Chapter 19 Hope
They had been in residence at Gracechurch Street for the past week, and Jane was broken.
She remained in her bed until after nine each morning, and when she finally came down to breakfast, she merely picked at her food.
In that short time, Elizabeth observed that her sister had already lost weight.
More troubling still, she appeared to have lost the will to live.
Mrs. Gardiner drew near to Elizabeth.
“What has happened to Jane? It has been three months since the loss of your parents, and still she suffers as though the wound had only just been inflicted.”
“I believe it has something to do with the Netherfield tenant. They had grown very close, Aunt. I believe he asked her to marry him, and she refused.”
Mrs. Gardiner looked at her in surprise. “Why would she do such a thing? It is expedient that you both marry. Indeed, three of you are of marriageable age and ought to marry as soon as possible. What could induce her to refuse an honorable offer? Was the gentleman in some way deficient?”
“No, Aunt. He is wealthy, amiable, handsome, and deeply in love with my sister. I can only conjecture. Perhaps she is heartbroken because he did not ask, though I do not believe that is the cause. When they were last together, it was plainly evident they had both been weeping.”
“Lizzy, I will discover what has passed between them and then talk some sense into her. Your greatest hope now lies in marrying before the scandal becomes known.”
Elizabeth studied her aunt.
“What is it, Lizzy? Why do you look at me so?”
“Uncle Gardiner expressly instructed us not to tell anyone of our ruin. Jane may have divulged our secret. Perhaps he threw her over on account of Lydia.”
“I understand, and I cannot blame her. Lizzy, when you are married, you will discover that keeping secrets from one another drives a wedge between husband and wife. It is best never to keep a secret from your husband, nor for him to keep one from you.”
The two women sat together in silence for some time when Elizabeth said, “Despite knowing my Aunt Phillips is one of Meryton's greatest gossips, we left Kitty in her care. If Kitty drops the slightest hint, no matter how innocent, Aunt Phillips will question her until she has learned the entire story. I cannot rest easy knowing we left Kitty in that house.”
Mrs. Gardiner frowned. “You are right to be concerned. I shall speak to your uncle. Perhaps he can fetch her sometime this week and bring her to London. We can place her in school, far from your aunt and your gossiping neighbors.”
“I am willing to return for her myself and spare Uncle Edward the journey. My father left me a little money. I can hire a carriage and travel there and back tomorrow.”
Mrs. Gardiner considered her niece's suggestion before replying. “I shall do one better. Your uncle can send you in our smaller carriage to collect your sister. You may help her pack and bring her back with you.”
“Assuming Uncle Gardiner agrees, what reason shall we give to Aunt Phillips for so sudden a decision?”
“We may say whatever we please, Lizzy. We might claim that an excellent school has an unexpected vacancy, or that your uncle wishes to remove her from Meryton and all its painful memories. I daresay that explanation would prove the most satisfactory to your Aunt Phillips. Or we may simply say that your uncle hopes to prepare Kitty to become the wife of a gentleman of means.”
A wry expression crossed Mrs. Gardiner's face. “What say you, Elizabeth? We may choose one reason or all three. Any of them would be perfectly plausible.”
“Aunt Maddie, Kitty hates to study. I believe my sister will refuse to come with me if she learns we intend to send her to school.”
“Then tell her I need help in the nursery with little Edward. They will ask why neither you nor Jane can assist me, and you may tell them you shall both be occupied finding husbands and cannot be spared.”
Elizabeth laughed. “That will answer very well, though Kitty will feel deceived when she arrives and learns she is to be placed in school.”
“I shall allow her to care for little Edward for a month. If Kitty is as idle as you describe, she will soon beg to go away to school rather than spend her days chasing a busy three-year-old who has only recently learned to run.”
Elizabeth laughed.
“You are a lifesaver, Aunt. Now, if only my uncle agrees, I may collect my sister tomorrow.”
* * *
The following day, the footman handed Elizabeth down from Uncle Gardiner's carriage, and she made her way into Uncle Phillips's office.
He stood in surprise.
“What has happened, Elizabeth? Is everything well with the Gardiners?”
“Everything is well, sir. However, I fear that between my unguarded sister and my curious aunt, the story of our ruin will soon spread throughout Meryton. That is why I am here. I have come to collect Kitty.”
Elizabeth heard the scrape of a chair to her left and looked toward the sound.
Mary stood behind a desk.
“Lizzy. We did not expect you. You did not write to say you were coming.”
Elizabeth crossed to her sister, and the two women embraced. Both wept.
“I am glad you have come for Kitty. She will not leave her bed. She scarcely eats. I do my best with her, but she pays me no heed.”
“Oh, Mary, she must be blue deviled, as she was when we first lost our parents and sister.”
“Yes. Leaving Longbourn proved too much for her. She is broken, and I do not know what to do for her.”
“I shall take her back with me. Perhaps little Edward will help distract her thoughts. At the very least, he will give her reason to rise, for he requires constant watching. He allows no one much leisure, Sister.”
Mary laughed.
“And what do you do here in Uncle's office?”
“Oh, Lizzy, I have been helping with the bookkeeping. I also prepare the accounts Uncle sends for his services. I have begun collecting payment for those services, and I keep the ledger as well.”
Elizabeth rejoiced at Mary's enthusiasm as she spoke of the duties her uncle had given her.
“It seems to me you are well-suited to the work, my dear. I am very happy for you. Your spirits have improved greatly.”
Mary did not answer, for Mr. Phillips broke in.
“Elizabeth, does your uncle intend to place Kitty in school?”
“Yes, sir. But first, they mean to let her care for little Edward for a month, and they expect my sister will soon beg to be sent away to school.”
Mr. Phillips laughed.
“He must be a very busy child indeed.”
“He is, sir. He has learned to run and attempted to race headlong down the stairs three times only yesterday.”
He chuckled. “Very well, my girl. Go upstairs to your aunt and help your sister pack. I daresay everything remains in her trunk, for she has scarcely left her bed since she came to us. Mary has done all she can to raise her spirits, but Kitty rises only for dinner, picks at her food, and then returns to her room.”
She embraced her uncle and kissed his cheek.
“Thank you for all you have done for us, Uncle Phillips. We should have been lost without you. I shall go upstairs now.”
Mary followed.
“Uncle, I shall return when Lizzy leaves us.”
“Of course, my dear.”
“Stop and bid me farewell before you leave, Lizzy.”
“Yes, sir, I shall.”
Extracting Kitty from Meryton proved difficult. She did not wish to rise and dress, but Elizabeth insisted.
“You must get up now, Kitty, and dress while I pack your trunk.”
There was very little to pack. Everything still lay inside the trunk except Kitty’s brushes and tooth powder. Elizabeth collected a small pile of clothing that needed laundering and piled it into the trunk.
Aunt Phillips had been sweet and flighty, as always.
She never questioned Aunt Maddie's need for Kitty in the nursery, fully believing that finding a husband occupied every waking hour with shopping, balls, and parties.
Elizabeth listened to her aunt and marveled at how closely her manner, speech, and opinions resembled those of her late mother.
* * *
When the two sisters arrived at the Gardiners', they found that Jane had moved Elizabeth in with her, and they allowed Kitty to occupy the room Elizabeth had vacated.
Each morning, Elizabeth rose early to have breakfast with her uncle before he departed for work.
While he read the newspaper, she examined the advertisements.
An idea had taken hold of her, one that required her to find a position near Bakewell.
Thus, every morning she searched the three newspapers delivered to her uncle's house.
One morning, her uncle watched her with curiosity.
“What are you seeking, Elizabeth? I have noticed that you study those advertisements as though they were one of your father's Greek lexicons.”
“Uncle Edward, I should like to obtain a position as a governess or a lady's companion.”
He looked gravely at his niece. “You understand, Elizabeth, that once you accept a position as a paid companion, your standing as a gentlewoman will decline?”
“Uncle, my financial and social position declined dramatically when Papa passed.”
“Yes, my dear, but your birth and rank did not. They will, however, if you enter into employment.”
“Uncle, I should like to try to obtain a position in Derbyshire. If, for any reason, I do not like it or the family does not find me suitable, I can return home.”
“Am I to understand you seek a position as a governess or companion in Derbyshire? Why not somewhere in London, where you might spend your free days with us?”
“I love the countryside, Uncle, and I wish to remove myself as far as possible from the looming specter of my sister's ruin.”
“In that case, you may wish to visit some of the registries. It is entirely possible that a family from a Derbyshire estate is interviewing applicants here in London.”
“I should like that very much. Where are these registries?”