"It is difficult to imagine," said she, "how possession of a shell can improve either the understanding or the character."
Lydia rolled her eyes. "No one asked for a sermon, Mary."
"Sea bathing," Mary continued, undisturbed, "is only beneficial when undertaken with proper moral discipline. Anything pursued merely for fashion is vanity, and Scripture is very clear upon the subject."
"Then do not pursue it," Lydia returned, following Mrs. Bennet into the parlour. "The rest of us shall survive somehow."
Elizabeth, alone at last, finished drawing on her gloves and took up her travelling bag. She had scarcely done so when Kitty came hastily down the stairs.
"Wait."
Kitty glanced toward the parlour door, still open, then thrust something into Elizabeth's hand with both of hers.
"I made it," she whispered. "Don't show Mama."
Elizabeth smiled and closed her fingers around the gift.
"Thank you, Kitty."
Once settled in the chaise, Elizabeth unfolded the paper. It was a small sketch of the lane before Longbourn; the trees bending toward the road and the house half hidden behind them. The proportions were not entirely accurate, but the feeling of the place was. Elizabeth folded it carefully and tucked it into her reticule before the carriage reached the turnpike.
She had been sent to Gracechurch Street before, and more than once. Whenever Mrs. Bennet's patience with Elizabeth wore thin, an invitation from London was seldom long in appearing. Mrs. Bennet invariably protested that Jane, Lydia, Mary, or Kitty might benefit equally from such an excursion, declared Gracechurch Street no proper place for a young lady's introduction to society, and then consented with remarkable ease. Mr. Bennet's objections generally arose much later.
Elizabeth's first stay had lasted nearly a year. What began as a temporary escape from domestic disagreements ended only when her father observed the ease with which she sorted accounts and remembered figures, and conceived the idea that such talents might be put to use at Longbourn. Thereafter her visits followed a more regular pattern; welcomed in London whenever she could be spared and summoned home whenever she could not.
The arrangement suited everyone tolerably well. Mrs. Bennet was relieved of a daughter she found perpetually trying, Mr. Bennet retained a capable hand to oversee the household accounts and keep a watchful eye upon the steward whenever she was at Longbourn, and Elizabeth gained the society of the only married couple she knew whose happiness appearedentirely genuine. Mrs. Gardiner had long since become as much friend as aunt, while her husband possessed the rare ability of treating Elizabeth's opinions as worthy of consideration. Their children, who had scarcely known a time when Cousin Elizabeth was not appearing and disappearing from their lives, regarded her as a permanent part of the family.
This was evident the moment the chaise drew up before the newly enlarged house. Before the servant could lower the step, seven-year-old Bethany came flying out of the front door. One shoe ribbon trailed behind her, half untied.
"Lizzy!"
She threw herself against Elizabeth with such force that both nearly lost their balance.
"You grow more untamed with every visit," said Elizabeth, laughing as she steadied them both. "Take care, or your parents will accuse me of encouraging it."
"They already do," Bethany informed her cheerfully.
"Bethany!"
The child darted back toward the house before her mother could catch her.
"My dear girl," Mrs. Gardiner said, reaching Elizabeth then and taking her hands with unaffected pleasure, "you are arrived at last. We feared the roads might delay you."
"They were kinder than expected," Elizabeth replied. "And I am very glad to be here."
"So we are," her aunt said.
Elizabeth entered the hall just as Grace, the Gardiners' eldest child, appeared.
"Welcome to London, Cousin Elizabeth."
The curtsy that accompanied the greeting would not have disgraced a young lady twice her age.
"I greeted her first."
"You shouted at her from the street," said Grace. "That is not the same thing."
"It still counts."
