Sunday was Elizabeth's favourite day of the week. Not because she didn't have to work, which was half truth (she did have to attend the service with the Wainwright family and tidy her things up before leaving, only to be back at sunset), but because she would meet with her family. Her Sundays were spent with Jane and the Gardiners in Gracechurch street.
Sunday afternoons had a glimmer of the careless past, and neither Elizabeth nor Jane, nor their dear aunt, would ever let the present concerns cast shadows over the quiet enjoyment of the moment. They wouldn't do anything special; they would usually stay indoors with their needlework, playing with the Gardiner children and talking of mundane things. If the weather was fine their uncle may take all the family out for a ride. Elizabeth always felt rejuvenated and Mondays thus felt lighter. Family had this effect on Elizabeth, and it comforted her while it brought a bittersweet note.
Her family, the protective cocoon of her childhood, had taken a blow with Lydia's elopement and had completely disbanded when her father died. Mrs. Bennet now lived in Meryton with her attorney brother and his family, being for all purposes a help to the cook; Mary had married a widowed vicar with five young children and lived near Bournemouth, and Kitty was a lady in waiting (more of a nurse, actually) to an old lady in Bath. And Lydia... Lydia was very ill. Elizabeth needed to swallow a few times before paying a visit to her youngest sister, who lived in a dilapidated boarding house in the slums, gathering her courage because it had been evident for a while that her end was near.
Elizabeth knew well, as Lydia herself did, that her fate had been brought by her own foolish recklesness with little to blame on youth or innocence. But still, Lydia was the feisty little sister Lizzy should have done more to protect from Wickham, evil and dissolute Wickham of the charming ways and no friends. Elizabeth always bore this in mind and spared a sizeable portion of her earnings to support her sister, always saved old clothes from the Wainwright household for her, always made sure she showed up with food. It gave her little peace of mind but she never relented.
Even Jane had been surprised by Elizabeth's prompt and complete forgiveness of Lydia, and would have been even more astounded had she known the origin of it was Mr. Darcy. The words he had chosen to express his brotherly concern for Miss Darcy in his letter for her, and his description of his management of the affair with Wickham, had made a strong impression in her mind and she believed she should have acted similarly with her own sister. That her means were not such like his had little importance for her; she felt she had failed in her sisterly duty.
It must be said that in spite of the latest years' worries and misfortunes, Elizabeth's sunny disposition and inner strength had prevented her from becoming bitter and broken. She regretted the past mistakes but didn't dwell on what couldn't be changed. She didn't regret having turned down Mr. Collins, and as for Mr. Darcy... as of late she had started to feel her rejection might have been even more unfounded than what concerned Wickham, and surely deserving of an apology. But she didn't dwell much on that, either.
Such thoughts occupied her mind while she took Edward and Josephine, her oldest charges, to play in the park. They crossed Mr. Darcy near the entrance; this time he seemed to be going in a hurry and acknowledged their presence just by nodding at them politely without stopping.
Little Josephine had brought some stale bread to feed the ducks at the pond and they headed over that area first. The children in attendance and their nurses were all regulars of that spot, and Elizabeth greeted the other adults with a slight bow and affectionally patted the heads of some playing companions of her charges.
After the bread crumbs were finished they moved over to a hill, and on their way passed by a secluded bench where a lady, in finery of the latest fashion and most complimenting colouring, was sitting with a little boy on her lap. Elizabeth glanced discreetly at her but she didn't look back, busy as she was tickling the toddler and affecting being tickled back by his chubby fingers. The lady's soft laughter reached Elizabeth ears and she saw, out of the corner of her eye, that another woman had joined the lady on the bench and they were both relaxed and smiling.
