Page 53 of Colour My World
Elizabeth chuckled. “How generous of you, Papa. I trust you shall provide us with the most instructive material.”
“Indeed.” He unfolded his newspaper. “And what better way to begin than with the pressing matters of the day? England suffers no shortage of unrest. Machine-breaking in Nottingham, riots in Yorkshire, and now, talk of the militia marching into the shires to keep order. Hertfordshire may see redcoats yet.”
“Surely, having the militia in Meryton would provide security,” Jane said. “The Luddites’ actions, though stemming from desperation, threaten public order. Soldiers would prevent uprisings from reaching our village.”
Mary shook her head. “At what cost? They are not merely defenders. They are men, and men in groups fall into excess. What trouble might arise if a large number of idle soldiers take residence so close?”
Kitty and Lydia exchanged glances before dissolving into giggles.
“Oh, but Mary! Redcoats in Meryton!” Lydia clapped her hands. “Imagine the dancing, the promenades–”
Mrs Ecclestone set down her fork and knife with deliberate care. The girls’ mirth evaporated at once. Their eyes dropped to their plates.
“Ladies.” She raised her chin. “Soldiers are not entertainment, nor are they ornaments for idle admiration. While their presence may offer protection, it also brings temptation. You would do well to bear this in mind.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they replied in unison.
“A lady conducts herself with dignity.”
“Mrs Ecclestone is quite right.” Mr Bennet sipped his wine. “Soldiers bring both order and disorder, much depending on the men themselves. As for whether they should quarter in Meryton, that is for Sir William to determine, not for us to debate over a meretrifle.”
* * *
Longbourn, two days later…
The breakfast room was warm with the scent of tea and fresh bread. Silver clinked gently against porcelain, the quiet rhythm of morning. Elizabeth tore her roll in silence, worried about Kitty’s empty chair.
“And where is our youngartistethis morning?” Mr Bennet peered over the rim of his spectacles.
Mary set down her knife. “She is—”
She stopped. Kitty appeared in the doorway. Her eyes were swollen. Her shawl clung haphazardly to one shoulder. Arms crossed tightly; hands hidden in its folds. Her aire shimmered with a hundred ladybirds.
Her mother’s chair creaked as she pushed back. She rose, lifted her chin, and waved a hand at them all. “I have this in hand.”
She crossed the room before anyone else could. “Mrs Hill—tea, toast, and hot water, if you please.”
“Right away, madam.”
She crossed to Kitty and took her hand, giving it a gentlesqueeze as she passed. She followed Mrs Hill into the kitchen, skirts whispering across the floor.
Elizabeth turned to her father. “Papa!” she growled.
His eyebrows leapt halfway up his forehead.
“It would do you good to remember that you live in a household of women.”
He stared at her, mouth ajar. Then he rose and cleared his throat. “My dear Kitty,” he said, “forgive me if I spoke without feeling.”
Kitty managed a faint smile as she kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Papa.”
PART FIVE
The Present
Darcy & Elizabeth
1811
