CHAPTER 44 #3
Mrs. Bennet called from within, “And do not forget sugar! No one ever remembers what I require when I am overcome.”
Mrs. Gardiner closed the door with care.
Only then did she go downstairs.
Mr. Gardiner had returned while she was above. He stood in the back parlour with his hat still in his hand, looking toward the ceiling with the expression of a man who had heard enough through floors and doors to know that entering too soon would have been folly.
“Is Fanny here?” he asked.
“She is upstairs,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “I would not call her settled.”
He put down his hat.
“And Lizzy?”
“Gone home.”
He watched her face.
“What has happened?”
Mrs. Gardiner sat. For the first time that afternoon, she felt tired.
“Elizabeth is to marry Mr. Darcy.”
Mr. Gardiner’s eyebrows rose. Surprise, but not astonishment.
“Well,” he said slowly. “That is a serious choice.”
“Yes.”
“And Fanny has objected?”
“Fanny has behaved atrociously.”
He came nearer.
Mrs. Gardiner looked at the fire, then back at him.
“She came without warning, entered my parlour in agitation, and spoke of Elizabeth’s marriage as if it were a theft from Longbourn. If she continues in that manner, it will benefit no one. Not Elizabeth, not Jane, not the younger girls, and certainly not Fanny herself.”
Mr. Gardiner’s mouth tightened.
“What did she say?”
“Enough to make plain what Elizabeth is to her when money is in question.”
He sat opposite her.
Mrs. Gardiner folded her hands together.
“I have excused her for years. Nerves, anxiety, disappointment, five daughters, no son, an estate that must go away. All true enough. But today she looked at Elizabeth’s marriage and did not ask whether Elizabeth was loved. She asked what would be left.”
His expression changed, not into surprise, but into grief.
“Left for herself?”
“For herself. For the younger girls. For Longbourn. It hardly mattered what name she gave it. Elizabeth was provision.”
“Not a daughter?”
Mrs. Gardiner’s voice lowered.
“Not first.”
The fire snapped softly.
“She has five thousand pounds of her own,” Mrs. Gardiner said.
“Not enough for grandeur, not enough to settle five daughters richly, but not nothing. Jane is married to a generous man. Elizabeth has already done more than anyone had a right to expect. Mary is in London because of her help. You would never let Fanny starve.”
“No.”
“And yet she spoke as though Elizabeth’s happiness were theft.”
Mr. Gardiner rubbed one hand across his brow.
“I knew she had pressed Mr. Collins.”
“Elizabeth allowed me to understand as much. I thought I understood it. I did not. Mr. Collins was acceptable because he would keep Elizabeth useful to Longbourn. Mr. Darcy is objectionable because he will not.”
“That is hard.”
“It is true.”
He did not contradict her.
After a moment he said, “And Mr. Darcy? Are you satisfied?”
Mrs. Gardiner thought of Elizabeth’s steady face.
Of the guarded pain behind her answers. Of Hartwood and Beaker, the most suspicious men in London, having given approval.
Of Mr. Darcy at Portman Square, severe and careful, answering Mr. Gardiner’s questions without flattery and looking at Elizabeth as if her judgment had weight.
“I am not without concern,” she said. “But I understand the marriage better than I did this morning.”
“In what way?”
“Elizabeth has been useful to many people. I think he may be the first man in a long while who has not approached her usefulness before her person.”
Mr. Gardiner nodded slowly.
“That is no small recommendation.”
“No.”
They sat in quiet for a little while.
Then Mrs. Gardiner said, “You must speak to Fanny.”
He looked up.
“She is your sister,” she continued. “She is my guest, and I will treat her properly while she is under our roof; but this is our house. She came into it uninvited, distressed everyone in my parlour, and nearly made Jane beg pardon for Elizabeth’s happiness.
If she is permitted to continue, she will injure every girl she means to protect. ”
Mr. Gardiner was silent a moment.
“You think I should speak tonight?”
“I think you should speak before she sees Elizabeth again. And certainly before there is any chance of her meeting Mr. Darcy. She must understand that she may be anxious here, she may be foolish here, she may even be tiresome here; but she may not use our house to insult a guest, a niece, or the man Elizabeth is to marry.”
“That is a clear instruction.”
“It is meant to be.”
He gave her a small, grave smile.
“Then I shall obey it.”
Mrs. Gardiner did not smile back for long.
“The younger girls must not be left to learn only from Fanny.”
“This way of thinking?” he asked.
“Yes. That marriage is rescue, that money is claim, that a daughter’s future is a family purse waiting to be opened. Fanny will not mean to ruin them. That is what frightens me. She will ruin them by loving them badly and calling it anxiety.”
Mr. Gardiner leaned back.
“Mary is already with Jane.”
“Yes. And that is well. Mary needs gentleness, music, and to be heard without being laughed at.”
“Kitty?”
“Kitty may do better with Elizabeth later, when Elizabeth is married and settled enough to receive her. There is sense in Kitty, I think, if she is not made to borrow all her spirits from Lydia.”
Mr. Gardiner’s mouth twitched. “And Lydia?”
Mrs. Gardiner was silent long enough that he looked at her more closely.
“Lydia had better come to us.”
“To us?”
“Yes.”
“That is a formidable conclusion.”
“It is not one I reach from idleness.”
“No,” he said. “I am very sure of that.”
“Lydia will not be easy. She will not be quiet. She may not be grateful. But Fanny calls every appetite liveliness until it has done harm, and Mr. Bennet laughs at folly until folly asks him for a carriage.”
Mr. Gardiner sighed.
“There is truth in that.”
“If Lydia is ever to learn that the world is larger than officers, bonnets, triumph, and being first in a room, she must see it under a roof where no one is impressed by noise.”
“And you think our roof equal to the trial?”
“I think it better than Longbourn’s.”
He smiled faintly, but his eyes remained serious.
“We need not decide tonight.”
“No. But we must begin thinking as if the girls require more than money.”
“They require parents,” he said.
Mrs. Gardiner looked toward the ceiling, where Mrs. Bennet was no doubt composing a new account of her sufferings.
“Yes,” she said. “And where parents fail, someone must at least offer them a different world.”
Mr. Gardiner reached for her hand.
“We shall do what we can. I will speak to Fanny first.”
“And if Mr. Darcy calls here while she remains?”
“Fanny shall not be in the room.”
For the first time that afternoon, Mrs. Gardiner felt something like relief.
“Good,” she said. “Elizabeth’s marriage shall not be put at hazard in my parlour.”