Page 38 of Eavesdroppers Never Hear
“Lydia was the last, and she nearly killed both of us. The midwife assured me in the strongest possible terms that I was unlikely to survive another attempt.”
Elizabeth did not know that, and reached out both hands to grasp her mother’s, wondering why in the world all of this was new to her. Who was at fault? Her? Her mother? Her father? Society’s rules?
“I did not know, Mama. It must have been difficult.”
“It was, and I believe that was the start of your father pulling away. Oh, he likedyouwell enough, and taught all of you reading and such, which was good of him. But once there was no further possibility of a son, I believe we both avoided talking about things until there was nothing left to say to each other.”
“That sounds awful.”
Mrs Bennet wiped a tear from her eye. “I probably deserve your censure, Lizzy. I know I have acted inappropriately, and while I would like to blame it on desperation, sometimes it was just because I did not know better, and sometimes because I knew better but did not want to act differently.”
Elizabeth was not the least bit certain she liked the tone of the conversation but thought it would be something to think about.
“Imagine it, my girl. I was twenty-five years old—younger than your Mr Darcy—and an abject failure. Society said I had only one goal—to produce a son—and I failed. It did not matter that I gave it my best and nearly died trying. I was to be pitied rather than respected.”
Elizabeth had never really thought about her mother as a young, pretty, and vivacious woman. To be candid, it was difficult for her to do so. She did not know if that was a universal condition for children or if she was especially thick.
She did some quick calculations. “If you were twenty-five when Lydia was born…”
“I was eighteen when Jane was born—Mary’s age now. I was as pretty as Jane and silly as Kitty, but I was a mother and the mistress of a large and prosperous estate. I was on top of the world.”
Elizabeth still had her hands, so she gave them a good squeeze. “The fall must have been terrible.”
“It was,” Mrs Bennet said, then shook herself as if to move away from such disagreeable conversation. “Is it true Mr Darcy is courting you? Seriously courting and not just for sport?”
“He is.”
“How is it coming?” she asked, almost afraid.
“Very well, I believe… but you must understand that I loathed him Sunday morning. Things changed very quickly.”
“What happened at Netherfield, Lizzy? I tried to get it out of Jane, but I would have had better luck with Nellie.”
Elizabeth laughed, having almost forgotten that she once found her mother a hilarious and engaging woman. She wondered when and why she had lost her early and mostly positive impressions. Had her mother changed? Had she? Had she simply quit paying attention? Worst of all, she was twenty years old. What would have happened if she spent the previous five years helping her mother rather than just enduring her? Would she have succeeded? Perhaps not, but she had not even tried.
That was followed by a truly disconcerting thought: had she acquired her father’s sarcastic attitude about their mother in his bookroom along with Plato and Homer?
She shook her head with the contradictions. There was no doubt that her mother had once been a vibrant and clever-enough young girl. Many now found her a silly and vulgarwoman. Where had her mother gone wrong, and was it too late to correct? She hoped not.
Elizabeth had to shake her head to clear the disconcerting thoughts, but her mother seemed perfectly aware of what was happening, so sat patiently.
Elizabeth finally laughed a little and answered the hanging question. “Jane lost her temper at Netherfield.”
“Jane Bennet?”her mother asked in shock.
“The one and only,” Elizabeth said, then waited in breathless anticipation to see what direction her mother would go. So far, she thought the last decade’s good conversations with her mother had all occurred within that hour, and she was suspicious about when the matriarch would revert to form. It seemed inevitable, but she hoped to hold it off for a time.
“Good for her!” Mrs Bennet said, much to Elizabeth’s surprise.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because Jane needs a bit of backbone. I always worried about her good nature but had no idea what to do about it.”
Once again, Elizabeth was surprised.
“What was she angry about? I suppose one of those lunkheads did something to you. Jane would never get angry about something done to herself.”
Elizabeth laughed. “You seem to know us better than I would have guessed, Mama.”
