Prologue #3
Goodness, what delightful children they were!
Goulding knew his strength would wane. Every return of his disease weakened him further, though it would be gradual and take many years for it to kill him, according to Meryton’s apothecary Mr Jones, who had made a study of it.
Even so, he vowed to himself that he would quietly protect his friend’s daughters and make certain they were safe.
Longbourn was a vision of Festive Season excess.
Every surface that could hold a branch of holly or an evergreen bough was covered, mistletoe was hung over every threshold, and the table groaned under the weight of the Christmas dinner.
There was no escaping the din of happy, noisy conversation or carols being sung.
Goulding had planned to spend the day alone and almost turned down his friend’s invitation, though he had often shared holidays with the Bennets and other nearby families in the past.
The lively Bennets had, in keeping with their tradition, welcomed their Gardiner relations as houseguests for the season. The two eldest Gardiner children were allowed to take their dinner with the adults. Even with all the leaves put in place, the long table was crammed.
“You must sit here, Mr Goulding.” Mrs Bennet indicated the chair to her right. “You are our honoured guest.” She leant over and added quietly, “It is easier to leave the table from here if you need to rest.”
“Thank you, Mrs Bennet. I will try to do justice to this marvellous banquet.” He swept his arm towards the table. He would make an effort to eat a small portion of almost every dish presented to him.
On such occasions, Bennet always kindly asked him to say the grace, which reminded him of his long-ago life as a clergyman, a life he had loved.
To his prayer Goulding added his own silent gratitude.
He was glad he had come. He had agreed because he did not know how many more Christmas dinners he would be able to share with his friends and neighbours.
The conversation, he thought, was well worth it.
Mr and Mrs Gardiner sat to the right and left of Mr Bennet at the far end of the table, so Goulding had the pleasure of conversing with Fanny and her two eldest daughters.
Mary, Kitty, and Lydia kept the children entertained, though the youngest Bennet daughter kept her face turned away from him.
Apparently, years later, she was still holding a grudge.
After the table had been cleared, the adults removed to the drawing room while the children bundled up and played outdoors.
Mr Gardiner sat next to him. “I must express my condolences to you on the deaths of your cousins. Madeline and I were very sorry to hear of their accident,” he said quietly.
“Thank you. I did not know my heir well, as he lived in Lancashire. They were my guests at Haye-Park on a few occasions over the years, and we corresponded. He was a good man, and the boy was a delightful child, and almost grown. He was my second cousin, once removed. They both perished when their carriage overturned on an icy road.”
“That is too bad!” gasped Jane. “Now you must search for any more distant relations?”
“Yes, Mr Philips will be conducting a search once Christmastide has done. We will have to go back another generation in order to begin our search. I have the family Bible, and we will use it to trace the names.”
The room was silent for longer than was comfortable.
“Mr Goulding, would you enjoy a game? Shall we play cards?” Elizabeth asked. He smiled looking at her. She had grown into a lovely, gracious young woman.
Whist was decided upon, and Elizabeth and Jane would play, along with Mr Gardiner. The four moved to a card table that had been set up in the far corner of the room.
“I cannot remember the last time I played whist!” Goulding said as they all drew cards. “Gardiner, it looks as though we will partner against these two young gamesters.” They all laughed, and Goulding looked over his cards. He was feeling relatively well, but he knew fatigue would set in soon.
They focused on their game, though they could still hear snatches of the conversation. Mrs Bennet had returned to her obsessive concern over when Mr Bingley would return. Her shrill voice carried across the room.
Jane tensed but kept her eyes on her cards. “Oh, would that Mama had more command over herself! I must tell her every day that his regard for me was of a transient nature!” she said to her sister under her breath. Just then, her father’s voice carried over his wife’s.
“No, Mrs Bennet, we must congratulate Jane. A girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then! It is something to think of, and gives her a sort of distinction among her companions.”
Jane went as pale as paper, her head bowed lower, and a single tear fell on her cards. Her three companions gaped at each other in disbelief. Mrs Gardiner also stared at them from across the room, appearing shocked as her hosts droned on.
“Jane, you will come with us to London.” Mr Gardiner put his hand on Jane’s. “Stay as long as it pleases you. We will not leave you here to listen to this every day.” His voice was quiet, but there was steel in it.
“Yes, Jane, you must go,” urged Elizabeth.
“Mama will constantly plague you for refusing Mr Collins,” Jane argued.
“I can bear it,” Elizabeth said stoutly. “I can sit in Papa’s study, since he supported me in my refusal.”
Goulding could not remain silent in the face of his godchild’s obvious discomfort.
“Elizabeth, you understand that you and your sisters are welcome to visit my home at any time. I have recently come across a book that Mary might like, and Mrs Neeson found some old watercolours in the attic for Kitty.”
Elizabeth thanked him, and the two girls excused themselves so Jane could wipe away her tears and compose herself.
“Good Lord!” Mr Gardiner said in a low voice. “I have to wonder if Fanny frightened that Bingley fellow away with her blatant pushing. Tom does not help with that attitude of his. It is as if they both actually intend to frighten young men away.”
Elizabeth returned and joined their conversation. “It is my belief that Mr Bingley intended to return and would have, but his sisters and that abominable Mr Darcy kept him from returning.”
Mr Darcy, eh? Goulding did not make an answer to that, but he reflected that his own experience with Mr Darcy had been the opposite of abominable.
“And Lydia?” queried Mr Gardiner, returning to Goulding’s earlier invitation. “I have noticed over recent years that she does not have much to do with you.”
Goulding chuckled. “I scolded her once.” He leant in and spoke quietly.
“I do not hold with society’s custom that a single man cannot extend hospitality, at least among long-time friends.
From time to time, when my health allowed it, I invited the Bennet family to my home for dinner.
On one occasion, Lydia was eight or nine years of age, though from her behaviour one might have guessed she was four or five.
We were sitting in the drawing room before dinner was announced, and Lydia became impatient.
” He shook his head. “She cannot entertain herself, as you know. She took from a shelf a glass ornament, one that had been a favourite of my mother, all the while watching her parents as if daring them to reprimand her. Fanny tried to placate her as she always does, telling her she would get an extra treat if she set the ornament down. Tom laughed at the entire situation. Finally, I rebuked her and told her that she must not behave as though she were a baby. Then I took the ornament from her hand because it looked as though she might throw it at me.”
He paused. “We managed to get through dinner, but it was an awkward meal. Since then, Lydia has not come to my home, though every other member of the family does. I confess that I find more enjoyment spending time with the Bennet family without her. I find much to appreciate in each of her sisters and especially my goddaughter.”
Goulding raised his wine glass towards Elizabeth and her uncle, and they each raised their glasses to him.
“A toast to our friends, and a happy Christmas to us all,” said Mr Gardiner, and the three clinked their glasses together.