Chapter 4 Subsistence
Elizabeth had not been long in her quaint cottage of two rooms before she realised she would need to learn much more than cooking in order to fend for herself. Not much food could be prepared without firewood—nor water.
Her home had a small parcel of land; it contained no trees, but a well had been dug by a previous owner. She would have to enquire whether she would be allowed to gather dry wood from the forest near her cottage once she had discovered who owned it.
Elizabeth walked to the village on the following morning and found a small shop that sold everything one might need—except for meat, which she would have to buy directly from one of the farms if she could ever afford such a luxurious commodity.
Her father and uncle had managed to find a rural, godforsaken place to hide her disgraceful self.
To concoct a story was necessary because the dratted wedding ring was still lodged on her finger.
Everyone who saw it would know she was married and might probe after her husband’s whereabouts.
She could not dye her clothes black because of the simple truth that she could not afford to buy new ones when her fraudulent mourning period supposedly ended.
Therefore, she referred to her husband as missing rather than dead.
It was not a lie despite the fact that his whereabouts were known to her—he was essentially missing from her life.
What she had not anticipated were the looks of pity she received from asserting her husband was missing. People leapt to the conclusion that he was a soldier—a misconception she chose not to contradict.
It was fortunate Elizabeth rarely had business in the village as prevaricating was not her forte.
She could not afford to buy much and rarely sent any letters.
The latter deprivation was partly an attempt to discourage any from being sent to her as the postage was expensive.
In addition, her father had ordered her not to send any letters directly to Longbourn.
The post office was run by Meryton’s most practised gossip, and letters arriving in Elizabeth’s hand from the wrong part of the country would undoubtedly raise her suspicions.
Elizabeth included the few letters she wrote to her father and sisters inside her aunt Gardiner’s correspondence.
Usually, these were only to Jane with a postscript of consent to read it aloud to her mother and other sisters.
The letters were vague and evasive but truthful.
She divulged as little as possible about herself but deliberately made it look like estate and household matters were taking up much of her time, which could not have been more true—just not in the way it was perceived.
Not that she believed the truth could be concealed for all eternity.
It was to be hoped that it would remain a secret until Kitty and Mary were married and her heart had healed.
She was counting on Jane’s wedded bliss to cloud her mind for the duration; Elizabeth had not noticed the world at large during her short period of delirious felicity.
Inevitably, the day would come when Mr Darcy encountered Mr Bingley in town—if he had not already divulged the sordid tale in a letter.
The latter she doubted due to Mr Darcy’s private nature.
He had been afforded ample opportunity to write to Mr Bingley if he was so inclined, yet nothing had been mentioned in Jane’s letters.
She was more concerned that Mr Bingley’s impulsive nature would send him on an impromptu visit to Pemberley, where he would discover her disgraceful departure.
What would they think of her when they heard of it?
A light-skirt who had cuckolded the husband she had so recently married.
Somehow, she could not imagine Jane ever thinking ill of her, but Mr Bingley was Mr Darcy’s particular friend.
Elizabeth counted herself lucky when the owner of the woods allowed her to gather what fuel she needed.
She had scarcely any money to offer as payment, but the landlord, a widower, had a daughter.
With no mother to teach the girl, Elizabeth was hired to do her hair for special occasions and teach her to play the pianoforte in exchange for the wood.
It was an advantageous arrangement for both parties.
There were few sources of entertainment in their small community, but sometimes Elizabeth was invited to stay for tea, which saved her the cost of a meal.
Spring arrived with sunny weather and warmer days, but planting her vegetable garden was exhausting work, especially for someone not used to physical labour. She was glad she had spent most of her childhood out of doors or she would not have managed.
A new development was the necessity to hire a maid for at least a certain period in the late summer, but the wage she could spare was so meagre that she hesitated to make enquiries.
Elizabeth was grateful for the seeds her father had given her to grow her own food. She had even bought three chickens, adding eggs to her bread and porridge diet until the produce she had sown was ready to harvest. The mere thought of fresh vegetables made her mouth water.
Sugar was another commodity she could ill afford, so she tapped birch trees of their sap and carefully boiled it down to a syrup, but it burnt easily.
Elizabeth guarded the pot vigilantly until she managed to produce a couple of jars’ worth of the sweet liquid.
If only she could have spared five or six shillings on the cheapest grade of tea.
But it could not be helped, and there was no use crying over spilt milk.
It would have to suffice that porridge tasted much better with added sweetness.
#
Netherfield, April 1813
“The Darcys are in town. Caroline spotted Mr Darcy escorting his sister to Madame Clarissa’s yesterday. Perhaps we should pay them a visit when you are feeling better, dear,” Charles Bingley informed his wife with concern she might become too exhilarated about the tidbit.
“Yes, I would be delighted to see Lizzy again. I have not written to her about our blissful news but saved it until I can see her face when I tell her.” Jane smiled with a dreamy expression that turned into a sweet frown.
“It must have been an impromptu journey because Lizzy did not mention it in her last letter. I hope it is not another emergency, like the one that sent them with due haste to London just before Christmas.”
“I doubt it. Darcy mentioned nothing untoward in his letter,” Bingley replied, aiming to assuage his wife’s concern.
“Your sister has thrown the entire house into chaos with her renovations. Even his study has changed location. Not that he was complaining. Darcy has expressed only happiness in regard to the modifications. Marriage must agree with him.”
“Well, that explains why Lizzy’s letters are full of tasks she must accomplish.
She is secretive about what exactly she is doing, though.
I was beginning to grow concerned that she was feeling overwhelmed by the management of such a great estate, but making improvements is a pleasant occupation.
They must still be working on it since she has yet to invite us to visit this summer as we agreed upon at our wedding.
She must be planning to surprise us. We must school our features when we arrive at Pemberley and not divulge that we already know! ”
“That will be no hardship. Pemberley is such a magnificent estate, we are sure to be dumbfounded for the first week and a half.”
Jane laughed and kissed her husband lightly on the cheek.
“I cannot wait to witness the splendour of my sister’s home.”