I felt the danger, for I could hardly reply that I knew where it was precisely, that I had seen it, that it was cheerless and sat on a poorly drained lot, or that I had carried his niece up its stairs and laid her down on her bed in a state very near to a swoon.
“I believe the road should be quite passable in another hour,” I added noncommittally.
Our guests returned some hours later, and we went about the mundane business of a long afternoon. As I surreptitiously observed Elizabeth’s face during the glimpses I was afforded, I wondered what seemed to secretly amuse her and regretted we could not speak privately so I could ask outright. But there, too, I felt the danger. I could not in any way suggest she and I were in the habit of speaking together and behaved with the slightly bored, distant politeness that would lead anyone to conclude the lady was simply my sister’s guest and, as such, not an object for me.
The toll this projected front took on me was unexpected. I felt very close to downcast as a result of missing the smallest opportunity to be in the same room with her and particularly regretted that I could not entice her outside for a walk since we woke up to an exquisite winter’s day. It was for this reason perhaps that I thought to remind her of my existence when I heard a commotion in the hall.
Two footmen were resurrecting a bath chair from a closet, and upon enquiry of one of the passing maids with a stack of carriage rugs, I learned Miss Darcy and Miss Bennet meant to take Mrs. Jennings out for a little air. I walked straight to my kennel and sent the master with the runt to accompany the expedition with a concocted reason for doing so, that of my intent to groom the least promising pup to be a young lady’s pet. In fact, I would never sell her since to my mind she was already, after one kiss to the muzzle, the property of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Struggling against the sense of resentment one must feel at being forced to forego a pleasure long desired, I went instead toward my duty, which was to Mr. Gardiner. We met in my study and engaged in a long conference with regard to Mrs. Jennings.
“I am not convinced the Frye house is suitable for her any longer,” he began. “Much as I dread the prospect, I believe I must take her to London.”
“That will not be easy,” I replied carefully.
“No, but with Lizzy to support her, I believe it can be done.”
“Certainly it can,” I said after a momentary pause, “but, forgive me, I understand Mrs. Jennings does not always take well to strangers and that she is subject to frights in unfamiliar surroundings. At the very least, Miss Bennet would need two capable maids to help her, which I could, and would, insist upon providing. Mrs. Jennings is comfortable with those who wait on her here and has accepted them to varying degrees.”
“Hmm, I suppose you are right, but that would require an additional coach. I do not know what your experience might be, but I have never yet gone anywhere in a caravan that did not take far longer than it should.”
“Simply getting enough fresh horses is a challenge, I grant you.”
I let him ponder this and could well imagine what he was thinking, having just come up from London. There are few delightful aspects to a long journey, and in winter, there are none. The yards are filthier than usual—the breakdowns, strained hocks, and mired wheels a perpetual nuisance.
“And,” I proceeded carefully as though lost in thought, “if Mrs. Jennings were to fall ill, which again, forgive me, is more likelihood than possibility, you would be stranded midway and left to find a physician while housed at some middling inn. She is quite advanced in years, and though she seems to be thriving, I cannot help but believe her health is fragile. Since I have met her, I have seen what I suspect is a decline. She does not remember people, that is clear, but sometimes of late, she struggles to recall certain words.”
Mr. Gardiner rested his elbow on the arm of his chair, supporting the side of his head on his folded knuckles in the attitude of a man confronting an unanswerable dilemma.
“If you are suggesting that the journey might kill her,” he said upon a sigh, “I cannot but concur. Yet, what choice do I have? I cannot leave her in Lambton to the care of strangers, and I understand she has no friends at all here.”
“Your resentment is more than understandable, but in defense of her neighbors, I shall offer this: the vicar explained to me when I enquired that he had been actively discouraged from visiting the lady, and it is generally believed she does not like company. It is a poor excuse, but it issomething,at least.”
“Lizzy has told me this as well, Mr. Darcy. If only my wife had known—but of course, we were also misled.”
The moment had come for me at least to try to do some good. I spoke as casually as I possibly could but with an inflection of sincerity.
“Perhaps, if you do not object, Mrs. Jennings should remain at Pemberley.”
He objected and for a rather long time. I wore away at him, and because he was a reasonable man, he knew mine to be the most compassionate answer for an elderly lady at the very end of her life. We argued with polite intensity, and at one point, I hinted that the job of caring for the widow on such a taxing journey would fall to a young lady who would be stretched to the point of breaking and might, herself, fall ill because of it.
He made a little gesture with his hand to hush me and closed his eyes briefly before heaving a great sigh. “You must give me your word that this will have no greater impact on you than the use of a room and the oversight of Mrs. Reynolds. You will not delay going to town or any such thing, will you? I would also insist upon providing a woman to care for her.”
We settled on a few reasonable details, and as a gesture of his practicality, he noted that our decision would most affect my sister, and that he would not proceed without her blessing.
I called for Georgiana, and he stepped away.
When I broached the subject, my sister looked upon me with a slight frown of befuddlement. Apparently, I must never have consulted her about anything because she hardly knew how to reply at first. Once she comprehended what I was asking, however, she readily agreed with the plan and reassured me she would be heartily relieved if Mrs. Jennings could somehow remain a resident of Pemberley.
Mr. Gardiner again came down, and we formalized our understanding with a handshake.
“I suppose I shall have to sell the house,” he mused. “Do you know of an agent?”
“I do, but there is little growth of that sort in Lambton. It may be vacant for some time.”
He looked wearily at me, as though to say,“Of course, even that would not be easy,”and I offered up a suggestion.
“There are, however, single young men, apprentices and such, who come and go with the mining interests. I have often thought the village could benefit from a boarding house for them.”
