“Was he truly?” her aunt asked, her fancy work forgotten in her lap. “It would have been an imprudent match, as I told you at Christmas. He ought not to have encouraged your interest, knowing he could never support you. And then,” she went on when Elizabeth opened her mouth, “as your mother wrote, he turned to that young lady and her ten thousand pounds.”
“Perhaps he is not the best of men, but he is not hatefully mercenary.” A man needed something to live on, just like the gentlemen who subscribed to this institution. Anyone who wrote to her would know how limited her fortune was. “You admitted Wickham was a most interesting young man, and he is from Derbyshire, so you cannot think too ill of him.”
Mrs Gardiner smiled and took up her work, gesturing to the table with it. “You and Jane focus on the task at hand. Choose wisely.”
Elizabeth smiled as she read the first description. “‘I am forty years of age, stout and tall, well-tempered, have a situation inthe Excise of four hundred per annum and a small estate of the annual value of one hundred.’”
She turned to Jane and silently asked her opinion. “Five hundred a year is a decent competence,” Jane said cautiously, “and perhaps the estate could be improved. And if he works in the Excise, you would live in town.”
“Forty is rather old for me, is it not?” Elizabeth frowned. “My father is forty-seven.”
Jane agreed and read the next one. “‘I am thirty-three years of age, a widower with an estate in Sussex valued at two thousand. I am of a healthy constitution, sociable.’ Oh, he is younger, and sociable would be perfect for you.”
“He wants you to raise his children,” Mrs Gardiner muttered, not looking up from her work.
It was wise to have her aunt’s input. Her advice was always worth listening to. “Thank you for helping. I know you do not approve of the arrangement.”
Her aunt shook her head. “Your uncle has convinced me the endeavour is private and respectable. I am just afraid of your being disappointed, or misled.”
Elizabeth was in no danger of having her heart broken. She only wanted to show Jane that there were kind and loyal marriage-minded young men in the world so she could forget Bingley. She had no real expectations for herself. The gentleman she wrote to would have to be delightful for her to agree to meet him.
Elizabeth picked up the second sheet. “What about this one? ‘I am thirty years of age, have a situation in the Foot Guards, am well-tempered, lively, fond of travelling and home.’”
“He sounds lovely, Lizzy,” said Jane. “You should pick him.”
Elizabeth frowned. “He does, but he would have to choose me, too. This soldier might not be able to afford to marry a woman with no money of her own.”
“Oh, hear this one,” Jane said, reading from her sheet. “‘A young gentleman, tall and slender, dark hair and eyes. I have an estate without debt or drawback; well-educated, of domestic habits, fond of books and the country.’ He used the same phrase you did. You have something in common.”
Elizabeth took the sheet to look for herself. She had also written “fond of books and the country.” Her heart beat a little faster at the idea of matching with someone. She was curious about him, but it was too soon to become eager.
“He sounds interesting, but he does not say his income. What could he mean by that?” There was no point in writing to a gentleman who could not afford to marry a woman like her or Jane.
Jane shrugged, but her aunt said, “He means he has an estate and can support a wife, and does not want a horde of ladies writing to him because of his income. That is what you want,” she said, pointing, “a responsible young man who does not run to debt.”
“That is true, but let us read through them all. What about, ‘I am twenty-four years of age and about to be a barrister, middle stature, active and rather agreeable, enjoys cards.’”
“He sounds promising, Lizzy,” said Jane with enthusiasm. “An agreeable barrister would be perfect for you.”
“A gadabout, I am certain,” said Mrs Gardiner, frowning. “He will gamble away all his income when he becomes a barrister. Aim higher than a man who does not have a proper situation. Do not undervalue yourself, and certainly not for a man like that.”
Elizabeth smiled. Her aunt might as well have stood on a ship’s bow and waved a red flag. “True, but they do not all mention their physical attributes, either. Should that alarm me, too?”
“Did you mention your appearance?”
“Why, yes,” she said, giving a sly look to Jane. “I said I was tolerably pretty.”
Her aunt gave her a surprised look. “But you are a very striking girl.”
She shook her head. “You are family and biased in my favour. My being scarcely acceptable as pretty is a verifiable fact. Mr Darcy once announced my tolerableness to an entire ballroom. No, I cannot claim a fortune, and I had best not over-promise on my beauty either.”
Mrs Gardiner laughed. “Do not worry so much about their appearances, then,” her aunt said. “You and your sister read through the rest and make your choice.”
She and Jane read every description. Jane found something favourable about every single one, but Elizabeth was more discerning. Some sounded dull, some gave not enough information to make it worth their being her sole correspondent. Others were too old, or could not afford to marry her, or her aunt found an implication that alarmed her.
“You know, if none of these men suit, nothing says you must write to anyone,” said Jane when they were done. “Or wait a week and see if a new subscriber appeals to you.”
Elizabeth turned back to the first page. Something about the tall, dark-eyed young man had struck her. He was a responsible estate owner, who could talk of books, was not as old as her father, and cleverly phrased his description to give enough away to someone paying attention.
