Chapter 21
Elizabeth was disappointed not to find Robinson in the breakfast room.
Nor was he in Papa’s study, although, given her father’s ruffled demeanor, he had certainly been there at some point.
Cook informed her that Robinson had been up since the bread was rising, writing lists and making notes by candlelight until the sun came up.
Mrs. Hill said she had last seen him in the attic, where she had left him surrounded by old cushions and dusty relics of generations of Bennets past. “He is a hard worker, that young man,” she observed appreciatively as she went into the kitchen to see to the day’s menu.
Elizabeth was about to climb up the creaky stairs to the attic to ask Robinson why he did not wait for her help to catalog Longbourn’s contents, but she paused at the bottom step.
Was he avoiding her? He had grown considerably more silent since Mr. Wickham’s arrival.
Elizabeth sensed a tension between the two men that she did not understand but felt she was somehow a part of.
It was frustrating. She had intended on asking Robinson about it again, but now that she heard the scuff of his soft footsteps above her, she felt her courage fail.
Who did she think she was to demand answers from him if he did not want to give them?
Should she not respect his privacy as he so cautiously respected hers?
He knew more about them, their situation, the contents of their property, and everything they cherished and held dear than anyone.
He had not grimaced at Kitty’s ribbon collection but had painstakingly recorded every color by length and value.
He had made no comment on the number of hat boxes Lydia hid around the house, though Elizabeth had been stunned at the amount.
He had not flinched as he documented Mama’s perfume bottles and beauty tonics.
Mary’s music and stack of sermons had filled more than one page, front and back.
He had not rolled his eyes at the quantity of dried flowers Jane had pressed between the many novels Elizabeth scattered around the house, nor her own propensity to have a different book for each room she occupied.
A delicious Gothic novel in her bedchamber, the book of receipts kept behind a crock in the pantry, the book that had made her blush on animal husbandry in Papa’s study, and the book of sonnets in the drawing room (much more appropriate to be seen reading in company)…
Now that Elizabeth thought of it, she should sneak up to the attic to fetch her adventure book.
It was the one she savored, a fantasy she enjoyed vicariously.
“Miss Lucas is here to see you, Miss Lizzy,” Hill said from behind her, startling Elizabeth.
The creaking steps upstairs went silent, or maybe it was the sound of Elizabeth’s own heart beating in her ears that drowned them out.
Oh, what of it?! So what if Robinson knew she was at the bottom of the attic stairs?
Longbourn was her house… at least, for now.
She could roam wherever she pleased! Confidence renewed, she spun around to meet Hill at the top of the stairs.
“I showed her into the front parlor, Miss… in case you wished to have a chat.” His eyes gleamed knowingly.
Elizabeth kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Hill. Whatever would I do without you?”
He clucked his tongue, as he always did. “You will manage no matter where you are, Miss Lizzy.”
She smiled at him. “It is easier to manage when one is surrounded by friends.”
He beamed at her and motioned for her to precede him downstairs. “Aye, Miss, that it is.”
The front parlor was warm; the fire recently tended to. Charlotte turned from the window, where she stood contemplating the dreary view through the glass pane.
“The maid will bring in the tea once it is ready,” Hill said with a departing smile, closing the door behind him.
Charlotte’s eyes twinkled with merriment. “Hill seems to think we have matters of great import to discuss.”
Elizabeth could not be happier to see her friend. They caught up on the goings-on of their households since their last conversation, poured tea, and settled in for a cozy tête-à-tête.
“How are you getting on with Mr. Robinson?” Charlotte asked perceptively, looking over the rim of her teacup at Elizabeth in a way that added weight to her question.
Elizabeth sighed. “I do not know how I would manage if he were not here. Along with sorting through Papa’s letters and sending correspondence to people on the continent with knowledge of the company, he has tried to prepare us as well as he can for what is to come without alarming Mama and my sisters. ”
“They do not know you could be cast out of Longbourn?” Elizabeth shook her head. “That is negligent, even for your father. Does he think it will be easier for them if they are surprised with the news?”
“I think he has convinced himself that nothing will come to pass.”
“That is all very well, so long as nothing happens. But what if it does?”
Elizabeth wrung her hands together. “Mr. Robinson suggested that we catalog every item inside the house in preparation. If we provide the collector with a thorough list of every object in Longbourn, then perhaps he will not upset Mama so much by sorting through our possessions himself.”
“Sound reasoning.”
“After the house is done, we will do the same with the other buildings on the property.”
“A monumental task, but it seems a wise plan. You are fortunate, indeed, to have Mr. Robinson’s assistance. I hope Mr. Bennet appreciates his consideration.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips together. Her father had been of very little help.
Robinson never complained, but Elizabeth saw how the little muscles at his jaw twitched every time Papa waved off his concerns and appeals.
She had helped him with their rooms, counting and recording every last piece of linen in their armoires to spare him the embarrassment, and, as her father had requested, she had done it during the times when her sisters were occupied with other tasks to prevent them from asking any questions he was certain not to answer.
It made the process more difficult than necessary, but everyone was blissful in their ignorance, which preserved Papa’s peace.
Setting down her teacup, Charlotte changed the topic. “Mr. Wickham has proved to be a merry addition to our neighborhood. What do you make of him?”
Elizabeth frowned at the mention of his name.
Why did she not smile? She shook her head, determined to be fair in her assessment of his character.
“He called yesterday, and he dined with us the evening before.” Charlotte raised her eyebrows, effectively asking for more information without voicing a word.
“He gave me and each of my sisters a ride in his curricle while the weather was still fine,” Elizabeth added.
“Clever excuse to single out your conversation.”
“Yes, he admitted as much openly.”
Charlotte’s eyebrows bunched together, and Elizabeth could feel her confusion. “Really? Perhaps I have been overly skeptical of his sincerity.”
Interesting that Charlotte was inclined to suspect his motive, just as Robinson had.
“I used the occasion to ask him more directly about Mr. Darcy, and he was happy to comply.” Again, Elizabeth frowned—a strange reaction when she really ought to be grateful to Mr. Wickham for his openness, especially when his comments had altered her opinion about her betrothed considerably.
This, she was eager to share with her closest friend.
“Oh, Charlotte, I have always thought of Mr. Darcy as a spoiled heir accustomed to privilege and gratification, but the picture Mr. Wickham painted of his history turned my resentment into sympathy. When I do eventually meet him, I now feel that I can see him for who he truly is without my assumptions and prejudices blinding me.”
“Then Mr. Wickham has done a good service.” Her lips twisted to the side and she frowned at her tea. “Though I fail to understand his motive for letting Purvis Lodge when he must prefer London. He is too fashionable a man to be content in the country for very long.”
Elizabeth had wondered the same. Why would he settle in Hertfordshire if he expected an inheritance?
And if he had not yet inherited and was living like a gentleman, how was he paying for living expenses?
These, of course, were questions Elizabeth could not ask.
Ladies were not supposed to think about money at all or question a gentleman’s use of it, but she had been balancing Longbourn’s accounts for too long not to take such things into consideration.
Mr. Wickham had said he was the son of Pemberley’s steward.
It was a noble profession, for a certainty, but not one to provide a life with fashionably cut coats, a new curricle, and the cost of a let estate.
They sipped from their cups in silence, contemplating the conundrum of Mr. Wickham. Finally, Charlotte drained her cup and set it on the table. “Maria took an immediate fancy to him—”
“As did Kitty and Lydia.”
Charlotte nodded, “Which inclines me to be cautious where Mr. Wickham is concerned.” She watched her friend closely.
Elizabeth gave her the reaction her friend sought. “My only interest in him lies in what he can tell me about Mr. Darcy.”
“I am relieved to hear it. And Lizzy, I am glad that you are willing to consider that Mr. Darcy might be agreeable.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I shall still hold him to a high standard. There are certain things on which I am unwilling to compromise.”
There was a loud, rhythmic pounding on the door, and Hill’s footsteps creaked on the floorboards along the hall.
An authoritative tone echoed through the corridor. “Frank Rafferty, bailiff to the Sheriff of Hertfordshire, accompanied by Mr. Henry Voles, an officer from the London Custom House, here to see Mr. Thomas Bennet on official business.”
Elizabeth met Charlotte’s concerned eyes. Her hand crept up to her lips. It had been a fortnight since the King’s Messenger had delivered the warning. While Mr. Robinson and her uncle had told her to expect the government to expedite their case against Papa, she had hoped they might have more time.
“Oh, Lizzy,” Charlotte took Elizabeth’s hands, squeezing them as though she were lending her all the strength she possessed.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. She must be calm and sensible for the sake of her mother and sisters.
Together, she and Charlotte walked out to the hall.
With a departing nod of support over her shoulder, her dear friend slipped past their unwanted callers, leaving Elizabeth standing before the two men who would bring her family to ruin.