by Jennifer Joy
Sitting on the edge of the fireplace, Elizabeth repeated, "We must talk to Uncle Gardiner. He is a man of business, and he might be in a position to offer some assistance."
Father massaged the back of his neck. "I had hoped not to have to speak to him. He advised me against investing everything in one bank, but I paid him no heed."
"Now is not the time for pride, Father. Is it not much worse to be indebted to so many people if there is a way for us to deal honorably with them? While I do not expect Uncle Gardiner to cover our debts, I do think that it would be foolish of us not to ask for his assistance."
"Edward is a good man. I do not doubt but that what you say is true. Were he to know our situation, he would be the first to offer his help— which is precisely what makes it so difficult for me to ask." He ran his weary hands through his hair.
"Shall we go first thing in the morning?" she asked.
Father nodded.
Elizabeth rose. "I must see to Charlotte. Jane has been so good as to keep her company, but it will be best if Charlotte seeks out other arrangements if she wishes to remain in town. I do not want her prospects diminished if it is found out that she is our guest." It hurt to say the words aloud, but they were true. Elizabeth's prospects— and those of her sisters— were in grave peril.
She went upstairs and found Charlotte in Jane's room. The armoire was open and emptied on the top of Jane's bed. Neat piles of dresses, bonnets, slippers, and other adornments covered the blankets so that they disappeared under the array of frothy pink muslin, shiny silks, and soft cotton.
Jane looked up. "Oh, good, Lizzy. I have explained what I know of our situation to Charlotte, and she is helping me sort what can be sold if the shops do not agree to take them back. It will be impossible to fetch a full price for the dresses, so we must not rely on that, but I do think that we will have better success with the jewelry."
Elizabeth went to Jane, who opened her arms to receive her. She swayed with Elizabeth in her arms and Charlotte soon joined them, wrapping her arms around both of them.
"I am so sorry it has come to this," Charlotte said, "but if I know you at all, you will come out smiling. I have never known anything to defeat you yet, and I do not suspect that this will either." She tightened her grip around their shoulders.
They sat by the window in the chairs which had escaped sequester, there being no more room on the cart to take them away. No doubt, they would disappear on the morrow along with everything else not nailed down or otherwise claimed.
Comforted with the presence of her sister and best friend, Elizabeth laid out her worry. "We will miss our Season. We will be hard-pressed to find a gentleman willing to marry a family which would rely upon him to help them cover their debts."
Jane asked softly, "What about Mr. Darcy?"
Elizabeth's chest tightened and her eyes stung. "I cannot presume upon his kindness, nor expect any regard he may have had for me to survive this blow. Besides, Sophia assured me that he is promised to her and while there was a time not so long ago when I still held onto my hope, I cannot continue to do so now." She bit her lips together and tried to breathe.
Charlotte leaned forward. "If it is pride which would prevent you from seeking his affection when he has so plainly expressed his regard, then you are the one at fault and you are no different from what you thought him to be at Netherfield."
Her words stung, but they dried the threat of tears from Elizabeth's eyes. "It is not pride." Or was it? How could she encourage him when everyone would only think her a fortune hunter? Then again, when had Mr. Darcy ever cared about what others thought of him? He acted with confidence and decisiveness on all occasions. If he loved her, nothing would stop him from proposing. She took comfort in his constancy, even if she knew how preposterous it was in light of recent events. She did not know if he was free or if he loved her enough to pass over her family’s latest scandal.
Charlotte considered her through narrow eyes, and Jane stared down at her lap.
Sighing in frustration, Elizabeth said, "Oh, very well! Perhaps it is pride on my part, but how could I possibly expect any future with Mr. Darcy when our family has been brought so far down? If such a blessed event were to occur, I could endure the comments of society just as easily as he could. What I could not bear… what would crush me… would be his indifference. He is a man with high standards. What if I lose what respect he once felt for me, and I fall in his esteem? I could not bear it!" Her throat squeezed, and a great emptiness overtook her stomach. She sniffed, but a traitorous tear traced a line down her cheek all the same.
Jane reached up and dabbed it away. "Love hopes all things. Though it has been months, I still long to know what Mr. Bingley feels for me, and I cannot move past it until I know for certain that he no longer loves me. Until that moment, I choose to hope."
Charlotte, who had never been inclined to romantic tendencies, said, "Then let us hope that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley make it plain to you soon what their intentions toward you are. The sooner you know, the sooner you can move on with your lives— be it on their arms as their wives or in the merciless marriage mart where you will have to accept the first offer made, so that you might live in security in your own homes. You may have to content yourself with what the rest of us seek and put aside your notions of true affection in marriage."
Something inside Elizabeth stirred, and a stubbornness she recognized all too well consumed her. She had felt it in full force when she had rejected Mr. Collins' proposal, and she knew that she would sooner remain a poor spinster than marry for convenience. She was not like Charlotte. Nor Jane, who would marry out of a sense of duty and still manage to be a charming wife to whoever asked the honor of her.
“Our happiness has become nothing more than a venture. If we place our bets on love, we stand to lose so much more than mere possessions. However, I see no other option and could never accept a marriage of convenience until I know for sure that there is no hope for me with Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth was trapped, and Mr. Darcy was farther away from her reach than he could possibly be. What she would give to turn back time. She would have seen through Mr. Wickham's presumptuous accusations, and she would have been nicer to Mr. Darcy at the Netherfield Ball. She would have encouraged him to walk with her the many times he came across her path during her morning ramblings. When she spent some days tending to Jane during her illness at Netherfield Park, she would have made herself more agreeable instead of arguing with him over every point. When they came to London, she would not have made friends with Sophia based on her ability to expose her and Jane to the best society could offer in the hopes of falling in love with a gentleman of character. Only, she had fallen in love with a gentleman of character. She loved Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy— who was rumored to be engaged and who would surely disapprove of the troubles in which her family had put itself. That it had been at their own hand added to her shame.
“Then, I wish you luck in your venture,” said Charlotte. With a terse nod, she continued, "Now, I plan to depart in the morning. My mother's cousin has often asked me to stay with her. Mother never allowed me to go because she is a spinster, and she feared that I would be put on the shelf by my association with her. I see no such disadvantage, so long as I am smart about how I spend my time. She lives in a fashionable part of town and she assures me that she does not lack in good company. She has already made plans to introduce me to a widower with a title."
Elizabeth said, "I wish you the best, Charlotte. Try to marry a man you can talk to and not dread the sight of when you wake."
Charlotte giggled. "And to think that I would have married Mr. Collins only four months ago!"
Even Jane laughed. Laughter lightened Elizabeth's woes, and she was able to enjoy some brief moments of sleep between bouts of tormenting thoughts of Mr. Darcy.
Chapter 31
Before Elizabeth and Father could leave for Uncle Gardiner's home, he called on them. Dressed in black breeches, his hat in his hands, he look
ed as if he had come to a funeral. It was good to see him, somber though he was.
"Edward, you heard the news?" asked Father.
Uncle Gardiner looked around him, trying to hide his astonishment at the empty room. The plush, tapestried chairs were gone. "You had told me your intention to invest in Mr. Andrich’s bank. However, I had hoped that the damage would not have been so great."
Father bowed his head. "I ought to have paid heed to your advice."
Uncle laid his hand on Father's shoulder. "You could not have known what would happen."
They sat down, and Elizabeth brought the ledger over so that Uncle could see more clearly the reality of their situation.
He took it, using his finger to hold his place while he examined each entry. When he had finished, he laid his hands on top of the sums, covering them so as not to see them anymore. "Is this list complete?" he asked.
"As complete as we can make it. Mrs. Bennet remembers little trifles on occasion, and I make sure to write them down as well."
"Fanny always did have an eye for pretty things. How is she doing with this change in circumstances?"
Father smiled softly. "As she always does. She practically proposed to an unsuspecting single gentleman of fortune for our daughters— not specifying which daughter he ought to marry, but contenting herself that he marry whichever one he chooses. When he fled from our home, she was overtaken with nerves and spent the rest of the day on her fainting couch until the men came to haul it away. I suspect that today she is much improved."
Uncle Gardiner nodded. "She is singular in her purpose. What a trial it is to have five unmarried daughters all of an age."
He and Father shared in their joke, but neither of them laughed too hard. Elizabeth cleared her throat to remind them of her presence and that one of the five unmarried daughters could hear them.
Uncle Gardiner bolted upright in his chair. "I apologize, Lizzy. My comment was made in jest, but it was insensitive."
Before she could reassure him that she was not offended— that he had only spoken the truth— Father said, "It was Lizzy's idea to start the ledger, and it is only with her art of persuasion that we have convinced some of the shopkeepers to give us more time."
"Thank you, Father," she said, turning her attention fully to Uncle Gardiner then. "We need your help, Uncle. I would like to convince all of them to allow us more time. Otherwise…" She looked at Father. Would he survive debtor’s prison?
The chair Uncle Gardiner sat in creaked as he leaned back and sighed. "I understand your predicament. However, time will not pay off the debts. It will only delay the inevitable."
"That is true, but who is to say that I cannot find some way of increasing our income in the meantime?” said Elizabeth.
Father leaned back, his fingers pinching his chin. “How do you propose to do that?” he asked.
Uncle looked equally interested.
“I am not averse to earn a living if it comes to that. I do not have the docile patience required to make a suitable governess, but I think I would do well as a companion.”
A sweet voice from the doorway said, “I am willing to work as well.” Jane entered the room and sat next to Elizabeth. “I am certain that I could find a position as a governess through the recommendation of our friends.”
Elizabeth sucked in her breath. It would be humiliating to ask for help in finding positions from ladies who would revel in our fall from society. Swallowing her pride, she said, “Jane is right. They would be more than willing to assist us.” To their exclusion from society, she thought.
Uncle stroked his sideburns. “Do you have any other ideas? Do not forget that the Season has already begun. Governesses have been secured already so that the lady of the house might be free to attend whichever event suits her taste. The same with companions… That is, unless you are willing to live with someone so sickly, you would be trapped indoors.”
Elizabeth felt panic wash over her. She looked at Father, who appeared more tired than she was accustomed to seeing him. He must have aged several years overnight. Was she willing to give up her freedom in order to attempt to preserve his? She could not allow him to be incarcerated easily. Not without a struggle.
Swallowing hard, she said, “We will do what we must when we get to it. I could always try my hand at writing novels like Ann Radcliffe.”
Father shook his head. “Do not suppose that it is as easy as that, my dear. The drawers of my desk are full of half-completed manuscripts I am unable to finish.”
She sat up, interested to learn this new detail about her father. “What sort of manuscripts?” she asked.
“Nothing that will see the light of day. You need not concern yourself.”
Uncle chimed in. “Thomas, if you were able to complete half of so many manuscripts, what is to prevent you from completing just one? Are they of a subject for which a publisher might pay?”
Father pondered so long, Elizabeth was sorely tempted to run to his study and pull open the drawers of his desk— until she remembered that the desk was no more and he must have meant his desk at Longbourn. She contented herself by fidgeting her foot.
“I began one piece on the benefits of leisure and its place in everyday life. I felt so passionately on the subject, I wrote a great deal on it. Of course, after recent events and more experience with the effects of taking too much leisure, I see that it is in need of revision.”
“Perhaps you hold a more balanced view now that you have experienced both extremes of the subject?” suggested Jane.
“Are you up to the task?” asked Uncle.
“I would read it,” said Elizabeth, by way of encouragement.
“As would I,” added Jane.
Father cheered. “I thank you for your blind and undeserved support, but we would need for people with money to be willing to read it. However, I suppose there is no harm in attempting the scheme. At the least I will have completed something worthwhile in my lifetime, and if the worst happens, and I end up in such a place as the Marshalsea, it would help me to pass the time.”
“That is precisely what we are trying to avoid, Thomas,” said Uncle Gardiner, perusing the ledger and pursing his lips again.
“We will raise pigs and sell vegetables from our garden before we allow that to happen,” said Elizabeth, unwilling to admit defeat.
Uncle remained silent, his eyes fixed on the pages before him.
Jane added in her timid way, “I have never considered myself a talented artist, but do you think my paintings good enough to sell?”
Elizabeth was quick to offer support. “Of course they are! Have you seen some of the hideous paintings adorning the walls of the drawing rooms of the elite since we arrived in town?” She motioned around the room to prove her point. While Mother’s taste in furniture and window covers was surprisingly elegant, her taste in art bordered on the garish. Nobody had wanted to purchase them thus far.
Father grimaced at the likeness of a woman holding a misshapen baby with pointy teeth. “Our first order of business should be to sell what we can.”
Looking up, Uncle said, “I will go with you today and however many more days it takes to speak to everyone on this list,” he jabbed the open ledger with his finger. “We will do our best to negotiate more time, but not everyone will agree. They will argue that sufficient time has already passed and will demand payment in full.”
Father bowed his head and muttered, “As they should.”
“I am relieved to hear you say that; otherwise I would hesitate to offer my assistance,” said Uncle. Slowly and clearly, he added, “I am willing to offer my name as a guarantee on the understanding that you will continue to pay what you reasonably can to your debtors in the time they give you. I only wish that I could give you more, but business has been slow, and I have nothing to spare.”
Father slumped back in his chair, his hand rising to massage his temple. “That is too much, Edward. I cannot allow you to put yourself at risk to cover over my mistakes. Y
ou must think of your family.”
Uncle relaxed his shoulders and his voice. “I would not have an easy conscience if I did not offer my assistance. Your debts are to the sum of five thousand pounds if everything has been noted in the ledger.”
Jane blanched and reached her hand out to Elizabeth. “Five thousand pounds?” she repeated in a whisper. That was the sum of Mr. Bingley’s annual income and they only had weeks to come up with the amount.
Elizabeth said, “It is true, Jane. You see why Uncle’s offer is an incredibly generous one.”
Father sat up and tapped his fingers together. “It is generous and I cannot accept it.” He held up his hands to Uncle’s protests. “No, Edward, I will not put your freedom at jeopardy. I know very well where my future lies. It is only a matter of delaying the inevitable. I will begin work on the rest of my manuscript today. I am on friendly terms with a gentleman who owns a publishing house. We enjoyed many debates at the club. I will call on him this afternoon.”
“If you will not accept my offer, then allow me to accompany you. My skills of persuasion might be of benefit to you,” said Uncle.
Elizabeth burst with pride for Father. If only Mr. Darcy could see him as she did. Surely, he would be proud of him too.
Uncle and Father made plans for what would be a hectic afternoon while she and Jane saw to the servants. They could not afford to keep them on any longer, nor could they expect them to work without pay.
“There is one final matter which needs to be addressed,” said Uncle before he and Father departed. “I must recommend that you return to Longbourn as soon as possible. You will lose money on the lease of this home, but it will cost you more to maintain your lifestyle here than it would to return to your country estate. At least there you have furniture!”
All of Elizabeth’s grand plans of coming to town and making brilliant matches vanished in a puff of smoke. How foolish she had been to think that money and a new location could solve their problems.