did not have to mourn like a female, but going out into society would only enable others to attempt to force him into a match immediately, and so he was pleased to have an excuse to avoid the experience for an entire year.

His year of self-imposed mourning ended two months before, and the instant he re-entered society he had been mobbed with invitations–and, no doubt–intentions to trap him into marriage. He was grateful that their platonic union had brought Anne the peace and happiness that it did in her two years as his wife, but if he thought women were determined to marry him before, their behaviour was downright alarming now that Rosings Park and Anne’s other properties were added to his already significant holdings.

He had hoped to reach thirty before he considered another wife, but realised lately that if he wanted the power of choice to be his own, he might do better to attend the matter without delay, before some young girl ripped a seam in his presence…again. Eventually someone’s idiot brother or father would attempt to force a duel, and Darcy had no desire to be involved in such proceedings.

Priscilla had spent a great deal of time with him and Georgiana, as well as Anne, since his wedding, and even more since his wife’s death fourteen months before. It was as if she sensed, as they all did, that Anne’s time would be short, and she wished to be a part of the bit of Anne’s life that was happy. The Darcy/Fitzwilliam/de Bourgh cousins had always been close, and the loss of Anne had saddened them all. Priscilla’s company brought comfort to both siblings, and Darcy was grateful, though he wished she would not rush Georgiana into society. It was Priscilla who insisted upon Georgiana’s attendance that evening, and Darcy had his misgivings.

“Georgie is nearly sixteen, Will. Even I was informally out in Derbyshire at her age. She has already attended some small dinners at Matlock House where she was too terrified to speak. It is time for her to move in a less formal society, so she may gain her confidence.”

“This is not Derbyshire, Priscilla,” Darcy had growled in the parlour the two young ladies shared at Netherfield that afternoon.

“Precisely. That is why it is perfect. Georgiana is unknown here. Any slight missteps will not be spoken of at her wedding.” Priscilla paused and eyed her cousin sternly. “One would think that you wish for her first public dance to be at her debut. A greater disaster I cannot think of.”