Pride and/or Prejudice
Lizzie grins: her comment did exactly as she hoped. Mother temporarily quieted, looking as though she would cry at the mere thought (Four thousand a year! Married! And not to one of her girls! Unthinkable).
Mr. Bennet sent his second (and favorite) daughter a grateful look, allowing him the opportunity to interject into the intermittent silence: "Well, I'll be sure to tell him when I see him again at the ball tonight. A man ought to be made aware when he's the center of so vicious a marriage scheme." He wriggles his white, wispy eyebrows which made Lizzie think of the whimsical little caterpillars that populated the flower patch in the garden. She rather thought her Papa would enjoy being compared to a caterpillar.
However, no one else in her family seems too concerned with caterpillars as a viable explosion followed:
"Again? What do you mean by again?" Mrs. Bennet wails.
"The ball!" Lydia chirps, prompting Kitty to chirp, "the ball!" too.
Mary, and most sensibly by Lizzie's estimation, slumps her head on the piano keyboard, her moan in-tune with the despairing chord of .
An overly merry twinkle in his eye, Mr. Bennet expounds: "Well yes, the Bingleys will be attendance at the public ball hosted that our dear Lucases have labored so diligently to plan-how could you all have possibly forgetting about it? Well, anyone, I had the sincerest assurances of Mr. Bingley that he'd be in attendance along with his two sisters-"
"They're sisters!" Mrs. Bennet trumpets, not unlike a goose, and flies from the room in a great swirl of ribbons, skirts, and feathers, thoroughly ignoring the remainder of the sarcastic and biting (and most likely exceedingly clever) quip from her husband. Mrs. Bennet, Lizzie knows, is quite at her capacity in focusing on one thing, never mind two, and she is stubbornly adamant in retaining said focus-especially when it concerns a ball, Mr. Bingley, and the potential of marrying off one her five burdens (though most mothers would call these 'burdens' her 'daughters').
Lizzie watches with a slow-growing smirk, plans forming for the evening's dance:
Mr. Bennet sent his second (and favorite) daughter a grateful look, allowing him the opportunity to interject into the intermittent silence: "Well, I'll be sure to tell him when I see him again at the ball tonight. A man ought to be made aware when he's the center of so vicious a marriage scheme." He wriggles his white, wispy eyebrows which made Lizzie think of the whimsical little caterpillars that populated the flower patch in the garden. She rather thought her Papa would enjoy being compared to a caterpillar.
However, no one else in her family seems too concerned with caterpillars as a viable explosion followed:
"Again? What do you mean by again?" Mrs. Bennet wails.
"The ball!" Lydia chirps, prompting Kitty to chirp, "the ball!" too.
Mary, and most sensibly by Lizzie's estimation, slumps her head on the piano keyboard, her moan in-tune with the despairing chord of .
An overly merry twinkle in his eye, Mr. Bennet expounds: "Well yes, the Bingleys will be attendance at the public ball hosted that our dear Lucases have labored so diligently to plan-how could you all have possibly forgetting about it? Well, anyone, I had the sincerest assurances of Mr. Bingley that he'd be in attendance along with his two sisters-"
"They're sisters!" Mrs. Bennet trumpets, not unlike a goose, and flies from the room in a great swirl of ribbons, skirts, and feathers, thoroughly ignoring the remainder of the sarcastic and biting (and most likely exceedingly clever) quip from her husband. Mrs. Bennet, Lizzie knows, is quite at her capacity in focusing on one thing, never mind two, and she is stubbornly adamant in retaining said focus-especially when it concerns a ball, Mr. Bingley, and the potential of marrying off one her five burdens (though most mothers would call these 'burdens' her 'daughters').
Lizzie watches with a slow-growing smirk, plans forming for the evening's dance: