“If you, the most perfect of my sisters, can think herself flawed and yet still remain the ideal to all of us, then I might not be hopeless, even with these horrible scars.”
Jane smiled kindly but her reply was cut short when Lydia yawned hugely and said that she would like to rest.
* * *
As the Gardiners were expected for Christmas the following day, the Bennet girls all assembled in their mother’s room for the task of sorting through her possessions, with the intention of freeing the spacious chamber for their relations’ use. Lydia was sat on the bed, in deference to the fatigue which continued to limit her activities, and commanded a view of everything in the room.
They began with the closet and wardrobe, bringing out her gowns one by one and sharing memories of times she had worn them, provoking both laughter and tears, before relegating them to one of three piles—to be donated to the poor, to be sold, and to be given to Hill for her own use or profit. Her bonnets, shoes, gloves, shawls, pelisses, and cloaks were likewise sorted, though a few of these were kept by her daughters.
While Grandmother Bennet’s pearls would now be Jane’s, the hair combs and pins and brooches were quickly distributed among them. Finally, all of the handkerchiefs she had stitched herself were parcelled out to her children, Elizabeth reserving the plainest of these for their father and uncle. The silver set of hairbrush, comb, and mirror would be sold, and her perfumes given to Aunt Philips, who had a similar taste in scents and would also receive Mrs Bennet’s matron’s caps.
“That is everything, I believe,” said Elizabeth, looking about. “Once it has all been carried away, and the connecting door locked, this will be Longbourn’s finest guest chamber.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
The Gardinersand their children arrived as planned in the afternoon. There was a bit of awkwardness just after they disembarked, when three-year-old Samuel became frightened by Jane and Lydia, despite having been told many times that his cousins had been ill and no longer looked quite the same. Elizabeth saw the sympathy in her aunt and uncle’s eyes when they gazed at their nieces; the Gardiners’ presence here, and the distraction of the children, would be a balm for all the Bennets.
With Samuel soon settled into the nursery with his brother and sisters, the Gardiners were able to turn their attentions to their nieces and brother. Dinner was a subdued affair, for the travellers were weary and the absence of Mrs Bennet was felt anew by all present. Mr Gardiner was a genteel and intelligent man; Elizabeth was certain he had often despaired of his loud and silly sisters, but she knew he loved them deeply nonetheless. Her uncle’s grief was sincere, and it was apparent that surrounding himself with her daughters was the greatest of comforts.
That evening, Mrs Gardiner knocked at the door of the room Jane and Elizabeth shared, and was admitted gladly.
“Girls, I must confess that your uncle and I are both stunned by the changes in your younger sisters. We had, of course, expected them to be brought rather low by your mother’s death, and I had Elizabeth’s testimony of their alteration in a letter, but still we are amazed at the revolution in their sense and manners.”
The sisters shared a look, and Elizabeth turned to their aunt. “It is no easy thing, to care for someone suffering from that disease,” she said, with all the weight of certain knowledge. “Naturally, one would prefer it to being the patient, but I feel that I put aside the last of my girlhood during those weeks, and Mary and Kitty also were forced to mature very rapidly, to think and behave with sense and without giving in to their emotions, because lives truly were at stake. It is to their very great credit that they have stayed the course now that the crisis is past.”
Mrs Gardiner stood and went to her nieces, kissing each upon the cheek. “May I just say, girls, how proud I am of you—of all five of you!—for not allowing such a terrible experience to defeat you, but instead choosing to be made better by your trials? Many have not half the fortitude you have all shown.” With Elizabeth, she shared a long, serious look, which Elizabeth understood to indicate that her aunt wished a private conversation on this subject, and the other related issues she had shared in her letter. She gave a small nod, and her aunt appeared satisfied.
* * *
Darcy was conflicted and unhappy, and unfortunately for Bingley, it was making him snappish. He still had come to no decision as to what was best done about his unexpected and persistent longing for Miss Elizabeth Bennet, though he could not seem to keep himself from joining Bingley on his twice-weekly calls to Longbourn…until today.
“I know you are eager to meet these London relations, but I have some reservations,” he said to Bingley.Mrs Bennet was not well-mannered and had the advantage of many years as the wife of a gentleman. Her tradesman brother and his wife are likely to be more akin to the uncouth, grasping Mrs Philips, he thought.
“I understand your doubts,” said Bingley, “but surely you must know that simply being in trade does not make one vulgar or venal. Miss Bennet is very fond of the Gardiners—more so than of the Philipses, I gather.”
“Miss Bennet is fond of everyone.” Darcy sighed. “This tradesman will see an advantage in an acquaintance with us, you know. I expect we shall be asked to invest in his business, whatever it is, within the fortnight.”
“You will have to meet them at some time or another, you know, if only after church. But if you wish to delay the evil day, by all means, stay here. I am calling at Longbourn.” With that, Bingley turned and left the room, displeasure clear in the set of his shoulders.
Darcy felt equal displeasure in himself. If he wished to have the company and conversation of Miss Elizabeth that he had enjoyed at Netherfield, furtive and difficult though their conversations often were, he must accept that Longbourn—and the extended Bennet family—was her world. His own sphere had difficult, unlikeable relations—in that, he and Miss Elizabeth were equals.
Bingley had donned his greatcoat and was winding a muffler about his neck when Darcy found him in the hall and called for his own winter wear.
“You are right,” he said with a shrug. “The acquaintance cannot be avoided, and I do enjoy the conversations we have at Longbourn.”
The gentlemen were shown into the parlour, which now contained a couple unknown to them. They were fashionably and tastefully garbed, and their reaction to making the acquaintance of Mr Darcy of Pemberley was restrained and courteous. He detected some slight curiosity from Mrs Gardiner, while Mr Gardiner seemed most interested in Mr Bingley, sparing Darcy hardly a glance after the introduction.
Though he sat with Miss Elizabeth and her younger sisters, the cosy confines of Longbourn’s parlour allowed him to occasionally and discreetly eavesdrop on his friend’s conversation with Mr Gardiner. Surprised by the ease of their initial introduction though he had been, he only felt the first stirrings of doubt when he realised that Mr Gardiner was not even approaching the topic of business with Bingley, but rather was skilfully drawing the younger man out and sketching his character most thoroughly. At last he seemed satisfied and released Bingley to take his place by Miss Bennet, while he joined his brother-in-law. Though their succeeding conversation was pitched low, Darcy thought he heard the words ‘may even deserve our Jane’ issue from the tradesman’s mouth. Had that delicate inquisition been for the purpose of determining Bingley’s suitability as a nephew, rather than an investor?
He had not been attending constantly to his own group, and so was startled when Mrs Gardiner addressed him directly. “Mr Darcy, are you acquainted with Mr Cole, the rector at Lambton in Derbyshire?”
His shoulders stiffened. He had taken note of the hints of the north in her accent, and now she had landed upon a mutual acquaintance. “I am. How is it that you know him?” He vaguely registered that Miss Elizabeth was giving him an odd look, but he was not at leisure to consider it—he must ward off the encroachment which was no doubt coming.
She smiled warmly. “Why, he is my father! I hope you will be pleased to know that in the letter I received from him only last week, he reported that all was well within the village.”
Darcy did know Mr Cole, and thought him a fine and worthy man of the cloth. His daughter was Miss Elizabeth’s aunt? “I…I am indeed pleased to hear it,” he replied awkwardly, and with another smile she turned back to her nieces, apparently having said all she wished to.
She and her nieces were discussing a trip that the Gardiners had tentatively planned for the coming summer, ‘if your uncle’s business allows’. Mr Gardiner wished to venture to the Lake District and try his hand at the fishing to be found there, while his wife was more interested in the landscapes to be viewed.
