Page 56 of Resilience

“Perhaps it is bold and forward of me to say so, but we set forth to come to know one another, and I admire what I have learned a great deal.” Elizabeth had to fight to breathe again, and she turned back to the path and walked on.

“So do I,” Mr Darcy answered thoughtfully. He said little, only walked on in deep contemplation for the rest of their walk.

That night, a battle of wills commenced at Hawthorne Vale between Catherine Denny and her father. Mr Bennet’s nose twitched as the only course was brought in.

“Mutton?” Their father positively detested mutton, and Mrs Bennet was forbidden from ordering it at Longbourn.

“Well, it was time that I began to plan the meals with Mrs Philpot more attentively. The cook was only managing as she did to give some relief to Matthew and I.” Kitty was unconcerned by her father’s displeasure. “It came to my attention from Mrs Hawes that the butcher has an excessive quantity of mutton. An error when his assistant placed the order. It will all go to waste, and he will lose funds he cannot afford if it is not all sold. We order from the butcher so infrequently, it is the least we can do to place a large order to assist the local tradesmen when we know they need it. I understand that we will not be the only house hereabouts eating mutton all week.”

“All week?” Mr Bennet was nearly whining. “Denny, you cannot mean to let her feed you mutton all week.”

“I have no objection to mutton, and the meals and ordering are my wife’s purview,” Matthew was obviously attempting not to laugh. “Kitty must learn which of our resources to use and when. I am pleased to know that besides ensuring that waste is avoided at Hawthorne Vale, that she also understands what we owe to the tradesmen in the village. If my wife deems it appropriate, we will have mutton this week. It brings harm to no one.”

That night while Mr Bennet was downstairs, James disconnected the bell to Mr Bennet’s guest room, forcing him out of his bedroom when he wanted tea, water for washing, or assistance. Mr Bennet complained to his daughter that she was a terrible hostess.

“Papa, you were told that how things are done at Hawthorne Vale are starting to change, immediately. I am certain that you understand, we all must do for ourselves more in the future. Fred has no complaints.”

Fred Walters was an angel, following Kitty about the house, praising her every move, determined not to allow her father to wear her down.

“I am satisfied indeed that my godson will be well looked after when I return to town,” The older man insisted.

The next morning, all of the household except Mr Bennet had a hot breakfast early in their room on trays. Then, when they met in the breakfast room at the appointed hour, there was nothing but tea, coffee, toast, and marmalade on the sideboard.

“I am starving, I swear I could smell kedgeree from my bed when I awoke this morning.” Mr Bennet entered the breakfast room in anticipation. He had, indeed, smelled kedgeree from his bed, for Mr Walters had been enjoying it next door in his bedroom.

“Mrs Philpot is unwell, so we shall all have to make do this morning, but the marmalade is quite splendid, is it not?” Kitty said to Elizabeth.

“Perfectly delicious, a slice of toast and Mrs Philpot’s marmalade is all that I require to sustain me this morning,” Elizabeth answered lightly.

Mr Bennet stared at the sideboard, then sank into a chair in misery.

That afternoon’s offerings at tea was only tea and a plate of spiced biscuits for everyone to share, and mutton again at dinner. This menu continued for two more days. If there was one thing Mrs Bennet knew about her husband, it was that he enjoyed being well fed, and was irascible when he was not. Kitty had obviously noticed this while growing up at Longbourn, and it was obvious that Mr Bennet could be as irascible as he liked and his daughter could not possibly care less. Elizabeth wondered how long her father would remain before he could not stand the thought of another plate of mutton.

After dinner on the third night of mutton, Elizabeth was at the pianoforte when the men joined them, playing a quiet and contemplative hymn, more prayer than performance. She stopped as Matthew entered the room with his godfather and father-in-law in his wake.

Mr Bennet fell into a chair near the fire.

“Do not allow the men to prevent your frivolity, ladies,” he said mildly, “For Denny and I know your foolish natures well, and Walters will come to know it soon enough. It is comforting to know that mourning at Hawthorne Vale is so easily set aside in favour of gaiety. I should hate my daughters to suffer from an overabundance of seriousness and proper behaviour.”

Elizabeth closed the cover over the keys abruptly and returned the black crepe over the instrument, cheeks burning.

Kitty, who was pouring tea for her husband, went very still.

Mr Bennet continued, picking up a book from where he laid it earlier. “Your sister’s behaviour is always lively, Elizabeth, but I had thought that a house in mourning might prefer silence to impropriety.”

Matthew’s jaw tightened. “Elizabeth was playing to comfort us,” he said quietly. “It was hardly a reel.”

“Indeed,” Mr Bennet replied. “How considerate of her, to compensate where the mistress of the house might otherwise feel constrained.”

Kitty turned to him. “Constrained from what, Papa?”

“From displaying gaiety,” Mr Bennet answered. “One is usually expected to demonstrate respect for the departed. You must be ready to burst, you have been obliged to remain so quiet.”

Matthew interrupted again. His voice, when he spoke, was controlled but unmistakably firm. “With respect, sir, the late Mr Denny does not deserve mourning from my wife. Nor even from me. Kitty has shown nothing but patience, decency, and kindness in a house that has given her very little in return. Her conduct as mistress here has been exemplary.”

There was silence in the room.

Mr Bennet regarded him in his typically mocking manner. “Ah. You no doubt think so because you might have married either Kitty or Lydia and perceived little distinction between them. It is easy to be content when one never expected better.”