May 1807
Charles had not been pleased when his father informed him and his sisters they were required to attend him to an associate’s home for cards and supper that evening.
He was with his family in London for only a few more days due to an outbreak of measles at the university, and he had planned to go out with friends that night.
He had already had measles as a child, so he considered this a holiday soon to end.
At eighteen, he did not know why he must be included in his father’s invitation from someone he had never met.
He expressed his displeasure once the family was assembled in their carriage.
“Father,” Charles began, “if you wish me to become a gentleman, why must I visit a tradesman with you?”
Louisa, who was twenty and had become engaged to her own gentleman a few months before, snickered with Caroline beside her. Their younger sister was nearly seventeen and already eager for a marriage that would help her rise in society. Their mother would have been able to restrain her.
“Charles, I hope you are not developing snobbery at Oxford,” his father said.
“No, not at all. You know I am unashamed of our source of wealth and happy to befriend anyone.”
“Then why the complaint about visiting my friend Gardiner?”
“It is not him or that he is in trade,” Charles hurried to explain. “Forgive me. I only wished to see my friends tonight, but of course I want to meet your friend.”
His father gripped his shoulder gently. “Maintain your open acceptance of others, and you will go far, Son.”
Charles nodded.
“In truth, it is not only Gardiner you will meet tonight but his niece—”
“Surely you do not mean for Charlie to marry this tradesman’s niece!” Caroline interrupted.
Father chuckled. “This is not a matchmaking call, Caro. The girl was raised by a gentleman, however, and has only recently come to live with her uncle in London. As I understand, her parents have both died.”
The carriage grew still as all recalled how they had felt when their mother had died six years earlier.
“How old is the girl?” Louisa asked with compassion.
“Fifteen, I believe,” Father said. “I rather thought she could make a good companion for you, Caro. She may be able to help you in society or at least be a friend to you this summer while we are in London. If you maintain the connection, you may even have a correspondent when you return to your seminary in the autumn. Is it not a contest among the young women to see who receives the most letters?”
In the dim light of the carriage, Charles could see Caroline was considering how to make the most of this new acquaintance. Her time for planning was brief as their vehicle halted moments later.
Elizabeth wore her best gown but still felt underdressed when she met the Bingley sisters.
She could not honestly say she preferred their gowns or envied their superior wealth, but she did feel as though they would see through her and know of her unfortunate parentage.
She chided herself that they could not possibly know only by her appearance.
She would act like a gentlewoman, as she always tried to do.
“I will call you Eliza, if you do not mind,” Miss Caroline said as the four young people played whist before supper. “It is the most elegant derivative of Elizabeth, do you not think?”
“My friends call me Lizzy,” she offered. She did not like ‘Eliza,’ elegant or not.
“Lizzy! That is far too countrified. You are in the city now and must be Eliza if you wish to fit in here,” Miss Caroline insisted.
Elizabeth decided it was not worth arguing about and put down a card.
“Your bracelet is also too childish for London. Even though we are not out yet, you can show some refinement.”
Elizabeth had worn her charm bracelet only to church when she had lived at Longbourn, but she wore it nearly every day since coming to London.
It reminded her of Uncle Bennet and her life in Hertfordshire.
Perhaps she need not wear it quite so often, however.
She did not wish to wear out the clasp, after all.
Elizabeth then gave away how inelegant she really was when she had to cover a yawn.
“Are you not used to city hours, Eliza?” Miss Caroline asked with a smirk.
“Not yet. Though I have been in town for more than two months, I have only recently begun to stay up later with my aunt and uncle,” she admitted.
Once her uncle had begun returning home each evening a couple of weeks ago, her aunt had invited Elizabeth to have dinner with them at seven or eight o’clock, depending on their afternoon engagements, and then visit with them in the drawing room until eleven or even later.
She had not yet trained herself to wake after six or take an afternoon nap, but perhaps she should.
It was now eleven, and her aunt had spoken of serving a cold supper at midnight.
“Where did you live before coming to London?” Mr. Charles Bingley asked.
He was an attractive young man with blond curls and a ready grin.
Elizabeth thought her cousin Jane would like him.
Jane had always said she wanted a man more outgoing than she was herself, and she spoke highly of pale coloring such as his.
“Hertfordshire, Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth answered. “My uncle’s estate is called Longbourn, near Meryton.”
“Your uncle’s estate? Is Mr. Gardiner a gentleman, then? I thought he was a tradesman.” Miss Caroline had been overly concerned with social status all evening, evidenced by statements such as this.
“Longbourn is my Uncle Bennet’s estate. I lived there until recently.” Elizabeth held her breath, praying she would not ask about her father. What would she say?
“And your father was also a gentleman, before he died?” Miss Caroline asked.
She was not supposed to know that he was. Ollie the Farmer was her father, and he was an Asbury. She must tell herself this lie again if she were to be convincing.
“My mother was my Uncle Bennet’s sister,” she said.
“And your mother married…?” Both Bingley girls looked expectantly at her while Mr. Charles fingered his cards.
“A farmer,” Elizabeth said quietly. “My parents died before my first birthday, so I was raised at Longbourn with my cousins.”
“If your uncle’s sister was your mother, why are you Eliza Bennet?” Miss Caroline asked.
“Oh, well. Uncle Bennet is my guardian, and he preferred…I take his name.” The end came almost as a whisper. She was not ashamed, she reminded herself. “It was easier in the community to be the fifth Bennet girl, as you may imagine,” she finished with a laugh.
The sisters exchanged knowing glances but said nothing as Mr. Charles encouraged them to pay attention to their game. Elizabeth nodded shyly at him in thanks for his assistance the next time she caught his eye. He gave her an easy grin, and she thought it would be amiable to have a brother.
After the way she was sure the Bingley girls looked down on her, Elizabeth was astonished to receive an invitation two days later to take tea with them and spend the afternoon at their home.
As she understood it, their brother would have returned to Oxford by then but would begin his long summer break the following month, and the family was leasing a townhouse in the city until late September.
Aunt Gardiner sent Elizabeth in the carriage with a maid at the appointed time.
Her aunt had been more excited than she was by the invitation.
Elizabeth agreed that she should make some friends here, but she was unsure she had much in common with these particular girls.
Still, she had risen with newfound energy that morning at the knowledge this day would hold a new experience.
The townhouse the Bingleys leased was not much different from the Gardiner home, although it was a bit larger.
Miss Caroline, or Caroline, as Elizabeth soon was instructed to call her, showed her the largest rooms almost as soon as she removed her outerwear, indicating they could be opened to use for a ball.
“Have you seen a ball here?” Elizabeth asked, excited at the prospect.
“No,” the other girl groaned. “I will not be out until next spring when I finish school, but Father has said I may attend part of Louisa’s ball in July before she and Mr. Hurst wed.”
“And shall you have a new gown? Have you selected it yet?”
“Yes! Come.” Caroline grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and pulled her out of the room and up the staircase. “I will show you the fashion plate that inspired it and the fabric sample the modiste gave me. They are in my bedchamber.”
Despite her earlier misgivings, Elizabeth felt completely included that day by both Caroline and Louisa.
They spoke of gowns and balls and Louisa’s betrothed.
It was all so romantic, and Elizabeth thought it would be exciting to put her dance steps to use while wearing a ball gown such as those in Caroline’s magazines.
That evening, she recited her experiences to Aunt Gardiner.
“Are you wishing to come out next year, Lizzy?” Her aunt sounded worried, so Elizabeth thought carefully before giving her answer.
“No,” she replied after a few minutes’ contemplation.
“I have no desire to consider marriage for several years or even to be courted. I like dancing and fancy gowns, but it is not about the beaux, although I liked hearing of Louisa’s courtship.
Today…I felt what I have not since Jane was younger. I was a part of carefree conversation.”
“So, you have made some friends?” her aunt asked gently.
“I believe I have.” Elizabeth was content. The Bingley sisters had not provided deep conversation, but she had passed an amiable afternoon.
“Caroline wishes to help me select new gowns.”
“Oh, that is a fine idea. You have purchased nothing new since arriving in London although your Uncle Bennet set aside funds for your use. Shall we visit the shops together this week?”
Elizabeth grinned. “I would like that very much. I had hoped you would come. Caroline says I am not fashionable enough, but I do prefer a simpler style than she wears at home. Will you help me to find a compromise?”
“Of course, my dear.”
With her aunt supporting her, she could now be happy.
The Gardiners and Bingleys were all in trade, and all had accepted Elizabeth.
The daughters of gentlemen around Meryton had been unkind to her for years.
She remembered that the Lucases had been the kindest people in Meryton, and they were also from trade.
Despite all of Caroline’s aspirations, perhaps tradesmen were more tolerant and less concerned with social classes than gentlemen were.