Gossiping Like Women
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Titles in the Public Domain › Jane Austen › Pride and Prejudice
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
13,503
Reviews:
13
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Titles in the Public Domain › Jane Austen › Pride and Prejudice
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
13,503
Reviews:
13
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work fiction, based on Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.
Unwarranted Gossip
CHAPTER TWO: Unwarranted Gossip.
It was dusk by the time Mr. Bennet walked through the threshold of Longborn, where he was met by a frantic Mrs. Bennet bemoaning her nerves at all but one daughter missing!
“Mrs Bennet, did Lydia tell you of what happened today?” Mr. Bennet asked, slumping into a chair and suddenly looking very old.
“Oh my nerves! Four daughters not come home!” she bemoaned, holding Lydia’s hand.
“Mrs. Bennet? Has Lydia told you?” Mr. Bennet said calmly.
“Oh yes!” Mrs. Bennet replied, her nerves suddenly absent as her voice became the one she used for her gossiping, Mr. Bennet sighed.
“Lydia told me that dear Mr. Wickham was placed in a cage and then dragged away bound by some of the other soldiers! Goodness knows why! He’s such an amiable person – and an officer!
“Apparently his engagement to Mary King has been broken, and Miss King has been sent to live with a relative in goodness-knows-where! How fortunate, as he seemed quite taken with my Lydia! Just think, imagine my little baby married at fifteen! Why she told me how Mr. Wickham has been so attentive to her! Oh, and he’s an officer too! With such high prospects of promotion further up the ranks! And such happy manners and a caring disposition!”
“LYDIA BENNET!” Mr. Bennet had heard enough, “GET TO YOUR ROOM THIS INSTANT!” It was rare for Mr. Bennet to shout, and it stunned his wife into silence whilst Lydia simply pouted.
“You heard your Father, dear, run along.” Mrs. Bennet said quietly, noticing the tears running down her husband’s face. Lydia burst into tears and was moments from protesting, but a cry of “NOW!” from her Father had her running for her room.
Mr. Bennet calmed himself, as a man who hated the loss of control, he was ashamed of his outburst – but their prattle and gossip was shameful in light of what had happened; Mrs. Bennet obviously had no idea.
“Hill, fetch the smelling salts, and the wine.” He said to the housekeeper with a gentle voice. He waited for the aforementioned items to be presented on a silver tray before taking a seat next to his wife and taking her hands in his.
“Mrs. Bennet, there is no pleasant way to tell you this… Lizzy was attacked by one of the Melitia; an officer tried to… force himself upon her, and he beat and strangled her when she fought back… she…” Mr. Bennet sobbed as he spoke the last, “Her breathing is weak, and she has a high fever, the apothecary is not sure she will last the night.”
For once in her life, Mrs. Bennet’s nerves were true in their action, and she fainted dead away at the news.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Some time later, Mrs. Bennet lay across the chaise, her husband’s hand clamped to her heart as he kneeled next to her.
“Lizzy… she might… one of my babies… die” were the only words that made sense.
“There is more to this tale, Frances.” Mr. Bennet said gently, using her name for the first time in an age.
“Thomas?” she asked, using his.
“The so-called-officer who did this was… Mr. Wickham.” She gasped, her eyes wide.
“But he was so amiable! So polite!” she whispered, looking above her at the ceiling – as if she could see through the plaster and wood to Lydia’s room.
“Well, he can be as amiable and polite as he wishes – he is to be court marshalled for his crimes… and what occurred today was barely a taster of what he has done in the past, by the sounds of it.” Mr. Bennet replaced the cold flannel on his wife’s head.
“What of the other girls, are they… s-safe?” she sobbed.
“Jane, Mary and Kitty are with her, and they are taking turns to watch her at the Marchbanks’ house.” He replied.
“Oh! Thomas!” she sobbed, sitting up suddenly and swooning, “I can’t lose another one! I can’t! I can’t cope if another one of my babies dies!” Mr. Bennet pulled his wife into his arms; he too shed tears for the little boy they’d buried so many years ago – the death of Master Thomas Bennet had begun Mrs. Bennets nervous complaints and changed her beyond recognition from the woman the senior Thomas had fallen in love with.
“We must hope and pray, my dear, we can do naught else.” Mr. Bennet said softly, kissing his wife’s greying curls.
“I want to give that Mr. Wickham a piece of my mind! And a few other pieces too!” Cried Mrs. Bennet as she swooned once more. “Doing… t-this and leading on my Lydia… LYDIA!” she yelled the last, startling her husband (who’s ear had not been far from her mouth at the time).
“Oh mama!” Lydia simpered, flouncing into the room without a care in the world. “It was so dull being in my room! Are we to go to Aunt Phillips’ card party this evening? I shall wear my new bonnet!”
“LYDIA RUTH BENNET!” Mrs. Bennet screamed, sitting up with the assistance of her husband, “How DARE you prattle on about social engagements and card parties and bonnets when one of your sisters may not live though the night?! How DARE you not tell me of what happened earlier! All you could talk of was how Mr. Wickham…” (she spat the name) “Was roughly treated… you said NOTHING of what happened to your sister – or why your other sisters were away!”
Lydia pouted, a face that normally got Lydia her own way, “But mama, it was so dull and boring – and not worth speaking of!” Lydia said, picking a little dirt from under one fingernail.
Mr. Bennet beamed as the strong woman he married suddenly returned. Mrs. Bennet stood, straightened her skirts and marched over to her youngest. Mr. Bennet turned as a rider approached the house; but he feared his neck had broken as he turned his head back to the loud CRACK of flesh upon flesh behind him.
Lydia held one red cheek and sobbed as Mrs. Bennet fumed.
“GET. TO. YOUR. ROOM. YOU. WILL. NOT. LEAVE. IT. UNLESS. YOU. ARE. INVITED. TO. BY. MYSELF. OR. YOUR. FATHER.” She hissed, both hands on her hips.
“But mamaaaaaa!” Lydia cried.
“NO! YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO THE NAME BENNET!” Mrs. Bennet yelled, pointing with one hand up the stairs. “Get gone to your room! NOW!”
The rider (Mr. Marchbanks) entered the room with a message, he bowed and went to stand outside; it wasn’t his place to listen to a family quarrel.
Mr. Bennet sat down to read the letter as Mrs. Bennet began pacing. “I struck one of my children! Oh! How could I?” she sobbed, one hand over her mouth.
“I fear that Lydia deserved it, Francess. And the slap has been a long time in coming.” He replied absently as he read. “I fear you cannot give Mr. Wickham a piece of your mind, my dear… for he managed to convince some of his few friends to help him escape… he has been killed for deserting; his assistants are to be flogged at dawn for helping him.”
Mrs. Bennet took a deep breath and looked out of the window at the coming night, “Mr. Bennet, am I an awful woman? A bad Christian?” she asked.
Mr. Bennet sat stunned, not perfectly sure what his wife was on about, “I don’t catch your meaning, my dear…”
“Am I a bad woman, will I go to Hell for wishing a man dead – even if his crimes were huge?” she sobbed, welcoming his embrace as he stood and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest.
“Shh, shhh. Tis no worse that what I’ve thought these past hours; it is rather nice in comparison to my thoughts.” He said, wiping her eyes with his shirt sleeve (his handkerchief long soaked),
“I was imagining him being tortured before being hung, drawn and quartered. And I would have watered his grave – and I do not mean with a watering can – for the actual harm he caused Lizzy and the distress he’s brought upon you, Jane, Mary and Kitty!”
“Oh! Mr. Bennet!” she chided through her tears, “What an awful thing to say!” she looked at him rather sheepishly, a look that he hadn’t seen in so many years, she whispered, “Even if I do agree with you… but piddling on a grave is not something a gentleman should do.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A/N: a little continuation of the tale – and the reaction of Mrs. Bennet; and Lydia’s slight comeuppance.
I can’t see that Mr. Bennet would have EVER married her if she’d always been so nervous; so I used a plot device I’ve seen many-a-time in P&P fanfics – the death of the Bennet son (I have no intention of being a plagiarist, but as I’ve seen the plot used numerous times by numerous authors, I don’t think I am one).
I hope you liked this little instalment, more to come.
In answer to the two reviews:
Aquamum – thank-you for your compliments, but Darcy (and the plot) have a little journey to go on before he’ll propose.
DarcysTart – I hope I don’t disappoint.
I’m not a review whore, though, I won’t deny that it is wonderful to read a few comments! If you’d like to comment, feel free; but if it makes you uncomfortable (or you just don’t want to) I’m not going to begrudge you. I really do HATE it when people beg for reviews or hold chapters for ransom so they get them! I write for my own pleasure, and I only post so that others can enjoy the fics too.
I hope you enjoy this as much as I – though I didn’t enjoy writing the almost-rape scene! (But you catch my drift)…
I’ve just read that back… I think I’m slightly channelling Mrs. Bennet! Lol!
Utopia. X
It was dusk by the time Mr. Bennet walked through the threshold of Longborn, where he was met by a frantic Mrs. Bennet bemoaning her nerves at all but one daughter missing!
“Mrs Bennet, did Lydia tell you of what happened today?” Mr. Bennet asked, slumping into a chair and suddenly looking very old.
“Oh my nerves! Four daughters not come home!” she bemoaned, holding Lydia’s hand.
“Mrs. Bennet? Has Lydia told you?” Mr. Bennet said calmly.
“Oh yes!” Mrs. Bennet replied, her nerves suddenly absent as her voice became the one she used for her gossiping, Mr. Bennet sighed.
“Lydia told me that dear Mr. Wickham was placed in a cage and then dragged away bound by some of the other soldiers! Goodness knows why! He’s such an amiable person – and an officer!
“Apparently his engagement to Mary King has been broken, and Miss King has been sent to live with a relative in goodness-knows-where! How fortunate, as he seemed quite taken with my Lydia! Just think, imagine my little baby married at fifteen! Why she told me how Mr. Wickham has been so attentive to her! Oh, and he’s an officer too! With such high prospects of promotion further up the ranks! And such happy manners and a caring disposition!”
“LYDIA BENNET!” Mr. Bennet had heard enough, “GET TO YOUR ROOM THIS INSTANT!” It was rare for Mr. Bennet to shout, and it stunned his wife into silence whilst Lydia simply pouted.
“You heard your Father, dear, run along.” Mrs. Bennet said quietly, noticing the tears running down her husband’s face. Lydia burst into tears and was moments from protesting, but a cry of “NOW!” from her Father had her running for her room.
Mr. Bennet calmed himself, as a man who hated the loss of control, he was ashamed of his outburst – but their prattle and gossip was shameful in light of what had happened; Mrs. Bennet obviously had no idea.
“Hill, fetch the smelling salts, and the wine.” He said to the housekeeper with a gentle voice. He waited for the aforementioned items to be presented on a silver tray before taking a seat next to his wife and taking her hands in his.
“Mrs. Bennet, there is no pleasant way to tell you this… Lizzy was attacked by one of the Melitia; an officer tried to… force himself upon her, and he beat and strangled her when she fought back… she…” Mr. Bennet sobbed as he spoke the last, “Her breathing is weak, and she has a high fever, the apothecary is not sure she will last the night.”
For once in her life, Mrs. Bennet’s nerves were true in their action, and she fainted dead away at the news.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Some time later, Mrs. Bennet lay across the chaise, her husband’s hand clamped to her heart as he kneeled next to her.
“Lizzy… she might… one of my babies… die” were the only words that made sense.
“There is more to this tale, Frances.” Mr. Bennet said gently, using her name for the first time in an age.
“Thomas?” she asked, using his.
“The so-called-officer who did this was… Mr. Wickham.” She gasped, her eyes wide.
“But he was so amiable! So polite!” she whispered, looking above her at the ceiling – as if she could see through the plaster and wood to Lydia’s room.
“Well, he can be as amiable and polite as he wishes – he is to be court marshalled for his crimes… and what occurred today was barely a taster of what he has done in the past, by the sounds of it.” Mr. Bennet replaced the cold flannel on his wife’s head.
“What of the other girls, are they… s-safe?” she sobbed.
“Jane, Mary and Kitty are with her, and they are taking turns to watch her at the Marchbanks’ house.” He replied.
“Oh! Thomas!” she sobbed, sitting up suddenly and swooning, “I can’t lose another one! I can’t! I can’t cope if another one of my babies dies!” Mr. Bennet pulled his wife into his arms; he too shed tears for the little boy they’d buried so many years ago – the death of Master Thomas Bennet had begun Mrs. Bennets nervous complaints and changed her beyond recognition from the woman the senior Thomas had fallen in love with.
“We must hope and pray, my dear, we can do naught else.” Mr. Bennet said softly, kissing his wife’s greying curls.
“I want to give that Mr. Wickham a piece of my mind! And a few other pieces too!” Cried Mrs. Bennet as she swooned once more. “Doing… t-this and leading on my Lydia… LYDIA!” she yelled the last, startling her husband (who’s ear had not been far from her mouth at the time).
“Oh mama!” Lydia simpered, flouncing into the room without a care in the world. “It was so dull being in my room! Are we to go to Aunt Phillips’ card party this evening? I shall wear my new bonnet!”
“LYDIA RUTH BENNET!” Mrs. Bennet screamed, sitting up with the assistance of her husband, “How DARE you prattle on about social engagements and card parties and bonnets when one of your sisters may not live though the night?! How DARE you not tell me of what happened earlier! All you could talk of was how Mr. Wickham…” (she spat the name) “Was roughly treated… you said NOTHING of what happened to your sister – or why your other sisters were away!”
Lydia pouted, a face that normally got Lydia her own way, “But mama, it was so dull and boring – and not worth speaking of!” Lydia said, picking a little dirt from under one fingernail.
Mr. Bennet beamed as the strong woman he married suddenly returned. Mrs. Bennet stood, straightened her skirts and marched over to her youngest. Mr. Bennet turned as a rider approached the house; but he feared his neck had broken as he turned his head back to the loud CRACK of flesh upon flesh behind him.
Lydia held one red cheek and sobbed as Mrs. Bennet fumed.
“GET. TO. YOUR. ROOM. YOU. WILL. NOT. LEAVE. IT. UNLESS. YOU. ARE. INVITED. TO. BY. MYSELF. OR. YOUR. FATHER.” She hissed, both hands on her hips.
“But mamaaaaaa!” Lydia cried.
“NO! YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO THE NAME BENNET!” Mrs. Bennet yelled, pointing with one hand up the stairs. “Get gone to your room! NOW!”
The rider (Mr. Marchbanks) entered the room with a message, he bowed and went to stand outside; it wasn’t his place to listen to a family quarrel.
Mr. Bennet sat down to read the letter as Mrs. Bennet began pacing. “I struck one of my children! Oh! How could I?” she sobbed, one hand over her mouth.
“I fear that Lydia deserved it, Francess. And the slap has been a long time in coming.” He replied absently as he read. “I fear you cannot give Mr. Wickham a piece of your mind, my dear… for he managed to convince some of his few friends to help him escape… he has been killed for deserting; his assistants are to be flogged at dawn for helping him.”
Mrs. Bennet took a deep breath and looked out of the window at the coming night, “Mr. Bennet, am I an awful woman? A bad Christian?” she asked.
Mr. Bennet sat stunned, not perfectly sure what his wife was on about, “I don’t catch your meaning, my dear…”
“Am I a bad woman, will I go to Hell for wishing a man dead – even if his crimes were huge?” she sobbed, welcoming his embrace as he stood and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest.
“Shh, shhh. Tis no worse that what I’ve thought these past hours; it is rather nice in comparison to my thoughts.” He said, wiping her eyes with his shirt sleeve (his handkerchief long soaked),
“I was imagining him being tortured before being hung, drawn and quartered. And I would have watered his grave – and I do not mean with a watering can – for the actual harm he caused Lizzy and the distress he’s brought upon you, Jane, Mary and Kitty!”
“Oh! Mr. Bennet!” she chided through her tears, “What an awful thing to say!” she looked at him rather sheepishly, a look that he hadn’t seen in so many years, she whispered, “Even if I do agree with you… but piddling on a grave is not something a gentleman should do.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A/N: a little continuation of the tale – and the reaction of Mrs. Bennet; and Lydia’s slight comeuppance.
I can’t see that Mr. Bennet would have EVER married her if she’d always been so nervous; so I used a plot device I’ve seen many-a-time in P&P fanfics – the death of the Bennet son (I have no intention of being a plagiarist, but as I’ve seen the plot used numerous times by numerous authors, I don’t think I am one).
I hope you liked this little instalment, more to come.
In answer to the two reviews:
Aquamum – thank-you for your compliments, but Darcy (and the plot) have a little journey to go on before he’ll propose.
DarcysTart – I hope I don’t disappoint.
I’m not a review whore, though, I won’t deny that it is wonderful to read a few comments! If you’d like to comment, feel free; but if it makes you uncomfortable (or you just don’t want to) I’m not going to begrudge you. I really do HATE it when people beg for reviews or hold chapters for ransom so they get them! I write for my own pleasure, and I only post so that others can enjoy the fics too.
I hope you enjoy this as much as I – though I didn’t enjoy writing the almost-rape scene! (But you catch my drift)…
I’ve just read that back… I think I’m slightly channelling Mrs. Bennet! Lol!
Utopia. X