Page 66 of A Different Impression

Her father’s silence troubled her more. Elizabeth wrote to him approximately every fortnight, yet his only responses came as brief messages included in letters addressed to William. Her husband always shared those letters with her, but that did little to ease the small hurt of seeing her father discuss estate management and family affairs with his daughter’s husband whilst scarcely acknowledging the daughter who had once been his favourite companion.

Jane, Mary and Charlotte proved more reliable correspondents. Their letters brought news of Longbourn and Meryton, although little of consequence occurred during the winter. Jane and Mary frequently described what they were learning about managing the household and estate, and Elizabeth took particular pleasure in watching Mary’s confidence grow upon the page. At least it seemed that their father was giving Mary more attention now, but the feeling that she had been replaced troubled her.

Four days after leaving Pemberley, Elizabeth and William arrived at Longbourn intending to remain for two nights. Jane and Mary had assured her that their mother was behaving more circumspectly and appeared resigned both to Lydia’s removal to school and to Mr Bingley’s departure from Netherfield. Elizabeth therefore entered her childhood home with cautious optimism.

That optimism disappeared the moment she entered the drawing room.

“Lydia is miserable, and it is all your fault, Lizzy,” Mrs Bennet declared. “If that were not enough, I am confined to this house and barely allowed to speak. I receive few visitors, and only those permitted by my husband. I am even limited in what I may say in my own home. My plainest daughter has circumvented my role as its mistress, and I am no longer allowed even that pleasure. All of this is because you sought to become Mrs Darcy, and now you think yourself so much better than the rest of us.”

Elizabeth stood frozen beneath the force of the attack. She had expected resentment, but not the bitterness twisting every word.

Her mother drew breath to continue, only to stop when Mr Bennet entered.

“Enough, Mrs Bennet!” he bellowed. “I warned you what would happen if you disparaged your daughter when she arrived. She has written to you all winter and made every effort to show you kindness, yet you continue to blame her for my decisions. I insisted upon these changes because I finally recognised the damage your lack of judgement was inflicting upon our daughters. Lydia might have ruined this family had she continued to follow your advice.”

Without allowing his wife to respond, he called for Mr Hill and instructed him to escort her to her rooms, where she was to remain for the duration of the Darcys’ visit. Mrs Bennet’s loud protests followed her into the hallway and continued even after she disappeared from view.

“I apologise, Darcy, Lizzy, for my wife’s behaviour,” Mr Bennet said, shaking his head. “I believed she was beginning to accept her circumstances, but apparently she has allowed her bitterness to grow instead. The dower house has been prepared, and she will take up residence there.”

Elizabeth flinched. Her mother’s insults had been directed at her, yet her father had apologised to William first.

Perhaps no one else would have considered the order significant, but combined with the unanswered letters, it struck more deeply than Elizabeth wished to admit. For most of her life, she had believed her father sought her company because he loved and valued her. Now she wondered whether he had merely preferred her because no more suitable companion had been available.

He had ignored many of the suggestions she had offered over the years, only to act upon the same advice when it came from William. He now discussed Longbourn with his son-in-law and had begun teaching Mary many of the things he had once taught Elizabeth. Perhaps she had never been as important to him as she had believed. Perhaps her value had lasted only for as long as she remained useful.

They stayed at Longbourn for only one night. Although Mrs Bennet remained confined to her rooms, her complaints carried through much of the house, leaving everyone tense and uncomfortable. Elizabeth’s unsettled stomach, which had troubled her intermittently since leaving Pemberley, grew markedly worse.

When William suggested that they continue to London the following morning rather than remain another day, Elizabeth agreed without protest.

Before their departure, Mary quietly told Elizabeth that she would assume responsibility for the household once their mother moved into the dower house. Mrs Higgins would remain as her companion and accompany her into Meryton and to local entertainments in the absence of Jane or her mother.

As Elizabeth entered the Darcy carriage with Jane and Charlotte, she noticed a second carriage waiting near the front steps. Several of her mother’s trunks had already been secured to it. The sight made the change at Longbourn feel painfully final.

William took her hand as their carriage began moving. Elizabeth held tightly to him but did not look back.

The carriage remained subdued as they travelled towards London. Jane stared through the window, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, whilst Charlotte wisely made no attempt to force conversation. Elizabeth suspected that Jane was struggling to reconcile their father’s actions with their mother’s conduct, but she had little strength to draw her sister out.

Her own thoughts remained fixed upon her father. The conclusions she had reached at Longbourn left her unsettled, and the nausea that had troubled her since leaving Pemberley had grown worse. She attributed it to anxiety and hoped that both complaints would ease once they reached London and she could discuss everything with William.

William had watched her with increasing concern since their departure from Pemberley. Elizabeth had attempted to reassure him, but even she could not deny that she was unusually tired. Their journey south had taken several days, and neither of them had slept particularly well at the inns along the way. Their enthusiasm for the pleasures of marriage had frequently overcome their need for rest, despite walls that were rarely as thick as they might have wished. At the time, Elizabeth had been grateful that none of their sisters were travelling with them. Now she wondered whether greater restraint might have been prudent.

Within half an hour of leaving Longbourn, she could no longer keep her eyes open. She rested her head against William’s shoulder.

“Elizabeth?” he murmured.

“I am only tired.”

As sleep claimed her, she heard Charlotte quietly assure him, “Dealing with her mother has always been difficult for Eliza, Mr Darcy. Now that it is done, she likely needs the rest.”

Elizabeth awakened when the movement of the carriage changed upon entering London. William still held her against him, and the concern in his expression made her suspect that he had scarcely moved throughout the journey.

Jane and Charlotte’s subdued mood lifted somewhat when the carriage stopped before Darcy House. Neither had seen the townhouse before, and their widening eyes betrayed their astonishment as they looked up at its imposing façade.

“It is enormous,” Charlotte said.

Elizabeth smiled faintly. “That was very nearly my reaction when I first saw it.”

After showing Jane and Charlotte to their rooms, Elizabeth expressed a desire to bathe. Instead of retreating to his study, William accompanied her to their chambers, leaving the others to rest for the afternoon.