Page 92 of Ashes and Understanding
He immediately turned his focus back to Jane.Well, if I did not already believe he was in love with Jane, this bit of inattention to me certainly would prove it!Elizabeth thought humorously.
Her cheer dimmed somewhat as she remembered why she was so eager to speak with Darcy and the colonel.If only they were here! I need to tell them about what Mr. Smithson—or whatever his name is—said right before he died. It may be important.
Lost in her recollections, Elizabeth was oblivious to the rest of the room until a high-pitched squeal interrupted her thoughts.
“Oh, a ball!” Lydia clapped her hands and bounced on the floor. “How delightful!”
“I do love dancing,” Kitty added, practically hopping like a frog in delight. “Especially with the officers.”
Mary, seated stiffly at the far end of the room with her book of moral essays open before her, gave a disapproving sniff. “Frivolity in excess dulls the mind.”
Lydia ignored her entirely. “Perhaps one of the officers will steal me away into the garden for a kiss!” she whispered too loudly to Kitty, who dissolved into giggles.
The effect was instantaneous. Jane’s color deepened with embarrassment. Mr. Bingley’s amiable smile faltered, his brow creasing in discomfort.
Elizabeth stiffened, debating whether or not it was worth risking her mother’s ire to rebuke the younger two. She sought out Mrs. Bennet to gauge her temper, and was astonished by what she found.
Mrs. Bennet had frozen mid-flutter. One hand hovered uncertainly near her bosom, the other gripped the arm of her chair. Her usual simpering smile had vanished, and in its place… Elizabeth saw something far rarer: clarity. Embarrassment warred with alarm in her mother’s eyes, and for a moment, the full weight of their guests’ discomfort—and what it might cost Jane—seemed to settle visibly upon her shoulders.
It was like watching a mask crack. Elizabeth, so used to seeing her mother as frivolous and exasperating, was struck by how human she looked in that instant. Flushed. Disbelieving. Almost ashamed.
And then something hardened in Mrs. Bennet’s expression.
“That will do,” she said sharply.
The room fell still.
Lydia blinked. “What—?”
“I said that will do,” Mrs. Bennet repeated. “Since you cannot behave like the gentlewomen you are, you will not attend the ball.”
Kitty’s mouth dropped open. “But Mama—”
“I will not have you throwing yourselves at officers like some common tavern girl,” Mrs. Bennet snapped. “Clearly, your aunt Gardiner was right—you are not yet old enough for society. I have turned a blind eye to your behavior in the past, but I shall do so no longer. My eyes are opened at last.”
Lydia looked around the room as if expecting someone to intervene. No one did.
“I will not go?” she repeated, in growing outrage. “You cannot be serious! That is not fair! I am not—Mama, please—”
But Mrs. Bennet stood firm. “No balls. No assemblies. No visiting officers. I should have done it weeks ago.”
At that moment, Mr. Bennet strolled into the drawing room, no doubt having been drawn by the sudden silence—so rare in a household of five daughters.
“What is this?” he asked mildly. “Is someone dying?”
“No,” Mrs. Bennet said tartly. “Just my patience.”
Mr. Bennet gaped at this bit of wit from his typically flighty wife. “I beg your pardon?”
“I have decided that you are correct, Mr. Bennet. Your two youngest are some of the silliest girls in England, and as such, they are banned from social gatherings until they can learn some manners.”
Elizabeth looked at her father, half expecting him to overturn the ruling with a sarcastic comment. But instead, he looked at his wife with surprise—and then something like admiration.
“Well done, my dear,” he said. “I quite agree.”
Lydia let out a noise somewhere between a shriek and a sob and burst from the room, Kitty scrambling after her in distress.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
