Dawn in Derbyshire #2
“Yet the day has begun, and so must we,” Mary replied, her tone firm but not unkind.
Elizabeth stepped closer and rested a hand briefly on Mary’s arm. “Your lists will be very useful. We shall look them over together.”
Mention of their mother cast a natural quiet over the room.
“She slept peacefully when I left her,” Jane said. “Let her rest. She was very much fatigued yesterday.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I will take her tea as soon as she stirs.”
Kitty sighed. “I hope she does not cry again. I hate when Mama cries.”
Lydia shot her a look. “You cried too, Kitty.”
“I did not!”
“You did.”
Elizabeth intervened gently. “Peace, both of you. Today is our first true morning here. Let us try to begin it kindly.”
She glanced around the parlour: trunks still half-opened, a few chairs drawn together, Mary’s book resting on the table beside a snuffed candle. It was unfamiliar. Untidy. A little too small.
And yet, with her sisters gathered around her, it felt, for the very first time, like the beginning of something liveable.
A brisk, confident knock sounded at the front door.
Jane brightened instantly. “That must be Mrs Harding. She promised to call early and see how we fared.”
Elizabeth drew a steadying breath and moved toward the passage. “Yes. Let us welcome her properly. It is our first morning in our new home.”
She had scarcely reached for the latch when the door opened to reveal Mr and Mrs Harding, both wrapped against the morning chill, with smiles that warmed the dim little hall at once.
Behind them stood Nora Briggs, their long-time housemaid, a capable woman of perhaps eight-and-twenty or so, with a pleasant, sensible face and a basket balanced expertly on her arm.
And just beyond them, stamping the cold from their feet, were Mr and Mrs Gardiner, whose familiar presence eased something in Elizabeth’s chest at once.
“My dear girls,” Mrs Harding exclaimed, sweeping into the parlour before Elizabeth could fully usher them inside. “We could not wait until a more civilised hour. Mr Harding insisted we come at once, to ensure you had all you needed.”
Mr Harding, following with a kind bow, added, “And to begin lighting your kitchen fire before poor Nora froze with that basket in her hands.”
Nora dipped a respectful curtsey, her expression brisk but kind. “Good morning, miss. Mrs Harding asked that I bring you a few necessities, some bread, eggs, a little ham, and the tea caddy from our own stores. I shall see to the fire directly, if you wish.”
Elizabeth’s gratitude came so swiftly she almost could not speak. “Nora, thank you. Mrs Harding, truly, this is more than generous.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs Harding said, making a gentle but dismissive gesture. “It is what any neighbour must do, and we are more than neighbours now.”
The Gardiners stepped forward then, Mrs Gardiner taking Elizabeth’s hands warmly. “We thought we should come early, just to be certain all was well. You slipped out before we stirred, Lizzy. We feared you might be overtired.”
“I only walked a little,” Elizabeth assured her. “To see the place. To breathe.”
Jane came forward with quiet grace, offering greetings and ushering the guests deeper into the parlour.
Lydia and Kitty scrambled to straighten ribbons and curtsey; Mary put her linens aside with dignity and began righting a chair.
The little room felt instantly fuller, warmer, more alive, less foreign.
Nora gave Elizabeth a small, reassuring nod before disappearing toward the kitchen, already unbuttoning her gloves and preparing to coax the fire into a proper blaze. The comforting sounds of kindling, the soft clatter of a kettle, and the rustle of her basket soon drifted back into the parlour.
Mrs Harding surveyed the room with satisfaction. “There now. This looks much more like a home already.”
“Come,” Mrs Harding said kindly, “tell us everything. How you slept, how the journey settled upon you, what you think of your rooms, and what your plans are for the day. We are determined that your first morning here shall not overwhelm you.”
Elizabeth exchanged a quiet, grateful look with Jane.
Mrs Harding settled herself on the nearest chair as though she had always belonged there, while Mr Harding accepted one offered by Jane. Mrs Gardiner, already taking in the state of the room with affectionate practicality, removed her gloves and placed them neatly on the table.
“Now, my dear girls,” Mrs Harding began, clasping her hands with cheerful finality, “you must allow us to be useful. Mr Harding has already seen that the wood in your shed is dry enough to burn, Nora will have the fire going shortly, and I have brought a few essentials to tide you over.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially.
“One cannot trust a new kitchen on the first morning. It must be coaxed.”
Jane smiled warmly. “You are too good to us.”
“Indeed,” Mrs Gardiner agreed. “Your kindness has eased what might have been a difficult first day.”
“Oh, we will hear none of that,” Mrs Harding declared. “We are delighted you are here.”
Mrs Harding leaned forward, her smile full of kindly speculation as she looked over Jane and Elizabeth together.
“Well now,” she said, folding her hands with satisfaction, “it occurs to me that with my Charlotte married and gone to Warwickshire, and dear Cassandra not yet out, I find myself quite unoccupied of a morning. It would be the greatest pleasure to call for you, if your mother allows it, and show you a little of Lambton once you are settled.”
Jane coloured modestly; Elizabeth blinked in mild surprise.
“Oh, you must not feel any obligation,” Elizabeth began, but Mrs Harding waved a gentle hand.
“My dear, there is no obligation at all. I only thought that two young ladies, newly arrived, and in half-mourning besides, should not feel shut away. And you could not have arrived at a better time. The village is very quiet just now; no one expects dances or large gatherings. But there are morning calls, small teas, and the most beautiful walks. A little company never hurt anyone.”
Mary nodded approvingly. Lydia and Kitty exchanged bright, hopeful looks.
Mrs Gardiner smiled. “I believe it would do them much good.”
Mrs Harding’s eyes softened. “I know you must still be tired, and grief does not vanish merely because the view is finer. But Derbyshire can be very healing. And… well,” her smile grew a shade more mischievous, “it is a rare delight to have young ladies of sense and elegance in the neighbourhood again.”
Mr Harding cleared his throat in a good-natured warning, as if to say Do not overwhelm them yet, my dear, and she laughed.
“I shall not carry on,” she promised lightly. “Only this: when my nephew Matthew Ashton returns from Manchester, he is very fond of Lambton, and always glad of new acquaintance. But that is for another day entirely.”
Elizabeth felt the slightest flutter of amusement. Mrs Harding’s tone was warm, not insistent; affectionate, not importunate.
Jane asked with gentle curiosity, “Your nephew resides nearby, then?”
“At Willowbank House,” she replied with pride softened by something like nostalgia. “A pleasant walk across the fields, if one knows the way. But he will not be home for a few days yet, and I will not plague you with talk of visitors when you have only just arrived.”
Mrs Harding reached out and briefly squeezed Elizabeth’s hand.
“For now,” she said, “we shall take one step at a time. A little air, a little company, and warm tea in the right place can do marvels. Only say the word, and I will arrange everything with your mother’s approval.”
Elizabeth felt warmth rise in her chest.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “We should like that very much.”
Mrs Harding beamed. “Excellent. Then once your mother is rested, we shall make a little plan.”
Mrs Harding had just finished speaking, her expression glowing with the pleasure of being useful, when a light, familiar tread sounded at the foot of the stairs.
“Mama is awake,” Jane murmured.
A moment later Mrs Bennet appeared in the doorway, wrapped in her morning shawl, her cap askew from hasty fastening. Her eyes widened at the full room.
“Lord bless me, Mr and Mrs Harding! And my dear brother and sister!” She fluttered forward, half-pleased, half-flustered. “Oh, what a surprise. Lizzy, why did no one tell me we had company? I would have dressed properly. This morning is all confusion.”
Mrs Gardiner rose at once to embrace her. “We did not mean to disturb you, sister. Only to see that all was well.”
“Well? Oh, yes, yes, tolerably so,” Mrs Bennet replied, pressing a handkerchief to her eyes though no tears seemed in danger.
“The journey overset me entirely, but I daresay we shall recover in time. This cottage is small, very small indeed, but if it must be home, then we must make do.” Her gaze landed on Mrs Harding.
“My dear madam, how very obliging of you to call so early. You are all kindness.”
Nora reappeared just then from the kitchen, carrying a tray with neat efficiency. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, the fire is drawing well now. I have brought toast and a little jam, and the tea will be ready directly.”
“Oh, excellent, very excellent!” Mrs Bennet cried, reviving instantly at the sight of food. “I declare, I do not know what we should have done without you, Nora.”
Nora coloured modestly. “Only happy to be of service, ma’am,” she said before retreating again.
Lydia, who had been hovering near the tray, brightened at once. “Jam! I knew Derbyshire could not be all dullness.”
“Lydia,” Mary admonished quietly, though her own eyes lingered with approval on the toast. “We must show propriety, even among friends.”
Mrs Harding laughed with kindly indulgence. “You are all very welcome to it. And when you have settled a little more, there is nothing to prevent a comfortable morning spent out of doors.”
Kitty’s head snapped up. “Oh! May we go too, ma’am? We should dearly love to see the village. I have never been in half-mourning before. I do not know what is permitted.”
Lydia clasped her hands dramatically. “Nor I. But I should behave most decorously, I assure you. Anything is better than being shut indoors.”
Mrs Harding blinked in genuine surprise and glanced instinctively at Mrs Gardiner. “Oh, my dears, I understood that only Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth were out. I could not think to take charge of so many young ladies at once. It would hardly be fair to any of you.”
Mary said, with patient dignity, “I am out, Mrs Harding, though I seldom venture far in company.”
Kitty nodded eagerly. “And I am out too. Only Lydia is not, and only because her birthday is so very late in the summer. It is quite vexing for her.”
Lydia tossed her curls. “I should have been out already in Meryton, had things remained as they were.”
Mrs Harding softened, turning to Mrs Bennet.
“My dear Mrs Bennet, forgive me, I would never presume. If you wish your daughters to accompany us, I shall of course endeavour, only…” She lowered her voice slightly, kindly but firm.
“With dear Cassandra still at home and not yet introduced, I fear it may overwhelm her if we add so many older girls at once.”
Mrs Bennet pressed her handkerchief again to her chest. “Oh! I should not wish that. Poor little Cassandra, such a sweet child.”
Mrs Harding nodded gratefully. “Perhaps, only if you approve, ma’am, the younger three might join Cassandra for her morning lessons.
Her governess is an admirable woman, and it might give your daughters a little structure while you settle.
Once they have grown accustomed to their new situation, we may plan something more extensive. ”
Kitty and Lydia exchanged a look.
“Lessons?” Lydia repeated faintly.
Kitty whispered, “Only for a little while, Lydia. It might be amusing.”
Mary folded her hands serenely. “I think it a most sensible arrangement.”
Mrs Harding turned brightly back to Jane and Elizabeth.
“And for you two, my dears, if your mother permits, it would give me the greatest pleasure to show you a little of Lambton in a few days’ time.
Nothing fatiguing. Only a quiet morning of calls, or perhaps a walk along the ridge above the village. ”
Elizabeth felt the warmth of her sincerity. “We should like that very much, ma’am.”
Mrs Harding beamed. “Excellent. And by then,” she added in a tone deliberately light and entirely non-committal, “my nephew Matthew may have returned from Manchester. But that is quite a small matter, quite small. He is for ever travelling between his steward and his books, and one never knows when he will appear. You must not think of him at all.”
Her eyes, however, twinkled in unmistakable mischief.
Elizabeth bit back a smile; Jane coloured delicately.
Mrs Bennet, alert now to any mention of a gentleman, sat forward. “Your nephew, you say? A sensible young man, I hope?”
Mrs Harding laughed. “Entirely sensible. And entirely unimportant at present. Let us not trouble the girls with visitors before they have even unpacked their trunks.”
Mr Gardiner rose then, gently signalling that the morning’s visit should draw to a close. “We shall leave you to your breakfast and your mother’s rest. But we are close at hand for anything you need.”
Mrs Harding stood as well. “Indeed we are. You have only to send Nora for us. Welcome to Derbyshire, my dears, truly welcome.”
Elizabeth, surrounded by sisters, relations, and such unexpected kindness, felt the cottage expand around her, not in size, but in possibility.