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“The other thing I want you to start doing is reading the papers very carefully. Information is vital in making money, and I want you to be a second pair of eyes for me. I get several papers, magazines and journals and we are going to subscribe to more. We will compare our thoughts every Sunday when you return from church. I want you to be as knowledgeable about the world as you are with my ledgers. Because that knowledge will help make the business more successful.”
With a smile Elizabeth stood and held out her hand.
“Deal.”
Edward Gardiner laughed and shook the hand of his irrepressible niece.
--
As she lay in bed a year later the conversation still made Elizabeth smile. And at the same time want to curse like a drunken sailor at all these fools. The whole year had been a balance of these two extremes. Annoyance, often extreme levels of that emotion, that she was ignored, belittled, all but patted on the head, in her dealings that were in any way connected to her uncle’s business. It was amazing the consistency of the, the. She struggled to find the right word. It was not disdain. For there to be disdain there had to be ‘dain’, presumably a corruption through the years of deign. It was as if all men suffered under the same delusion.
‘The sun? What do mean the sun? What big ball of light in the sky, I cannot see any such thing.’
This appeared to be men’s universal attitude to intelligent women, or at least to the concept of women being competent at any kind of business. And that was before the supercilious and demeaning attitude of so-called gentlemen, sniffing and worrying about the ‘taint of trade’. Elizabeth took her revenge in the best way possible. She helped her uncle beat them at business, to earn more money, to be better connected, to have more customers, whatever the measure was Elizabeth wanted Gardiner Import/Export to be the best.
Within her family it was universally agreed that Elizabeth could do nothing in an indifferent manner. She would throw herself into any task to the best of her ability. If she had no ability, as was immediately evident with her art lessons, then she would stop at once. But where she had an interest, and even a modicum of talent, then she was a diligent student. So she had demonstrated with this opportunity from her uncle throughout 1808. And here at the start of a new year she was impatient to build on the lessons of the just completed year. Little did she know just how exciting it was going to be.
--
“Mr. Hatchard, do you know that young lady?”
The owner of the eponymous bookshop looked in the indicated direction.
“I do Lady Maria; her name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Would you favour me with an introduction please.”
“Of course.”
Leaving one of his clerks at the front desk they walked over to Elizabeth.
“Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth turned to see the proprietor standing beside her with another, older, lady.
“Mr. Hatchard.”
“I would like to introduce you to Lady Maria Leonard. Lady Maria, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
The unexpected introduction caught Elizabeth by surprise but she remembered her manners and curtsied, an action copied by the lady in front of her.
“Thank you Mr. Hatchard.”
John Hatchard recognised the dismissal for what it was, bowed and left the two of them to talk.
“I apologise for rather forcing the introduction Miss Bennet, but I have an odd question for you.”
Elizabeth, unsure how to respond to such a statement, decided on a nod and smile. Lady Maria took a deep breath, suddenly appearing reticent.
“Did you rescue a child from the middle of this very street six months ago?”
Elizabeth, on the back foot throughout the conversation, was now mentally flailing. How on earth had this unknown lady learned about the incident? It would never do to lie so she squared her shoulders and nodded.
“I did.”
She acknowledged the incident but was definitely going with ‘less is more’ in her responses. The two word response brought a smile to the lady’s face.
“That is what I get for asking such a direct question. Relax Miss Bennet, I merely wish to thank you for rescuing my niece. Her mother was excessively distraught at the time and you slipped away before you could be thanked. When I first noticed you in the shop I was struck by a sense of familiarity but I could not initially place it. That the rescue was just down the street from this shop finally jogged my memory. I thought the small impoliteness of our introduction was much less important than giving you my thanks. And through me, the thanks of my extended family.”
