“Your husband has perused the shelves extensively. He has offered to purchase much of the collection, and I have accepted. He said I could tell you, so I am not spoiling any surprise he might have planned.” Jane smiled, her eyes twinkling. “You have told him about your happy news?”“Earlier today.” Elizabeth beamed. “I shall say it now before you have a chance to rub it in that you were right. You and Charlotte both. I am very happy.”
Jane’s smile looked a little sad. “I am very glad.”
“You will haveyourhappiness,” Elizabeth vowed. “It cannot be any other way.”
“There is still over a half a year before I leave my mourning clothes behind. You will be able to cast them off in January, but I must wait.” She turned back to her ledger, picking up her pen and writing a few things down. Elizabeth watched her silently.
After a long moment, she said, “Who would judge you if you married before a year ended?”
Jane looked up, her gaze alarmed. “It would not be right!” she protested immediately, shaking her head.
“Jane, you are a widowed mother with an infant son trying to run an estate and care for an infant. Who would judge you for marrying a man to lighten your burden?” Elizabeth reached out and took the pen. She set it aside and grasped her sister’s hand. “You need not decide at this very moment, but please, give it some thought. Those whose opinions matter most would not condemn you. In their contrariness, they may even praise your good sense.”
Jane smiled weakly at the jest and squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “I must finish the accounts,” she murmured, clearly distracted by her thoughts.
“I shall leave you then.” Elizabeth stood and left the room, closing the door behind her.
The house was strangely quiet, and she looked in all the public rooms before venturing above stairs to find companionship. Lydia and Kitty’s rooms were empty, as was Mary’s, and after a short while, she found them in the master’s suite, perched upon their father’s bed.
“Look at this, Lizzy!” Lydia cried. “Papa’s journals. Did you know he wrote every day?”
“I did not.” The chastisement that had been upon her lips died away, and curiosity drove her to join her sisters. “Does Jane know you are in here?” she asked gently.
“No.” Kitty sounded a little guilty. She thrust a journal at Elizabeth. “Read this. It is from when Papa courted Mama.”
Elizabeth took the book and read the page before her.
Miss Francis Gardiner has captured my interest. She is lovely as a rose, and her vivaciousness is the opposite of my sedate personality. Her desire for company is also a stark contrast to my need for quiet, and yet I find myself inexplicably attracted to her. Miss Gardiner is fair of face and of figure. I seek her out whenever we are in company. Though she is not as intelligent as I might wish, she seems sensible and knows how to keep house.
“This does not sound like Mama at all.” She chuckled and handed the book back to Kitty.
“She must have been very different in her younger years,” Mary mused. “The strain of bearing five daughters and no son must have altered her somehow.”
“You might be correct.” Elizabeth took the book Lydia held out.
“This one is from when you were born.” Lydia smiled and nodded encouragingly at her.
Elizabeth read slowly, anxious to know what her father’s thoughts had been on the day of her birth.
Fanny has given birth to another girl. She is a lively thing. I could hear her cries all the way in my study. The child has a full head of hair. Quite a change from the day Jane came into this world. I have asked that we name her Elizabeth, for my mother and Fanny agreed. I can sense my wife’s disappointed hopes, but she is still young. We have time to sire a son. Meanwhile, my eldest will have a playmate. Little Elizabeth is a beauty, just like Jane. I shall have a difficult time when they come out. How could any man be good enough for my daughters?
“Are there more that you would like me to read?” Elizabeth looked inquiringly at her sisters.
“There are entries about all of us,” Lydia said. “Look, here is one about me from a few months before he died.”
Elizabeth took this new book and read.
Lydia is a mystery to me. How can a child who is so intelligent be so set on flirtations and officers? Lydia is a problem solver, though she does not know it. I have watched her work out solutions to many a conundrum, though she hardly knows what she is doing. I have tried to encourage her interest in more serious matters in the past, but I confess that I have little interest in securing her attention now. My energy must be focused elsewhere.
She flipped back toward the front of the book, locating passages about Kitty and Mary, too. When she had finished, she put the book on the bed. Her sister’s followed suit with their own volumes.
“I never thought Papa saw me as anything but one of the silliest girls in England,” Kitty confessed. “He admired my drawing talent. Did you see that entry, Lizzy? I only wish he had told me that himself.”
“Yes, I read that.” Elizabeth wondered why their father had not made his sentiments known to his daughters. Things might have been so different if he had voiced his approval more frequently than his disdain.
“He wished to send me to London for the masters,” Mary whispered. “He says that he kept putting it off. Do you think his disdain for my playing at the Netherfield Ball held a different meaning than I supposed?”
“Mayhap he felt some guilt for his actions,” Elizabeth suggested. “If these books tell us anything, it is that he did love us in his way.”
