But I was equally content to hold my hand close to my chest. I had not yet spoken aloud in my own mindwhat he wanted me to blurt out in confidence to him. Why would I weaken just when the resolve in me grew so strongly? I looked unblinkingly at Mr Bennet’s enigmatic smiles and returned equally unreadable looks, and by degrees, I sensed my stock with him grew. He was coming to respect me.
That was not to say he was completely healed of all his griefs. There was still one point of pain, and it was this that came to my notice just days after my cousin returned to his regiment in preparation for leaving for the Continent yet again.
We sat together in the library, listening to the faint sounds of Boccherini coming from the music room on the far side of the house. My guest looked oddly bleak, and I watched him surreptitiously. A letter had come from Longbourn which prompted this return to his aged countenance, his slumped shoulders, his humbled silence.
“What is it, sir?” I asked quietly. I could endure his suffering no longer.
He handed me the letter he held so despondently in his hand. “You cannot have been at my house so frequently that you do not know I have two daughters in school at Bath.”
“I am aware. Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia.”
“What do you know of them, then?”
“Enough, sir.”
“You know that my youngest is enrolled in Mrs Trencher’s matchmaking school?”
“I do.”
“I wonder you still consort with us. Had my wife not so recently died, my neighbours would be hard-pressed to speak to us. They have, however, out of pity for our loss, refrained from noticing my daughter is so disgraced I must resort to trying to buy her a husband.”
He waved at the letter with faint disgust and put his forehead in his hand. I took it up and read.
Dear Papa,
I know this letter will pain you, but I fear you must bear it for Jane’s sake. You may have guessed we had planned to have Kitty and Lydia at home with us for the holidays. Indeed, to have done otherwise would have been cruel and remarkable. Kitty did come to us, and she is unrecognisably better behaved for her banishment. Lydia, however, did not come. She chose to stay a parlour boarder with Mrs Trencher.
A gentleman has lately made himself agreeable to her, which accounts for her hesitation to leave Bath. To be clear, Papa, he has offered for her. Mrs Trencher wrote the terms of his offer, and since you directed Jane to answer your meagre letters, she was then faced with the awful dilemma of what to do. She would not for the world give you the task ofgoing to Bath to meet this man, yet she cannot do it herself, nor can my uncle, who is not Lydia’s guardian and cannot sign a settlement. I know not what would be required to authorise him to speak for you or how it could be arranged.
But more than that prevents us from asking him to intervene. You remember Lydia’s rages, and though you were not yourself, you must be aware how she abused our uncle when he enrolled her in that mortifying place. That terrible errand was hard enough for Jane to ask of him. Must we impose upon Uncle Gardiner again and ask him to settle her, Papa?
While Jane paces and wrings her hands, I am writing to you and sending this by express. Only when this letter is gone shall I tell her I have made the decision for her. Time is not our friend, Papa. Lydia will run away with this man if she must, for such is her nature. You must rouse yourself, write to Mrs Trencher, and travel to meet him, and if he is not a criminal or a charlatan, you must give her away to him.
I do not ask you to act for me, but do this for Jane. Know that I would go myself and within the hour to spare you if it were in my power, but alas, I have no authority with which to act.
Your daughter,
Elizabeth
I sat silent for half a minute before I spoke. “Sign me over as temporary guardian, and I shall go on your behalf.”
He grunted. “I cannot be so cowardly.”
“Perhaps not, but you can be rational. I have experience with legal matters of every kind and of holding a position of bargaining power. I have the use of a private secretary who can scour this man’s history in advance of my ever meeting him, and I shall act in the best interest of your family. You, sir, would be prey to all manner of memories, to feelings that might alter your ability to reason and affect your decision. Even worse, you could make yourself ill in an attempt to escape the epithet of coward.”
“I do not like sending a representative to see to my affairs. I would look like a scrub.”
I laughed, albeit gently. “You will survive.”
He sat in glum, silent resistance.
I continued to press him. “And that is the point, is it not? You must survive. I would like to deliver you whole to your daughters, for them to see you looking ten years younger in defiance of the hopes of your foolish heir.”
He glanced at me.
“Think man. Should you not become stronger andquickly, you must surely dwindle into your coffin, and though you laugh at the prospect, your daughters could yet end up at the mercy of the parish.”
“You use my own words most cruelly against me.”
