Chapter Six
Elizabeth returned from her walk with cheeks touched by the sea air, her bonnet once more secure upon her head. James, the footman who had attended her along the shore, followed through the garden gate before withdrawing to his duties.
In the morning room breakfast was already laid. The windows stood open to the sea, and the scent of hot chocolate mingled pleasantly with the salt air. Mrs. Gardiner greeted her with a smile.
“You are early abroad, Lizzy. I was half afraid the sea might prove too bracing.”
“On the contrary, Aunt, it was delightful. I should be glad to begin every day with such a walk, though I confess it tempted me farther than I intended.”
Mr. Gardiner looked up from his tea.
“Then we must be certain James has good boots. He shall have no rest while you are here.”
Elizabeth laughed and took her place at the table.
When breakfast was nearly concluded, Mr. Gardiner laid aside his napkin and rose.
“My dear, I must be off. Hargrave expects me first, and there are others to be seen in the course of the day. Sir Thomas Ellison has pressed me for a consultation, Captain Mountjoy is eager for his turn, and Mr. Darcy has also desired a fuller account. It may take some hours to bring all to their close.”
“I shall keep something hot for you, Edward.”
He bent to kiss her cheek before turning to Elizabeth.
“And you, my dear girl, do not tire yourself with too long a walk again. The shore is beautiful, but the tide comes swiftly. Promise me you will keep James in sight.”
Elizabeth assured him with a smile, and he pressed her hand before departing.
His affectionate concern warmed her more than the chocolate in her cup.
It was so unlike her own father, whose words of parting were most often cloaked in irony or indifferent banter.
The steady kindness of her uncle carried no sting, and Elizabeth found herself watching the door a moment longer after it had closed behind him.
Her aunt rose with her embroidery frame and settled near the window.
For a few minutes Elizabeth wandered restlessly about the parlour, pausing first at the shelves, then at the sea beyond the glass.
Yet her thoughts refused to settle. They returned instead to the morning and the gentleman she had met upon the shore.
She had seen him once before at Covent Garden, though then only in the dimness of the theatre.
To encounter him again so unexpectedly had startled her more than she cared to admit.
Who could he be? His manner had carried a gravity that suggested consequence, yet his courtesy had been simple and direct. He was clearly known to her aunt's wider family, for why else should he have appeared both in Lord Matlock's box and now upon this very shore?
The question lingered only a moment before Elizabeth dismissed it.
To speculate upon a stranger was foolish.
Not wishing to dwell upon him longer, she reached instead for Jane's letter, which lay folded upon a small table where she had left it the evening before.
Hoping it might distract her thoughts, she broke the seal and began to read.
My dearest Lizzy,
Longbourn feels strangely altered without you. Mama complains that nothing can be found, Lydia has already misplaced two ribbons and insists they were stolen, and Kitty has been in one of her odd humours, alternately following Lydia everywhere and quarrelling with her whenever she does.
I cannot tell you how often I have thought of you these past few days.
I went to your room on the morning of your departure intending to bid you goodbye properly, only to discover that you had already gone below.
I waited a little while, believing you would return, but when you did not, I feared I should only delay you by seeking you out. I have regretted it ever since.
You must not suppose I let you leave without a thought. I missed our farewell more than I can express.
I hope your journey was comfortable and that Aunt Gardiner is spoiling you as thoroughly as she always threatens to do. Pray write soon and tell me everything.
Your ever affectionate sister,
Jane
Elizabeth folded the letter carefully and sat for some moments with it in her hands.
Her aunt's voice interrupted the reverie.
“Lizzy, shall we see what the village offers? My mother will be glad of some trifle, and I think we ought to send a small token to Amelia and Lord Ashford before their household is overrun by our children.”
Elizabeth laughed.
“That seems only fair.”
Mrs. Gardiner smiled and gathered her bonnet and gloves.
“Come along, then. Let us see what the village can provide.”
Together they stepped out into the sunshine.
The village proved small but lively, the cottages whitewashed and bright, with flower pots set in nearly every window.
Fishing nets hung drying against walls, and the air carried mingled scents of tar, salt, and newly baked bread.
The main street offered only a handful of shops: a draper’s, a toy-maker’s with wooden horses in the window, a haberdasher’s where ribbons fluttered like streamers in the breeze, and even a modest lending library.
Elizabeth’s eyes lit at the last, though Mrs. Gardiner promised they would visit another day when more time could be spared.
They paused first at the toy-maker's. Shelves crowded with painted soldiers, carved animals, dolls, and puzzles lined the walls, while a collection of wooden skittles occupied a place of honour near the window.
Mrs. Gardiner lifted the skittles and laughed. “Bethany will be enchanted with these. She has always longed to topple something without being scolded for it.”
Elizabeth set them aside for purchase and reached instead for a small carved horse. Its mane had been carefully painted, and one foreleg was raised as though in mid-gallop.
“Eddie would prize this.”
“He would attempt to ride it before the day was out,” said Mrs. Gardiner.
“Certainly.”
A rattle hanging nearby caught her aunt's eye.
“And Freddie requires no greater distinction than something that may be shaken vigorously and chewed with equal enthusiasm.”
Elizabeth smiled and turned toward another shelf. A doll stood there in a neat muslin gown, her painted eyes fixed solemnly ahead.
“Grace would love this little lady,” she said, lifting it carefully. “She looks as though she could be trusted with every secret a girl of eight might have.”
Mrs. Gardiner nodded her approval and moved farther along the display. After a moment she returned with a sketchbook tucked beneath one arm, a painted ball balanced against it, and a box of dominoes.
“Margaret, Frederick, and George.”
“Decided already?”
“I am a mother. Practice has made me efficient.”
When the parcels had been wrapped and set aside, they crossed to the draper's. Mrs. Gardiner selected a length of fine cambric for Amelia and several household linens for Mrs. Pembroke.
“My mother never remembers to buy such things for herself,” she said.
By the time they returned to the cottage, even Mrs. Gardiner was obliged to admit that they had made rather more purchases than they originally intended.
Toward evening they dressed for dinner and awaited Mr. Gardiner's return.
The lamps were lit, and the maid had laid a simple but elegant table.
Yet the hour grew later, and still no sound of carriage wheels was heard.
Mrs. Gardiner bore it with composure, but Elizabeth felt a little anxious.
She had never before known her uncle absent without punctual explanation.
At last the door opened, and he came in, his expression weary but cheerful. He kissed his wife's cheek, bowed to Elizabeth, and declared himself half famished.
“Forgive me, my dears. The day proved longer than I expected. Hargrave detained me with his enthusiasm, Mountjoy with his plans, and Mr. Darcy with his questions. I believe I have been examined more thoroughly than any merchant deserves.”
They sat down at table, and once his hunger had been a little appeased he gave them a fuller account.
“Hargrave is firm. He may contribute but five per cent, yet he will keep his word. Sir Thomas, however, is lost. He declined my invitation for tomorrow and disguised it as prudence. Mountjoy offered ten per cent and very nearly volunteered to command the ship himself.”
Mrs. Gardiner laughed. “That sounds like Captain Mountjoy.”
“It does indeed.” Mr. Gardiner smiled. “Mr. Darcy was different. He remembered the proposal but not me. His questions were keen, and he would not be hurried into an answer. In the end I invited him to dine with us tomorrow, along with Hargrave and Mountjoy. Sir Thomas excused himself.”
“Not remember you, Uncle? That seems unpardonably neglectful.”
“Hush, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “Mr. Darcy was little more than a boy when we last met.”
Mr. Gardiner nodded, “I took no offence. He listened carefully and missed very little. That is recommendation enough for me.”
“That is exactly as I remember him,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “Even as a boy he considered everything twice before deciding.”
Elizabeth coloured slightly, “Then I was too hasty.”
“You were loyal,” said her uncle, patting her hand. “There is a difference.”