Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
June continued as May had, until young Mr. Bingley returned from school.
His sisters insisted he escort them about town.
Caroline and Elizabeth were not yet out, but they could join Louisa and Mr. Hurst and the Bingley father and son for strolls through Hyde Park and to museums. Mr. Bingley even arranged an evening at the theater for them all, including Aunt and Uncle Gardiner.
Louisa was rarely to be seen in July, however, as Mr. Hurst’s mother had arrived in town to plan the wedding.
She was married at the end of July and departed on a three-month tour with her new husband.
The quality of Caroline’s conversation did not improve as the quantity increased.
With her sister gone, she clung to Elizabeth more.
Though they had little in common, Elizabeth also wished to maintain the connection.
She had not formed friendships with any other young ladies in London and had received no news from Uncle Bennet about her education.
Caroline, who celebrated her seventeenth birthday at the beginning of August, had refused to have a music master during her summer holiday, but the two girls continued their weekly painting lessons, and they had added dancing lessons, as planned.
With the loss of Louisa and Mr. Hurst, they took turns dancing with Mr. Bingley and the dancing master.
Previously, Elizabeth had danced with only her female cousins, and she tried to imagine Mr. Bingley as a suitor.
His boyish grin and flopping curls merely made her laugh, however, and she knew she could never think of him in that way.
She even called him Charles now, at his request, and he called her Lizzy, as though she were another sister.
Before Elizabeth was ready for the summer to end, Caroline returned to her seminary.
Elizabeth knew Charles would not return to Oxford until mid-October, but she would not see him now that Caroline was gone.
Elizabeth thought she may not see much of the family at all going forward.
The Bingleys’ lease on the London townhouse would end with September.
At that time, Charles would stay with friends until returning to Oxford, while his father would return to his factories in the north.
Caroline expected her father would take a townhouse again the following spring, as she would have her first Season, but Elizabeth knew she would not be included in any of the amusements.
One evening shortly before Caroline departed for her seminary, Elizabeth asked her uncle for help.
“Has Uncle Bennet given you any indication of his intentions for my further education?” She had come to his study while he worked at his desk, and he had invited her to sit opposite him.
“No. I know you send him frequent letters. Does he not respond?”
Elizabeth shook her head. She had received one letter from Mary this summer but nothing from her uncle since shortly after Easter. Her uncle had always been attentive to her when she had lived at Longbourn, and she felt his loss acutely.
“I assumed you were settling everything between you, aside from the painting and dancing masters you share with Miss Bingley that you asked me to help fund. Do you mean to say nothing is decided for this autumn?”
“Nothing I am aware of, sir. My Uncle Bennet will not reply to my letters.”
Uncle Gardiner appeared surprised and only looked at her for a few moments. He tapped his quill on his blotter absently as he turned his gaze out the window. He inhaled slowly before turning back to her.
“Were you close to your uncle at all, before you came to London?”
Elizabeth was surprised by the question and by the instant tears that threatened to fall. She held them back with effort.
“We were. We spent hours together most days. In the orchards and fields when I was younger and in his study for my lessons when I was older. I had thought…I had thought it would always be thus, though of course I know now that was a foolish idea.”
Uncle Gardiner looked at her with such sympathy that a few tears did fall, but she swiped them away quickly.
“Your Uncle Bennet is a good man. My sister was fortunate to have attracted his notice. His notice is easily lost, however.”
Elizabeth breathed in sharply. She had lost Uncle Bennet’s regard?
“I do not mean to say he does not love you, Lizzy,” Uncle Gardiner was quick to say.
“He will likely wish to engage you in as much conversation as ever when you next visit Longbourn. It is only that his attention is fleeting. He concerns himself with what is immediately before him and neglects what he cannot at present see.”
“So, he does not think of me because I am not there.”
Mr. Gardiner gave her a look of pity that made her sit up straight and refuse to cry again.
“I am sure he thinks of you, my dear. He has never been much for correspondence, however, and he procrastinates what he feels can wait.”
Elizabeth swallowed. “What am I to do, then, sir?”
“I shall write to your uncle this evening, and we will begin enquiring into masters ourselves.”
“Thank you, Uncle!”
She would also continue to write to Uncle Bennet, whom she loved dearly, but she would try to accept that he was not likely to respond often.
“Do you have any in mind? Do you wish to continue with the same painting master?”
Elizabeth informed him she had made good progress under the master and would like to keep employing him if a suitable space could be found in the Gardiner home. He promised to speak with her aunt about making a room available.
“You will also need a maid, Lizzy. We have been sending a maid or footman with you when you call on the Bingleys, but you should have your own to care for your gowns and hair, as well as to chaperone you in your lessons when your aunt is not available.”
“Forgive me, Uncle. I should not have used your resources so carelessly.”
“No, Lizzy. That is not what I meant at all. Your Uncle Bennet has provided all the funds you need for masters and gowns and fripperies. You have plenty for a maid, as well. Would you not wish to choose someone you like, as you will spend a great deal of time with her?” At Elizabeth’s awed expression, her uncle said he would enlist his wife’s assistance in this, as well.
They continued to speak of additional masters and tutors, and Elizabeth left the conversation with excitement for the coming months.
Uncle Bennet sent a brief note to Uncle Gardiner authorizing him to undertake Elizabeth’s continued education. He apologized for his lack of response but admitted he did not know how to select appropriate teachers from such a distance.
By mid-September, Elizabeth’s days were fuller than they had been since her arrival in London.
She now slept until seven or eight in the morning, then wrote letters to Longbourn and to Caroline, studied her lessons or practiced the pianoforte, and learned from her aunt about the household.
They continued their discussion of menus and accounts as they ate breakfast together about ten o’clock before a master arrived most days by eleven.
Elizabeth worked with a teacher or on her own, sometimes until six or seven in the evening with only a brief break for a nuncheon of fruit or bread and cheese at three or four in the afternoon.
She visited with her young cousins in the evenings and sometimes earlier in the day if she had time or her aunt had need of her.
Then she sat at dinner with her aunt and uncle about eight each evening before they went out and she retired to her bedchamber to read or they stayed in and she played the instrument for their entertainment.
She felt the lack of Hertfordshire’s fresh air and open spaces, however.
Elizabeth would have preferred to go for walks more often, but between the sights and smells of animal slaughter at Leadenhall Market and the congestion and lingering unease she felt closer to the Thames, she had few options.
Matthew and her new maid, Dinah, escorted her on side streets that received little sunlight between their tall buildings, but the smoky air from coal stoves and the slippery mud on the foot-pavement made the exercise far less salubrious than staying indoors.
Still, she had to go out every few days, as her earlier habits of movement could not be stifled completely.
One day Matthew pointed out the top of the nearby Tower of London, though he did not take her close enough to see much.
Other times, they had walked into Cheapside and its environs—being careful to go south a bit before turning west, so they could avoid Leadenhall Market.
Lombard Street, like Gracechurch, was full of carriages and wagons traveling between the docks and markets.
Cheapside Street overflowed with a variety of tradesmen buying and selling at the many businesses in the area.
Servants accompanied some brave fashionable women, as well.
Beyond Cheapside was St. Paul’s Cathedral and Churchyard, which she had thought was a park but was disappointed to find was only a dirt field used for public meetings; the two times they had walked that far, Matthew had insisted they turn back, citing the proximity to Newgate Prison as his reason.
She did not learn until later that he did not want her to chance upon a public execution.
She had never seen anything of the kind on all her carriage rides to visit Caroline, but perhaps they had traveled too quickly past or taken a different route.
Even in the less disturbing parts of central London, she could not escape the calls of peddlers or shouts of cart drivers, the smells of animals or men, the dim choking air or inexhaustible industry that still felt so foreign to her.