Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
The older gentleman reached for the letter, and Elizabeth put it in his hand. They sat in silence as he read it once, then again. Finally, he handed it back to her.
Mr Goulding met her eye seriously. “I do not think he wrote the letter because he wanted to prove you wrong. He trusted you with his deepest secrets. The ending is charity itself. He wrote it because he could not bear the thought that even if you were lost to him, you were somewhere out in the world thinking badly of him. Truly, child, I believe he still loves you.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught. This was certainly unexpected. She felt a giddy wave of something like hope but quickly suppressed the emotion. Surely her godfather was prejudiced in her favour.
He reached for his tea and took a sip. “Yes, Darcy should never have said those things. I expect he knows that now, weeks later, and regrets it, just as you regret your words to him. You really are two of a kind, Lizzy. Neither one of you likes to be in the wrong.”
Silence reigned for a few minutes.
“Are there many such dreadful offers of marriage or is it something about me?” Elizabeth asked in a small voice.
Mr Goulding’s tone was gentle. “I cannot say why Mr Collins’s offer was as insulting as you described it, but my impression of him is of one who believes himself quite superior to others.
Mr Darcy…” He sighed. “I perceived him to be a very good man, and it is my opinion that he will learn, if he has not already, how important it is to please a woman worthy of being pleased.”
One corner of Elizabeth’s mouth turned up. “Thank you, sir, but I know you are biased in my favour. Mr Darcy was correct in his assessment of my family’s public behaviour. His description was very apt. I can no longer accept it as I always have.”
“Do you remember when your mother tried to force Jane to come out at age fifteen?” he asked. “Do you understand why she wanted to do that?”
Elizabeth wanted to say that her mother was very foolish, but Mr Goulding anticipated her.
“It was indeed a foolish idea, but it was an idea born out of fear. You do realise that now?”
Elizabeth, her eyes downcast, nodded. “I do. My father is just as much a part of the problem as my mother. He has treated her as either an amusement or an annoyance, when he should have helped her feel secure.”
“As a young lady, Mrs Bennet was not anything like she is now. She was perhaps a bit silly, and her understanding was limited, but she was not so nervous and excitable. She is trying to keep her daughters safe in the only way she knows how. Try to remember that, Lizzy, when she is at her worst.”
“I will.”
Mr Goulding took a bite of his cake but then slowly sagged in his chair.
Elizabeth rose and reached to help him as Reese hurried over. “Oh, you are exhausted! I should not have taken up so much of your time!”
“I would not have missed our conversation for the world. Reese will tuck me back into bed, and I will sleep. Do not stop visiting me because you fear it will do me harm. Let your father and mother know that as well. I have not chatted over a game with your father for quite some time.”
“Thank you. I need your wise counsel and will visit whenever I am able. Rest well!” Elizabeth said, then she turned away. Annie saw her back to the kitchen where Mrs Neeson handed her the basket.
“It will not be long now, will it, Mrs Neeson?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears.
Mrs Neeson, with the familiarity of one who had known her since her childhood, put her arm around Elizabeth and gave her a squeeze. “No, it will not. If you will, please inform your family and others that it will soon be time for them to pay their respects and say their goodbyes.”
Elizabeth wiped her eyes and realised that she was still holding Mr Goulding’s handkerchief.
“Keep it, child. He has many others.”
She bade goodbye to the housekeeper, who closed the door behind her. She decided to stop at the Lucases’ and let them know, and then she would tell her father.
As she left the gardens and turned into the lane, she encountered Mrs Hargrove, wife of Haye-Park’s steward.
“Miss Bennet, you walk alone here?” she questioned abruptly. There was something challenging in her manner that made Elizabeth feel defensive.
Determined to display her best manners, she curtseyed to the older woman.
“I have brought some items from our stillroom for Mrs Neeson, and there was no one of my family available to accompany me. Mrs Neeson needed them today. So now I have given them to her and am returning to my home.” She curtseyed once more and wished Mrs Hargrove a pleasant day, telling herself that everything she said was true. She had not lied.
Over the next weeks, Goulding began receiving quiet, careful visits from his friends, as well as the rector and the apothecary; he imagined that it was likely due to Lizzy alerting his neighbours to his rapidly deteriorating condition.
He took great comfort in it, reminded that even though they lived busy lives, they cared for him and had not forgotten him.
He was able to reminisce, laughing again at old jokes and stories, gossip about playfellows, and companions long gone.
Those who had known him as children spent time with him, and those who had children of their own brought them to wave at him through the window.
Propped up in bed, Goulding rallied enough to play backgammon with Mr Bennet on a few occasions. “Your four eldest daughters were here yesterday, Bennet. Jane and Lizzy sang quite prettily for me in fact. Lydia does not visit. The child knows how to hold a grudge.”
“Lydia has gone to Brighton as the guest of Mrs Forster,” Bennet said, sipping his drink.
“Lizzy advised against it most vociferously, and Kitty wept for days. Yet I allowed her to go. I would have had to endure Fanny and Lydia’s lamentations over broken hearts and sea-bathing all summer. I need my peace.”
Goulding was disappointed but not surprised.
His old friend would make his choices depending upon what was the least troublesome to himself.
Lydia should have been taken in hand as a child, yet Fanny had spoilt and placated her, and Bennet had ignored or laughed at them both.
Goulding did not like to contemplate the many ways the girl could ruin herself and take her sisters down with her.
But he would not remonstrate with Bennet. It was far too late for that.
As if he could sense the disapproval, Bennet continued.
“I suppose you were correct years ago when you spoke of investing. One would think that among five children, at least one of them would have been a son. My daughters seem to be unlucky in love, but I do not know if dowries would have made any difference. Bingley broke Jane’s heart, and while Lizzy deserves better than Collins, she has not attracted any suitors.
I regret it, but nothing can be done about it now. ”
“Oh.” Goulding smiled to himself. “Something will come along.” He would see to their safety, and he would wager that at least one of the suitors from Netherfield would return.
“Do you not think June the best month of the year for a birthday?” said Elizabeth with a grin. She took a big bite of her cake.
Jane laughed. “I prefer September which is the most beautiful month.”
“Then it is a good thing your birthday is in September.”
“Do you feel any different now that you are of age? More grown up, perhaps?” teased Mr Goulding from the chaise longue, where he reclined on pillows, tucked under a quilt. They were in his sitting room.
Elizabeth was silent for a few moments, then sighed and said, “No. I would like to think of myself as an adult, but I am living the same life as I have for several years. My life is no different than when I was seventeen.”
Jane nodded. “I agree, Lizzy. There are times when I would like to have more responsibilities. Something to do that would make me feel that I have made some sort of progress in my life.” Her voice was wistful.
Mr Goulding seemed to be having trouble keeping his eyes open, but he nodded slightly. “I believe I understand.” He yawned. “Perhaps we will need to put our heads together…and think…something.” He was asleep.
“Oh, poor man,” said Jane softly. “I will call Mr Reese.” She left the room.
Elizabeth regarded her beloved godfather, and a lump formed in her throat. She knew any visit with him could be her last.
He was rarely awake now. Mr Jones was of the opinion that his sleep would deepen into a coma, and he would quietly slip away.