Unwilling

By Elizabeth Adams

Copyright © 2016 Elizabeth Adams

Dedication

For my eldest daughter, on the occasion of her tenth birthday. Dream big, baby girl. The world is yours.

Acknowledgements

I’d like to thank my editor, Lori Todd, for going through this book with a fine tooth comb and making it better than it would have been without her graceful touch. Thank you! You are a treasure.

Caitlin Daschner at Chromantic Studio is a creative genius. She designed this lovely cover and was a big encouragement to me throughout my own crazy creative process.

Thank you Linda and Debbie for the cold reading and the comments and the suggestions. I am truly grateful. Your input was invaluable. Rose and Pamela were encouraging and inspirational.

My husband was endlessly reassuring and supportive throughout this process. He’s a catch.

So many friends have been absolute rocks. They’ve held the bar high and stretched me beyond my comfort zone. Thank you. You make me a better writer.

Chapter 1

3 December, 1811

5 Days After the Netherfield Ball

Longbourn, Hertfordshire

Thomas Bennet sat in his study facing his old friend Withers, a man he had known since they were boys together and who was a physician in the next town. Once a month, they would meet for a game of chess and a glass of port to discuss old times and new discoveries. Today, after their game, which Withers happily won, Bennet asked his friend if he wouldn’t mind giving him a bit of an examination. He’d had some chest pain lately, and though he thought it was likely nothing, it was frequent enough that he thought he should bring it up.

After an examination lying on the divan in his bookroom, Bennet sat up and retied his cravat and pulled his jacket back on while his old friend looked on worriedly. Finally, Withers told Bennet what he suspected, as much as it pained him.

Thomas Bennet’s heart was failing and he wasn’t long for this earth.

“Are you sure?” asked Mr. Bennet.

“I’m sorry, Bennet. I know it isn’t welcome news. But with any luck, you will have another year, possibly two. It could be more. These things aren’t always predictable.”

Mr. Bennet nodded slowly. “Is there anything to be done?” he asked.

“I’m afraid there isn’t much. Relaxation, a calm environment. Some say the seaside is restorative. Perhaps your family is due for a holiday.”

Mr. Bennet nodded again, his eyes on the floor.

The physician held out his hand. “Don’t hesitate to call for me if you experience further problems. I will attend you as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Withers.”

“Of course. Take care, Bennet.” The physician left the room and closed the door quietly behind him.

Thomas Bennet sat stunned, staring out the window for he knew not how long, wondering what would become of him. Would he go quietly in his sleep? Would he collapse on his horse in a far off field, not to be found until it was too late? And his girls! Five daughters between the ages of fifteen and twenty-one. What would become of them? What of Jane and Lizzy? His two most sensible daughters did not deserve the life that was about to be thrust upon them.

After a poor night’s sleep, Bennet rose early with a new determination.

He may have preferred to ignore the world, but that did not mean he didn’t know how it worked. His wife had a meager portion. Her two brothers would surely assist, and perhaps Collins could be worked on for something, but he couldn’t be sure. His brother Gardiner was successful, true, but his house was not large enough to suddenly fit in six grown women.

No, he knew how it would be. His wife would become even sillier than she already was and would continue to throw his daughters at every possible gentleman that came within a hundred yards of them. Now was the time to think and plan.

He was ever good at thinking; of thinking, he’d had no lack. But what he thought about before his diagnosis and what he thought about now were very different topics indeed. He must now use his considerable powers of mind to find his daughters husbands—good ones. Ones who would look after his widow when he was gone. Failing that, he needed to prepare them to earn their way in the world, if it came to it. He imagined Mrs. Bennet could live with her sister Phillips, and possibly Kitty and Lydia with her, though it would be tight. His three elder daughters could move to London with his brother Gardiner. If only one of them could marry, even moderately well, it would widen their social sphere and show that the girls were marriageable.

In a fit of industry rarely seen in the master of Longbourn, Thomas Bennet went to his desk and withdrew the estate ledgers. He may only have a year or two left, and he wouldn’t be able to save anything significant, he should have started doing that years ago, he knew, but he could do something, surely.

Firstly, he examined the entail papers and made note of everything that was not required to go to his obsequious heir, Mr. Collins—a distant cousin of poor mental powers. Second, he drafted a detailed will, ensuring his wife retained everything she had brought into her marriage and all the gifts he had given her over the years. All of the Bennet family jewelry that could be separated from the estate he divided between his two eldest daughters, knowing they were the least likely to lose it and the most likely to know to sell it if it became necessary. Perhaps he could convince Collins to release the artwork as well.

He then went over the estate budget, and as much as he knew they would not like it, he reduced his wife’s and daughters’ pin money to a mere pittance, saving the balance for their future. If they stayed in the country, it could go toward a small cottage. If they went to town, he would give the money to his brother Gardiner to invest on his daughters’ behalf. Perhaps the man could make more of it than he had.

With that thought in mind, he began his letters. He sent one to his solicitor asking him to finalize the will. Another went to his brother Gardiner, asking if he knew of any seaside towns that weren’t too expensive but where he might enjoy a pleasant rest. He also asked his brother if he would consider hosting one or more of his daughters during the season.

It was a conundrum. He knew his daughters needed to marry well and that they had the best chance of doing that in town, but he did not want to part with them when he knew he had so little time left. His most marriageable daughters were his two eldest, Jane and Elizabeth, who also happened to be his two favorite. Of course, he could go to town with them, but he did not find London relaxing and relaxation was what the physician had told him he needed. It was all very vexing.

Finally, he asked his wife to wait on him.

“Yes, Mr. Bennet, what is it?” his wife asked impatiently as she bustled into the bookroom.

“Mrs. Bennet, please sit down. There is something I must tell you.”

Mrs. Bennet sat before her husband, her hands clasped in her lap, her cheeks flushed and her white cap with the lace trim slightly askew on her head. She looked at him with pursed lips, clearly ready for him to begin.

“Mrs. Bennet, I have decided to make a few changes to Longbourn. There is news of which you need to be made aware.” At that, Mrs. Bennet began to look worried and shifted in her seat. “We did not yield as much as we had hoped with the recent harvest, and our income reflects this.” She gasped. “Now, do not fret, my dear, we are not destitute, but I will need to reduce your and the girls’ allowances for some time.” She opened her mouth but closed it again before any sound came out.

“Now, you may find this strange, Mrs. Bennet, but I believe we need to prepare our daughters for marriage.” At this, Mrs. Bennet sat straight up and looked queerly at her husband. “Of course, we don’t want any suitors to be put off by our reduced circumstances, so you mustn’t say anything to anyone about it. We don’t want to ruin their chances now, do we?” he said cajolingly.

“No, of course not, I won’t breathe a word of it.” She wrung her handkerchief for a moment before asking, “Is it very bad, Mr. Bennet?”

“No, my dear, not so bad. But we want to urge caution, don’t we? We’ll have to cut back on entertaining, and the meals could be simpler.” She nodded vigorously. “Now, about our girls. What say you to a music master for them? I have also thought about drawing lessons.”

Not being a very clever woman, Mrs. Bennet never questioned how they could afford masters when they were supposedly in financial straits. And so the conversation continued, Mr. Bennet suggesting he himself would tutor them in literature, something he knew would not be easy but he thought necessary if they wanted to pass themselves off as having any kind of intelligence. Mrs. Bennet suggested French lessons to which her husband quickly agreed and though she did not like it, she agreed with her husband’s idea of having the girls learn some basic cookery skills in the kitchen. Finally, he came to the most difficult part of the conversation.

“Mrs. Bennet, I must tell you something you will not like.”

She looked at him with wide eyes, surprised after their very pleasant conversation about their girls. It was amazing what having an attentive husband could do for one’s nerves.

“What is it?” she asked.

“About Catherine and Lydia, I do not think they are prepared to be out.”

Mrs. Bennet began to protest, her voice rising shrilly as she went on about what fun they should be having and how pretty and lively they were. It was almost enough to make Mr. Bennet give up on his plan entirely.

“Now, now, Mrs. Bennet, listen to me.” He waited for her to calm before he spoke again in a soothing voice, so unlike his usual acerbic way of addressing her. “Think about it. We have five daughters. Taking them all about and dressing them as they ought will be very expensive. Would it not be easier if there were only two or three of them to dress and plan for?”

She was about to protest again when she saw his serious look entreating her to consider his plan. Silly and petty she might be, but Mrs. Bennet knew the cost of fabric and she understood his logic, however much she might dislike it.

He could tell she was wavering and decided to add another log to the fire. “If we can successfully reduce our expenditures, and if Kitty and Lydia can focus on their music and studies, I may be able to take you to the seaside for the summer.”

“The seaside?” Her eyes brightened suddenly and she sat up straighter in her chair. “Truly, Mr. Bennet? You are not teasing?” she asked hopefully.

Mr. Bennet felt the tiniest twinge of guilt over her enthusiasm and apparent distrust of him, but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared. “Truly. I would like to take a house for the summer. I’ve already sent out inquiries.”

That was enough to convince Mrs. Bennet to agree to even the most stringent changes, and so they continued their plans for the girls, deciding that Kitty and Lydia could attend family functions at home. Until at least one of her other sisters was married or she turned nineteen, whichever came first, Kitty was not to be out, and Lydia must follow suit. Three daughters out was enough for anyone to handle, Mr. Bennet told his wife, and he did not want her to overtax herself. Mrs. Bennet blushed prettily and smiled at her husband, readily agreeing that he knew best.

Chapter 2

Over the next se’nnight, Mr. Bennet engaged a music master, a drawing master, and a French tutor. He brought all his girls into his bookroom and told them of the coming changes: he had created a schedule for each of them, and each day they would be expected to study with the masters, practice a bit on their own, and assist their mother in running the household. In addition, they would each meet with him every week to discuss literature and history. They were stunned, and for a full minute, no one said anything; the girls just stared at their father as if they had never seen him before. Jane finally broke the silence.

“I will look forward to the drawing master, sir. Thank you for the consideration.”

Her sisters murmured thanks as well and exchanged confused glances. Mr. Bennet held up a hand.

“That is not all. From now on, your excursions and allowance will depend upon your diligence to your daily tasks.” Five pairs of eyes widened. “If you complete them satisfactorily and give your masters no trouble, you will be granted privileges. If you do not,” he looked at his youngest two daughters steadily, “you will take your meals above stairs and not be permitted in company.”

At this, Lydia, the youngest and silliest Bennet daughter, loudly erupted. She complained of how harsh this all sounded and wondered when they would walk to Meryton or visit their friends if they were busy studying all the time. She appealed to her mother who looked at her husband for a moment before calmly telling Lydia that she supported her husband’s edicts. Lydia gaped at her father until he told her that her unladylike and childish display had just earned her an afternoon in her room and a meal above stairs.

Lydia stared at her family incredulously, looking to her sisters for support, but their eyes were trained steadily to the floor. Finally, Lydia balled her fists at her side and stomped her way upstairs, loudly slamming the door to her room.

“That will earn her breakfast in her room as well,” Mr. Bennet said calmly. “Now, here are each of your schedules.” He passed out a paper with a calendar of sorts on it to each of his daughters, who in turn continued to stare at him strangely.

“Music lessons every day!” commented Mary and Kitty, though only one sounded pleased by the prospect.

“Yes. As you can see, your practice times are there as well. You will each spend one hour with the master and another in practice each day, though more would certainly not hurt you.” He looked at Elizabeth significantly. She gave him a sheepish look. “I’ve ordered the pianoforte in the back sitting room tuned and it shall be used to practice while the music room shall be used for lessons. Any questions?”

Mary timidly spoke up. “What do you mean by ‘non-religious texts’?”

“I mean that your reading time should be spent reading something other than doctrine and Fordyce. Now,” he looked at each of his daughters authoritatively, “you know what needs doing. Get to it.”

He turned back to his desk and sat down, his initiative used up for the day. He remained upright, watching them carefully, though, not wanting them to see his weakness. He told himself it would only be difficult in the beginning. Once they had a rhythm going, everything would move along smoothly.

Longbourn was a very noisy house that morning, Mary pounding away on the pianoforte in one room, Elizabeth tinkling half-heartedly in another, Jane huffing quietly as she attempted to draw a bowl with appropriate shadowing and Kitty repeating her French tutor with a very bad accent, though it must be said that she made up for it with enthusiasm.

Sitting alone and thinking about what was to come, Mr. Bennet had a moment of regret for not demanding Elizabeth marry Mr. Collins the month before. Yes, the man was an obsequious toad, but perhaps she could have made something of him. He’d no doubt that she could have managed him, had she set her mind to it. But he had not known then what he knew now, and he wasn’t sure which Elizabeth would have hated more: being married to Collins or having to earn her living as a governess or a companion. If another suitor came along, for any of them, he would have to say yes out of simple necessity. As long as the man was good, respectable, and solvent, he saw no reason to withhold his blessing. Had Collins asked after his diagnosis instead of before, he did not know how he would have acted.

He simply did not know.

~

By mid-afternoon, each of the Bennet girls, save Lydia, had spent time with a music and drawing master, had been told by said master what she should work on and accomplish before her next lesson the following day, and had spent an hour learning French with the tutor. The two eldest girls, Jane and Elizabeth, would take their lessons together and be one another’s practice partners. Kitty and Mary would continue on individually and practice together in the afternoons, which neither was very happy about, Mary being very serious and Kitty being very silly. When it was time to dress for dinner, Longbourn had never seen four more tired young women trudging up the stairs to change.

Dinner that evening was a subdued affair. The girls were tired and confused by their father’s recent actions. The elder were worried that something had occurred to cause so drastic a change—for before, he really had been a very indolent father—and the younger were by turns happy to be studying seriously (Mary) and pleased the day was over (Kitty). It should be said that Kitty did miss her younger sister Lydia, for the first little while, at least. She missed having someone to talk to and giggle with. But it should also be said that while Kitty was a very silly girl, she was also a girl of hidden talents. She had done well with her scales in her music lesson and the master had complimented her high, delicate voice, and to her great surprise, the drawing master told her she was learning the quickest of all her sisters. Though exhausted and confused and missing her sister slightly, Kitty Bennet went in to dinner just a tiny bit happier that day.

~

Lydia Bennet was in a fine mess. She had thought having dinner in her room wouldn’t be so very bad. She had a delicious novel to read and everyone at the table would miss her lively conversation and her father would be sorry he sent her upstairs. Come breakfast, they would all be thrilled to see her again. She changed her mind when she saw the tray of lumpy porridge Sarah, the maid, brought to her room. When she asked about it, sure there must have been some mistake, the maid informed her that it was brought on Mr. Bennet’s orders and he’d said that proper food was served in the proper dining room to proper ladies. The maid’s cheeks burned as she recited the message, and Lydia positively quivered with anger. She balled her fists and stamped her foot and let out a most unladylike grunt. Sarah bobbed a quick curtsey and dashed out of the room, just in time to avoid the heavy spoon Lydia threw at the door.

Mrs. Bennet heard the commotion from upstairs and worried over her youngest and most favored child, but her husband reassured her and said that Lydia just needed time to adjust and would accept the changes in good time. She nodded and attended her meal, imagining how jealous Lady Lucas would be when all five Bennet daughters sang in perfect harmony at the next neighborhood party.

The following morning, Lydia was surprised when the maid came in with another tray for breakfast: porridge again. There was a tiny bit of jam dolloped in the middle, but it was an uninspiring meal. She huffed and sat down to eat, thinking the sooner she was through, the sooner she could leave this room.

“Sarah, you’ve forgotten the spoon!” she called to the retreating maid.

“The master’s orders, miss. There’s a note from him there.” She pointed to a small piece of folded paper on the corner of the tray and quickly left.

Lydia picked up the note and read, “Silver is not a ball meant for throwing. See you don’t treat it as such.”

Lydia became so angry, the tips of her ears turned red. He expected her, Lydia Bennet, to eat without a spoon? How was she going to manage it? She certainly couldn’t put her face in the bowl like an animal. Huffing, she crossed her arms and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to ignore her growling stomach and maintain her ire. It was exhausting.

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