Chapter 47
Family life at Gracechurch Street was very different from what Mary had known at Longbourn.
She had not been there long before it was plain that Mrs. Gardiner loved her husband and four children with a strong, steady devotion.
Her feelings were fully returned, and neither she nor Mr. Gardiner saw any reason not to express them as openly as possible.
At Gracechurch Street, there was affection enough for everyone.
With something of a pang, Mary saw that her aunt and uncle had no favourites amongst their children, but treated them all with equal care.
They rarely scolded either their two lively daughters or their two cheerful sons, preferring that they should be a little more jolly and bouncing and a little less disciplined and silent than absolute correctness required.
As a consequence, there was, in the Gardiner household, a great deal of capering and frisking and jumping about, which made it rather too boisterous for very refined spirits; but for anyone in need of a little tenderness, it was a singularly welcoming haven.
The longer Mary spent in its soothing surroundings, the more she understood why both Jane and Elizabeth had been so restored there.
For whilst Mrs. Gardiner cared deeply about the well-being of her nieces, she understood, that when dealing with young women, it was not always wise to demonstrate concern too plainly.
It was nearly twenty years since she had left off being a young woman herself, but she had not forgotten how tiresome it was to be constantly poked and prodded with questions.
She deduced that something had happened to upset Mary at Longbourn, but did not seek immediately to discover what it was.
Instead, she fed her, encouraged her to sleep late in the morning, and generally enveloped her in all the unobtrusive attention of which she was capable.
At first, Mary was too dazed to appreciate it, but gradually, she understood with what care she was being treated; and after she had been at Gracechurch Street about a week, she attempted to thank Mrs. Gardiner for it.
As her gratitude was all she had to offer, Mary was keen to convey it with as much feeling as possible.
She composed a little speech in her head, but it was not easy to find the right moment to deliver it.
Finally, one morning after breakfast, when their nurse had taken the children away to be washed and dressed, she seized her opportunity.
“I wanted to say how very grateful I am for all the kindness you have shown me,” she began.
“I am all the more sensible of your generosity, for, although I invited myself into your house, you have welcomed me with the most open arms imaginable. It is often said that offering hospitality to strangers is one of the noblest virtues, but there are few who practise it with as much sincerity as you and Mr. Gardiner.”
“Well, you can hardly be accounted a stranger,” replied Mrs. Gardiner. She was somewhat distracted, occupied in gathering up her children’s books from the floor, where they had been strewn by their owners before they were carried off to be made decent.
“And I shouldn’t want you to feel too heavy a sense of obligation,” she continued, stacking the little volumes into a pile on the sofa.
“We were pleased when you asked if you could come and are very glad to have you here. Your sisters were free to stay with us for as long as they wished, and we are happy to extend the same invitation to you.”
“I only hope there is some way in which I can repay your kindness,” Mary replied. “I know I am not as amusing as Lizzy nor as useful as Jane, but there must be something I could do to assist you.”
Abruptly, Mrs. Gardiner stopped what she was doing and looked up from her sorting.
“Mary, I do hate to hear you speak in that way. It makes me so very sad. We would not have asked you here if we did not find your presence agreeable. I hope you understand that?”
“I’m sorry,” Mary faltered. “It is only that—I did not want to presume…”
“You are the least presuming person I know,” declared her aunt, as she placed the books alongside the others on the sofa.
“And please, let us hear no more disobliging criticisms of your own character. The only condition I shall apply to your remaining with us is that you try to speak more kindly of yourself. Is that a rule you think you can obey?”
Mary bit her lip. She could not imagine anything more pleasing than to remain in this welcoming house where she had begun to feel herself at home.
“I-I will certainly try.”
These few hesitant words hardly did justice to the strength of her feelings, but before she could say more, the pile of books her aunt had so carefully balanced on the sofa slid slowly but unstoppably back onto the floor. Mrs. Gardiner watched them fall with a resigned smile.
“Then you are welcome to stay as long as you wish—or for as long as you can bear it. As you can see, it is a regular Liberty Hall here, and we don’t stand on ceremony; but if you don’t mind that, I think you’ll do well enough. We shall be delighted to have you amongst us.”
Mary’s heart was too full to speak. Instead, she joined her aunt on the carpet and began to pick up her nephews’ and nieces’ books.