Mrs Gardiner smiled faintly. “Proud is not the proper word; perhaps your feelings are more easily wounded. But here, in Meryton, you cannot hope to meet anyone suitable for marriage.”
“And marriage is the only chance I have—the only chance we all have.”
The silence that followed confirmed that this was her aunt’s view, and very likely that of the whole family. Once the period of mourning was over, their mother would speak of little else, and Elizabeth, in truth, wished to escape those conversations, which must grow daily more urgent and more pressing.
“I cannot help thinking, however, that there may be another course,” said Elizabeth. “Might not my uncle find me a place as—”
“No!” cried Mrs Gardiner. “You refuse to come to us because you cannot bear to be pitied, and yet you would place yourself in a family—to do what? To be a governess?”
“No—a companion, as Anne de Bourgh has…or to instruct children…as a tutor.”
“Tutors are men.”
“I might do it.”
“Lizzy, allow me to be sincere in return. Whatever position you might obtain in a family, it would be far worse than to remain our niece, whose father has died—”
“And who has no home.”
“Our home is yours.”
“I know. Forgive me—but that is how you see it, because you are generous. Others are less so.”
“And therefore to expose yourself in such a situation could only be disastrous.”
“I must also have some income. Pray, ask my uncle to look about him, to seek a respectable family…after that, I shall decide. And…I promise you this: if it does not prove a suitable arrangement, I shall remain with you.”
“Come to London—you may see Mr Darcy there,” said Mrs Gardiner suddenly, without looking at her.
“Do not suppose that I have not thought of it!”
Chapter 9
Elizabeth watched with unease as the days passed without her finding a solution. From time to time, she asked Mrs Gardiner whether anything had been found for her; but, as the weeks went by, she became increasingly sensible that it would be very difficult for her to enter a stranger’s house in a position which would place her rather among the helpers of the household, scarcely as its guest or friend. Perhaps, had she succeeded in becoming the companion of a wealthy, influential, or noble lady, her situation might have been different, but within the circle in which her uncle moved, there were only people like themselves, comfortably wealthy, yet belonging merely to the class of small landholders or traders.
Meanwhile, they made some efforts, though slowly, to form their new life; yet it soon became evident that, while they remained at Longbourn, it was impossible. The pain was too great, and Mr Bennet’s presence too vivid.
They had examined the whole house, yet discovered, with some astonishment and, at last, with sadness, how few things were worth taking. Twenty-two years, during which five livelygirls had grown up within those walls, had left their mark upon the furniture, the carpets, and the decorative objects.
“You may take, my girls, whatever you wish to adorn your future rooms,” Mrs Bennet said, making her daughters wonder again at how much she had changed, borrowing from her late husband a composure she had never before possessed, when she had been obliged to run all day to attend to every concern of the household.
“I should like to have some of Papa’s books,” Elizabeth murmured.
“Anything; I am sure Mr Bennet would have wished it so.”
“May I take that china vase from Papa’s desk?” Jane asked, and Mrs Bennet only nodded.
Sir William, with great kindness, placed at their disposal an unused barn upon his estate, where they might safely store their belongings. Yet many of these would likely furnish the house Mrs Bennet intended to rent. Unfortunately, the search had not yet produced any result. One thing was certain: the house must be situated in one of the three principal streets of Meryton, where all their acquaintances resided; and, for the present, no such opportunity had presented itself.
After several animated discussions with her daughters, Mrs Bennet consented that the packing should not begin until the last two weeks, and that they should live as usual in their home for a few days longer.
But, unhappily, nearly two months had already passed. It was now summer, and the days had grown so warm that no one ventured out at noon. It was at that hour that Elizabeth chose to visit the churchyard; for though she spent all her time with her mother and sisters, this was the moment when she wished to be alone with her thoughts, with those memories in which she continually sought some answer to what had befallen them.
She noticed the letter upon the small table in the hall, and, as she approached, recognised her aunt’s elegant hand. Yet, unlike the first days after their departure for London, a letter from her no longer moved her so deeply, for she had grown accustomed to forming no great hopes.
As was her habit when reading or writing letters, she went into her father’s library, and she took pleasure merely in being there, conscious that soon even that place would become a memory. They were still resolved to remove that room entirely into the new house, but in her heart, Elizabeth knew that once they left Longbourn, something of her father’s presence would be lost.
She opened the letter without haste. News from London always pleased her, but no more than that. The first animated lines of her aunt seized her at once and seemed to animate her.
