Chapter 13
Elizabeth Bennet
It was not long before Elizabeth’s life at Gracechurch Street began to assume an ordinary rhythm.
On the first morning, her uncle sent an express to Longbourn, informing Mrs Bennet that her daughter had arrived safely and would not be sent away to be forced into marriage, and while Elizabeth had intended to write herself, she could not regret being spared the necessity.
Unlike herself, Mr Gardiner had the advantage of being believed to mean what he said.
Then, too, even the thought of writing was all but overwhelming.
Mr Darcy called on them the day after her arrival to enquire into her well-being, as he had said he would, and did not appear to regret deigning to visit Cheapside a second time.
He was as polite to her aunt as before, and as kind to the children, and left after the polite quarter hour.
That Mr Darcy would call after saying that he intended to do so was not surprising.
If anything, he was certainly a man of his word.
But having paid that polite call, he would surely consider the acquaintance closed.
That Mr Darcy had ever troubled himself to help her was odd enough. But as he had done so, Elizabeth told herself, it was surely her place to be grateful for aid she could not have anticipated, to consider the matter done, and not to expect to see him again.
For the first several days, Elizabeth scarcely realised how exhausted she truly was.
The strain of leaving Longbourn, the journey to London, and the uncertainty surrounding her father had carried her forward with too much urgency to permit much reflection.
Only once she found herself safely established beneath her aunt and uncle’s roof did the full weight of it all begin to catch up with her.
With characteristic kindness, her aunt and uncle asked very little of her.
Mrs Gardiner simply folded Elizabeth into the ordinary pattern of the household as though her arrival had been expected all along.
Breakfast with the children. Quiet afternoons near the fire while the younger ones played nearby.
Evenings spent in comfortable conversation once the household finally grew still.
In fleeing to London, Elizabeth had only intended to escape an intolerable fate, but she found that the familiarity of it soothed her more than she had anticipated.
Gracechurch Street was free of the constant agitation that had overtaken Longbourn during the weeks and now months of Mr Bennet’s absence.
There was noise and movement in the house, certainly, children guaranteed that, but it was orderly movement.
Cheerful movement. Nothing carried the strained feeling of nerves stretched too tightly for too long.
Even the city beyond the windows gradually became comforting in its own way. London possessed so much noise and motion that one family’s private anxieties seemed almost capable of disappearing into it entirely.
Not that Elizabeth could ever truly forget them.
She found herself listening constantly for letters.
Every knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.
Every servant entering the room with correspondence made her heart rise painfully before reason returned.
Mr and Mrs Gardiner pretended not to notice how quickly she looked up each time.
None had brought any word of her father.
One evening, after the children had finally been persuaded upstairs and the house settled into relative quiet, Mr Gardiner laid aside his newspaper and studied his niece across the sitting room with thoughtful concern. “You are trying very hard to appear less worried than you are, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth looked up from the book resting unopened in her lap. “Am I succeeding at all?”
“Not remotely,” Mrs Gardiner replied from beside the fire.
The answer was so immediate that Elizabeth laughed despite herself. “I feared as much.”
Mrs Gardiner reached across to pat her hand lightly. “My dear girl, you are among people who love you. You need not perform composure every moment of the day.”
Something about the gentleness of the words nearly undid her more effectively than sympathy alone could have done.
Elizabeth looked down at the untouched pages of her book before speaking.
“I think,” she admitted softly, “that I hardly know what to feel anymore. Every morning I wake convinced there must certainly be news at last, and every evening ends exactly the same as the one before.”
“Your mother may not like the present state of affairs, but she has accepted it,” Mrs Gardiner told her. “You need not fear being forced away, Lizzy. Nor would your uncle allow it.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said with a sigh, “and I am very grateful for it. But that is only one part of what weighs on my mind.”
Mr Gardiner exchanged a glance with his wife before answering carefully. “You are frightened for your father.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “And confused besides.”
“Hmm,” Mr Gardiner said, nodding. “Confused in what way?”
Elizabeth drew a slow breath. “If something dreadful had happened to Papa, we should know it by now. But if nothing has happened…” She stopped, struggling suddenly against the thought she had avoided giving proper shape for weeks. “Then why has he not come home?”
Silence followed the question. The fire crackled softly between them while distant carriage wheels rattled somewhere beyond the windows along the crowded London streets.
Mrs Gardiner’s expression filled with concern. “My poor Lizzy.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I know how it sounds. I do not truly believe Papa would willingly abandon us. At least…” She paused again. “I do not think I believe it.”
Even speaking the uncertainty aloud filled her with guilt.
Because beneath all the fear and frustration remained a quieter truth she scarcely wished to examine too closely: Mr Bennet had never seemed entirely happy at Longbourn.
Affectionate, at times. Amused often. But happy?
Elizabeth no longer knew with certainty.
Mr Gardiner leaned back slightly in his chair, his expression thoughtful rather than dismissive. “You are not wrong to question it,” he said at last. “The difficulty is that nothing about the situation behaves as one would expect.”
Elizabeth looked at him quickly. “You have learned something?”
“Nothing certain.” He folded the newspaper carefully before setting it aside altogether. “Only fragments. Enough to trace your father as far as London, but not enough beyond that point.”
Hope rose so sharply in Elizabeth that it almost hurt. “You traced him here?”
“Yes. A posting inn near Holborn remembered a gentleman of his description. He stayed there briefly and made inquiries regarding several gentlemen connected to old legal business.” Mr Gardiner frowned slightly. “After that, however, the trail disappears.”
Elizabeth tried to steady herself against the sudden rush of questions. “But if he reached London safely, surely that must mean —”
“That he was unharmed at the time, yes.” Mr Gardiner’s voice remained calm and practical. “And I do think that significant.”
Mrs Gardiner watched Elizabeth carefully from across the room. “But not reassuring enough,” she said softly.
Mr Gardiner gave a reluctant inclination of his head. “London is not Meryton. A man may vanish very easily here if he does not wish to be found.”
Elizabeth felt her hands tighten around the book still resting unopened in her lap. “You believe he may be hiding from us?”
“I do not know what to believe,” Mr Gardiner admitted honestly. “That is the worst part of it.”
The quiet frankness of the answer was terrifying.
Then Mr Gardiner continued more carefully.
“I have made every inquiry available to me through business acquaintances and former connections. Unfortunately, the search has now reached a point requiring influence beyond my immediate reach.” A faint shadow of frustration crossed his face.
“Another man, better connected in certain circles, might accomplish more.”
Elizabeth stared at him in distress. “You speak as though you have failed us.”
His expression softened. “My dear Lizzy, I do not say that.”
“But you are apologising.”
“Because I wish very much that I had better news to give you.”
Elizabeth set the book aside. “You must not apologise,” she said with sudden feeling. “You have already done more for us than anyone else.”
Though she had intended reassurance, Mr Gardiner looked troubled by her gratitude. “I have done only what family requires.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied. “Which is precisely why I am grateful.”
Emotion threatened unexpectedly at the back of her throat then, forcing her to look away for a moment toward the fire.
Until now she had not fully understood how heavily the uncertainty pressed on her.
Fear alone would almost have been easier to endure.
Fear at least possessed direction. But this endless waiting, this constant inability to decide whether hope or alarm was more reasonable, exhausted her in ways she could scarcely describe.
Mrs Gardiner seemed to recognise it. “Lizzy,” she said gently, “your uncle and I wish to help you as much as we can, even if it was not possible to find your father. You need not carry the whole burden of this alone.”
Elizabeth laughed, though it sounded uneasy even to her own years. “I believe I have been attempting exactly that.”
“And accomplishing it very poorly,” Mr Gardiner said.
She smiled despite herself. “That appears to be the general opinion of the household.”
“It is an extremely sensible household,” Mrs Gardiner informed her.
Elizabeth turned away before the kindness in the remark could affect her too visibly.
Longbourn had lately become so consumed by strain, nerves, and confusion that she had almost forgotten how restful simple kindness could feel.
She allowed herself to lean back properly against the sofa cushions instead of sitting poised, prepared at any moment for another disaster.
To judge by Mrs Gardiner’s keen expression, she must have noticed. But thankfully, she said nothing of it.
The conversation drifted afterward into quieter subjects, though the uncertainty hanging over them all remained a constant if unspoken presence.
Mrs Gardiner spoke of the children’s excitement for the Christmas celebrations to come, and Mr Gardiner attempted, with limited success, to complain humorously about London crowds and holiday shoppers who apparently believed every ribbon and goose in England must be purchased before December’s end.
Elizabeth listened gratefully, allowing the familiar domestic conversation to wash gently over thoughts that had lately grown too heavy from constant examination.
At length Mrs Gardiner rose to ring for tea. “Lizzy still looks rather wan, Edward,” she informed her husband. “Perhaps you ought not to have frightened her so with the practical realities. The least we may now do is improve matters with food.”
“I object strongly to the accusation,” Mr Gardiner replied. “I frightened her with practical realities only after she insisted upon hearing them.”
Elizabeth smiled. “That is true. I cannot in fairness deny it.”
Mrs Gardiner glanced toward her with obvious satisfaction at seeing some colour return to her expression. “Better,” she declared.
Elizabeth laughed. “Am I under observation every moment here?”
“Certainly,” her aunt replied. “You arrived pale, exhausted, and trying to convince everyone you required nothing. Naturally, we have all been observing you constantly ever since.”
Mr Gardiner nodded gravely from his chair. “It has become something of a household occupation.”
“You are both exceedingly unreasonable.”
“And yet remarkably accurate,” Mrs Gardiner said.
The servant entered with the tea tray shortly thereafter, filling the room with pleasant scents and warm steam curling from the teapot. Elizabeth accepted a cup gratefully, realising only then how shaken the conversation had left her.
Mrs Gardiner settled again beside the fire once the servant departed. “You may stay with us as long as you please, Lizzy,” she said. “I hope you know that.”
Mr Gardiner nodded. “Entirely as long as necessary, my dear niece. It is a delight to have you here.”
“I do not know how to thank you both properly,” she said after a moment.
“Nonsense,” Mrs Gardiner replied. “You are family.”
“And if Collins presents himself at this house,” Mr Gardiner added, “I shall personally throw him back into Kent, where he may torment his parishioners instead of my poor niece.”
The image was so unexpected that Elizabeth laughed outright.
Mrs Gardiner looked mildly scandalised. “Edward.”
“I said nothing improper. Only geographically ambitious.”
Elizabeth pressed one hand against her eyes, still laughing softly. “You cannot imagine,” she said, “how much I needed precisely that sentence.”
Mr Gardiner smiled with quiet satisfaction. “Then I am pleased to have provided it.”
Outside, the sounds of London continued beyond the windows, endless and restless beneath the winter night. But inside Gracechurch Street, with the fire burning low and her aunt and uncle speaking easily beside her, Elizabeth felt she might finally be safe enough to rest.