Prologue #2
“Mama did not let my little brothers come because they were all dirty,” said Maria.
“Lydia could not come with us because she has been naughty and must stay in the nursery,” Elizabeth informed him, “and Mama is teaching Jane about keeping house.”
“Is that so? That is indeed important to learn.” Goulding nodded seriously. “And how have the rest of you been occupying yourselves?”
As the girls began describing their days, Goulding smiled, enjoying the descriptions of dolls being played with, books being read, and games being played.
They added accounts of their duties around the house and what they were learning in their lessons with their fathers and the practical chores from their mothers.
Elizabeth related what she had seen on her walks and what was growing in the garden.
He noted that the Bennets did not mention their eldest sister’s name.
“Does not Jane still play with you and your friends?”
“Mama does not let Jane play anymore,” said Mary.
“She does not let her play? Whyever not?”
“Jane is too old to play. She is supposed to save us,” stated Kitty matter-of-factly. “From the hedgerows.”
Goulding glanced at Elizabeth and saw her troubled face. What was going on?
“Ladies, while we wait for our treats, perhaps you might have a peek behind the lilac bushes. Annie tells me there are baby rabbits there.”
The four younger girls scurried off to the far corner of the garden as he beckoned to the eldest.
“Now, Lizzy, what is all this about Jane and the hedgerows?”
Elizabeth sighed. “Mama is preparing Jane to come out next year when she is fifteen. She wants Jane to find a husband. Mama does not let her come with us to see our friends. She does not let Jane read her books or take lessons with Papa anymore, because rich gentlemen do not want a bluestocking.”
“What does your sister think of this?”
“Jane is much afraid of it all, but she will not tell Mama that. She does not want to be out. She is shy and does not want to dance with gentlemen she does not know. She fears that Mama will make her marry someone she does not like and go to live with a strange man. Jane wants to stay at Longbourn with our family.”
Goulding was silent, considering all that Elizabeth said.
He had long ago given up making any suggestion that Bennet plan for his children’s futures, as his suggestions had been either dismissed or badly received.
His efforts had only seemed to annoy Bennet, and he did not want to lose the friendship over the issue.
He could not understand why Bennet was so careless of his daughters’ futures when he had lost his own father to a hunting accident when he was a small boy.
Now that lack of care was harming his friend’s marriage. His childhood playfellows seemed to bring out the worst in each other: Mrs Bennet was a fragile mass of nerves, and Bennet himself was sarcastic and impatient with her.
Goulding knew he should not interfere, yet here was a terrified mother forcing her too-young daughter into a possibly nightmarish situation. What should he do?
He took a deep breath. “Perhaps you might quietly tell your mama that her friends and family will find a place for you all to live, and make sure you have food to eat and clothing to wear and servants to care for you. She must have faith that many people love your family. Your uncles, Mr Philips and Mr Gardiner, will care for you, and as your family’s friend, and your godfather, I will help as well.
Your mother need not ever worry, and she should not force Jane to be out in society until she is ready. ”
Goulding stopped. Would even this provoke Bennet’s ire? “I…if…if you think your mother can keep this to herself, you may tell her. Your father might not like it. He might even be angry with me, and I do not wish to lose his friendship.”
Elizabeth looked into his eyes and nodded sombrely. “I will tell her that we will all be well and that our friends will help us.”
Goulding sighed. A twelve-year-old child should not have to navigate the conflicts of her parents.
He had known Mr and Mrs Bennet since they were all children together.
They had been so happy when they had married, so blissfully optimistic about their future.
He blamed Bennet more for not having saved and planned for his family.
Mrs Bennet did spend too much but had also taken on too much guilt for not bearing a son.
Her husband had not shown her anything in the way of compassion, only thinly veiled mockery that she could not quite understand.
Bennet’s daughters were all precious to Goulding.
They all had marvellous qualities that careful parental attention and proper teaching could bring out in them.
Jane was sweet, patient and loving, and more intelligent than she was given credit for.
He hoped she would grow in strength to deflect Fanny’s nervous impulses.
Mary had a good intellect and a naturally serious temperament but needed guidance and attention.
Kitty was a delicate and imaginative child, given to flights of fancy.
He thought she might have the soul of an artist. Lydia?
The child was a force of nature. If her energy and determination could be harnessed, educated, and well-directed, she could be a formidable force for good.
Elizabeth was special, and not just because she was his godchild. He had witnessed her intellect from her earliest years. She was brave and caring, mischievous and funny, but vulnerable to her strong feelings. The child had a temper, but only when provoked.
Mrs Neeson brought out the tray. He called to the younger girls, and they came skipping back.
“Did you see the rabbits, ladies?”
“We did. The mother rabbit ran away, but we did not touch them. We just looked,” Mary said.
“Then we went away a little distance, and the mother came back,” added Penny.
“That is just as you should have done. Very good, now let us have our treats.” Goulding paused and asked, “If I am to drink my lemonade properly, it will help me to remove the mask I wear. Would you mind if I do so? Do you find my face upsetting?”
The girls agreed that he must take his mask off. When the mask was off, there were no gasps or exclamations of horror. He had terrible scars, but that was how they had always known him. That was one thing Goulding liked about children—their innocent, matter-of-fact curiosity and acceptance.
After the fire, it had taken his burns months to heal. One side of his face was a mass of discoloured fibrous tissue; his scalp was mottled with scars, tufts of hair growing in spots between.
“Does it hurt?” The question came from Kitty. With a biscuit clutched in her small hand, she regarded him with artless concern. Maria, with a mouth full of muffin, watched inquisitively.
“It hurt a great deal when I first was burnt, but no longer, child.”
“Oh,” she said and took a bite of the biscuit. “May I touch your scar?”
“Kitty, you must not ask that. It is not polite,” Elizabeth reprimanded her.
“I do not mind it, Lizzy. It is a good question. You may touch the scars on my hand,” Goulding said, holding out his left hand. All four of the younger girls rose from their seats and touched his hand cautiously with one small finger each.
“They feel smooth, though they look bumpy,” said Mary, peering at his hand with interest.
“Yes,” Goulding said, “and they are paler than the healthy skin next to them.” He was rather charmed by their natural curiosity. He would reward them with the best answers he could make.
“Why do you have scars?” Kitty was persistent.
“I was burnt in a fire.” In for a penny, in for a pound, he reflected. He would tell the whole story.
“Some years ago, I lived in India, in a village near the sea.
My elder brother Malcolm lived here and was the master of this estate.
As the younger brother, I took orders and became a clergyman.
I was a missionary and went to India to work.
I met my wife there; her name was Celia.
We had two children, a boy and a girl. Robert was of an age with John Lucas, and Harriet was two years younger.
“When the children were very small, I became seriously ill, so ill the doctor there thought I might die.
I did not die and was slowly recovering when a cooking fire got out of control and our entire house was set ablaze.
I tried to save my wife and children, but I was too weak and inhaled too much smoke.
I lost consciousness and my family died.
“I was still recovering when I received a letter from our family solicitor. My brother had died of putrid throat, and I was to return to England and take up the responsibility for Haye-Park. There was nothing for me in India anymore, so I came back here, and I have lived here ever since.”
The girls all had tears in their eyes.
“Are you sad?” asked Maria.
This is more difficult than I thought it would be. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I miss them every day, but someday I hope I can join them in Heaven, and we will be together again.”
“Do you think they watch over you? Maybe they can see us,” Mary asked quietly.
“I believe it with all my heart, dear girl,” he replied.
To Goulding’s relief, their conversation turned to other subjects of interest to children, and he heard all the neighbourhood news viewed through a child’s eyes.
When the girls were full of biscuits, muffins, and lemonade, Elizabeth reminded them that they should not stay too long.
Goulding led them out of the garden and back through the house, feeling like a mother duck with ducklings behind.
The girls said their thank yous and performed their curtseys.
As he closed the door, he heard Kitty’s small voice say, “Goodbye, Harriet. Goodbye, Robert. I hope you like Heaven.”