Chapter 8 Loss
It had been a busy week.
Neighbors called throughout the day to pay their respects to Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, for the burial would take place on the morrow. Lady Lucas, Mrs. Bennet's longtime rival, and her daughter Charlotte spent most of the day with the sisters and Mrs. Phillips, keeping vigil.
The following day, Mrs. Phillips stood with the sisters at the entrance to Longbourn as the two coffins were loaded onto the bier. They watched as Mr. Gardiner, Mr. Phillips, the male servants, tenants, and neighbors followed the bier to the parish churchyard.
That had been the most difficult day for the sisters, for they now began to understand that their lives had changed forever. They did not yet comprehend the full extent of their loss of social standing, but they were beginning to see the effects of their father's death.
* * *
The day after the burial, Elizabeth again devoted herself to packing her father’s beloved books into the waiting trunks, setting aside only the works they had intended to study together before Lydia brought catastrophe upon their family.
She knelt beside a trunk with the selected works from the Britannia in her hands, which had interested her and her father above all others.
She placed it upon the floor and gathered the excerpts of William Stukeley’s works, which they had not yet begun.
She placed them in a stack, then added the little notebook her father had given her, which contained their notes and questions from the many hours they had spent discussing such things together.
She would finish her studies in memory of the last months she and her father had spent together, poring over English folklore and fairy traditions.
He would never again read her notes or answer her questions, but she would continue the practice they had shared and remember him through it.
Elizabeth drew her handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at the tears she could not hold back. Never again would she know anyone with whom she could share her love of learning as she had with her beloved father.
Each sister chose something from among their parents’ belongings that held special meaning for her.
Once they had set aside what they wished to keep, they packed their parents’ clothing, shoes, and other personal effects to be given to the poor of the parish.
When they were finished, the bedchambers were cleaned and prepared for the heir.
One afternoon, Mr. Gardiner sat at Mr. Bennet's desk, sorting through each paper and document, discarding what was no longer needed and setting aside those of importance.
Elizabeth dusted the now-empty shelves. She had already set aside her father's pipe and ceramic tobacco jar. She meant to keep them to remember him by.
She also kept his mahogany writing slope and his standish, complete with its inkwell and sealing wax. She placed his swan quills, penknife, and graphite pencils inside the writing slope.
Her eyes glistened when Mr. Gardiner said, “Lizzy, I found letters you wrote to your father during the summer you spent with us. Do you wish to keep them?”
She accepted the little stack of letters. Her childish script covered the topmost page. She unfolded it and began to read.
“Uncle Edward, life was so simple and happy then. It was not even three years ago.”
“Yes, Lizzy. Life sometimes takes difficult turns.”
He opened a drawer and drew out a thick bundle of pound notes.
“Here is a stack of notes, my dear. I do not know why your father neglected to place them in the strongbox with the rest of his money. Put them away in your writing slope, for you may have need of them one day.”
He reached over and handed them to her.
“Since Kitty and Mary will remain with your Aunt Phillips, they will have no immediate need of funds.
Your Uncle Phillips will provide them with pin money from their share of your mother's dowry. But you and Jane are of an age to marry, my dear. I shall divide the notes kept in the strongbox between the two of you for gowns and the other fripperies that females find so needful. We must find husbands for the two of you as soon as possible, Lizzy.”
* * *
At the end of that first trying week, Uncle Phillips sat in the drawing room with the four sisters.
When she had finished, Mr. Phillips said, “Your Uncle Edward and I have discussed the matter of notifying Mr. Collins.
It has been a week, and I must send him an announcement of your father's death. The estate has already passed to him. Nothing remains but for him to come and take possession of his inheritance.”
The kindly man regarded them with compassion.
“I shall post the letter today. I wished to tell you in person before doing so. It will take a day for the letter to reach Hunsford Parsonage, and he may arrive here a day or two thereafter. Edward intends to remain another three days so that he may stand beside you when Mr. Collins arrives.”
Jane caught Elizabeth's hand and held fast to it.
Mr. Phillips continued gravely. “He may permit you to remain at Longbourn, or he may require you to leave. We believe it best that you stay here until he arrives and makes his intentions known. We know very little of the man. He may be disposed to extend hospitality to the daughters of the former owner, his distant cousin.”
He paused to sip his tea before continuing.
“As for your finances, the estate produced two thousand four hundred pounds last year.
I have separated your pin money and placed it into a separate account.
It was your father's custom to reserve four hundred pounds each year for that purpose, a most generous allowance. Unfortunately, none of it was ever saved. I have now set aside the full four hundred pounds, as it does not appear in the estate ledgers and need not be accounted for.”
He looked from one sister to the next.
“I cannot urge you too strongly to marry as soon as possible. Jane and Elizabeth, that advice applies especially to you, but also to you, Mary. You have done well to pack what must be removed and to clear the master suite. There is nothing more to be done now but wait for the new master to arrive.”
The family visited together late into the evening before Mr. Phillips took his leave.
* * *
The following afternoon, Elizabeth rose from the dining table and said, “I believe I shall go for a walk.”
Mr. Gardiner asked, “Would you care for company, Lizzy? I could use a little fresh air myself.”
“Yes, Uncle. I should appreciate your company. I am saddened that I shall soon lose my favorite walk to Oakham Mount. I have spent so many happy hours outdoors. One does not enjoy the same freedom in London. I certainly shall not be able to walk out alone there, and once I marry, my husband may not permit me such liberty.”
“Yes, Lizzy. You will live under many more constraints than you did with your father.”
They continued their conversation as they walked. When they reached the summit of the mount, Elizabeth looked to him.
“Uncle, have you ever visited the stone circles in the north of England?”
“Do you mean the monument upon Salisbury Plain? Stonehenge?”
“No, sir. Papa and I were reading about a prehistoric monument in Derbyshire called Arbor Low.”
“Ah, yes. You speak of the stone circle southwest of Bakewell. What of it, Lizzy? What interested you?”
“I have read about the ceremonies and rituals believed to have been conducted there. Some suppose it was a place of worship, though no one can say with certainty. One author wrote that Arbor Low was probably a Druid temple, but because its builders left no written record, we may never know who they were or what they believed.”
Her uncle said, “I believe the people who built it studied the stars. Some believe the henge marked the changing seasons and that the ancients gathered there for ceremonial purposes.”
“What does it look like, sir?”
“It is an isolated, windswept place, surrounded by open moorland. The henge consists of a great circle enclosed by an earth bank and a ditch. Two great causeways breach the bank, and at the center of the circle stand at least six smaller stones known as the cove.”
He gestured toward a rotting log.
“The stones that form the circle are quite large, some measuring six to eight feet in length and perhaps three to four feet in width.”
He paced the length of the fallen log. “About this long.”
Elizabeth joined him. “They are massive stones, then.”
“Yes. I cannot imagine how they were moved or where they came from. I never studied the history, but I remember they are unhewn and irregular in shape. The henge is aligned with the setting sun at the winter solstice. Beyond its physical appearance, however, we may never know its true purpose.”
“Uncle, you know so much about the henge. How did you come by all that knowledge if you did not study the history?”
“Lizzy, your Aunt Maddie is from Derbyshire.
The village of Lambton, where she grew up, lies but five miles north of Arbor Low.
When I was wounded in the war, she and her father nursed me back to health.
Maddie and I fell in love while walking through the beauties of that countryside, and we spent many an afternoon at Arbor Low and Gib Hill, the nearby barrow.
We drove her father's gig there almost every day throughout one summer. The henge holds a very special place in my heart, though local tradition warns people to keep away on the eve of the winter solstice, for it is then that the veil between the worlds is believed to be at its thinnest.”
“Uncle, are you speaking of magic?”
He smiled. “No, Lizzy. I claim no such knowledge. I am merely repeating what the local people told us. Maddie's father was well known as the village physician, and people spoke freely to him. Through him, they spoke freely to us as well.”
“What did you mean when you said the veil is thinnest?”
Her uncle looked sheepish.
“I knew the moment the words left my mouth that I ought not to have mentioned it, for now you will not rest until you have drawn the whole story out of me.”
Her eyes sparkled with amusement.
“Well, if it has brought a smile to your face, Lizzy, it was worth it. The older folk used to say that people had gone missing there over the years. They warned their children strictly to stay away, lest they, too, be taken.”
“Taken? What did they mean?”
“Only that the people were gone. Missing, people who were never afterward found. I have no notion what they intended by it, and it was nothing more than village hearsay, my girl. Do not give it any credence. Your aunt, her father, and her grandfather never saw the slightest evidence of any such thing in their lifetimes.”
“Uncle, I wish I could travel through England, spending several weeks in one village after another, speaking with the people and learning their folklore and traditions, just as you have shared this one with me.”
“Yes, Lizzy. That is very nearly what I did while courting your aunt in the wilds of Derbyshire.”
When they returned to Longbourn, it was nearly time to dress for dinner. Elizabeth wondered if it was the last time she would truly feel at home at Longbourn.