Chapter 20 Hatchard’s
The following day, promptly at one o'clock, Mr. Bingley presented himself at the Gardiners' home. Both sisters were pleased to see that Miss Bingley accompanied him.
They visited for a quarter of an hour before Miss Bingley asked whether she might see little Edward. Kitty brought him downstairs with his wooden horse, and the three young women amused themselves playing with the child. Elizabeth admired Miss Caroline's affectionate nature.
At last, Mr. Bingley rose. “Mrs. Gardiner, I beg you will excuse us. I know Miss Elizabeth is anxious to prowl through the bookstalls at her favorite bookseller.”
Kitty lifted Edward into her arms, and she and Mrs. Gardiner accompanied the party to the door. Before leaving, Caroline took little Edward's chubby hand in hers.
“Goodbye, Master Edward,” she cooed.
They all laughed when the little boy said, “Goodbye, Aunt Caroline.”
When they reached Hatchard's, a leaden weight settled upon Elizabeth's heart.
Memories of the many visits she and her father had made to this beloved place through the years crowded her mind.
She could picture him there among the books, waiting for her.
She brushed away a tear and hurried to catch the others.
Mr. Bingley led the sisters to his favorite part of the shop, where engraved prints lined the shelves. He showed several to Jane before falling into an easy flirtation with his lady love. Elizabeth rejoiced to see Jane in such spirits.
She looked to Miss Bingley. “I am going to speak with the clerk. I seek a certain type of book, but I do not know whether such a volume exists or even how to ask for it.”
Miss Bingley's eyes brightened. “A mystery. May I come with you?”
“Yes, please come, but if I begin to weary you, do not fear giving offense. I know I can become rather single-minded. Just do as my dear Jane does and tell me you must go in search of something more diverting lest you go mad. I assure you, I do not mind such plain speaking. All my sisters speak so to me.”
“You are so very earnest, Eliza, that you are provoking me to laughter.”
Caroline slipped her arm through Elizabeth's, amused, and added, “Come, let us go forth to shop.”
Elizabeth found that Caroline Bingley was, in truth, a very fine lady, not deficient in good humor and fully capable of making herself agreeable. She had been a most charming neighbor and now proved herself a delightful companion.
When it was her turn, she said, “Sir, I am making a study of the folklore of the county of Derbyshire, as it relates to the stone circles and the henge of Arbor Low.”
“I cannot say whether any of the tomes we carry speak of legends or folklore, but we have several that treat of the places you wish to study. We have the Reverend Pegge's paper upon Arbor Low, madam, if your interest lies chiefly with Derbyshire. Please come this way.”
She and Miss Bingley followed the clerk. He searched through a stack of volumes before reaching to an upper shelf and withdrawing a leather-bound tome.
He handed it to Elizabeth. “This is Volume VI of the Archaeologia memoirs. It deals principally with an account of Arbor Low. Also included are A Disquisition on the Barrows and Illustrations of Druidical Remains.”
Elizabeth's hands trembled, and her heart raced as she held the very book she had hoped existed. It promised answers to many of the questions she longed to resolve. “I shall purchase this volume, sir. Have you others of a similar nature?”
“Yes, miss. If you would like to take this volume, you ladies may wait for me in those two chairs. I will bring what we have.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The ladies settled into the wooden chairs, and Elizabeth began to page through the volume.
“You are very taken with your book, Miss Eliza. It all sounds so very mysterious.”
Elizabeth raised her eyes and laughed. “I am hopelessly bookish, am I not? My mother often called me a bluestocking when she wished to humble my pretensions. She once heard my father use the term, and though I do not believe she knew precisely what a bluestocking was, she understood it had something to do with reading, a pastime she considered unsuitable for women.”
The clerk soon returned carrying four more books. He handed them to Elizabeth one by one.
“Miss, here is Stonehenge, A Temple Restored, written by Stukeley.” He handed it to her. “This one is Antiquities of the County of Cornwall by William Borlase. Though not about Derbyshire, it has valuable information.”
He handed her a third volume. “This is Britannia by William Camden. This edition contains the complete work, proceeding geographically through Britain, principally county by county.”
Elizabeth opened the volume. “My father has an excerpt from Britannia in his library, but it is a very limited portion. I had no idea the whole could be had in a single volume.”
He handed her the last book.
“And this is Observations on Popular Antiquities by John Brand. It is a collection of superstitions, fairy beliefs, ghost stories, omens, customs, and folk traditions.”
Elizabeth looked at the treasures she held.
The books would cost her dearly, for they were beautifully bound in calf leather, but if she could pass through the veil and return to April, the month before Lydia brought about the fall of the Bennet family, no price was too great.
She had Papa's money with her, the money Uncle Edward had found in Papa's desk.
She rose.
“Sir, I shall take them all and count myself a very fortunate woman.”
Caroline laughed. “Miss Eliza, your mother judged correctly. You are indeed a bluestocking.”
Elizabeth grinned at her friend, then addressed the clerk. “Sir, have you any illustrated books containing embroidery patterns? My friend has a particular interest in that form of artistry.”
The man looked pleased. “I do indeed, miss. If you will wait here, I shall bring the finest one we have.”
He returned with a copy of Ackermann's Repository of Arts. He handed it to Caroline, who began leafing through its pages. It was a collection of monthly issues bound in leather and beautifully illustrated in color.
She said, excited. “Look, Eliza. It includes a large collection of embroidery patterns.”
The clerk said, “If I may, madam, toward the back you will find a section devoted to color combinations for silk embroidery, along with many elegant decorative arts.”
As Miss Bingley continued to look through the book, Elizabeth rose. “Sir, I am ready to pay.”
He carried the heavy stack to the counter, wrapped each volume with care, and wrote out a receipt.
Fear stirred in Elizabeth's chest when he announced the total. Eight pounds for the collection. Papa paid Alice, Longbourn's maid of all work, eight pounds a year in wages.
Her stomach tightened, but she reminded herself that if she could discover how to cross the veil and allow her family to begin again, eight pounds was little enough. But what if it was all for naught?
She thrust the thought aside. Failure did not bear thinking of.
She counted out the money, accepted her receipt, and returned to Caroline.
In the end, Mr. Bingley purchased a print, and he also bought Ackermann's Repository for Caroline. They then went to Gunter's and enjoyed ices. Neither Elizabeth nor Jane had ever visited the establishment.
After taking a spoonful, Jane pressed her fingers to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut.
Mr. Bingley laughed. “Did you eat too quickly, Miss Bennet? Have you brought on a frozen brain?”
Jane opened her eyes, laughter shining in them.
Elizabeth looked fondly at her sister as she ate her own ice in careful bites to avoid the sharp ache of the cold.
Her thoughts returned to Derbyshire and Stonehenge.
She would study day and night to learn all she could, for Jane's sake, and for her parents, who had both passed so young.
Then her thoughts settled upon Lydia. She would study for Lydia's sake as well, who might even now be living in a hell of her own, alone, friendless, and at the mercy of who knew what manner of man.
She grimaced and amended the staggering truth. Perhaps many men.
Elizabeth bent her head, shielding her eyes with one hand as she strove to banish the image of suffering and degradation from her mind.
Above all, she would study for her youngest sister.
Of them all, Lydia paid the highest price for her misstep.
The elder Bennets lay peacefully in their graves, and life had not dealt too harshly with the remaining sisters, but Lydia...
* * *
A week into her studies, while Jane, Uncle Gardiner, and Mr. and Miss Bingley conversed together, Elizabeth approached Mrs. Gardiner.
“Aunt Maddie, is your father still able to read a letter and write a reply?”
Madeline laughed, greatly amused.
“You remember Edward's remarks and now wish to question the man himself.”
“Well, not exactly question him, Aunt Maddie. I should simply like to ask what he remembers and what he has heard.”
“He will very likely think you a fanciful girl with no more sense than to believe in fairy tales. My father is a physician, a very practical man who draws his conclusions from the world around him.”
“No, Aunt. I shall tell him I am a student of history. As evidence, I will explain that through the years Papa and I studied the Greek poets, along with Plutarch, Aesop's Fables, Virgil, Ovid, Horace, and Cicero.”
Elizabeth leaned in. “And then I shall tell him we had only just begun reading the works of the antiquarians. Dear Aunt, I should very much like to speak with someone who has gathered the folklore of Derbyshire from the people themselves. Those old tales have been passed from one generation to the next for centuries. Do you think that will serve, Aunt Maddie? Or will he think me too fanciful?”
Madeline Gardiner watched as her niece's eyes brightened.
When Elizabeth finished, Mrs. Gardiner said, “Lizzy, I believe what you need more than a position is time to study and learn, away from all the loss and sorrow. My sister married a wealthy gentleman and resides in a beautiful country manor. If I wrote to her and asked whether she would allow you to visit my father, would you go?”
Tears filled Elizabeth's eyes.
“Aunt, I would go tomorrow if I were able. I wish to see everything I can. I long to spend time at each place and to speak with the older people who still remember these tales.”
“Then, my dear, set aside your efforts to obtain a position, at least for the next few months, and I shall write to my sister to ask whether she would receive my niece as her guest. How long would you wish to remain?”
“Until mid-January, Aunt Maddie. Along with Arbor Low and the stone circles, I should like to learn the folk traditions surrounding Michaelmas, All Hallows' Eve, Christmas Day, and Twelfth Night. I wish to learn the customs and folklore associated with those observances that have been lost over time. Perhaps they still live in the memories of some of the older people in that part of the country.”
Mrs. Gardiner regarded her niece with affection.
“Lizzy, you seem a little more like yourself again, as you were before all this tragedy befell your family. For that reason alone, I am certain my sister will welcome you. Her children have all left home. Only she, her husband, and my father remain. I daresay she will gladly receive you for as long as you wish to remain.”
Elizabeth brushed away the tears that would not be denied.
“Aunt, you have made me very happy. You have given me something to look forward to.”
Mrs. Gardiner inclined her head toward Jane.
“And Jane also has something to look forward to. She has regained her bloom almost overnight.”
“And her appetite as well,” Elizabeth added happily.
“We will begin shopping for your wardrobe tomorrow. By the time we arrange your visit, it will be mid-September or early October. I shall ask Edward to permit you to lay aside your mourning clothes. I want you to be happy, my girl, and wearing pretty gowns will help. Since you are unknown in Derbyshire, no one will look askance at you.”