A Floury Apron Chapter 2 Gracechurch Street, Cheapside, a pride and prejudice fanfic

Chapter 2 - Gracechurch Street, near Cheapside, London

It was a balm to Elizabeth's spirits to be welcomed into a busy household where she could be of use without being chastised, and where more was talked of than Lydia's scandal. In the cheerful company of her young cousins, she could forget her missing sister for minutes at a time. The calm and intelligent conversation of her aunt and uncle drew her out of herself, and she did not have time more than several times a day to recall that her own selfish choices had left Lydia vulnerable to seduction by a scoundrel. Gradually she began to set her self-recrimination aside and to focus on the good she could do by helping her aunt.

Mr Gardiner still took time out from his business to search for his missing niece, although he did not hold out much hope of finding her. Too much time had passed and London was too big a city for Lydia to be located without some unusual stroke of luck. But Mr Gardiner could not rest easy knowing that he had not tried. Of an evening, he would describe his efforts to his wife and Elizabeth: "Today I enquired of the gang masters at the docks as to whether anyone of Wickham's description had applied for work." or "I sent a lad to spy out those boarding houses on Clapham High Street," or even, more hopefully, "I delivered a note to all the modistes that Jenkins knew of, asking them to alert me if a girl of Lydia's description should order any wedding clothes". He did not share with them that he had also enquired of a number of brothels in case Lydia had already been sold into shame. But to date, none of these avenues of enquiry had borne fruit.

Elizabeth was, unbeknownst to her mother, who would have had an attack of nerves at the mere thought of any of her daughters working in the kitchen, quite a skilled baker. Mrs Hitchins, Longbourn's cook, was largely responsible for Mrs Bennet's reputation as an excellent hostess: she was a master of her craft, and could deliver her mistress's demanding menus cooked to perfection. Her greatest skill, however, was reserved for her baking: Mrs Hitchins could make cakes, biscuits, pies, puddings, tarts and breads to tempt the most discerning palates. On many an afternoon, once a haunch was set to roasting or a fowl dressed and in the pot, her kitchen benches would be cleared for the preparation of some delicate confection the likes of which the rest of the neighbourhood could only dream of.

Mrs Hitchins had little time for her mistress. Mrs Bennet set a good menu, and allowed her cook considerable leeway in her management of the kitchen, but while this might have been the basis for respect and even friendship to develop between the two, Mrs Hitchins had no time for Mrs Bennet's frequent bouts of nerves and thought her treatment of her daughters nothing short of disgraceful. She was content to communicate through the long-suffering Mrs Hill, whose limitless patience made her better suited to dealing with the lady of the house.

Mrs Hitchens had started at Longbourn not long after the second daughter was born, and was witness to Mrs Bennet bemoaning the fate that had given her another daughter instead of the son they needed to break the entail. Well, everyone could understand that. But to take her disappointment out on the child was beyond the pale, as far as the young cook was concerned. The babe was not to blame for being a girl, nor, so far as the staff could see, for much else that she was blamed for over the years. To be sure, little Lizzy became mischievous as she grew, and often did things that any mother would have chastised her for, but the way she was treated by Mrs Bennet went well beyond reprimands for coming home with a muddied skirt or running when she should have walked. No, Mrs Bennet took every opportunity to remind Elizabeth that she was not as pretty as Jane, not as delightful as Lydia, not as fashionably dressed as Kitty, and above all, not a boy. Mrs Hitchins did not understand her mistress's resentment of her second child, but she did understand the girl's need to have a refuge where she could get away from her mother's constant attention. And when it was too cold or wet to walk out, that refuge was often the Longbourn kitchen.

And so, Elizabeth had learned to cook. While Mrs Hitchins was directing the preparation of a delicate main dish or peeling vegetables ready to roast, she would set the young child down with some flour to play at baking, and before long, Lizzy's inquiring mind was demanding instruction on how to turn her creations into something edible. In Elizabeth Bennet, she found a willing apprentice who would sneak away to the kitchen for hours at a time to learn a new recipe or to bake a batch of her favourite biscuits. By the time she was fifteen, Elizabeth could take charge of the desert courses and whip up a batch of lemon tarts that no-one could distinguish from those of Mrs Hitchins herself. After she came out, her mother demanded that she spend more time in the obligations of a young lady - more often taking tea with visiting neighbours than baking the treats to be served with that tea - and Elizabeth had fewer opportunities to enjoy the relative peace and quiet of a busy kitchen.

Now at Gracechurch Street, Elizabeth was free to spend as much time baking as she wished. There was plenty to be done in entertaining her young cousins, or supervising their lessons, or helping to settle them of an evening, but this still left many hours when there was little for her to do. Rather than sit and worry about Lydia, Elizabeth visited her aunt's kitchen and offered to assist with the preparation of some baked treats. At first the Gardiners' cook was not sure whether to be more offended by this fine young lady thinking she might be able to make a better lemon tart than a professional cook, or frustrated at the disruption to her kitchen that would result from the well-meaning interference of an amateur. He was pleasantly surprised by Elizabeth's competence. Not only did she produce a batch of excellent tarts, but she was a neat worker who conversed pleasantly with the kitchen staff - not at all thinking herself better than the cook or the scullery maid - and cleaned up after herself.

Indeed, not a week had passed before the cook was watching Miss Elizabeth closely, not in criticism but to pick up some tips from the young lady. She knew several recipes he did not, and her way with making bread was truly impressive. The whole household - above and below stairs - was enjoying the lighter loaves and rolls Miss Elizabeth baked. And those lemon tarts truly were excellent. Whether Mrs Hitchins would be pleased to know that some of her most closely-held secrets has been shared with the kitchen staff of a London tradesman will never be known, since the ruler of the Longbourn kitchen never ventured beyond St Albans in her entire life, while the Gardiners' cook was London born and bred, and never left the environs of that metropolis.

Twelve days after her arrival, it was her eldest cousin's sixth birthday. Young Angeline Gardiner had a sweet tooth, and a particular fondness for cinnamon. While Mrs Gardiner took her children to the park, in the company of their nanny and the upstairs maid, Elizabeth spent much of the afternoon in conspiracy with the cook to prepare a tray of caramels, cinnamon buns, and a quite impressive sponge cake for the children's' supper. Elizabeth had donned an apron to protect her skirts during this effort, but thanks to her own skill and that of the cook, there had been little spillage and her apron bore no more marks than those caused by the occasional cloud of flour raised in the course of cake baking, some of which had also found its way to her forehead.

The housekeeper had taken the opportunity of a quiet afternoon to visit her sister, who lived above a shop in nearby Cheapside. Thus when a firm knock sounded on the Gardiners' front door, it fell to the cook or to Elizabeth to answer it. As the cook was then in the midst of preparing a particularly delicate sauce and Elizabeth had finished her own tasks, it was the latter who hastily brushed the flour off her hands before hurrying to the door to greet her uncle's visitor, doubtless some business colleague who expected Mr Gardiner would be home alone this afternoon.

It was not a colleague of her uncle. Elizabeth opened the door briskly, extending a hearty "Welcome, sir, would you like to come in while I …" to none other than Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy! Surprised beyond measure, Elizabeth could not account for his presence on her uncle's doorstep, and stopped, mid-sentence, unable to think of a thing to say.

That Mr Darcy was himself surprised was evident. He had already begun to doff his hat as the door swung open, and he now stood, hat held a little above his shoulder, wondering whether politeness dictated he complete its downward swing or return it to his head. If he had been able to focus his wits on the question, he would immediately have discerned that whichever option he chose would be better than standing with his arm frozen in mid-doffing, but unfortunately for that gentleman, the larger part of his mind was unable to think of anything but the astounding fact that Miss Elizabeth Bennet - the Miss Elizabeth Bennet - was standing in front of him. He had thought her hours away at her family estate.

After a long moment of mutual surprise and embarrassment, Elizabeth broke the tableau by managing a creditable curtsy and murmuring "Mr Darcy," in tones that almost disguised her confusion at his presence. As she averted her eyes and stood back to allow him entry, he finally managed to bring his hat down and nod his head politely. "Miss Bennet," he replied, and walked nervously into the hallway, where he knew from prior visits he would find a table on which to place his hat and free his hands to … well, to flex nervously by his sides.