Chapter 8
“Come with us, and Kitty, to London,” said Mrs Gardiner to Elizabeth. Though they had spoken often in the last days, Elizabeth had never yet declared plainly what she intended to do.
Lydia had already departed for Brighton, and Kitty, after wandering for some days in confusion through the rooms, which were gradually losing their familiar use, at last asked Mrs Gardiner, with some hesitation, whether she might return with them to London.
“You would be happier in London. Please come—not immediately, but when you have completed the inventory and determined what is to be done with everything.”
Elizabeth, however, shook her head. She had reflected long upon the future; but to go to London with the Gardiners was not an option.
“I shall be sincere with you,” she said.
“That is all I desire. Between us, there can be no useless politeness.”
“I have always admired your house—so beautiful, elegant, and modern. Your life in London, your circle of friends.”
“You might find someone,” murmured Mrs Gardiner, for she had already spoken with her husband, and they had in mind two young men in their acquaintance who might suit Elizabeth.
“I do not doubt it, but—”
“But?”
“I shall be sincere.”
“You have said so already…is it indeed so difficult to tell me what you intend?”
“I would not have you think me arrogant, or superficial.”
“Never could I think so of you.”
“And yet it is something of that sort. I have always delighted in visiting you, when my father awaited us at home, and when all knew of him and of Longbourn, that charming estate, a little worn perhaps, but where you yourselves felt so well at ease.
“I could not bear their compassion!” she said at last, briefly, and, from Mrs Gardiner’s countenance, she saw that she was understood.
“My father’s death could strip us of our standing.”
“I understand; but to remain in Meryton is scarcely less—”
“Humiliating.”
“Oh, I did not mean to say so.”
“And yet it is so.”
“Do not say it. Mrs Bennet will take a very respectable house in the centre. That is Mr Gardiner’s opinion also; he understands the situation perfectly. He knows that your mother must pay a higher price to remain where she belongs.”
“My mother will manage. I am more…proud.”
Mrs Gardiner smiled faintly. “Proud is not the proper word; perhaps your feelings are more easily wounded. But here, in Meryton, you cannot hope to meet anyone suitable for marriage.”
“And marriage is the only chance I have—the only chance we all have.”
The silence that followed confirmed that this was her aunt’s view, and very likely that of the whole family.
Once the period of mourning was over, their mother would speak of little else, and Elizabeth, in truth, wished to escape those conversations, which must grow daily more urgent and more pressing.
“I cannot help thinking, however, that there may be another course,” said Elizabeth. “Might not my uncle find me a place as—”
“No!” cried Mrs Gardiner. “You refuse to come to us because you cannot bear to be pitied, and yet you would place yourself in a family—to do what? To be a governess?”
“No—a companion, as Anne de Bourgh has…or to instruct children…as a tutor.”
“Tutors are men.”
“I might do it.”
“Lizzy, allow me to be sincere in return. Whatever position you might obtain in a family, it would be far worse than to remain our niece, whose father has died—”
“And who has no home.”
“Our home is yours.”
“I know. Forgive me—but that is how you see it, because you are generous. Others are less so.”
“And therefore to expose yourself in such a situation could only be disastrous.”
“I must also have some income. Pray, ask my uncle to look about him, to seek a respectable family…after that, I shall decide. And…I promise you this: if it does not prove a suitable arrangement, I shall remain with you.”
“Come to London—you may see Mr Darcy there,” said Mrs Gardiner suddenly, without looking at her.
“Do not suppose that I have not thought of it!”