Chapter 12
WHERE ELIZABETH AND MRS GARDINER BOTH TELL STORIES.
Though it had been many years since Mr Bennet’s daughters had need of a nursery, Longbourn’s was in excellent condition.
Over the past several weeks the floors were scrubbed spotless by servants, the carpets beaten, the walls painted, the curtains mended, and the beds made up with fresh linens and goose down pillows.
Presently, the door to the apartment stood ajar. Just inside, the incandescent glow of flickering candlelight cast long, animated shadows on the walls.
Seated upon one of the beds with the littlest Gardiner nestled on her lap, sat Elizabeth.
A blazing fire had been lit in the grate hours before to chase away the night-time chill.
Its crackling flames were gay and pleasant, creating a cosiness that had invited the Gardiners’ two eldest children to climb onto the bed and settle themselves at their cousin’s feet.
“What happens next, Cousin Lizzy?” the eldest girl asked.
Her dark eyes sparkled with excitement as she leaned forward in anticipation of what Elizabeth would next relate.
Long chestnut curls tumbled past her shoulders in charming disarray.
Impatient, the girl pushed them aside. Emily Gardiner, at seven years old, looked much like Elizabeth had at that age, an observation often remarked upon by their parents.
The toddler on Elizabeth’s lap twisted in her embrace so she could better see her cousin.
Her eyes were dark like her sister’s, but where Emily’s gaze was open and expectant, Rosalie’s was sleepy and serious.
“Pease, Issy?” she said as she twirled a lock of Elizabeth’s hair between her plump little fingers.
“Very well, then,” Elizabeth continued with an affectionate smile. “Without so much as another word, the prince placed the maiden upon his great white steed and whisked her away to his magnificent castle in the far north, where they lived happily ever after.”
Ten-year-old Robert frowned. “That was an exciting story,” he proclaimed, “but hardly likely, I think.”
Emily nodded, then bit her lip. “Cousin Lizzy, why would the maiden ever agree to marry the prince after he was so rude to her? How could she ever have come to love him?”
Elizabeth extended her hand, grasped Emily’s, and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Dearest,” she said kindly, “the maiden was as wrong about the prince as the prince had been about her. She had grossly misjudged his character because of one thoughtless comment he had made at the beginning of their acquaintance, and she believed the tale of untruth told by the charming Black Knight. She did not take the trouble to get to know the prince herself, and so in the end the maiden suffered for her prejudice just as much as the prince.”
Emily took a moment to consider her cousin’s words.
“So, the maiden would have liked the prince to begin with if he had not been rude to her. She should never have listened to the Black Knight, for he was full of gossip and lies about the prince and turned out to be a wicked ogre.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“And the prince,” said Robert to his sister, “was not mean-spirited at heart, only irritable because he bore the burden of so many responsibilities on his shoulders.”
“I believe you both have the right of it,” said Elizabeth.
“And I believe it is now well past your bedtimes,” said Mrs Gardiner as she entered the room.
“Mamma!” the children sang, their faces bright; all except for little Rosalie, who was asleep in Elizabeth’s arms.
“Hello, my darlings. Did you enjoy your story?”
“Oh, yes,” Emily said, grinning happily. “Cousin Lizzy tells us the most wonderful stories.”
“She does,” Robert agreed, “even though they could never, ever happen. A maiden could never really slay a dragon, you know, Mamma.”
Laughing, Mrs Gardiner glanced at her niece with a raised brow.
“I believe it would depend upon the type of dragon in question, Robert. How often has your father told you it is never wise to underestimate anyone’s abilities based upon what society in general tells us?
You must consider all the facts before forming your own opinion, no matter how fanciful the situation at hand may seem.
Now, thank Elizabeth for sharing such an exciting story with you. ”
They thanked her enthusiastically and settled into their beds, arranging their counterpanes snugly around them.
Elizabeth handed the sleeping babe to her aunt and kissed Robert and Emily goodnight.
“Perhaps after breakfast I might be able to tell you another story, if your Aunt Bennet allows it. There are still a great many things to do for Jane’s wedding, but we shall see what the day brings.
Goodnight now. May you have only the sweetest dreams.”
“Goodnight, Cousin Lizzy,” they said in unison, stifling their yawns. “Goodnight, Mamma.”
“Goodnight, my loves,” Mrs Gardiner replied as she tucked her youngest into bed and pulled the counterpane to her chin. “Sleep well.”
They slipped from the room and Mrs Gardiner closed the door. “You have a natural way with children, Lizzy, and mine are so attached to you. They have talked of nothing else for the past fortnight, you know, but seeing you and Jane.”
Elizabeth smiled as they made their way down the hall, their arms linked companionably. “I assure you the feeling is mutual. I am equally attached to them.”
“You have always possessed a talent for spinning interesting tales. I very much enjoyed what I heard tonight. It carried an important lesson, which the children were able to grasp with minimal encouragement, I might add.”
“Each time I see my young cousins I am further impressed by their powers of perception. They go about solving problems and analysing facts in such a rational, insightful manner, especially Robert. Though Emily is equally bright, her temperament is far more passionate. She does not hesitate to speak her mind, but neither does she appear to fully consider the consequences of her words. I do not mean to imply that she is rash or unfeeling, only that she has very decided opinions for one so young, and no qualms whatsoever about expressing them wholeheartedly.”
The corners of Mrs Gardiner’s mouth lifted with a smile.
“Indeed. In this, as in so many ways, she is much like you were at her age. However, I suspect that Emily will learn to curb her enthusiasm in due time before much harm can come of it. She has a wonderful example by you, Lizzy, and if you were to guide her, I am sure she would do all in her power to emulate your restraint.”
Though she ought to have been gratified by her aunt’s words, Elizabeth felt anything but pride.
“I thank you, Aunt, but I hardly deserve such praise, especially considering the story I shared with the children this evening. You, more than anyone, must know how ashamed and regretful I am for what I have done.”
Her aunt steered her towards a small, curtained alcove at the end of the corridor that would afford them some privacy.
“I am afraid I do not understand you, my dear. What have you done that would cause you to feel shame? I can think of nothing. The tale you told was captivating, not to mention it brought to the fore a wonderful lesson in humility. There is no shame in that.”
“I was not referring to the tale itself, but to the circumstances that brought about such a story in the first place. The awful accusations I made…even as I thought them, I knew I should have kept my remarks to myself, but I did no such thing. I was so angry that I ended up saying such terrible, hateful things! I was very wrong and can never take any of it back.”
“Elizabeth,” said Mrs Gardiner in confusion and alarm, “whatever are you talking about?”
“Surely, you of all people, cannot possibly claim ignorance of the matter—not when you are acquainted with so many of the particulars.”
But it soon became evident by the puzzled expression upon Mrs Gardiner’s face that she did not, in fact, have any understanding of the matter. She repeated the sentiment to her niece, who stared at her in disbelief.
“Aunt, you must recall how I wrongfully misjudged two very different men in the span of only a handful of months. My behaviour towards Mr Darcy was particularly shameful and it distresses me, now more than ever. I cannot think of my prejudice against him or my unjust actions without experiencing the acutest mortification, nor can I consider the value of what I have truly lost without feeling the deepest regret and remorse.”
“Lizzy, do you mean to say the tale you wove for the children is an account of your history with Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham?”
Elizabeth’s cheeks flamed. “I ought not to have done it, I know, but it is too late at this point to take it back. Indeed, it is too late to take back any of my past actions.”
“I had no idea,” Mrs Gardiner admitted. “But how can this be? I was under the impression that you and Mr Darcy had since put your differences of opinion behind you. I thought you were friends.”
“To an extent I suppose we are. On several occasions, Mr Darcy has not only graciously overlooked my impudent behaviour but treated me with more kindness and consideration than I deserve. While I have since forgiven him his offences, I cannot so easily forgive myself my own. There is nothing in my conduct during the entire course of our acquaintance of which I can approve. I was na?ve and foolish to ever believe Mr Wickham and his gross misrepresentation, not only of himself, but of Mr Darcy’s character. ”
“That is indeed most unfortunate,” Mrs Gardiner agreed, “but not entirely your fault. You knew nothing of the actual particulars, only what Mr Wickham claimed and what Mr Darcy would not refute. You knew nothing of either man’s true nature—”