Chapter Five
The footman’s eyebrows pinched together, and he gazed sceptically at Elizabeth, holding the large sample books a little tighter.
“I will take those.” Elizabeth smiled and held out her arms, but eventually allowed them to drop. “Do you wish to enter the draper’s, Thatcher?”
Thatcher was a man in his late twenties or early thirties whom her father had newly hired to follow her about. He was of average height but broad-shouldered, with an air of quiet strength about him. “These books are rather heavy, Miss Bennet.”
Typically, Elizabeth would have argued that she was more than capable of handling the books for the twenty steps between the carriage and the draper’s, but something in Thatcher’s stubborn expression gave her pause.
“Very well, then,” she said. “Though I do not know why I travelled into town if it was not to return the sample books to Mr. Glidding. You might have delivered the list as well.”
Thatcher did not attempt to answer, only offered a shallow bow, and walked directly into the shop as if worried she would change her mind. After a moment, Elizabeth entered behind him.
“Good day, Miss Bennet,” the shopkeeper called as he emerged from the back.
“I am returning your books, Mr. Glidding, or rather, Thatcher is doing so.” She lifted her hand. “My mother has also sent this list for you.”
Mr. Glidding smiled and took the piece of paper that had Mamma’s orders neatly listed. “Your mother has a fine eye for quality, Miss Bennet.”
“She does indeed.” Elizabeth had often been exasperated by her mother’s compulsion to spend on things she deemed unnecessary, but she had never fully understood how much of Mamma’s behaviour had been driven by fear.
After all, if she survived her husband, Mamma would lose all access to the estate funds one day, perhaps quite suddenly.
Why not spend as much of it as she could before that happened?
Without the spectre of genteel poverty hovering over her, Mamma, while not happy to be restrained, was at least more willing to be held to their budget.
She had even consulted Elizabeth on each decision without being prompted, and Elizabeth had to admit her mother had a gift for bringing beauty to her surroundings.
She was fortunate to have such able assistance.
“I am traveling to Derby tomorrow,” Mr. Glidding said. He held up the list. “A few of these items come from my son’s shop in London, but I can send the order on the mail coach from there, and he will have it within a day, two at most.”
“Thank you. I am certain Mamma will be grateful.”
“Not at all, Miss Bennet. I am grateful your family chooses to do your custom here with us in Lambton.”
She had not expected a Lambton shop to have connections in London, that much was true.
But Mamma had known as soon as she saw the bolts of silk and cotton in the shop.
And how wonderful it was to be able to patronize the local merchants—it was certainly going to make things easier, for in London Mamma would have gone distracted.
There was enough choice in this single shop to keep her happy without destroying her ability to make decisions.
And Mr. Glidding had already begun to spread the word that the Bennets of Hollydale preferred to shop in Lambton. It was sure to make them popular.
Elizabeth smiled at Mr. Glidding and took her leave. She opened the door, glancing both ways before stepping out onto the pavement.
The market was bustling on the green where the high street crossed with River Lane.
Elizabeth motioned to Thatcher that she wished to stroll down to it.
He frowned a bit but nodded, ready to follow her into the crowd.
The chestnut trees that dotted the square had turned various shades of orange and red, and fallen leaves crunched beneath Elizabeth’s boots as she approached the stalls.
The cacophony grew and crested over her as she approached.
The vendors hawked their wares, villagers bartered with them, and neighbours called out to one another in greeting.
Children darted around the adults, collecting the conkers that had fallen to the ground and hoping for something sweet to eat before their parents dragged them home.
Elizabeth lingered at Mrs. Brown’s pie stall but thought Cook might not appreciate her arriving home with someone else’s food. She considered a mug of cider, but the woman selling it was dipping the cups into the pot rather than using a ladle, and they did not appear entirely clean.
She moved on to a stall selling fresh bread and baked goods. She looked over her shoulder at Thatcher, who was attempting not to appear interested. She smiled, purchased two tea cakes, and handed one to the footman. She put the other in her reticule to eat in the carriage on the return journey.
At the end of the lane was a bookseller.
She nearly succumbed, but even Papa already had enough books to keep him busy for a long time.
As she wandered, she began to think that had she wanted anything here—bread, cider, a book—she could simply buy it.
It was a novel sensation, and a very welcome one.
Elizabeth decided to return to the carriage and turned to tell Thatcher so when two little boys caught her eye. They were standing opposite Mrs. Brown’s pie stall, but not approaching. The older boy was holding the younger one’s hand.
They were the boys who had knocked her over outside the draper’s, she was sure of it. They were even wearing the same clothes.
“Good day, gentlemen,” she told them. “Are you planning to purchase a pie?”
The older boy shrugged. “Might.”
Elizabeth handed the younger boy a coin. “I think you should. They smell wonderful.”
The little boy looked up into her face and wrapped a grubby fist around the coin, but he did not speak.
“We don’t need no charity,” the older said. “Give it back, Harry.”
“It is not charity,” Elizabeth replied. “It is pie.”
“It’s pie,” Harry whispered to the older boy. This close, Elizabeth could see they bore a strong resemblance to one another. Their faces were dirty, and their clothes threadbare. She wondered where they lived and thought she might wish to speak with Mr. Milner about them.
“Good day,” she said, and then turned to leave the green before Harry could be forced to return the penny. Thatcher followed behind. But she did not walk back to her coach.
The village parsonage, a comfortable home with a substantial garden in the front, was near the church at the end of the high street. Elizabeth strolled up to the door and was invited inside by the maid.
Within a few minutes, Elizabeth was sitting in a worn leather armchair, a steaming cup of tea warming her hands while Mrs. Milner sat in the corner, knitting. Mr. Milner arrived with a pair of new leather boots, which he placed on a shelf.
“Mrs. Potter found some dogs ready to snatch these and thought I might like to make an announcement to find the owner on Sunday. They are rather fine, so I expect they have been missed.”
The vicar then turned to regard Elizabeth with a serious, solemn sort of patience, taking his seat as he waited for her to gather her thoughts.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Mr. Milner.” Elizabeth hesitated, but she knew he could help. “I find myself already in need of your counsel.”
“Of course, Miss Bennet.” Milner smiled warmly at her. “What troubles you?”
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I encountered two boys in the village. The first time I saw them, they were running past the draper’s and almost knocked me down, and this morning they were at the market.
I believe they are brothers, and they are clearly in some difficulty.
Poorly fed, poorly clothed. I wish to help them, but the older boy is proud, and I am unsure of the best way to proceed in a way that respects his dignity. ”
The pastor nodded knowingly. “Blonde boys? About ten and six?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Milner tsked.
“I know the boys you mean. Matthew and Harry Sykes. They have been in town much more frequently of late. They have no mother, and their father is a hard man. He cannot be harvesting much this year if the boys are here rather than helping him at home.”
“Surely there is something we can do.”
“You are wise to approach this delicately. In cases such as these, it is often better to offer help rather than charity, especially to two young, strong boys. And you certainly do not want to either run afoul of the father or be thought an easy mark.”
“I am listening,” Elizabeth said, setting her tea down on the table nearest her.
“The church requires assistance with various tasks—weeding the garden, keeping the churchyard tidy, helping with small repairs, that sort of thing. We could offer the boys some honest work. It would provide them with a little money, some food from the garden, and a hot meal each day.”
“Will you be teaching the boys how to make those repairs, Mr. Milner?”
“Mr. Oliver has tended to the needs of the church for many years, Miss Bennet. He will be the one to take the boys in hand and teach them what they need to know.”
“Will Mr. Oliver welcome them?”
Mrs. Milner made another tsking sound from her chair in the corner, and Mr. Milner lifted a bushy eyebrow at her.
“He will get used to the idea.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Then I shall leave this in your hands, Mr. Milner. But I should like to offer the church a donation towards this laudable endeavour. Even a little something to add to Mr. Oliver’s pension for the additional work of teaching two beginners.”
Mr. Milner smiled. “The church is not in a position to refuse such a generous offer, Miss Bennet.”
“I shall see to it this week, sir. To you I leave the work of convincing the boys that they are needed here.”
“I do have some experience in this area, Miss Bennet. Boys, no matter how well-off their parents, are always in search of another meal. The trick will be in explaining to Mr. Oliver why we need the help at all.”
“Nothing so easy,” said Mrs. Milner cheerfully, her knitting needles clicking at a steady pace.
“Appeal to his vanity. Tell him the boys will take over when he decides to retire, and we want them to learn the proper way in which things are to be done. They are young enough that he will not feel we are in a hurry to replace him.”
Mr. Milner smiled at his wife. “Do you see why I married her, Miss Bennet?”
“You are brilliant, Mrs. Milner,” Elizabeth declared.
“Nice to hear someone say it.” Mrs. Milner’s lips curled upward.
Her husband smiled affectionately at her.
“Well, if you are both interested, I do stand ready to assist, anonymously.” Elizabeth smiled. “And now, I have taken up enough of your time. Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Milner. Mrs. Milner.”
“We might make candles, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth turned to Mrs. Milner. “I beg your pardon?”
“Candles are an excellent gift for the festive season, when the days are so short.”
“Please let me know when I can be of assistance,” Elizabeth replied.
“I shall. Good day, dear,” Mrs. Milner said, setting aside her knitting to stand.
Her husband stood as well. “A pleasure, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth collected Thatcher at the door, and they strolled back to the carriage.
Overall, a day well spent. “Shall we visit the market one more time, Thatcher? I would like to have another look around.” She might not need anything, but perhaps there was someone who needed her to purchase something.