A/N:

Thank you for all your comments. Knitting Princess credits me with deep literary imagery, but I am just an enthusiastic Austenphile, paying tribute to Ms. Austen whenever I can, especially in a story where I am borrowing so much from her real life. The bailiff's cottage was based on the one that JA lived in while writing all her novels at that round (12-sided- yes, I counted and recounted the number of polygonal sides) table in her dining room. Did any of you get that?

Cfw: I wish I could dream up a plot. This one was a huge amount of work. I had the entire story outlined, but I had to squeeze my brain for every word I put down on paper. Next time, if there will be a next time after such exertion, I will just do what I had done with my first two stories—developed the plot while I wrote.

Guest: if you figured out that the new cover is the White Rose of the House of York without using a search engine, kudos to you!

To the rest of the reviewers, especially those who review every chapter, thank you! If you just read, thank you too. I hope at the end of the story, you will leave me a few words about what you like, and what wasn't so good.

The OC is introduced in this chapter. She is based on a lady during the time period of this story. Yes, some bluestockings were highly educated, much more so than the Elizabeth Bennet in any of my stories. There was also a real timber merchant who was worth a million pounds.

Chapter 7

Elizabeth had been in London for a week. She finally completed the catalogue of the books. Hundreds of them were first-edition or rare books. Her father had an interest in just about everything ever published, including Anglo-Saxon history, and even books and manuscripts from foreign countries.

One morning, while her Uncle Gardiner was away from the office, Mr. Gardiner's warehouse clerk came in to announce that a lady and her business associate had requested to view the books.

Elizabeth was curious. Her uncle had not told her to expect anyone regarding her father's collection.

An elegantly dressed lady in lavender was examining the volumes with deep concentration when Elizabeth entered the front part of the warehouse. The lady was quite young—perhaps ten years older than herself, had a full and pleasing figure, and a handsome face with a self-assured air.

The man accompanying the lady seemed surprised to see her instead of her uncle and hurried over to inquire impatiently, "Ma'am, I am here to speak with Mr. Gardiner. Could you please announce to him that Mrs. Trumbull and Mr. Peters are here to view the Bennet collection?"

"Oh, my uncle has been called away on urgent business. I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet. This was my late father's…" Elizabeth still choked up when mentioning her father.

On hearing the suppressed sob emanating from the young woman, the lady came up to Elizabeth and gently said, "Miss Bennet, forgive me for intruding. Please accept my condolences for your loss. Was it recent?"

"Yes, madam, in early September," answered Elizabeth more calmly, now that she had a moment to contain her emotions.

"I see. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Mrs. Lillian Trumbull."

Mrs. Trumbull scrutinized Elizabeth for a moment to discern any sign the young woman in front of her recognized her name.

At her husband's death the previous year, followed by the death of his seven-year-old son and heir six months later, she became one of the richest heiresses in all England. Rumor was she had inherited half a million pounds from her husband, who had been a Member of Parliament as well as the most successful timber merchant in the land. The money was from trade, but Mrs. Trumbull, nee Morgan, was descended from a long line of distinguished Anglo-Welsh gentry. Her father was a baronet.

Her formal reentry into society had stirred much excitement now that her mourning period was officially over. Mrs. Trumbull, anticipating eyes would be on her wherever she went, resorted to wearing half-mourning dresses to fend off unwanted attention.

Seeing no reaction from Elizabeth, Mrs. Trumbull relaxed and continued, "I heard this is an unusually extensive collection rich in the classics, including one of the two known first-editions of 'Hamlet.' I wish to learn more about it. If it is as outstanding as it is reputed to be, then I wish to have the opportunity to purchase the entire collection before it goes to auction. Miss Bennet, you are a gentlewoman, and so I shall not trouble you further with any more talk of business dealings, especially during your period of mourning."

Elizabeth could never hold her tongue when she saw any inconsistency in an argument. She retorted, "Madam, you yourself are a gentlewoman still in mourning, and yet you intend to negotiate with my uncle on acquiring the book collection." She paused abruptly as her mother's admonishments for her being too sharp entered her mind unbidden. She apologized meekly, "Please excuse my impertinence."

Mrs. Trumbull eyed Elizabeth with interest. She was indeed not at all offended. Instead, she answered gently, "Miss Bennet, I commend you for speaking frankly. You are right, of course, about my intending to conduct the negotiation personally. Society is slower to censure a widow for trespassing outside of proper decorum than a young unmarried lady. Even so, I usually have Mr. Peters with me for propriety's sake. Miss Bennet, allow me to introduce Mr. Peters, my steward and solicitor."

Elizabeth curtsied, and Mr. Peters bowed.

Mrs. Trumbull continued, "Miss Bennet, am I correct to assume that you are more informed about the collection than Mr. Gardiner?"

Elizabeth nodded slightly. She did not want to assume false modesty when Mrs. Trumbull asked such a direct question.

"I understand your grief over your father's passing is still fresh and painful to you, and you may not be ready to talk about these books, which must have been very dear to him."

Elizabeth quickly said, "I thank you for your kind consideration, madam, but I am well now. It is a conundrum. I love talking about my father, but I cannot help weeping when speaking of him. If you could ignore my tears, it would be my pleasure to answer your questions to the best of my ability. I grew up with many of these books and can take some pride in my knowledge about them." Elizabeth's courage always rose when faced with a challenge.

Mrs. Trumbull again looked at Elizabeth with fascination. "Indeed!"

The two ladies enjoyed a lively exchange about various aspects of the collection.

Mrs. Trumbull picked up a book. She remarked, "'Il newtonianismo per le dame'—'Newtonianism for the ladies.' Was your father enlightened about educating girls? Did he encourage you and your sisters to pursue interest in the natural sciences? Miss Bennet, I am pretending not to have just mentioned your late father again."

Elizabeth answered with a genuine smile, "My father left the pursuit of knowledge entirely to his daughters' own initiative. Those who cared to learn never lacked masters. I was the most inquisitive of his five daughters from the start. One day—I was twelve years old—I spotted my father studying Newton's 'Principia.' I had some rudimentary Latin at that age, but I did not recognize the limit of my meager knowledge and implored my father to teach Newtonian physics to me. In all honesty, the diagrams and the strange symbols in the treatise were fascinating to me, not the theory of the workings of the natural world. To pacify me, and I am certain playing a practical joke on his troublesome daughter was part of his intent, he purchased the 'il newtonianismo per le dame' for me, knowing full well I did not know a word of Italian. Being very stubborn, I muddled through the book, learning hardly anything about color and light, but picked up enough Italian to understand the lyrics of the arias I learned to sing a few years later."

Mrs. Trumbull laughed heartily over this anecdote. Her countenance was open and pleasant when she laughed, making her look younger.

"Thank you for putting me at ease talking about my father's love for his books," Elizabeth told Mrs. Trumbull feelingly. She was beginning to like this lady, who seemed very kind and quick-witted.

Mrs. Trumbull said in response, "I have not laughed for a long time. I also must thank you for telling me such diverting anecdotes of your life. Hmm, the Italian you learned was about color and light. You favor happy Italian arias then? But aren't most of them about lost love and heartbreaks?"

Both ladies laughed merrily some more. As if on cue, Mr. Gardiner entered the room and immediately approached Mrs. Trumbull. He apologetically greeted her, "Mrs. Trumbull, I beg your forgiveness for not being here to receive you this afternoon. Henderson, my clerk, alerted me to your interest in the Bennet collection. Allow me to re-introduce myself. I am Edward Gardiner. I met you and Mr. Trumbull at one of your soirees many years ago. You may not remember me—it was quite a crush, as I recall. Please accept my condolences on Mr. Trumbull's passing. He was a great man."

Mrs. Trumbull nodded to acknowledge the kind compliments but said nothing in response.

Mr. Gardiner looked from one lady to the other and said, "I see that you have met my niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She is the only person who could answer questions on this collection."

Before Elizabeth could say something to moderate her uncle's high praise, Mrs. Trumbull interjected, "Indeed, you are right, Mr. Gardiner. Miss Bennet has explained the merits of this collection admirably. She also reminded me that as a gentlewoman, I should leave the business end of my interest in acquiring this collection to the men."

Elizabeth again wanted to rebut, as she had not said any such thing. However, on seeing the mischievous but good-natured glint in Mrs. Trumbull's eyes, she acquiesced.

"If you allow me a few minutes with Mr. Peters, I shall inform him of my wishes in regard to the book collection, and then I shall continue the very edifying tour through these fascinating books under Miss Bennet's tutelage."

Mrs. Trumbull excused herself and went over to Mr. Peters. They conversed for a few minutes with Mr. Peters glancing over at Elizabeth a few times.

Mr. Peters then followed Mr. Gardiner to an inner office to discuss business.

Meanwhile, the two ladies talked further, not only about the books but also about themselves.

Elizabeth learned that Mrs. Trumbull had studied Latin, Greek, French and Italian as a child from her clergyman uncle. After marriage, she bore seven children in quick succession; and being the wife of an ambitious industrialist and Member of Parliament, she had not had the time for her own scholastic pursuits. Now that she was free of the many obligations imposed on her by her previous status, she wanted to build back the library of her childhood, which was lost because of her father's bankruptcy.

Elizabeth, for her part, told Mrs. Trumbull about having four sisters and the circumstances that led to the sale of the book collection.

Mrs. Trumbull was thoughtful for a few moments. She asked, "Will you and your sisters be seeking employment then?"

Ever perceptive, Elizabeth sensed that Mrs. Trumbull was about to offer employment to her. She was momentarily lost for words. Mrs. Trumbull was likely to purchase the book collection, and she might risk offending a potential savior of the Bennet family by not accommodating the older lady's wishes.

To her surprise, Mrs. Trumbull did not wait for an answer but disclosed something quite personal. "My father lost more than he had in speculative investments and put his family in a dire financial situation, possibly worse than your family's current one. By the time my future husband came to purchase the woods of my father's estate, I had a fair idea that he would be buying the last of what my father owned. He had already lost my dowry for his last investment. When Mr. Trumbull asked me for my hand in marriage, I saw him as the way out of poverty and a life in service. I accepted his offer instantly. My father, however, had some exaggerated perception of his own importance as a gentleman with a hereditary title. You see, my family has a rather illustrious history in my part of the country, and my father was a baronet. He refused to give his consent to the marriage of his only child, the last of his noble lineage, to a despicable 'cit,' as he so spitefully called Mr. Trumbull. I eloped, and sadly, my father had an apoplexy and died when the news reached him."

"My husband, Brent Trumbull, was the only son of a prosperous timber tradesman. He had been sent to Eton and then Oxford. When he inherited, instead of fulfilling his father's wish of purchasing an estate and becoming a gentleman, he expanded the business to include ship- and canal-building. He saw in me an opportunity to place himself in a social circle even beyond what his own father had aspired to. I was fortunate. My husband was a good man, and by all accounts, we had a felicitous marriage."

Elizabeth did not know what to say to this frank telling of a stranger's intimate family history, and so she remained silent. After a brief moment, Mrs. Trumbull appeared to have woken from a trance. She looked at Elizabeth with an embarrassed smile and said wryly, "Miss Bennet, you must think me daft to be telling you all this. If you knew me better, you would know that being frank is in my nature. During my year in mourning, I did not see many people or have any deep conversations. And then my only son died of scarlet fever six months after my husband's death. Do forgive me for telling you what you care nothing about."

Mrs. Trumbull signaled to Elizabeth, who was about to interrupt, to let her finish. "Miss Bennet, what I intended to say to you before I digressed to this long exposition of my personal history was that I understand the dilemma faced by gentlewomen impoverished by circumstances not of their own making. I explained how I escaped the impending financial ruin created by my reckless father. I do not know whether marriage is a viable solution for you and your sisters. Unfortunately, for young women without means, the options for a secure future are scarce."

Elizabeth was tempted to tell Mrs. Trumbull that the death of her own father was also due to the shock of Lydia's elopement, but Lydia's scandal was far worse than Mrs. Trumbull's. After all, no one knew whether Lydia had actually married. As for Elizabeth marrying for security, that ship—with Mr. Darcy in it—had long sailed.

She focused on the issue at hand instead. "Mrs. Trumbull, I am grateful for your taking me into your confidence and for your advice. Please be assured what I just heard will go no further, and also accept my condolences for your loss.

"I have an unusual predicament that my father adamantly stipulated before his death that his daughters would not go into service, and charged me with upholding his dying wish. The Bennet family is of old lineage as well, but there have been no titles in our branch of the family. Nonetheless, pa… my father felt a deep remorse for leaving his daughters in a state of need. He felt the sale of his books should be able to preserve our status as gentlewomen. I suspect he also worried about what ill fate could befall us, for my elder sister is an exquisite beauty."

"I see. Miss Bennet, I have given instructions to Mr. Peters to offer Mr. Gardiner fair value for the collection. I do hope the sum will be enough to maintain six ladies in genteel living. Have you found a new place to live?"

"Thank you, madam. I also hope all will come to a satisfactory conclusion. As for my family, my Uncle Gardiner found us a cottage on the edge of a village close to Clapham, which is about five miles from here. They are settling in tolerably well," answered Elizabeth. She had to bite her lip to stop spilling the truth that there were only five of them left in the family.

"Ah, Clapham is but three miles from Brixton Park, my country house."

Mrs. Trumbull left Elizabeth's side and walked away for a few moments. When she turned around, she looked at Elizabeth and said intently, "Miss Bennet, we have only met today. This may seem abrupt to you. I, however, have been contemplating for months what I shall offer to you, or rather, someone I would hire to fill the position I think you are well-qualified for, and hope you will accept."

Elizabeth was indeed surprised after telling Mrs. Trumbull in no uncertain terms she was not available for employment. She looked at Mrs. Trumbull quizzically.

Mrs. Trumbull smiled and said pleasantly, "Please be assured there is nothing sinister about my scheme. My husband, and by association, I as well, were active in the circle of Tory politics. For instance, General Wellesley attended at least one gathering at my house every time he was in town. He has been, of course, very seldom in town these past few years. I greatly enjoy the intellectually stimulating discussions with these brilliant minds and intend to continue these meetings when I formally come out of mourning in the coming season. However, without my late husband's presence, the atmosphere of the meetings may become awkward. My widowed aunt has agreed to be my companion, of sorts. She is quite erudite—the uncle who gave me my education was her husband, but her health is becoming more and more delicate, and she dozes off every few minutes, hardly adequate to be a chaperone. I have been searching for another lady to help me host these soirees, but a lady with the qualifications I am looking for has not appeared until today. You are perhaps a little younger than what I had in mind, but your education, though self-taught, is impressive. You claim your sister is an exquisite beauty. Could she possibly be more beautiful than you? Your eyes flashing with passion, as they did a few moments ago, would turn most gentlemen into puddles. Your intelligence, liveliness, your fine countenance and figure, and last but not least, your Italian arias, will divert the attention of the gentlemen away from me."

Elizabeth started on hearing this.

What could she mean? And she said she did not mean anything sinister!

Mrs. Trumbull looked amused and smiled widely at the younger lady's astonished expression.

"Be not alarmed, Miss Bennet. The gentlemen who gather at my house are of the honorable and clever sort. Their collective sarcastic wit can easily vanquish the occasional rake or dandy and chase him out of the house within three minutes. Besides, there are usually some matrons of exalted standing in attendance. No one would dare misbehave."

"Then, madam, why the awkwardness?"

"Let me be completely frank with you, and perhaps a bit indelicate. I have the feeling you expect more than vague answers. Rumors are rampant all over London that I am worth half a million pounds or more. An eligible lady worth that much has always been the target of attentions from even honorable gentlemen. In years past, these gentlemen viewed me as the wife of their esteemed friend. Nothing untoward happened. Now… I do not know what they think, or how they will act."

Elizabeth stood dazed. The great wealth of the lady stunned her and made her slow to respond to the question placed before her. She had been certain the riches of others, as in the cases of Mr. Darcy and Lady Catherine, hardly impressed her, but why was Mrs. Trumbull's wealth different?

Is it because of the change in my status? Before, I was a gentlewoman from Longbourn. Now, I am a nobody… it would have been different if I had married Mr. Darcy… Stop being ridiculous!

Mrs. Trumbull paused. Mistaking Elizabeth's stupefied look for wariness, she explained further, "In the past, my interactions with a few of these gentlemen could have been construed as flirtations. My frank and open manner may give the impression I am free and easy with my favors, but I have never been. My husband kept me… suffice to say, I have no wish for any marital affection in the foreseeable future. Perhaps you might comprehend better now from whence discomfiture may spring. I shall make clear to everyone you are a friend in reduced circumstances. They will leave you alone. Those who do not will probably have honorable intentions."

Oh. Mr. Darcy thought my frank exchanges with him were flirtations as well!

What was she thinking? Didn't she long ago give up all hope of being Mrs. Darcy? She chastised herself for holding onto a fancy. Finally, her wits caught up with her while Mrs. Trumbull looked on with amusement again, which made Elizabeth feel challenged.

Whomever Elizabeth had become, her courage did not stay suppressed for long in the face of intimidation.

"Madam, if my mother were to hear what you just said, she would offer all her daughters for your service!"

While laughing at her own joke with Mrs. Trumbull, Elizabeth was able to regain her composure. The two weighty reasons she could not accept Mrs. Trumbull's offer of employment came to mind: her father's charge on his deathbed, and, equally important, Lydia's scandal, which she would feel obligated to disclose to a prospective employer.

Elizabeth became sober and spoke with unease, "I am still newly in deep mourning. My mind cannot presently fathom any such prospects." In truth, it was shame she felt because she was about to repay the lady who had been generous and open with falsehood.

"Of course, Miss Bennet. I apologize if my comments sounded importunate. I only meant to assure you that your presence at my soirees would benefit me without hurting you in any manner. There will certainly be no lascivious employer lurking in a dark hallway to take advantage of you."

"Mrs. Trumbull," said Elizabeth after a quick moment of contemplation, "I am honored and gratified you deem me suitable to assist you in reentering society. Meeting the learned and worldly guests at your gatherings would be something a country girl like myself could only dream of. Unfortunately, I must honor my father's last wish that none of his daughters go into service, and so, I regret that I must decline."

Mrs. Trumbull was astonished by the refusal.

"Miss Bennet, was the reason behind your father's wish that his daughters should not lose their status as gentlewomen?"

Elizabeth nodded, once again marveling at the lady's insight and the straightforward way Mrs. Trumbull expressed herself.

"In that case, isn't it fortunate there is a simple solution to your late father's objection? I need a lady to help me navigate my way around the ton. Whether the lady is a friend, or a paid companion disguised as a friend, does not signify. Mr. Peters will add two hundred pounds to the book sale transaction. All I ask is you commit to be my assistant for two years, unless you marry before the two years are up."

Elizabeth was beginning to admire this rich lady's forceful character. However, her somewhat officious attempt to arrange affairs to her own liking without regard to the wishes of the person involved reminded her of another strong-willed lady: Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Inevitably, her ladyship's nephew, with his own high-handed way of interfering with other people's lives, came to mind.

Why is it everything reminds me of him?

Without giving herself too much time to ponder on the persistent presence of that confoundingly confusing gentleman in her thoughts, she answered Mrs. Trumbull firmly, "Madam, your solution to circumvent my father's last wish is indeed clever. Would you give me until tomorrow to think things over and discuss with my uncle? I am of age as of last month, but I am not prepared to make a decision which may dishonor the memory of my father without my uncle's approval."

"Of course," answered Mrs. Trumbull. "Let me make one point clear before I leave this topic. I am a bluestocking, as you may have surmised, and I feel it is a pity learned ladies are no longer in vogue. One can find ladies who have enough education to be governesses to my daughters, but finding one with the classical education of a gentleman, independence of thought, and the willingness to assist me has been impossible."

She paused to look Elizabeth in the eye. "In other words, I have made the offer based on long, careful contemplation and not an impulse. After talking things over with your uncle, if you have any preferences of your own, please do not be afraid to discuss them with me and see whether we may come to a mutually beneficial arrangement. From what I have seen so far, you are not afraid to be open with me."

Elizabeth's opinion of Mrs. Trumbull turned for the better again. This lady was not inconsiderate after all. The opportunity to be introduced to the level of society filled with important people who controlled the fate of the country—and perhaps even the world—was indeed exhilarating. Before Lydia's scandal, she would have jumped at the offer in a heartbeat. However, the family's shame was an enormous gallows staring down at her. There was no going around it.

For all she knew, she and all her sisters had been forever banned from polite, let alone elevated, society.