Posted on Friday, 21 November 2003

And before the end of the next long day,
Our Dell had given her heart away;
For the King of the Cranes had won that heart,
With a Crocodile's egg and a large fish-tart.
She vowed to marry the King of the Cranes,
Leaving the Nile for stranger plains;
And away they flew in a gathering crowd
Of endless birds in a lengthening cloud...
And far away in the twilight sky,
We heard them singing in a lessening cry,
Farther and farther till out of sight,
And we stood alone in the silent night...

--Edward Lear, from The Pelican Chorus

The day came when Kitty was married. The wedding was full of flowers, the guests were full of food, drink, and compliments, and Mrs. Bennet felt very full of something that she could not name. In fact, she felt awfully like it was going to overflow and spill out in tears. Kitty had been the last daughter left at home.

The carriage rolled up in a cloud of dust. Everyone came outside to see the new couple off and wish them 'good luck.'

Kitty turned to wave goodbye. Her husband helped her into the carriage and the guests all gave a shout. Mrs. Bennet watched and watched until there was nothing more. Kitty was well and truly gone.

Mrs. Bennet stood still for a while. Then she went into the house and sat down in the parlour. She stayed there until suppertime. She did not cry, even though everything was dreadfully still. She was, of course, happy that her very last daughter was finally married.

As they dined, Mr. Bennet looked at her over the roasted chicken. "You are quiet, Mrs. Bennet," he observed. There was a pause while Mrs. Bennet tried to find something to say. How strange; she had never had trouble before. After some deep thought, she said; "I do not think I am feeling very well, Mr. Bennet."

"I am sorry to hear that, my dear. Your nerves, I suppose?" her husband asked with a twinkle.

"No, I think not. There is no explanation for it. In fact, I do not know what is the matter with me!"

Her husband regarded her with astonishment. "Something must be truly wrong! Go to bed, my dear. You will be well after a night's rest. It is the excitement of the wedding, perhaps."

"Yes, perhaps." But Mrs. Bennet could not sleep. She pushed the covers away when the sun lit her bedchamber.

She went down to the breakfast room to tell Mr. Bennet of this strange phenomenon, but no one was there. So she sat at the table alone and spooned crumbles of a distracted egg into her mouth while listening to the clock tick away. She finished her egg and ate a piece of toast methodically. What would she do today? The ticking was strangely loud. Lydia was not there to talk to her of the latest fashions. Jane was not there to praise. Lizzy was not there to scold for impertinence. Mary was not there to play horrible music, which Mrs. Bennet had secretly rather liked. Kitty was not there gossip with. The ticking was becoming quite bothersome. She counted. When she reached forty-two, her husband entered the room and stared when he saw her.

"Mrs. Bennet! Why are you awake so early?"

"Because, Mr. Bennet," she replied crossly, "I could not sleep!"

"I am very sorry to hear it. Why could you not sleep?"

"I do not know! I am miserable!"

"But why are you miserable?"

But Mrs. Bennet could not answer because she had burst into tears. She sobbed and sobbed with her face in her hands. The sound of her husband's chair scraping against the floor did not reach her ears. She did not see his feet approach her chair and stop awkwardly. She only felt a terrible grief fill her up, and she was going to drown in it.

Then her husband's hand touched her back very, very gently. She sobbed harder. The hand stroked lightly over her shoulders. It rubbed circles in her back. That felt rather nice, she thought through a haze of tears. The hand brushed the top of her shoulder, hesitated, and then softly touched her cheek.

Mrs. Bennet turned abruptly in her chair and threw her arms around her husband's waist. She refused to let go even when he helped her up and onto the nearest sofa. A handkerchief presented itself in front of her nose and she was told that it would all be well.

Eventually her tears subsided to small sniffles and gasps for air. Her husband felt very warm and solid. She hoped he wasn't laughing at her. If he did, she might spend the whole course of what was left of her life weeping.

A sigh slipped though the air next to her. "It is terribly quiet around Longbourn now, without our daughters, is it not, my dear?"

Mrs. Bennet hiccoughed and nodded vigorously.

"I miss them ...all... very much. Certainly never thought that would happen, eh?

Mrs. Bennet's weak giggle was overtaken by a prodigious sniffle.

"Mrs. Bennet, I..."

She lifted her head from where it was buried in her husband's cravat and looked at him with large eyes.

"I ... er, that is to say..."

Never in his life before had Mr. Bennet said "er."

"Mrs. Bennet ... Fanny ... I would be ...honored... if you would ... consent to walk with me through the garden this morning ... please?"

Mrs. Bennet gasped and cried, "Oh, Thomas!" and promptly buried her face back into the cravat, which by now was slightly worse for wear.

Her husband patted her tenderly on the back. He understood that this meant yes.