“Dear Miss Bennet,” replied her grace, “a lady enjoys the privilege of silence. It may even be mistaken for mystery.”
Everyone laughed except Thomas. He looked towards Elizabeth and then at Mr Kendall. In Hertfordshire, he had believed Darcy very near to winning her heart. Since coming to London, he was no longer certain of anything. Elizabeth possessed both intelligence and reflection, and he hoped she would find a man who valued and cherished those qualities. From what he remembered of London society, they were not qualities greatly prized there. In truth, he had planned the journey to London chiefly with his other nieces in mind, believing Elizabeth’s future already settled. But observing her with Mr Kendall, he began to understand her situation more clearly. Her dowry had made her free. Choosing a husband was no longer a question of security but of finding a companion whose feelings, principles, and hopes resembled her own.
∞∞∞
“I would give anything to know what you are thinking,” Mrs Gardiner murmured later that evening, whilst Mary was playing the pianoforte, closely supervised by the duchess, who interrupted her from time to time with a piece of advice or a question.
Happy to have her aunt by her side, Elizabeth could finally relax and speak openly. Mrs Gardiner was the only person who knew all her secrets. Although she had lately grown close to Uncle Thomas, there were subjects a lady did not discuss with a gentleman. As Elizabeth remained silent, her aunt continued.
“What became of the decisions you made after Jane’s wedding?”
Elizabeth remembered the conversation and blushed. It had happened only a short time ago, yet it seemed much more distant. That evening, under the influence of the wedding and all its happiness, she had been far more inclined to marry Darcy. The ceremony had been so beautiful that every unmarried lady present must have imagined her own wedding day. Then came the signing of the register, and for a moment she had almost forgotten she was a witness and imagined herself the bride. Strong emotions had overtaken her, and before the day was over, she had told her aunt she was ready to marry.
“It was the wedding that made me wish to get married.”
“I observed more than a wish, my dear. Most certainly, your decision was not inspired entirely by the occasion; I could see you have feelings for that gentleman.”
“True. But since coming to London…I reflected a great deal on feelings, love, and London. I am not sure where I stand today. I do not like London enough to wish to spend my life here. I admire the duchess, but the ton, their habits, their balls, their visits and dinners. I am not sure. Everyone expects me to change, to fit into their ways and acquire new friends.”
“Stop, stop! You have only been here a few days and have met little beyond the duchess and one other family. Perhaps you will find people more to your liking. Do not judge so quickly.”
“Yes, I believe you are right.”
“Of course I am right. Now tell me more about the other subject—feelings, love, other young gentlemen.”
Elizabeth looked genuinely confused. Mrs Gardiner discreetly gestured towards the pianoforte, where Mary was playing under the duchess’s supervision whilst Mr Kendall helped her turn the pages.
“That gentleman is kindly assisting Mary, but he has cast at least ten glances in our direction. And I do not imagine I am the object of his attention.”
Elizabeth immediately turned crimson. The strength of her reaction surprised even Mrs Gardiner.
“What about him?” Elizabeth asked, her eyes flying at once towards Mr Kendall.
“What about him? Suddenly, you are no longer certain that you wish to marry Mr Darcy. You have agreed to riding lessons when, in twenty years, nobody could persuade you to come within three yards of a horse—”
“Aunt Gardiner!” Elizabeth protested.
Yet Mr Kendall’s gaze met hers again, and she realised her aunt had observed correctly. More than once that evening, he had been watching her. The discovery unsettled her. Mr Kendall had attracted her notice precisely because he was so unlike the Darcy she had first met at Netherfield. There was no trace of conceit, contempt, or disdain. He was a simple man, grateful to have recovered the family he had lost with his mother’s death.
In a few quiet words, she explained as much to her aunt.
“Are you in love?” Mrs Gardiner asked, with a touch of concern.
“In love like Jane? No. I feel a great deal of friendship.”
“My dear, there are no different kinds of love. Love is love.”
“I am not sure of that, at least not in my case!”
Elizabeth could never imagine loving anyone as Jane loved. When she suffered after Kent, nobody knew of it because she herself refused to regard it as a tragedy. Unlike Jane, she had not mourned a lost attachment but struggled to forget a painful and humiliating event.
Nevertheless, Mrs Gardiner remained unconvinced. “The feeling may express itself differently in each of us, but if you tell me that you love two men, then for one of them you feel onlyfriendship. A woman may love only one man at a time. If you love Mr Kendall, then Mr Darcy is already forgotten.”
“I do not love him!” Elizabeth protested, almost as if accused of some offence. “I only need time to decide. There have been too many changes in our lives. I am happy, but I am also unsettled. Two months ago, I was an ordinary young lady. Now I am meeting earls and duchesses, and I possess a dowry that allows me to do whatever I choose with my future. Are you saying that Mr Darcy is more suitable for me?”
“No, Lizzy. The last thing I would ever do is interfere in such a decision. We have already seen the consequences of that sort of interference when Mr Darcy advised his friend.”
“It is not the same. I like hearing your opinion because you never force your advice upon me.”
