Chapter Three #2
Only a deep desire to do her best by her niece could persuade Olivia to London at her age, but she was convinced that this was the right course.
She would speak with Phillip. He often had business to conduct in town, though he had resorted primarily to correspondence for the past several years in deference to Lizzy’s residence with them.
On the occasions he was forced to travel, he had taken them with him, turning his travels into lessons on any number of topics for Elizabeth.
They had sent invitations to have Jane join them on their jaunts, but Mrs. Bennet always declined; there were no invitations forthcoming from Longbourn.
Olivia knew that Phillip loved Lizzy as his own—it had not taken long for the girl to wriggle her way into his heart. He was as doting as any besotted father and would be easily convinced not to send her away.
She recalled The Great School had moved some years back to Queen’s Square.
She smiled to herself. That neighborhood sat on a part of the old Bedford estate, and the best families sent their girls there.
Lizzy could perhaps attend as a day student and take the etiquette lessons for which it had become famous.
She would write to her friends still in town and seek their advice.
Phillip Russell returned to his study to think. He lifted a hand to his mouth and rubbed a finger over his lips, deep in thought.
The clock in the hall chimed. He pulled out his pocket watch, surprised at the time, and was startled by a knock on the door.
“Uncle Phillip?” Elizabeth called from the other side. “Are you busy?”
“Come in, Lizzy,” he said, raising his voice so she would hear.
The girl peeked around the door and spied his current position. “Am I interrupting, Uncle?” she asked, holding a book. He shook his head and gestured for her to approach.
“I have a question about the ‘rapidity of circulation,’” she stated, showing him the passage. “Is saving money in the four-percents a poor use of funds?”
He removed the folded sheets of a letter from Jane with Lizzy’s small drawings along the edges; Elizabeth was using it to mark her place.
He read the passage and explained why balancing money in the funds with riskier investments was necessary for wealth-building and how rapid circulation of money could keep the economy healthy.
Phillip watched Lizzy relax as understanding dawned.
Once the questions stopped, Phillip sent her off to continue her reading.
They could discuss further questions after dinner, he promised.
The door clicked closed behind her, and Phillip shook his head.
“Just like Livy,” he announced to the empty room before sitting down to write a very important letter to his solicitor in London.
Early Spring, 1804
“Oh,” Georgiana Darcy said, her china-blue eyes wide and clear, “do you not wish to go to school, Lizzy?”
The two girls were sitting in the music room waiting for the adults to conclude their visit.
The Russells had toured a silk mill in Derbyshire early in the day, and Uncle Phillip had used the journey as an excuse to call on his friend.
Georgiana’s music sheets were piled on a low table that sat before them.
Miss Coulter sat in one corner and worked on some sort of embroidery.
The governess was a pleasant woman of about forty.
She always allowed Elizabeth to visit with Georgiana instead of holding the younger girl to lessons, a significant recommendation in Elizabeth’s estimation.
Elizabeth shook her head and set aside a piece of music to play later. “Not at all, I am afraid.”
“Papa says that I shall go to school when I am your age,” her younger friend told her, “and he believes I will like it very much.”
“You very well may,” Elizabeth replied encouragingly, “but I am happy learning at home. Uncle teaches me things I would never learn at school or from any master, and he and Aunt Olivia answer all of my wild questions.” She lingered over a page before moving past it.
“I may also sketch whatever I wish now.” She frowned, “Well, nearly.” Her head tipped slightly to one side as she wiggled her fingers. “I am not fond of drawing on command.”
“I think you are not fond of commands at all,” Georgiana said slyly, then pointed. “That one?” she asked, indicating another page of music from the pile.
Elizabeth set it aside with the first. “How well you know me,” she replied with an exaggerated sense of chagrin.
Georgiana hummed a few notes from the sheet she held, then inquired, “What kinds of questions, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth hesitated. “I should not like your father to think me a poor influence, Georgie.”
“He would never think such a thing!” the girl cried, aghast at the very thought of it.
“There is my faithful friend!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
She reached over to embrace the nine-year-old, who tossed her arms around Elizabeth’s neck and squeezed.
Even as she embraced Georgiana, Elizabeth knew better.
She had already overheard one such comment from friends of her aunt and uncle, and they had not returned to that home.
Elizabeth thought it was silly. How could she be a poor influence on anyone?
Did not every person have their own mind?
It was entirely ridiculous, and not in a funny way.
Though Mr. Darcy was kind, and good friends with Uncle Phillip, she found him rather formal, so she tried to be careful when she spoke to Georgie.
She would not wish to shock all her aunt and uncle’s acquaintance, and she greatly anticipated her visits with Georgiana.
As they released one another, Elizabeth offered a few of her less outlandish questions.
“I have asked why boys learn Latin and Greek while girls learn French and Italian. French seems more practical, does it not?” Georgiana nodded.
“Or why I must do needlework when I have no aptitude for it?” Elizabeth was certain she saw a tiny smile on Miss Coulter’s lips.
“Tell the truth, Georgie--your embroidery already surpasses my own.”
The girl smiled shyly. “Miss Coulter is an excellent teacher.” She glanced at Elizabeth askance. “My Aunt Catherine would say you must practice more.”
“Shh!” Elizabeth whispered with urgency and placed a finger delicately on Georgiana’s lips. “Do not let Aunt Olivia hear you say that.”
Georgiana giggled. “Very well.”
Elizabeth’s eyes sought out the ceiling as she thought of another question.
“Why may I not learn to cook? It seems a useful skill. Or… why may I not ride to see my friend Georgiana every day without fail?” she asked innocently, before adding, “astride?” Her face was so serious that Georgiana clearly believed her for a moment, descending into merriment only when Elizabeth could no longer restrain her smile.
“You are brave to ask those questions, Lizzy,” Georgiana said admiringly.
“Not a bit of it, Georgie,” Elizabeth said, becoming serious.
“I have always had more questions than answers, but my aunt has taught me that it is essential to ask them, so that we can better understand what is happening around us.” She took Georgiana’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Your father has your best interests at heart. Yet when something does not make sense to you, you should ask why.” She suddenly remembered the presence of Miss Coulter, and added, “Politely, of course.”
“I will remember,” Georgiana replied, her eyes shining with an esteem that embarrassed Elizabeth. From behind them, Miss Coulter cleared her throat, indicating that it was time for this line of conversation to come to an end, and Elizabeth turned back to the music.
“Now, my dear,” she said sternly, though her eyes twinkled, “let us choose our duet.”
Georgiana spread her music sheets out like a fan and selected one near the end. “This one,” she declared.
“You do like the challenging pieces, Georgiana,” Elizabeth said with a sigh.
“My brother likes to hear them when he is home,” the girl said almost apologetically. “We may select something else.”
“Never mind,” Elizabeth assured her, “Aunt would say it is good for me.” She picked the sheets up and began to peruse them. “Your brother is not very often at home, is he?” Elizabeth asked, but it was more a statement than a question.
“No, he is away to school, as is my cousin Richard,” Georgiana said mischievously. “They like it.”
“I am done,” Elizabeth cried, tossing her arms out wide. “I am beset!” She winked at Georgiana, and then gave the music she held a slight shake. “Shall we begin?”
Georgiana hesitated. Elizabeth had mostly worn away her friend’s reserve over the past few years, though it did reassert itself from time to time.
“Is there something else you wish to do, Georgie?” she asked, content with Georgiana’s company no matter their occupation.
“Elizabeth,” the girl asked timidly, “It is my father’s birthday soon, and I have a request to make of you…”