Chapter 23 The Great North Road
Elizabeth spent most of the next two weeks having new gowns made and shopping for undergarments and shoes, necessities she lacked because of her mother's negligence.
Every evening after dinner, she sat at a table at the far end of the drawing room, reading and making notes.
She became so absorbed in her studies that the conversations around her scarcely reached her.
When her wardrobe was replenished and while they awaited word from Madeline's sister, Elizabeth devoted entire days to her studies. She had read through most of the first volume and reduced its contents to four pages of notes.
A legend arose from the disappearance, warning children to stay away from the stone circle after sunset on the twenty-first of December, lest the fairies carry them away as they had the drunken farmer.
The tale held that he had lost his way while returning home from the village tavern.
The following morning, only his hat and an empty bottle of gin were found lying in the center of the circle.
That afternoon, seeking a brief respite from her books, Elizabeth joined Kitty on the nursery floor, and together they played with little Edward.
She watched as her sister amused the energetic child.
He would run to Kitty, fling his chubby arms around her neck, and chatter unintelligible words.
Then he would leave her as abruptly as he had come, return to his wooden horses, only to repeat his affectionate greeting a few moments later.
When Elizabeth rose to return to her studies, she asked, “Are you coming down to visit with the Bingleys?”
“No, you go on down, Lizzy. I shall remain here in the nursery with Edward.”
“Your spirits have recovered greatly, Kitty. I am glad I returned to Meryton for you.”
“Coming here has saved me, Lizzy. I often wished I might go to sleep and never wake again.”
“So did I, when we first lost Lydia and our parents. But we must exert ourselves to put this behind us and live on.”
* * *
That evening, Miss Bingley sat with Mrs. Gardiner at a table. The older woman was teaching her how to transfer a design onto needlepoint canvas, while Mr. Bingley sat beside Jane on a settee, speaking in low tones of his hope of purchasing an estate and establishing a family.
Elizabeth sat apart at her usual table, fully occupied with her book, but she straightened and stretched when Miss Bingley joined her.
“I have finished my pattern and now wish to spend some time with you, Eliza. My dear friend, whenever you are at your studies, you lose yourself to everything else.”
Elizabeth laid down her quill, rubbed her cramped, ink-stained fingers, and said lightly, “I am quite the bluestocking, am I not?”
Inwardly, however, she felt a pang of impatience.
Though she longed to set aside her studies for one evening and enjoy her friend's company, she dared not.
She was on a quest for knowledge. Somewhere within these pages might lie the answer to saving her youngest sister, who was lost to all good society and might even now be suffering unimaginable degradations.
Her inner turmoil must have shown upon her countenance, for her friend asked, “Are you unwell, Eliza? I had thought you thoroughly engrossed, but perhaps you are ill.”
Elizabeth quickly recovered herself. Ignoring the question of her health, she forced a little laugh and said, “As you see, I am thoroughly enthralled. I cannot resist reading of fairies, stone circles, and ancient barrows.”
Miss Bingley laughed. “It is difficult to believe so lovely a woman as yourself could find such deadly dull subjects captivating. I should have expected you to concern yourself with beaus rather than barrows.”
Elizabeth pressed her friend’s hand, laughing.
“You are so refreshing, Caroline. You always say exactly what you are thinking, and I love that about you. I always know where I stand. There is never any uncertainty.”
Caroline returned the pressure, enclosing Elizabeth's hand in her own for a brief moment.
“I shall not call tomorrow. My sister and her husband, Mr. Hurst, arrive from Surrey, and I am to dine with them. Eliza, she will have your letter of reference should you ever need it.”
Elizabeth's eyes shone.
“Thank you for the letter. You were very kind to ask Mrs. Hurst to write it for me. Before I enter into service, I shall spend several months with Mrs. Radcliff, Aunt Madeline's sister. She declares in her letter that she means to find me a husband.”
Miss Bingley laughed.
“When you are married, Eliza, invite me to your home and help me find a husband.”
“What of Mr. Darcy? I thought you had set your heart upon him.”
“I have pursued him since I was twenty, and he has not shown the slightest sign of interest. Charles says it is time I looked elsewhere.”
“How did you meet this nonpareil?”
“A mutual friend introduced Charles to Mr. Darcy at Tattersall's. Have you heard of it?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No.”
“It is an auction house. Charles had gone there to bid on a horse. His university friend, Mr. Allen, accompanied him and introduced him to Mr. Darcy. The gentlemen liked one another so well that Charles invited them both to dine with us that very evening. Charles was but eighteen. I was twenty and knew the moment I saw Mr. Darcy that I wished to marry him.”
“He must be quite extraordinary if your heart was engaged upon so brief an acquaintance.”
“Eliza, I had been upon the marriage mart since I was seventeen and had met no gentleman I wished to marry. I received offers enough, but many cared only for my dowry, not for me. I have no wish to marry a gentleman who merely settles for me. They were all fortune hunters. But Mr. Darcy... I would have accepted him upon any terms, even if he sought me only for my fortune.”
Elizabeth laughed.
“He must resemble the Olympian gods of Homer. Zeus, Ares, Apollo.”
“Yes, he is every bit as handsome as the gods whose exploits you delight in reading.” Caroline looked at her friend. “But he is terribly reserved. His face gives nothing away. One never knows what he is thinking or feeling.”
She hesitated before continuing.
“When he joins us for dinner, I give him every attention propriety allows. I take his arm and sit beside him to be near him. I ask his opinion and listen when he speaks. I remember which dishes he prefers and which music pleases him. I have played his favorite pieces at the pianoforte and chosen books because I thought they might interest him. I have even made myself useful to Georgiana whenever the opportunity presented itself.”
Elizabeth smiled. “You have conducted quite a campaign.”
“And accomplished nothing.” Caroline gave a rueful laugh.
“He is always courteous, but he has little to say to me. If I ask his opinion, he gives it briefly. There is never anything more. No eagerness when I enter a room. No particular pleasure when I sit beside him. No attempt to prolong a conversation when there is no reason for it to continue.”
She looked down at her hands.
“After spending an entire evening trying to attach him, I sometimes think he is more remote than he was before.”
Elizabeth said, “That is a pity, Caroline. But you say you mean to look elsewhere.”
“Yes. Charles will marry, and I must either marry or return to Yorkshire to live with my Aunt Agnes.”
“Hence the invitation you expect from me, if Mrs. Radcliff's endeavors should prove successful in securing me a husband.”
“Yes. I like you, Eliza. You inspire me. I believe you will find a husband and be very happy, and you have made me believe that I, too, might one day have a happy future.”
* * *
October 2, 1811
At last, the day arrived when Elizabeth, together with Aunt Madeline and Uncle Edward, set out on their journey to Derbyshire. It would serve as a holiday for the Gardiners, who intended to escort Elizabeth to the Radcliff estate, situated but two miles north of the little town of Lambton.
Jane and Kitty stood outside waving their farewells.
They would remain in London, caring for little Edward, assisted by his nurse.
Mr. and Miss Bingley had leave to call, provided Mrs. Hurst accompanied them.
Everything had been agreeably arranged, and Elizabeth's thoughts soon returned to Arbor Low with its henge and stone circle.
She carried the first of her newly purchased books in the carriage and whiled away the hours reading and occasionally discussing its contents with her uncle.
She had been reading in silence for nearly twenty minutes when she raised her eyes and caught his attention.
“Yes, Lizzy?”
“Sir, I wish to read you a passage. I should like to hear your thoughts.”
“Certainly.”
“On December 21, 1710, a farmer is said to have labored in his fields until near sunset. Passing the henge upon the eve of the winter solstice, he told his workers that he would remain to discover whether it was true that the setting sun aligned with a particular pair of stones within the inner circle. The following morning, his horse and cart were found in a nearby field, the horse still harnessed. His luncheon basket rested upon one of the stones of the inner circle, together with his flask, but no further trace of the man was ever discovered.”
She raised her eyes, her brow furrowed.
“Sir, what think you of this account?”
“A coincidence, perhaps?” He said, raising his brows and grinning.
“Uncle, you may be right, but I have found one other account that sounds very much like this one.”
She reached for her notebook and opened it to a page bearing only one entry. In the first column, she had recorded the date, and in the second, the particulars of the disappearance along with the title of the book in which the account was documented. She proceeded to read the account aloud.
“Two coincidences, sir?”