Free Pemberley by Emma Tennant

Kitchiner.
    â€˜That is very probable. He has been away at war and is now retired at Uplyme. A most entrancing spot, as I know well. For I went there – with poor Mr Bennet – on the occasion of Lydia’s going to Weymouth, if you remember.’
    â€˜A most unfortunate occasion,’ said Mrs Long. ‘It is to behoped there are no soldiers to be found in Derbyshire – for Kitty has every appearance of going the same way as her sister.’
    â€˜Lydia is married,’ said Mrs Bennet simply, but not without reflecting that her friend’s candour had greatly increased since the death of Mr Bennet. ‘And I may say that I have intentions of a similar nature. Can there be anything ill-considered in marrying a soldier?’
    Mrs Long was as startled as her friend had intended her to be. ‘Mrs Bennet, do you mean this? I pray you, recollect yourself.’
    At this moment the maid came in and the tea was removed. Mrs Bennet offered a cordial, which was accepted, and the maid withdrew.
    â€˜Colonel Kitchiner writes that he hopes to renew my acquaintance when he visits his sister – a cousin of mine as she must be – who lives in Manchester. He goes north in a few days’ time and spends Christmas with her there.’
    â€˜Indeed,’ cried Mrs Long, ‘but I fail to see that you must feel yourself obliged to enter the matrimonial state because of this. Mr Bennet has been dead no more than nine months.’
    â€˜Mr Bennet would approve greatly,’ Mrs Bennet replied with a stiffness of manner which was not conducive to Mrs Long’s continuing this train of thought. ‘You will recall that Longbourn was entailed into the male line.’
    â€˜Certainly,’ said Mrs Long, ‘it would be unusual in the extreme were anyone in the neighbourhood to fail to recall this. But your son-in-law, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, has settled you here most comfortably at Meryton Lodge.’
    â€˜For my lifetime only,’ said Mrs Bennet, this time in a low tone.
    â€˜But for how much longer after that would you require it?’ cried Mrs Long, who went on to profess herself baffled by Mrs Bennet today.
    â€˜My father, who was an attorney in Meryton, as you well know, my dear Mrs Long, was unable to leave me more than four thousand pounds. His partner, the father of Colonel Kitchiner,was enabled to do likewise for his son. Colonel Kitchiner’s idea and I may say it is not entirely unappealing – is for a joining of these fortunes; and he has even had the foresight to suggest that my unmarried daughters, his ‘young cousins’, as he delightfully terms it, should come into the sum of eight thousand pounds at his demise – as well as his house in Uplyme. For’ – and here Mrs Bennet wiped a tear from her eye – ‘for at my death they will scarcely be able to count on Meryton Lodge.’
    â€˜It is certainly generous of Colonel Kitchiner,’ said Mrs Long after a pause for reflection in which she wished the ailing and selfish Mr Long dead and buried and herself taking the air at Uplyme. ‘So you have accepted – or, my dear Mrs Bennet, will you do so soon?’
    â€˜On no account will I accept,’ said Mrs Bennet, to the further surprise of Mrs Long.
    â€˜But Mrs Bennet, why not? You will earn the everlasting gratitude of your daughters – for I accede that it may well be almost impossible for them to find husbands. With so small a fortune to look forward to,’ Mrs Long added, just in time to escape the eye of Mrs Bennet. ‘What can possible hold you back from this agreeable and sensible proposition?’
    â€˜Perhaps,’ said Mrs Bennet, ‘there is a reason, Mrs Long, why I draw back from the suggestion.’
    Mrs Long looked at her friend with incredulous solicitude, but said nothing.
    â€˜I am the mother of Mrs Darcy, of Pemberley,’ said Mrs Bennet, colouring.
    â€˜You are,’ said