Elizabeth saw it all, but not quite as if she were part of it. The motion seemed to pass around her, a bright blur of welcome and warmth that never quite reached the quiet ache still lodged beneath her ribs.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner entered with their usual air of practical cheer, travel-worn but smiling. Mr. Gardiner handed off hats and gloves with habitual ease. Mrs. Gardiner embraced each of the Bennet girls in turn, her eyes lingering on Elizabeth last—not with question, not yet, but with understanding.
Then came the children—two girls and two boys, aged eight, six, four, and two—tumbling in behind them like birds in springtime. The littlest clung to her mother’s skirts while the eldest launched immediately into a breathless tale involving a lost shoe, a sheep in the lane, and a heroic leap that had not gone as planned.
Lydia, still young enough to delight in their noise, clapped her hands in laughter. “Come now, who wants to play fox-and-geese in the garden? I’ll be the fox!”
The children shrieked and flew after her, their footsteps echoing down the corridor and out toward the lawn, the house suddenly alive with cheerful din.
Mrs. Gardiner laughed, brushing a curl from her temple. “It is good to see them welcomed so warmly. I confess I worried they might be a burden.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Bennet said at once, bustling toward her. “We shall all be here to mind them, and they are no trouble at all—why, Lydia’s the best nursemaid of the lot when she’s in the mood.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly, her eyes lingering on the retreating figures. “They’ll be happy here.”
“And we shall set off in the morning,” Mr. Gardiner added. “A full day of travel lies ahead, but for tonight, rest and good company.”
“Oh yes,” Mrs. Bennet cried, bustling forward. “But before you leave, you must hear all the details of Jane and Mr. Bingley’s engagement—and what I have planned for the wedding!”
At that, Mr. Bennet gave his brother-in-law a look of long-suffering amusement. “Gardiner, I believe my book room still has two chairs and a door that closes. Shall we?”
Mr. Gardiner chuckled and gladly accepted the escape.
Mrs. Gardiner, however, lingered in the drawing room, her gaze often drifting toward Elizabeth. Something in her niece’s composure seemed too tightly drawn. She hadsuspected for some time that all was not as it should be—but tonight, the unease sat closer to the surface.
As the evening wore on and the household began to shift toward rest, she crossed the room and laid a gentle hand on Elizabeth’s arm.
“My dear Lizzy,” she said softly, “how very good it is to see you. When the house is quiet, will you come sit with me a while?”
Elizabeth met her gaze and managed a small, grateful nod. “Yes,” she murmured. “I would like that very much.”
It was late when the house finally settled. Lamps had been dimmed, slippers exchanged for hushed steps on creaking floorboards, and the Gardiner children tucked into their beds with kisses and whispered stories.
Elizabeth found her aunt waiting in the small sitting room adjoining the guest chamber, her hands resting calmly in her lap, the fire casting long shadows behind her.
“Come in, dearest,” Mrs. Gardiner said gently. “You look as though your thoughts might burst for want of saying.”
Elizabeth hesitated only a moment before settling into the chair opposite. For a time, neither spoke. The fire snapped softly.
Then, quietly, Elizabeth began.
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes. Memories of things that will happen. I woke thinking it was the year 1815—that I was married and had a child. I remembered everything that led to that life. That is what I mean when I say I have tested the memories. I remembered what was coming before it occurred, and I have seen it unfold just as I recalled.”
Mrs. Gardiner was quiet, her expression unreadable.
Elizabeth gave a faint, rueful smile. “It is always thus. Whenever I speak of it, the first response is disbelief. But I can prove it to you.”
She paused, then said gently, “You and Uncle have four beautiful children. But it took time before you became pregnant, did it not?”
A shadow flickered in Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes, and she nodded slowly. “Yes. It did.”
“In my memories, after I was married, it was nearly a year before I conceived my son. But early on… I believed, for a time, that I might be with child. I was mistaken. And I was… heartbroken.”
Mrs. Gardiner’s gaze sharpened with understanding.
“You comforted me,” Elizabeth continued, her voice trembling slightly. “You told me that something similar had happened to you. That you were far enough along to know for certain—but not yet quickening, so you had not announced it.”
Mrs. Gardiner blinked, a soft gasp escaping her lips. Her hand lifted to her mouth. “No one… I never told anyone. Not even Edward.”
