Page 15 of A Most Beloved Sister
Dear Lizee,
I got lost and wet. I fill sic. Plees kum.
Jane
Elizabeth jumped to her feet in alarm. “I must go to Jane at once!”
Mr. Bennet looked severely at his wife. “If your daughter should die of this illness, I’m certain it will give you comfort to know that it was in pursuit of a good match.”
Eyes filling with tears, Mrs. Bennet waved her handkerchief and said in a warbling voice, “Nonsense! People do not die of trifling colds! She will be well, I am sure.” Her voice faded away, however, and concern was etched upon her brow.
After a brief argument over Elizabeth’s desire to walk to Netherfield in all the mud—the carriage was not to be had—the decision was made for the second Bennet daughter.
As they left the breakfast room to prepare themselves for the walk, Mr. Bennet—who had long since finished his meal and escaped to his typical sanctuary—came out of his study. “Ah, Lizzy, do you have a moment?”
Elizabeth looked at the large clock and sighed, irritated at being delayed from going to Jane. “What is it, Papa?”
“I need you to take a look at these ledgers. I cannot make the two columns balance, and I’m not sure where the error is.”
Thirty minutes later, Lydia poked her head through the door. “Lizzy, what on earth is taking you so long? I want to go!”
“Papa needs me to find about fifty pounds that’s gone missing before we can go.”
“Well, it shouldn’t take that long!” Lydia stamped her foot.
“I’d like to see you try!” Elizabeth retorted.
Lydia flounced over to the desk and looked down at the numbers.
Elizabeth scoffed, “If Papa and I can’t find it after looking so long, I highly doubt you can.”
Ignoring her sister, Lydia’s eyes darted quickly back and forth across the page. Less than ten seconds later, she jabbed her finger at a spot and cried out, “There!”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Lydia, it doesn’t work like that. You can’t just make things up…”
Her voice trailed off as she peered down where Lydia’s stubby finger was pointing. “How… how did you…?”
“How’s it coming, Lizzy?” Mr. Bennet looked up from his book, then blinked in surprise at his youngest daughter. “Oh, it’s Lydia. When did you come in?”
Lydia rolled her eyes at her father and huffed. She then crossed her arms over her chest and demanded, “Well? Let’s go, then!”
“Did you find it, Elizabeth?”
Mr. Bennet came around the desk and peered over Elizabeth’s shoulder as she crossed out the very entry Lydia had indicated, writing the correct one to the side. “Very good, my dear,” he said, patting her on the shoulder.
“Actually, Papa, it was Lydia who discovered it.”
Elizabeth still couldn’t believe that Lydia had identified the miscalculation—and so quickly! She stared in disbelief at the young girl, who tossed her head and replied airily, “La, it wasn’t as if it was all that difficult!”
Mr. Bennet’s jaw gaped. Lydia’s gaze narrowed at the look of shock on his face. “Just because I look a bit like Jane doesnotmean that I’m as simple as she is.”
Before either her father or sister could respond, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Mr. Bennet watched the outburst with a quizzical expression, even after the door had closed. Elizabeth, still reeling from Lydia’s startling display of mathematical talent, finally said, “Well, Papa, if that is everything you need, I really must go to Jane.”
He waved his hand towards her, ushering her out the door, his brow still furrowed in thought. After dashing up the stairs, Elizabeth quickly changed into a walking dress before coming back down again to don her boots and spencer.
Finally, the Bennet girls—save Mary, that is—headed towards Meryton. Lydia had wished to accompany Elizabeth to see Jane—“After all, I might see Mr. Darcy!”—but by the time they reached the small village, Lydia was too tired to continue on another two miles.
