Page 2 of The Heart Has Its Reasons

Mr. Bennet offered no comfort, watching his wife’s anxieties play out. He waited until she had exhausted her complaints before adding, to her profound dismay, his decree that Mrs. Ellington should have use of the carriage whenever she desired it.

“And if I should have need of the carriage?” his wife asked.

“You are half the woman’s age, my dear,” replied Mr. Bennet, his voice mild. “Perhaps your errands will prove conveniently close, and it shall not be a difficulty. If not, you must simply walk, even if that means your purchases are limited to what you can carry.”

“Limited in my purchases!” Mrs. Bennet’s eyes widened. She hovered on the brink of a new tirade, but Jane took her mother’s hand, calming her with the reminder that they could send servants to fetch home their purchases at a later time.

Thus mollified, Mrs. Bennet’s attention shifted immediately to the upcoming assembly in Meryton. With the Netherfield party sure to be in attendance, she insisted the girls simply must have new ribbons and trimmings, declaring that Mr. Bennet could not mean for them to appear at a disadvantage. Elizabeth suppressed a sigh at the familiar monthly argument, knowing it would likely end either with him grudgingly releasing funds or the girls spending their own pin money.

In this, Mrs. Bennet remained entirely consistent. She was a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. When discontented, she fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her five daughters married; its solace was visiting and news, and no practical limitation—be it in transportation or pocket money—could long distract her from that singular purpose.

Chapter 2

Mrs. Ellington settled herself in the chair nearest the window, enjoying the tranquil, drowsy day. Four of her five young cousins were gathered nearby, each occupied with her needlework amid the soft murmur of conversation. Jane, the eldest, endeavoured to guide Catherine’s hand in the proper execution of a stitch—a very fashionable new method that Mrs. Gardiner, their aunt, had described in her last letter. But Catherine’s efforts produced only a tangled mess, nothing at all like her sister’s neat work. Mary attempted to intervene as well, but her patience for Catherine was not nearly so great as Jane’s. Meanwhile, Elizabeth, possessing something more of quickness than her sisters, had easily mastered the method from the new patterns, and her work progressed with far more success.

Lydia threw the door open and entered, her face clouded with anger. She stood just inside the threshold, determined to command the room’s attention. Her eyes scanned the space, then landed on Mrs. Ellington. “I must have my new cloth mantle and bonnet from your room, madam.”

Elizabeth’s needle stilled. “Lydia! Is that any way to address a guest?”

“All is well, my dears. I do not think Lydia means any harm; it is trying for any young lady to be put out of her comforts,” said Mrs. Ellington, her tone placid. She then addressed Lydia, “You may fetch it, provided that Mrs. Hill or one of your sisters accompanies you.”

“Kitty?” Lydia glanced at her sister.

Kitty looked up from the hopeless tangle of thread about her finger, which Elizabeth and Jane were attempting to free. She turned to Mary, saying, “Would you mind helping Lydia?”

Mary agreed, and with a barely perceptible sigh, Lydia went with her to fetch her paraphernalia.

“I wonder if a maid could be spared today so that the rest of Lydia’s things might be brought into her room,” said Jane.

“I reminded Mrs. Hill of it this morning,” said Elizabeth, “but as it is James’s half-day, she said it was unlikely to be today. James, Paul, and Hannah shall assist tomorrow.”

“Indeed,” said Mrs. Ellington, her voice placid. “It is a great trial to be put from one’s room. And to be without one’s things must be a further vexation.”

“She had bonnets in our room,” said Kitty, “and she might have borrowed one of mine.”

“There you are, Kitty,” said Jane, finally freeing her sister from the knot. “Now, you must only remember to free your finger before pulling the thread taut and wrapping it so. I am only glad you did not manage to poke yourself.”

Following her elder sister’s careful directions, Kitty attempted the knot again. This time, she succeeded, beaming with pride at the bit of thread that now resembled a small flower.

“Well done, my dear,” Mrs. Ellington praised. “You young ladies are so very creative nowadays. We had not half the techniques you do when I was young.”

Jane watched Kitty complete the knot successfully once more before turning to their guest. “Did you enjoy embroidery when you were young, Mrs. Ellington?”

“Yes, my dear. In fact, one of the cushions I embroidered graces Longbourn’s parlour. It is the purple muslin with a white pattern.”

“Indeed? That is very well done,” said Jane. “Did you make it while you lived at Longbourn?”

“I thank you, my dear, and yes, I did. When I turned twenty, I moved to Longbourn to assist my cousin—your grandmother—whose weak constitution made the care of her children a great burden. I often embroidered while the children slept.”

“Our father never mentioned that,” said Elizabeth. “He said you lived here, but not why.”

“Oh, I am not certain that he would remember, being the youngest. Besides, it is a history most of the family would prefer to forget, as they have never approved of my choices.” She glanced at Elizabeth, whose dark, attentive eyes betrayed a curiosity she did not give voice to.

Miss Kitty, however, had no such qualms. “Is it because you married a man who was once a servant, ma’am?”

Mrs. Ellington could only smile. “I believe that to be the case; although a steward is not held to be a servant, before he earned that position, my Michael was indeed a groom in the stables.”

“A groom in the stables,” repeated Kitty softly, her eyes wide.