Hello there, dear friends! Thank you so very much to everyone who has read, commented, favorited and followed so far - you are all of you making my day every day, knowing that this story is grabbing your attention. :D
I know that the end of the last chapter was upsetting for some of you, but I promise things do get better! In this chapter, we've jumped ahead four years. Elizabeth has grown and matured, and is living with her Bennet relatives at Longbourn. But oh, there are surprises in store... ~ CC
Longbourn, 1811
"You cannot be serious, Aunt!"
Elizabeth whirled to face her mother. "Surely you do not agree with her!"
Mrs. Gardiner lifted a shoulder. "It certainly couldn't hurt, Lizzy," she said.
"Most certainly it could not, sister!" cried Jane Gardiner Bennet, the aunt to whom Elizabeth had just spoken. "Lady Lucas told me just this morning that she has heard that Mr. Bingley intends to bring a large party to the assembly—including more than one single gentleman."
Elizabeth faced her aunt again. "And what has that to do with me? Is it not my cousin Jane to whom you hope to attach this Mr. Bingley?"
Mrs. Bennet emitted an exasperated snort and shook her head. "Sister, I do not know what we shall do with your daughter," she said. "Four years she has lived among us, yet not one time has she attended an assembly. It is time for Lizzy to go out among society and find herself a new husband—Ned needs a father!"
"My son already has a father, Aunt Bennet," Elizabeth snapped angrily. Turning away from both older women, she stormed out of the stillroom, where her mother and aunt had cornered her to insist she attend the assembly in Meryton on Friday next.
A father who has these three years refused to acknowledge his existence, no doubt so that he can claim his next son as firstborn and deny mine his due inheritance! she thought as she stalked out into the garden to walk off her anger.
Elizabeth did not attend the assemblies; her mother knew why. She had no intention of making the same mistake she had four years ago. A mistake that had led to a marriage broken only hours after it was consummated, which in turn left her with a child to raise on her own at seventeen. She'd written to Fitzwilliam Darcy as soon as she learned she'd conceived to inform him she carried his child. Admittedly, a part of her had hoped that, since he'd yet to marry the unnamed girl with a fortune of sixty thousand—for surely it would have been in the papers if he had—he would come back to her. Surely a child would erase all objections to a match between them.
She'd been twice a fool to even contemplate a reunion. No answer to that letter, or the dozen that followed it, ever came. After she'd borne a son, even her father had made an effort to establish communication with the Darcys by going into Derbyshire to meet with the gentleman. His efforts had proved fruitless, as he reported that he had been turned away without even an audience.
After the failure of her father's attempt at communication, Elizabeth had sworn herself to be a spinster for life and dedicated herself to raising her child. The truth of her circumstances was unknown to their neighbors, hidden in the clever lie told by her parents on their arrival in the country village—which was that she had married imprudently to a young soldier who was deployed to the continent immediately after their marriage. Of course, he had conveniently died within weeks of going off to war.
It had ceased mattering years ago that the people of Meryton thought her name was Elizabeth Woods, as that was who she had been forced to become. Though she despised the necessity of the lie, she had embraced the respectability of being the widowed mother of a soldier's offspring. Little Ned—his Christian name being Edward after her father, for his own did not deserve the honor of his son bearing his name—was a delightful boy who charmed everyone he met with. He had already proven himself to be possessed of keen intelligence at only three years of age, and Elizabeth took pride in being his sole parent.
She walked about the grounds of Longbourn, her Uncle Bennet's estate, for over an hour before returning to the house. Ned would be waking for breakfast soon. She hoped he would be satisfied to play with his toys while she worked to complete the gown Mary King had commissioned. That was her life now: she was a dressmaker. Needing some employment after her lying-in, as she was determined to earn her place in her uncle's house, Elizabeth had offered her services to the modiste in Meryton. She'd already had some skill with a needle and thread, and Mrs. Harper had, over the years, helped her to improve it. She soon became skilled at embroidery and tambour work, and though it had taken time, Elizabeth eventually lost her resentment of the necessity of her work and began to take pride in it.
It was especially gratifying when Mrs. Harper had called her "the best investment I ever made," even if she did all her work from Longbourn and not at the shop in Meryton's main street.
Little was she surprised when she neared the garden to see her cousin Jane waiting for her. Jane Bennet was the kind of beauty who had often been espoused—most notably by her mother—as "angelic". Her kind, gentle nature had countless times over the four years of their acquaintance served to settle Elizabeth's frazzled nerves whenever she was vexed, and of all her Bennet cousins (there were four), she considered Jane to be the sister she never had.
"Which of our mothers sent you to tame the angry bear?" she asked lightly as she approached.
Jane stood from the bench on which she was seated. "Neither, though no doubt one or the other would have had I not come to meet you of my own volition," she said. "I saw you through the window of your room when I went to check on Ned."
"Is he awake?" Elizabeth queried as she linked arms with Jane and the two moved on toward the house.
"He was still asleep when I looked in."
"He's slept late today. I hope that does not mean he will be difficult to put to bed tonight."
Jane laughed softly. "When have you ever had a moment's trouble with that boy?" she said. "He's quite well behaved, your son, for being so young."
Elizabeth smiled at her. "A trait he must certainly get from his cousin Jane, who of everyone that surrounds him is an angel."
"I am hardly an angel, Lizzy, though I should be glad to be a positive influence on my little cousin," Jane replied.
"Well, you've certainly a more even temper than I have, as my most recent row with my mother and yours would attest," said Elizabeth as they entered Longbourn through the stillroom. There, she stopped to check on the soaps she had spent the morning making.
"I know what they intended to speak to you about," said Jane, "and at risk of also incurring your wrath, I must say that I agree with Mamma and my aunt. Four years you have lived with us, Lizzy, and not once in all that time have you come to a dance. I know that you know how, for you have stood up many a time with my sisters and me during our lessons."
Elizabeth suppressed a sigh. "Jane, you know why I don't go to the assemblies, why I rarely attend dinner parties anywhere but here, our Uncle Phillips', or at Lucas Lodge. I've lost all ability to trust men, and frankly, I do not know that I can trust myself."
Jane stopped her moving away by a touch to her shoulder. "Lizzy, do you not think that Ned could do with the protection and influence of a father?"
"Perhaps he could, Jane, but has he not already a fine father figure in his Uncle Bennet?"
Her companion lifted an eyebrow and gazed at her knowingly. "My father is a good man, to be sure, and I do love him dearly, but… Lizzy, even I cannot deny he is hardly hands-on in the management of his daughters. You've seen for yourself how wild and ridiculous Kitty and Lydia have been allowed to become."
Jane's youngest sisters, who were seventeen and fifteen, were silly, empty-headed girls whose fancy for fashion and flirtation over-rode any measure of sense and decorum that either had been born with. Mrs. Bennet, who behaved more like an older sister than a mother toward the two, encouraged their behavior, and Mr. Bennet was too interested in having the peace and quiet to read and re-read the books in his library to take the trouble of checking them. Elizabeth loved him almost as a second father, but despaired of his ever correcting Kitty and Lydia as he ought.
That Jane had gone so far as to disparage her father in any measure must mean that she was as frustrated with him as Elizabeth often was with her Aunt Bennet.
"What has my uncle done now?" she asked.
Jane sighed. "He gave my sisters money to go into the village and buy more ribbons even though they have both of them already spent their allowance. Mary and I both tried to talk him out of it, but you know he never listens to our counsel."
"I suspect he did so to silence their begging and get them out of his hair," Elizabeth observed as she and Jane headed further into the house.
When they came into the main hall, Mary was just leading Ned down the stairs. Her son brightened when he took notice of her and hopped down the last couple of steps to run over and embrace her legs.
"Mamma!" the child said happily.
Elizabeth bent and embraced him. "And hello to you to, my love. Did you have a good rest?"
Ned nodded. "I'm hungry, Mamma."
"I imagine you are. Let us find your grandmamma and go in to breakfast, as she'll be going home soon," she told the little boy with a smile. Mrs. Gardiner, who had spent the last few days at Longbourn, was due to depart that day; it was her hope to reach London, where she and her husband lived in the neighborbood of Cheapside, before dark.
Taking her son by the hand, Elizabeth headed into the parlor, where she found her mother and her aunts Phillips and Bennet chatting away.
"Mamma, look who is awake," she said.
Mrs. Gardiner's countenance brightened and she smiled. "My favorite little boy is awake at last! Come give your grandmamma a kiss, Neddy."
Ned ran happily over to his grandmother and allowed her to smother him with kisses, before he was kissed and cooed over by Mrs. Phillips and Mrs. Bennet, the latter saying,
"It is about time for breakfast, is it not? Has your trunk been brought down, sister?"
Mrs. Gardiner nodded as she stood. "It should be outside waiting for the carriage already."
The family filed into the dining room and crowded around the table to partake of the morning meal. Mr. Bennet, as usual, paid more attention to his newspaper than the antics of his youngest daughters or his wife, leaving it to Jane and Mary to try and curtail their sisters' behavior while Mrs. Bennet continued to gossip with her own.
Nothing much was said between Elizabeth and her mother until after breakfast was done and she was escorting Mrs. Gardiner to her carriage. Once all the Bennets had said their farewells, and little Ned had been taken inside by his cousin Mary, Mrs. Gardiner embraced Elizabeth tightly, then stood back and said in a low voice, "Lizzy, don't you think it's time to move on?"
Elizabeth suppressed a sigh. "Move on from what, Mamma?" she replied, though she knew very well what her mother had meant.
"From him," Mrs. Gardiner replied. "It's been four years since that wretched boy abandoned you. Let go the anger that you have carried around all this time and find another."
The sigh escaped. "Mamma, I don't want anyone else. And before you say it, I don't want him, either. I just… I don't care about that anymore."
"Dearest, you can't let one disappointment ruin your life," her mother countered. "You are only twenty years old—not nearly old enough to put yourself on the shelf, and certainly not old enough to declare yourself a spinster. You should marry again, my love. Find yourself a nice young man and give Ned some brothers and sisters."
"I can't, Mamma. You may think me too young to have given up on happiness, but I just can't," Elizabeth said, and the sadness of that truth settled like a weight in her chest. "I'm too jaded by that one disappointment to trust any man with my heart."
"You don't have to marry for love, Lizzy. So long as the fellow is amiable and kind—"
"I won't marry just for security's sake, Mamma," Elizabeth interrupted her. "I won't marry without love, and since I am unable to trust any man enough to actually fall in love with him, I shan't marry again at all."
She tilted her head then as she regarded her mother. "Why are you and Aunt Bennet so bloody determined that I should put myself out there again? Though we live in his house, my Uncle Bennet does not support Ned and me—I earn enough for that with my work, and the funds Father has sent us when he is able. And besides, if I should enter the marriage mart, I'd be competition not only for all our neighbors' daughters, but my cousins as well, and I daresay Aunt Bennet would not like me getting in Jane's way at all."
Mrs. Gardiner chuckled as she glanced toward the house over Elizabeth's shoulder. "If she thought you real competition for her angel, I daresay she would not be so enthusiastic about your going out into society more," she agreed. "However, my sister feels that your being a widowed mother will be of less interest to any single gentleman of fortune than a single young lady who is…untouched."
Elizabeth scoffed. "How little intelligence my aunt possesses on the matter," she said. "Virgins are certainly an attraction, as I know to my detriment, but my having borne a son will be of interest, as it is proof to any man that I could likely bear another."
"Indeed, my dear," said Mrs. Gardiner. "But my sister Bennet does not—or will not—see it that way. She is determined that Jane's beauty alone will save her and her daughters from the hedgerows when Mr. Bennet is dead."
At this Elizabeth had to laugh. "I know, she talks of it almost daily."
She then sighed and said, "I will consider attending the assembly with my cousins, Mamma, but only to engage with my friends—not to find a husband. Will that be satisfactory?"
Her mother smiled. "It is a start. At the very least, I should like to hear of you going out more. Staying at home all the time just because you have a child is silly, Lizzy. Mothers do get to have society outside of their children, you know."
"I know, which is why you must get back to London as quick as you can," said Elizabeth as she gave her mother a little push toward the waiting carriage. "Your friends Mrs. Bradley and Mrs. Henderson are very entertaining to me."
"They are to me as well," replied Mrs. Gardiner with a giggle. "Have you any message for your father?"
"Give him my love, of course. And tell him I am most pleased his business is growing," Elizabeth said as her mother at last climbed into the small chaise and seated herself. "Tell Papa that I am so very proud of all his hard work to become a success."
Mrs. Gardiner gave her a knowing look. "You could tell him yourself, you know. Your father and I would love to have you and Ned come to London to live with us."
"So you have said, and I am pleased beyond expression that you would take on the burden of your widowed daughter and her son," said Elizabeth as she shut the carriage door. "But Longbourn has been his home all of Ned's life. I should hate to disturb his equilibrium by uprooting him."
"You just don't want to run into that boy," said Mrs. Gardiner, "no matter how many times I have assured you of the improbability. The chance of it may be why we asked your Uncle Bennet to put you up when we left Derbyshire, Lizzy, but our new home and your father's warehouse is in a part of the city such a person as he is unlikely to even visit once, let alone frequent."
"I know, Mother, but while there is even the remotest possibility, I shall never set foot in Town. I am sorry."
Elizabeth stepped back from the carriage. "I do hope you will have a safe and pleasant journey home, Mamma."
Mrs. Gardiner nodded. "I love you, Lizzy. And my little grandson, too."
She then knocked on the roof of the chaise three times, the signal to the driver to start off. Elizabeth waved heartily and continued to until the small carriage turned off the drive and onto the lane.
On returning to the house, she found Ned with Mary at the pianoforte. Such patience her quiet, bookish cousin had with the boy—which Elizabeth certainly appreciated. She and Jane were indeed angels, one or the other always helping look after him when she had commissions to work on.
Such as now, she mused, before asking Mary, "Can you look after him a while? I really want to get Miss King's gown finished today if I can."
Elizabeth always asked, never presumed, that one of her cousins would assist her, but as always, Mary was quick to give a positive reply.
"I believe little Edward has some talent, Lizzy," said Mary as she smiled down at her charge. "He has already learned some very simple melodies."
"Wanna hear, Mamma?" Ned asked eagerly.
Elizabeth smiled at her son. "I have some work I must do in our room, my love, but I will leave the door open so that I may hear you practice."
"I practice, Mamma!" said the boy, eagerly turning his attention back to the black and white keys before him.
After thanking Mary, Elizabeth went up to her room and got right to work. Mary King had ordered an evening gown to be made from a recent shipment of pale blue muslin that Mrs. Harper had received, with a request of yellow flowers embroidered on the cap sleeves and hem; the sleeves were done, she had only the hem to go. While she worked at a table under the open window, the weather being unusually fair for October, it occurred to her that there was some irony in working on a gown meant to be worn at an assembly she had no intention of attending herself. She would not get to see Miss King wearing the completed garment, but then she rarely saw her clients wearing the evening gowns she made for them.
"How sad that is," she found herself mumbling aloud. Elizabeth paused in her stitching and looked out the window, which overlooked the front drive. What harm could it really do, she wondered, to attend the assembly? She needn't go to hunt for a husband she didn't want, and surely a good time could be had in visiting with her neighbors. She did not have to dance, though Elizabeth knew she would not enjoy the evening to the fullest if she did not do so at least once.
A gasp escaped her when she heard the rattle of glassware; looking up, Elizabeth noted Jane entering the room with a teacup and saucer in hand. Her cousin placed it on a clear spot on the table before sitting opposite her. "I didn't mean to startle you; I thought you could use some refreshment."
Elizabeth picked up the cup and saucer. Sipping the hot beverage, she noted it was lemon-flavored tea with a hint of sugar—just how she liked it.
"Thank you, Jane," she said after a moment. "And it is my own fault that you startled me, I ought not to have been wool-gathering."
"What were you thinking of, if it is not too bold of me to ask?"
"Whether you and our mothers are right, that I should get out more," Elizabeth said. "I have become rather reclusive these four years, haven't I?"
Jane smiled. "Just a bit."
"I don't want a husband, Jane," said Elizabeth over her teacup. "I'm quite determined on that score. I own that my choice will be seen as foolish, given I am still quite young, but…"
She sighed, and a tiny bit of the old wound opened up beneath her breast. The deep, aching hurt that she had fought so hard to bury under anger and resentment was remembered in a breath-stealing moment.
"But you can't bring yourself to risk your heart again," Jane finished for her. "I understand, Lizzy, truly I do. And I give you my solemn promise that I, at least, will never press you about marrying again. I will not, however, promise not to encourage you to go out more. You are already fond of long walks, so it won't do you a harm to join my sisters and I in going into Meryton on occasion—and not just to pick up work from Mrs. Harper."
Elizabeth smiled. "I concede the point, dear cousin."
Glancing over her shoulder, she gazed at the wardrobe where her clothes were hung. "But whatever shall I wear if I go with you to the assembly? I haven't very many evening dresses."
Jane stood and went over to the wardrobe, flinging open the doors in a dramatic fashion that reminded Elizabeth of Lydia; she giggled as the thought occurred to her. After pushing one gown after another aside, Jane pulled out the single all-white dress that she owned.
"What about this one?" her cousin asked as she turned around, holding the dress up for Elizabeth to see. "The sleeves are long, but you have the skill to make them shorter if you should wish to. And the dress would certainly stand out more if you added a little color to it—perhaps a new ribbon at the waist, or some embroidery or tambour work."
Elizabeth trailed her fingers along the length of the skirt when Jane brought the dress over. "I suppose I could do something with it, if I find the time in between my commissions. And you know your sisters will demand my help."
"Attend to your paid work as you must, Lizzy, but take care of yourself before you do anything for my selfish sisters," Jane admonished.
"Upon my word, Jane, you must be especially vexed today," said Elizabeth as the white dress was then being returned to the wardrobe. "That is twice you have made a cutting remark."
"They came in a short while ago, squabbling over a bonnet," Jane groused as she returned to her chair. "I'm surprised you didn't hear them."
"Well, you know how I tend to tune everything out when I'm concentrating."
Jane nodded, then said, "So… You will attend the assembly then? I really could use the support, Lizzy, especially if Mr. Bingley does not ask me to dance, though Mamma is so sure he will."
"Of course Mr. Bingley will ask you to dance, Jane—you'll be the most beautiful creature he's ever beheld, I am sure," Elizabeth replied. "But yes, I will go with you for moral support. I might even dance, if anyone should ask me."