“Thomas,” Edward Gardiner greeted the older man, hand outstretched. “It is so good to have you here.”
“Thank you, Edward,” Thomas said, then turned to help his daughters alight.
Jane came first, her smile wide, looking from her uncle to her aunt, who stood just behind him on Mr. Barlow’s arm. Then Elizabeth bounded down, unaided. However, she did not run to her aunt, nor did she declare her joy at her arrival or begin peppering her family with questions and stories. Instead, she stayed by her father’s side as greetings were exchanged and the luggage unloaded and remained there even after Jane had moved to embrace Mr. Barlow and their aunt. When the party moved towards the entryway, Mrs. Gardiner approached her.
“Dearest Lizzy,” she began, “we have missed you. I am so glad you are here.”
Elizabeth bounced on her feet and looked eager to throw herself into the arms of her aunt, but after glancing at her father, she merely nodded and expressed her pleasure at being there—like a polite, somewhat disinterested young lady. Madeline wondered at this difference in her niece but allowed that thelong journey may have fatigued her. The guests were ushered into the front drawing room, where some light refreshments awaited them. After eating, drinking and conversing for only a few minutes, their hosts could perceive the exhaustion of the new arrivals.
“Your trunks have been brought to your rooms. I think you all should retire, and we can continue to share our news and plans in the morning.”
“Yes, thank you, Madeline,” Mr. Bennet said, rising to do as she suggested. “I am eager to rest my weary bones on the famously soft and luxurious beds of Barlow Hall.”
Winking at Elizabeth, Mr. Bennet followed the Gardiners from the room with a weary Jane, nearly asleep on her feet, tucked into his side. Mr. Barlow offered his arm to Elizabeth. This final pair proceeded more slowly than the others, so that when they reached the entry hall, Jane and Mr. Bennet were halfway up the stairs.
“You do not seem quite yourself, Lizzy,” Mr. Barlow observed in a low voice. “Is something amiss?”
Elizabeth looked at her friend, contemplating a response. It took a moment before she simply said she was tired.
“Very well,” he responded. “But should you have a concern you think might be eased by talking, you know where to find me.” He bowed and left Elizabeth at the bottom of the stairs as his chambers had been moved, years ago, to the ground floor.
At Jane’s door Elizabeth found her sister and father saying their good nights.
“Ah, Lizzy,” he greeted her. “Jane has just been showing me the delights of the rooms at Barlow Hall. I can now understand why you prefer these luxurious and sizeable accommodations to the cramped bedchambers of Longbourn which, though smaller, you must share with your sister. Add to that the size of the grounds and the stables, it is a wonder you return to Hertfordshire at all.” Though his tone was his usual light and teasing, Lizzy rushed to reassure him.
“Indeed, I do not, Papa,” she insisted. “I do not need a hundred rooms, manicured garden paths or a stable full of horses. I love Longbourn.” Her tone was earnest, and to those who knew her, it was clear Lizzy was upset. Her father looked at her for a moment, as if both curious and concerned, but then seemed to think better of it.
“If you say so, my dear.” He smiled, kissed her on the cheek and wished both his daughters a good night, leaving to find his own chambers as per the instructions given him by the Gardiners. Lizzy watched him go for a moment before moving to follow. Before she made it to the door, Jane stopped her.
“Lizzy, you know Papa is just teasing,” she said gently, laying a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “He knows you love our home and family.”
“I am not certain, Jane. I think all of the time I spent praising Barlow Hall, our aunt and uncle, Mr. Barlow . . . I think Papa feels I am disloyal. This is not my home after all. I like sharing a room with you. I miss our sisters when we are gone. The paths around Longbourn are my favourite in all the world . . .”
“Oh my sweet sister,” Jane sighed, leading Elizabeth to her bed. They sat. “Papa knows you love your home.” Seeing that Lizzy looked unconvinced and uncharacteristically unsure of herself, Jane continued.
“He likes to tease, and I think sometimes . . . you know he is renowned for being both perceptive and witty . . . I think sometimes in order to amuse himself, when he finds something that a person might be particularly sensitive about . . . he uses that as a basis for his jests. He knows how much you love it here and . . . also how much you love him.” Seeing her sister watching her earnestly, Jane pulled the smaller girl into her arms. “I think it is precisely your loyalty that Papa knows will make his teasing . . . impact you.”
Elizabeth considered her elder sister’s words. Although it would comfort her in her present distress, she did not want to believe them to be true. They did not paint her father, whom she loved above almost all others, in a very flattering light. Even as she thought about that, she was struck by how it clearly pained Jane to expose their father with her observation. It seemed that she was possibly as perceptive as their famously perceptive father, but she did not want to use her gift to expose or tease. She used it to reassure Elizabeth. Though it worked—Elizabeth did feel reassured, which she told her sister— she chose not to dwell on some of the unpleasant implications of what Jane shared, deciding to only think of that which helped her.
And it had truly helped. By the next morning, Elizabeth was able to deflect or respond to her father’s teasing with teasing of her own since she had Jane’s words to remind her not to take it to heart. She did note that after a day or two, he had found other ways to tease that stung less. Whether this was because they focused on things she was not sensitive about or becauseshe saw more clearly what he was about, Lizzy did not endeavour to discern.
The two weeks of Mr. Bennet’s visit flew by for everyone. He spent most of every day with Mr. Gardiner in the fields, talking with his steward, reviewing account ledgers with both men or talking to the staff in charge of the grounds at Barlow Hall—the farrier, the groundskeeper, the herder and others. However, he also found time every day to spend with the family.
Dinners were a boisterous affair with Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Bennet sharing what the former’s tutelage entailed that day, the ladies outlining their adventures and Mr. Barlow offering encouragement and commentary. Mr. Bennet was able to meet both Lizzy’s music instructor and Jane’s drawing master and, most importantly to Lizzy, he also met her favourite horse and her new foal—Gumdrop (whom Lizzy had been allowed to name).
A few days before Mr. Bennet’s planned departure, Mrs. Gardiner approached her nieces with an idea.
“Would you girls like to help me plan a little farewell dinner for your father?”
Their answer was an enthusiastic yes, and even though they brought very different gifts and focus areas to the project, Madeline was happy to see their eagerness and capacity for domestic matters. She had long suspected that her husband’s sister was perhaps not preparing her daughters in the art of running a household, her focus being much more on preparing them to attract a rich gentleman. Offering some experience and guidance to the girls was something she had hoped to beable to do, and planning a dinner together provided the perfect opportunity to begin.
The night proved an overwhelming success. After eating his favourite meal followed by his favourite dessert, Mr. Bennet was escorted out to the formal gardens where a harp sat ready for Elizabeth to play him a song. It was simple and imperfect but received with all the eager enthusiasm of a concertmaster by most of those present. Finally, Jane presented their father with a watercolour she had done of Barlow Hall.
“So that you can show Mama and our sisters where you were and where Lizzy and I are.”
“My dear, it is lovely,” Mr. Bennet told his daughter, and he meant it.
Though she had only begun her lessons one summer ago, the practice she had engaged in throughout the year had improved her skill considerably. She had rendered the estate in summer, as this was the only season she herself had observed. The view was from the rear, where the formal gardens framed the house on either side and the large hill which was topped by an orchard could be seen to the west. The rest of the family effusively praised the work, and Mr. Barlow requested one for himself as well.
