Mrs. Bennet nodded in agreement. “Would it be too much to ask to redo the mistress’s chambers?” she asked eagerly. “Will we have the funds?”
Mr. Bennet chuckled. “Yes, we can see it done as soon as we take residence. Heaven knows those rooms have not been refreshed since my mother came to Longbourn as a newly married lady. You will not mind sharing my chambers whilst the work is done?” He winked mischievously at his wife, pleased with the blush that appeared on her cheeks.
“Thank you, husband. I confess, I hardly know what to do with myself. I have always been forced to live frugally. Though the interest from my dowry helps with our finances, I know it is not much.”
“We shall have two thousand a year, Fanny. All will be well.”
Fanny shook her head. “You misunderstand me. I am frightened that I shall forget all I know about frugality and prudence. It will be very easy to find things to purchase. I do not wish to beggar the estate. Little Thomas needs something to inherit.”
“It speaks well of you to be cognizant of the danger more money could bring.” Thomas pressed another kiss to the side of his wife’s head. “We shall exercise caution. I am certain there are things I could do to increase Longbourn’s income.”
The carriage lurched to a sudden stop. The coachman shouted something unintelligible. Thomas shared a worried glance with his wife.
“I shall just go and see what the fuss is about,” he murmured.
Fanny clasped his hand. “Oh, do be careful! I could not bear it if something befell you now!”
Mr. Bennet pushed the carriage door open and climbed down. “Jones?” he called. “What is the meaning of this delay?”
“This here child, sir.” Jones, the coachman, pointed a thumb toward a little waif standing in the middle of the road.
Thomas stepped forward to get a better look at the girl. She was petite, with dark brown curls plaited down her back. Her gown was pale blue and splattered with mud. His gaze traveled to her face. Dried blood stained her cheeks and forehead, and a bloody gash was prominently visible in her hair.
Stepping forward, he crouched down and took her hand. She looked at him vacantly, her eyes dazed and confused. “What is your name, lass?” he asked softly.
“Lizzy.” She whispered her short reply. It seemed as though she looked right through him.
“What happened to your head, Lizzy?” Mr. Bennet pulled out a handkerchief and tried to dab at her wound. The child cried out in pain and collapsed on the road. She curled into a ball and let out a plaintive cry.
“We cannot leave her here, Jones.” Mr. Bennet straightened. “Let me apprise Mrs. Bennet of the situation. The girl will come with us.”
Jones frowned, but nodded. Mr. Bennet returned to the carriage. He opened the door and spoke briefly with his wife. Mrs. Bennet had a big heart and would agree with his decision to bring the girl along with them.
“Oh, the dear child!” Mrs. Bennet climbed down from the carriage amidst her husband’s protests. “She will need a mother. Let me go to her.”
The girl lay where Mr. Bennet had left her. Her arms and hands were curled beneath her chest, and her legs and knees tucked up under her chin. She shuddered, her sobs rising and falling like a child too tired to cry properly.
Mrs. Bennet crouched down next to the frightened girl and placed a tender hand on her back. “There, now,” she whispered soothingly. “It is a little chilly out here. What say you to coming into the carriage? We have some bread and cheese. Does that sound nice?”
The girl—Lizzy—lifted her head and blinked owlishly. “I do not know if I like cheese,” she murmured. Slowly, she sat up, keeping her hands clenched tightly in her lap.
“Let us find out.” Mrs. Bennet stood and offered her hand to Lizzy. Slowly, Lizzy took the extended hand and rose to her feet. Her other hand came to her chest. Mr. Bennet noted the tightly clenched fist and wondered if the child held something. He said nothing, content to let his wife work her wonders.She has always been an exemplary mother,he thought proudly.
Mrs. Bennet led the timid child to the carriage. They both climbed aboard, and Mr. Bennet followed behind.
They settled onto the bench, and the carriage lurched forward. His wife drew a basket of food from beneath the bench and uncovered it. She broke off a piece of cheese and held it out to little Lizzy, who took it and popped it into her mouth. Bit by bit, Mrs. Bennet fed her bread and cheese, waiting patiently as she chewed in silence. At last, Lizzy’s weary eyes closed, and she leaned against the squabs, drifting into sleep.
“What are we to do with her?” Mrs. Bennet whispered. “Surely, something dreadful has occurred. Did you notice the gash on her head?”
“Perhaps a carriage accident?” Mr. Bennet speculated. “We can send out inquiries when we arrive in Lambton.”
“And if we do not discover her family? Then what? We cannot just put her in a home for orphans. It would not be right.” Mrs. Bennet folded her arms stubbornly. He recognized that stance. His wife had already decided her course and would not be swayed.
“How are we to explain her presence to our children?” he asked, perplexed. Mrs. Bennet’s motherly instincts had always been strong, but he sensed something more now. She looked at the girl sleeping on the bench across from them. There was steel in her eyes.
“She is our cousin. Her parents died in a carriage accident. She will remain with us until another family member claims her.” Mrs. Bennet paused. “I wonder at her wound. If not a carriage accident, then what could have caused it?”
“I do not know.” Mr. Bennet shook his head sadly. “I only hope we can do what needs to be done for her.”
