Chapter 3
On the day of Thomas Bennet’s arrival, the whole house was in happy chaos.
They expected him in the afternoon, but a constant frenzy from room to room began as soon as breakfast was over.
The sisters exchanged ribbons and pieces of jewellery, each wishing to look her best. When the carriage approached the gates, they were so excited that parents and daughters alike ran down the main staircase to receive their guest.
In the last few days, there had been endless speculation about how their uncle might look.
From an elderly man supported by a footman to an energetic adventurer, every possibility had been considered.
In a way, they were not surprised by the slender gentleman with white whiskers who sprang from the carriage as soon as it stopped before the house.
What they did not expect was his extraordinary resemblance to Mr Bennet.
Their father and husband was a younger version of Uncle Thomas, though the older gentleman bore all the marks of an outdoor life.
He was tanned and moved with an ease that immediately charmed his family.
Having spent so many years away from England, he cared little for protocol and threw his arms around Mr Bennet.
“Edward!”
The family stared in astonishment. Nobody ever called their father Edward, and even they scarcely remembered his Christian name.
The intrepid uncle then embraced their mother. “Jenny, you are even more beautiful than my nephew described you!”
And they all witnessed an unexpected sight: Mrs Bennet blushing like a young girl, plainly delighted.
Then the exuberant gentleman paused to admire the five girls lined up to receive him, ready to curtsey but wondering whether Uncle Thomas intended to embrace them as well.
Instead, he stopped before them and smiled.
“I do not want you to tell me who you are. I want to guess and discover whether your father is a good storyteller.”
Without hesitation, he turned towards Jane. “You are Jane!”
Jane curtsied with a blush. Then he recognised Elizabeth. “Your father calls you Lizzy, but I shall call you Elizabeth, for it is a queen’s name.”
Looking next at Mary, he exclaimed with delight, “You are Mary Bennet!”
To everyone’s surprise, the timid girl looked up at the gentleman and spoke with growing courage.
“How can you tell, Uncle Thomas?”
The gentleman laughed kindly. “From your spectacles, young lady!” and Mary laughed too, delighted. It was so rare that anybody noticed her.
But it was not over. There still remained Kitty and Lydia.
“And who am I, Uncle Thomas?” Lydia asked with her usual aplomb.
“You are Lydia!” he said, and she clapped her hands in wonder.
“How did you know?”
“Because you put your hand upon your hip,” he replied, then turned to Kitty and bowed. “And last, though certainly not least, you are Catherine!”
Pleased to hear her full name, which was rarely used, Kitty blushed and performed a perfect curtsey.
“Now, sir, please let me lead you to your apartment,” Mrs Bennet said, and no one could have suspected that only two months earlier she had opposed Uncle Thomas’s arrival.
“Apartment?” he asked in surprise. “When I left Longbourn, it did not have an apartment. I even imagined that one of these enchanting young ladies might be obliged to surrender her room. Do not worry, I would never have permitted such a thing!” he added, addressing Elizabeth and Jane, who walked beside him, whilst Mrs Bennet and the younger girls were ahead.
“You remembered correctly, sir. We built this apartment for you!” Mrs Bennet said.
It was a generous use of the word ‘we,’ which comfortably included herself.
Mr Bennet, the last in the procession, merely smiled; it mattered little who had built the apartment now that it stood ready to receive its occupant.
Thomas Bennet entered his new parlour alone whilst the rest of the family waited outside, excited and a little anxious. Would he like their work? The question occupied every mind.
But then he turned and, bowing to his family, cried, “I am stunned, shocked, enchanted!” All the worries they had entertained concerning their uncle’s presence vanished instantly.
He looked around on and on with visible pleasure, his green eyes bright with interest. His delight was genuine, and he appreciated with all his heart what they had done for him.
Then, with the air of a host rather than a guest, he invited them into the apartment.
“I have brought only one man with me,” he said as his servant entered carrying the first trunk, assisted by Longbourn’s footman. “This is Tom.”
When the man set down the trunk, he attempted a very clumsy bow. He had plainly never bowed before in his life and had learned the gesture solely for their benefit. Not particularly tall but strongly built, he had fair hair that immediately attracted the attention of the housemaids.
“Tom has accompanied me throughout the last four-and-twenty years in Africa, and it was entirely his own decision to come to England. I warned him about the cold rain and even the snow, but he wished to see such marvels for himself. His Dutch ancestors settled at Cape Town in 1652, though the family fortunes were lost long before he was born. I found him living amongst the Fulani people when he was sixteen, and he has never left me since. He is more son than servant, though I assure you he works very hard.”
As Thomas noticed a shadow of concern upon Mrs Bennet’s face, he continued.
“You need not worry. He is accustomed to sleeping near my chamber and will make a bed for himself in the parlour. Your servants need not trouble themselves on my account. Besides, his principal occupation will be in the stables.”
Mr Bennet smiled. “I fear, Uncle Thomas, that we possess only a rather small stable.”
Again, Thomas detected concern in Mrs Bennet’s expression, so he added in haste yet in a weary voice. “We have no wish to disturb your life. Please believe me, madam. Before long, you will scarcely know we are here.”
“It is not what we want,” said Elizabeth firmly, though with a smile, having also noticed her mother’s hesitation. “We invited you here because we wished you near us, and you are most welcome to do exactly as you please.”
“Yes, Uncle Thomas, Lizzy is perfectly right. We are delighted to have you amongst us. If a larger stable becomes necessary, we shall build one,” Mr Bennet said.
“The stables are the only place where I shall interfere,” Thomas declared cheerfully. “These young ladies shall have horses to ride.”
“Thank you!” Lydia cried. “We rarely ride because our horses are nearly always required for work.”
“That shall change, my dear. Tom knows everything there is to know about horses, and before long, four magnificent horses will arrive from Morocco.”
“Now, ladies,” said Mr Bennet, “we shall allow Uncle Thomas some time to rest and become accustomed to his new home.”
The family obeyed, though not without reluctance.
∞∞∞
“I am a little worried,” Mrs Bennet said as she followed her husband into the library, which was a rare occurrence, usually reserved for matters that could not be discussed before their daughters.
“Whatever can concern you, madam?” Mr Bennet asked in the kindest voice he possessed.
“He is certainly very agreeable, and I am glad he has come. Yet he seems likely to introduce so many changes into the household that I do not know how we shall manage his requirements or his servant.”
“He will have very few requirements, you shall see. As for Tom, I am sure we shall find him extremely useful. Our own John is far from being a good groom. Besides, I imagine we shall also benefit from the fine carriage that brought Uncle Thomas here.”
That response answered precisely to one of Mrs Bennet’s biggest concerns. Lately, she had often complained about the deficiencies of their carriage, and every journey to London was accompanied by fears of accidents and broken wheels.
“Do you think he will allow us to borrow it?” she asked hopefully, remembering the handsome and spacious vehicle that had brought Uncle Thomas from London.
“Of course. Did you not hear what he said about the girls riding? I am sure he feels exactly the same regarding the carriage.”
They sat in silence for some time. It had been such an unusual day, and it was not yet over.
Just as Mrs Bennet was preparing to leave, there was a quick knock at the door, and Elizabeth burst into the library.
She was a frequent visitor in the afternoons and often spent long hours talking with her father, but this time the subject was different.
She began speaking before the door had even closed behind her, with an excitement that made both her parents smile.
“He is wonderful,” she declared. “I am so happy about our decision. Do you think he has brought us anything?”
The astonishment of her parents was evident. Of all five daughters, Elizabeth was the least interested in gifts, fashion, or even money.
“No,” she continued, seeing their expressions. “I am not talking about ordinary presents. I mean things from Africa, from those Fulani people, their native objects. I should love to see the world and be like him.”
Though she sat in a room at Longbourn, her thoughts were already far away amongst the people she longed to know.
“How do you know about them?” her mother asked.
“I have read travellers’ memoirs. Ibn Battuta and others who travelled through that part of the world.”
Mr Bennet nodded with pleasure at his daughter’s knowledge. “Then I am certain we shall learn much more from Uncle Thomas.”
“Perhaps they are dangerous people,” Mrs Bennet said uneasily.
“How can you say such a thing, Mama? They are people like us. Have we not spent decades fighting wars throughout Europe?”
“I have no interest in this kind of conversation,” Mrs Bennet replied and rose to attend to her duties. “I only hope he has not brought any frightening pieces of savage art like those I once saw in a London shop. I am perfectly satisfied with our present decorations.”
“I would leave for Africa tomorrow if Uncle Thomas invited me,” declared Elizabeth, her imagination already ranging over its vast and distant landscapes.
“I do not doubt it,” said Mr Bennet. “But I doubt very much whether Uncle Thomas intends ever to return there. I have a feeling that he has come home for good. We are the last adventure of his life.”
Elizabeth laughed. “What possible adventure can he find in Meryton?”
“For him, it is an adventure. He has spent years amongst people whose habits and customs differ entirely from our own. He has probably not bowed in years, and Tom perhaps never has.”
“Yes, perhaps you are right. It does seem strange that anyone should leave such a life to return to cold and rather dull England.”
Mr Bennet smiled. “England appears dull to you because you possess something of the same spirit. The love of adventure clearly runs in the Bennet family. As for Uncle Thomas, our quiet life represents a change every bit as great as those he has already experienced. Perhaps he wishes for precisely what he has found here: a family and friends. Nobody compelled him to come. The choice was entirely his own.”