Lizzy's Latest Endeavour

Some of you may have heard that my daughter Lizzy, in addition to insisting that she can fight as well as a man (why would you even want to?), has begun a small “zombie apothecary” business in our cellar. She’s become quite adept at creating salves and balms that she claims will combat the plague. As for me, I took it upon myself to convince Lizzy that the products must at the very least be floral scented (for everyone knows that jasmine and rosemary are universally appealing to men). She is currently selling these products on Etsy.com.

I sat down with my daughter Lizzy to discuss her endeavour, which, while not exactly ladylike, could at least be considered a handicraft in some circles (thus adding to her “accomplishments” as a young lady).

Mary was kind enough to transcribe our conversation, which appears below:

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Mrs. Bennet: Why Lizzy, are you really intent on tying your hair back in such a manner? It’s so unfetching!

Lizzy: I thought I was here to talk about my apothecary business, mother.

Mrs. Bennet: Oh yes, yes, of course, I’m simply trying to “warm the waters” as they say!

Lizzy: Well, I have a batch of Reanimate and Perambulate smelling salts drying in the garden, so I don’t have long to discuss such trivialities.

Mrs. Bennet: Well, then! Silly me to keep you here, speaking of “trivialities” as you say, which will only help you find a husband! I daresay no gentleman will be impressed by this apothecary business of yours—your hairstyle is the only thing that will remind them that you’re a woman.

Lizzy: Goodness me, I knew this was a trick! I’m leaving.

Mrs. Bennet: No, no, no, no! Please, Lizzy, stay! Now let’s start over. Tell me about your business. My readers are very interested.

Lizzy: Well, all right. It’s a small apothecary business, and I’ve been producing salves and disinfectants so the people of Hertfordshire can better ward off the plague. Why, what happened to all those poor children at Beechman’s Home for Oprhans would have been completely avoidable, if they only had my Gnaw-be-Gone Purifying Poultice on hand.

Mrs. Bennet: What does that one smell like again? Peonies? Don’t roll your eyes at me! It’s a valid question.

Lizzy: Well, anyway, I’ve been sending small boxes of goods to powerful individuals in the area, so they can better ward off the plague. It’s been quite successful so far. I’ve also been selling these products on my Etsy account.

[long pause]

Lizzy: Why are you wringing your hands?

Mrs. Bennet: Are you really sure you won’t change your hair style? Lizzy! Don’t walk away! It’s just because I know how attractive it could look!

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Well, anyway, perhaps the interview didn’t go quite as well as I wished, but please do take a look at Lizzy’s products: http://www.etsy.com/people/lizzysapothecary

Avoiding the most "unmentionable" embarrassment of all!

It’s fall again, dear readers. Longbourn estate is in such a tumult of activity, what with preparing for the autumn balls, taking walks around the grounds, and enjoying afternoon tea in the company of so many important and handsome members of society—no! I will not say a word about whom exactly I speak! (Here, please excuse a most selfish aside: four of my five daughters are brunettes, and as I find the crisp weather and autumnal colors to be quite in the favour of their complexions, I do expect at least one marriage proposal before the season is out!)

Of course, along with the excitement of such balls and activities, it seems that Longbourn’s loamy fields are quite prone to the unearthing of all manner of unmentionables. Their tattered garb and utterly disfigured visages are a daily affront to my lawn, and dear Lizzy spends nearly two hours each day outdoors, slaying them in her finest clothing and most dainty dancing slippers. Of course, Mr. Grahme-Smith’s atrocious exposé of our family has done doing nothing to help Lizzy’s cause. In fact, I believe that Pride and Prejudice and Zombies has contributed to her complete abandonment of all things feminine. Dear readers, if you encounter this book, please tell any interested parties that Mr. Grahme-Smith’s depiction of my daughters’ unladylike behaviour is utterly exaggerated. They are much more radiant and less blood-splattered than the horrendous pictures that he chooses to display so brazenly within his book’s pages!

But I digress. Let me simply introduce this afternoon’s “question of note”: What is to be done with an overly headstrong daughter? And how, exactly, can one expect to marry her off, when she insists on spending her afternoons studying ninja techniques, and prefers a Katana to a lovely crochet? If you have any suggestions, please let me know. I have been quite begging Mr. Bennet to take my side on the manner; alas, he utterly refuses to ask Lizzy to enjoy more ladylike pursuits.

I will publish the most noteworthy responses to this question in one of my upcoming correspondences.