The end of the second month finally arrived, and as October turned to November, it became increasingly imperative for Mr Read to attend other matters. He had obtained reasonable success in his political endeavours, but his business in Ohio required immediate attention. Naturally, Mr Read had not the slightest intention of leaving without either lady, so Elizabeth arrived from her school one day to find Anne practically jumping with joy. Mr Read had come to the point, neither too soon nor too late, and according to Miss de Bourgh, the proposal was everything wonderful and proper.
After another fortnight of preparation, on the first day of November 1812, Miss Anne de Bourgh surrendered her birth name in favour of Mrs Read and the entire household packed to decamp for Ohio. It was clearly not the best time of year to travel overland, so they planned a relatively long journey, with ample options to stop and see things along the way with delays expected. If they became snowbound in some town between one place and another, it would not be the end of the world.
Around half of the house’s servants chose to come to Ohio to take employment with Mr Read or continue serving Mrs Read, while unbeknownst to everyone in the house except Miss Bennet, about half of the remaining servants had established relationships and their own wedding plans. Mr Hopkinson was quite enamoured with the idea of seeing Ohio, as were Mr and Mrs McKean. Elizabeth had been quite happy to stand with Hannah as she became Mrs McKean, and given her history,having a man handy with the needle and gin bottle seemed useful.
The last day before their departure, Elizabeth pulled Anne aside for something she considered a relatively embarrassing conversation.
“Anne, I need to ask a favour of you, something out of the ordinary which may put your mother in an awkward position, but I will ask it anyway.”
She had deliberately chosen a time after Anne’s wedding, reasoning that a young bride might be more forgiving of her companion’s foibles, or at least distracted by her new husband.
“What is it you ask? You know you can ask anything of me.”
“I know I can, but in this case, I ask something of your mother.”
“If you think anything you can ask of Mama will distress her, or even believe such a thing possible, you did not spend enough time at Rosings.”
Elizabeth laughed at the impertinence, but pressed on with her request. She handed Anne a letter, carefully folded and sealed with wax, but unaddressed.
“I need you to include this in a letter to your mother. I wish her to pass it unread to Mr Darcy, and for obvious reasons, it must be done with absolute discretion.”
Anne’s brow furrowed in confusion; she occasionally forgot Elizabeth had no way of seeing it. Eventually realising her mistake, she spoke.
“I do not believe Mama will disdain the task, but what is this letter? Why the secrecy?”
“You and I are practically Americans, but Mr Darcy remains an English gentleman. Receiving a letter from an unwed lady would be a breach of propriety, worthy of the worst fortune hunter, and I can only imagine how nervous it would makehim. However, I have private matters that must be said to the gentleman, and I trust your mother to handle it quietly.”
Anne wondered what in the world Elizabeth could possibly have to say to her cousin. She knew some sort of altercation had occurred between them before Elizabeth came to Rosings, but in those days, Anne had been sick more often than well, and the subject was never explored in depth. Later, when the two shared nearly all their secrets, the topic never arose, nor had she felt the need to pry.
“I will do as you ask, and Mother will do her part. She is very much in your debt.”
“Thank you.”
Mrs Read tucked the letter into her bodice for safekeeping, and taking Elizabeth’s hand, bade her sit.
“There is one other thing I must tell you.”
Elizabeth detected tension in her voice and wondered at its meaning. She had not given tremendous thought to what she would do after her companion married. Mr Read had invited her to live with them as long as she liked, and Elizabeth was certainly not averse. Ohio sounded vastly superior to the bottom of the Atlantic, which was a reasonable expectation were she to attempt a return to England. Even if she tried to go home, she had no place there. It seemed inevitable that Anne’s life would belong more and more to her husband and children, but there was time before she must worry too much about finding her own place.
Elizabeth believed her schools might be her salvation. She had spent increasing time there over the previous month and was quite looking forward to setting up the next in Ohio. She had doubled the size of the school in New York and was quite satisfied with the results. Anne still had plenty of money to fund more, and Elizabeth could very well spend considerable time engaged in that endeavour. She had no idea whether it would benecessary in the more countrified areas of Ohio, but she would soon find out.
Anne gathered her courage.
“Elizabeth, there is something I must tell you. My mother probably did not inform you of all the terms of your employment. She settled quite a reasonable sum on you, to become yours either at my death or my marriage. She frankly did not expect the latter ever to occur, but she was diligent in considering all possibilities. Your time as a paid companion ended yesterday, and you are quite well enough off to live as you choose. You must know you always have a place in my home and heart, and my husband feels the same. I would appreciate it if you would come with me to Ohio and stay as long as you choose, but you are under no obligation to do anything not of your choice.”
Elizabeth struggled to keep from crying. Indeed, she could not do it at all, but she made her best attempt.
“You know I will probably be with you for quite some time. I do not know what the future holds, but I certainly do not consider our association anywhere near an end.”
Anne glanced at her shyly, rubbing the back of one hand against the other—their signal of accord. “Elizabeth, you shall live with us until you marry. Then you will have your own home.”
Elizabeth laughed. “You are very much mistaken if you believe I will ever marry.”
Anne recognised the stubborn set of her friend’s jaw; there was little point in arguing. As with her music, her friend would eventually realise she need not forgo the pleasures of home and hearth forever.
Elizabeth Bennet always came to see sense—once every other alternative was exhausted.
Treat No Evil(First Person)
