Chapter 5
Gardiners’ House
Cheapside
Evening
Mrs. Gardiner skillfully balanced nicety of taste with practicality.
Unlike most families, she and her husband welcomed their children into the main rooms of the house, and given their tender ages, that required sensible choices.
Drawing room and sitting room alike were arrayed in sensible colors, without a great many breakable objects of either sentimental or monetary value sitting around.
There were, however, plenty of well-cushioned chairs, and settees, and ruffled cushions, and doilies on tables.
Mr. Gardiner had ever admired his wife's skill in designing a room and invariably enjoyed sitting in any room she decorated.
He enjoyed it even more when he was in her company.
Tea would be brought in soon, a light repast before the adults retired to bed.
The household always dined at an unfashionably early hour, so that the children might eat with their parents, rather than being consigned to the nursery for every meal.
Mr. Gardiner enjoyed these family meals but would usually retire to his study directly after dinner to address his work correspondence for the day.
This evening, however, he had been blessed with a light workload, and after the children had been bidden goodnight and gone upstairs with their nurse, he had retired into the sitting room with his precious Madeline.
This was a rare treat, and husband and wife sat side by side on the settee, talking quietly and basking in one another's company.
The door opened suddenly, revealing their maid, Polly, who was looking a trifle flustered, as well as someone entirely unexpected.
“Bennet!” Mr. Gardiner exclaimed, hastily rising to his feet. “Whatever are you doing here?”
Thomas Bennet’s face was set in grim lines of fury and weariness, and he waited only until the door had shut behind the maid before barking, “Where is Elizabeth?”
The couple exchanged shocked, bewildered glances, and Mrs. Gardiner said, “Lizzy? What are you talking about? Why would you think that Elizabeth would be here?”
Bennet’s expression shifted from anger to surprise. He looked around and said, “You … she is not here?”
“No, she is not!” Gardiner said in an alarmed tone. “What on earth is going on, Bennet? What has happened to Lizzy?”
His brother by marriage stared at him, then closed his eyes, wandered over to the fire, and held out his hands to warm them.
“I do not know,” he said dully. “She left early this morning on the stagecoach, which travels through Bonneton. I traced her to The Golden Pelican but nothing more than that. I assumed … I knew … that she had come here. And now you tell me she did not.”
Madeline Gardiner was kind, but she was also sensible, and she knew her niece Elizabeth very well.
“What did you do to her?” she demanded. “What did you do to make her run away?”
He turned toward her, and now there was defiance on his face. “I told her she must marry Mr. Collins, the heir to the estate. She foolishly refused and ran away instead.”
Madeline gasped and turned toward her husband, who looked horrified.
“Mr. Collins?” she asked. “The parson from Kent?”
“How do you know about him?” Bennet demanded.
“Jane and Elizabeth write to me regularly. Jane, who always tries to see the best in everyone, described Mr. Collins as not overly burdened with intelligence and rather inclined to talk too much, but not vicious. Elizabeth declared the man to be stupid, and vacuous, and ridiculously devoted to his patroness in Kent. What were you thinking of trying to force Elizabeth into a marriage with a man like that?”
For a moment, Mr. Bennet had the grace to look ashamed, and then his back straightened, and he said, “With the entail on Longbourn, my wife and daughters will have almost nothing to support them after my death. I am considering them all by ordering Elizabeth to marry Mr. Collins.”
“But your second daughter is incredibly intelligent,” Mr. Gardiner said angrily, “and you wish to chain her to a fool?”
Bennet lifted his chin and said clearly, “I have been chained to a fool for more than twenty years.”
Gardiner stared at his brother-in-law in disgust and said, “I agree that my sister is neither intelligent nor wise, but you chose her. You. Elizabeth’s only sin is that you failed to sire a son.”
“She and you are refining yourselves too much on this matter,” Mr. Bennet said with an expansive wave of his hand. “It is quite possible to live a comfortable life even with an idiot of a spouse.”
“For a gentleman squire, perhaps,” Gardiner snapped back, his usually good-humored face twisted into a fearsome scowl. “That is not true at all for a lady…”
“It is not,” Madeline interposed. “But let us set all that aside for now and speak of Elizabeth. She is not here, but she is apparently in London. Does she have any money?”
“Her allowance, I suppose. A few pounds.”
Gardiner grimaced. “You had best spend the night here, Bennet. Tomorrow we will search for her.”
“Should we?” Madeline demanded sharply. “Should we try to drag our niece back to an unwanted marriage?”
“Elizabeth has not yet reached her majority, and she will do as she is told,” Bennet snarled.
“Then,” Madeline began, only to stop speaking when her husband stepped closer to her and said, “Maddy, my love, we are in agreement that this marriage plan is a dreadful one, but far worse for Lizzy to attempt to make it on her own in London. She has little money and, while intelligent, has no idea how to manage alone in Town. There are men who would…”
He trailed off, and his wife felt herself pale. Yes, it was true enough that Elizabeth; for all her bravery, courage and intelligence; was not safe in London away from her family and friends.
Her mind reverted to her own children, by now tucked up safely in their beds on the upper floor. The thought of Elizabeth out in the night, perhaps sleeping in an alley, made her feel genuinely ill.
“Are you willing to spend the night here?” she asked her brother by marriage.
“Yes,” Bennet said, “it is too late to search for her, and I am quite hungry.”
“Then I will give orders to have a bed made up and will have a small meal prepared,” she replied. “I suggest that you and Edward talk about your plans to find her.”
***
Gregson House
Half Moon Street
The Next Morning
29th November 1811
The Gregson house on Half Moon Street was not a large one.
Whereas many of the houses of the wealthy and well-connected were spacious and boasted multiple parlors, Mrs. Gregson was content with a single drawing room and a single sitting room.
The drawing room was larger than the sitting room, and nicely appointed, and usually only opened in the rare case of visitors.
The sitting room was small, and cozy, and heated up quickly in the winter.
A maid, neatly dressed in a crisp mobcap and starched apron, had guided Elizabeth to the sitting room after breakfast and had informed her that Mrs. Gregson would be down shortly, and Elizabeth was free to make herself at home until her hostess arrived.
Once the maid had departed, Elizabeth had done just that.
A bookshelf sat against one wall across from the door, and she had immediately crossed to peruse the shelves.
She appreciated that Mrs. Gregson prioritized practicality and comfort in her everyday life, instead of ostentatious displays of wealth intended for grandeur rather than ease.
Perhaps that was to be expected of a parson's wife, Elizabeth reflected, studying a hefty concordance.
It stood to reason that the kind of woman who would reject an advantageous society marriage for the sake of love would not prove proud in her dwelling and possessions.
The books on the shelf intrigued her. The concordance stood side by side with several volumes of sermons and treatises on various books of the Bible, and Elizabeth's finger hovered curiously over a surprisingly thick spine that declared the book a study of Jonah. She wondered what analysis of that recalcitrant prophet could take up quite so many pages, but the novels further down the shelf surprised her more. She had not expected to find such titles as Robinson Crusoe, a copy of Shakespeare’s Comedies, and Charles Brown’s Ormond.
Robinson Crusoe was a familiar and beloved title, and Elizabeth slipped the book from its shelf and curled up in one of the great armchairs placed before the fire.
Her eyes skimmed over the familiar words, absorbing them even as her mind wandered down other paths.
It was such a blessing to sit here beside this fire in this charming room, perfectly safe after all the terror and uncertainty of the past days.
Elizabeth was unspeakably grateful to Mrs. Gregson, who had so kindly opened her home to a stranger.
She was no less grateful to Mr. Darcy, who had stepped in to convey her in safety to his aunt’s house.
Elizabeth raised her head, her eyes drifting from the open pages of the book in her lap to the fire.
She did not see the flames, or the sparks as a log shifted; her mind was focused on the stern countenance and concerned expression of Mr. Darcy.
How rapidly had her opinion of him undergone a radical change!
Only a few days previously, her scorn for Mr. Darcy had been complete.
She had thought him the very worst of men; cruel and grasping and arrogant and unjust. How wrong she had been!
She had allowed herself to be tricked by the silver tongue of a liar, fooled by his sad story and his handsome face.
Mr. Wickham was a snake, a sneak, and a slanderer.
It might be true that Mr. Darcy was proud, and even cold, but he had stepped in during her time of greatest need, and the man had truly acted as her friend; his actions speaking louder than any honeyed words.
She blew out an unsteady sigh. Her own family had turned on her, her sisters helpless in the face of her parents’ united front in coercing her to marry the idiotic Mr. Collins.
She had been alone, and desperate, and afraid, and in the midst of that turmoil, the very man she had despised the most had ridden to her rescue.
Even now, safely in Mrs. Gregson’s sitting room, Elizabeth could scarcely grasp the bizarre nature of the last days.
The door to the sitting room opened, and Elizabeth leaped up as Mrs. Gregson entered the room.
“Good morning, Madame,” she said.
“Good morning, my dear,” the lady replied with a cheerful smile on her wrinkled face. She walked over to take a seat on a green wingbacked chair by the fire and leaned forward to warm her hands. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did, very well,” Elizabeth said truthfully. “I cannot tell you how grateful I am for you taking me in.”
“Oh, it is entirely my pleasure, I assure you. My great-nephew is right that I have been a little lonely, and to have a cheerful, intelligent young guest is exactly what I need right now. Now, I spent an hour this morning thinking about the situation, and I have some suggestions. Firstly, would you be willing to change your name while living with me?”
Elizabeth blinked in surprise. “My name?”
“Yes. It would be safer, would it not? I live a quiet life, but we will wish to visit the library and go to a museum or two, perhaps. It would be better if I introduced you by a different name to limit the chance of your father discovering your location.”
It seemed a dramatic step to erase her own name, but Mrs. Gregson was right, of course. Her father would look for her, at least for a few days, and it would be best if no one knew of a Miss Bennet who was staying with Mrs. Gregson, who was the great-aunt of Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley.
“What name shall I choose?” she asked.
Mrs. Gregson smiled and said, “How about Miss Wantage? I have an old school friend who lives in Yorkshire by that name.”
“It is a fine name,” Elizabeth mused.
“Then that is settled.”