by Jane Grix
“You are too kind,” she said. “I don’t wish to be a bother.”
“No, I will enjoy the company,” he insisted. “I rarely play the host.”
“As you wish,” she said politely.
As they waited, he asked if she wished to sit.
She assumed that he might wish to sit, so she said, “Yes, please.”
They returned to the walled garden and sat on stone benches, beside each other. They spoke about music and books. He asked her if she liked poetry. “I do,” she answered. “But I read more novels than poetry.”
He said, “In my youth, I dismissed much of poetry as foolishness, but as I have grown older, I appreciate it more.”
It was strange to think of the ways they had both matured, but that was the effect of time. Elizabeth hoped that as she approached her thirtieth birthday she was wiser as well. She had been a strong-willed, opinionated young woman, quick to judge Darcy, quick to condemn him without knowing all the facts.
She regretted it now and wished that she could apologize to him.
But she could not.
She did not want to stir up old memories, old sorrows.
After a few minutes, the footman returned, slightly out of breath, with four books in his hand. “I chose several, sir,” he said.
Mr. Darcy said, “Set them down beside me.”
The footman did so, and Darcy took the top volume and offered it to Elizabeth. “Tell me what it is.”
Elizabeth opened the book and read from the title page. “Guy Mannering.”
“Are you acquainted with the story?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you please read a passage? Not at the beginning, but somewhere in the middle.”
“Yes, sir.”
She opened the book at a random page and read out loud: “She sat upon a broken corner-stone in the angle of a paved apartment, part of which she had swept clean to afford a smooth space for the evolutions of her spindle. A strong sunbeam through a lofty and narrow window fell upon her wild dress and features, and afforded her light for her occupation; the rest of the apartment was very gloomy.”
Mr. Darcy said, “I can well imagine the scene. Please continue, Mrs. Holt.”
“Equipt in a habit which mingled the national dress of the Scottish common people with something of an Eastern costume, she spun a thread drawn from wool of three different colours, black, white, and grey, by assistance of those ancient implements of housewifery now almost banished from the land, the distaff and the spindle.” Elizabeth paused, but Mr. Darcy nodded, so she continued to read out loud. “As she spun, she sung what seemed to be charm. Mannering, after in vain attempting to make himself master of the exact words of her song, afterwards attempted the following paraphrase of what, from a few intelligible phrases, he concluded to be its purport:
“Twist ye, twine ye! Even so
Mingle shades of joy and woe,
Hope, and fear, and peace, and strife,
In the thread of human life.
While the mystic twist is spinning,
And the infant’s life beginning,
Dimly seen through twilight bending,
Lo, what varied shapes attending.
Elizabeth glanced briefly up at Mr. Darcy and saw that he had closed his eyes and appeared to be listening intently to her words, so she continued.
Passions wild, and Follies vain,
Pleasures soon exchanged for pain,
Doubt, and Jealousy, and Fear
In the magic dance appear.
Now they wax, and now they dwindle,
Whirling with the whirling spindle.
Twist ye, twine ye! Even so
Mingle human bliss and woe.
As Elizabeth finished reading the gypsy woman’s incantation, she glanced at Mr. Darcy again. He said in a low voice, “That is very good. You have a lovely reading voice. Thank you.”
She said, “There is something magical about reading out loud. I find I can imagine the story so much better. I think when I read silently that I often read too quickly to understand the details.”
Mr. Darcy said calmly, “I miss the days when I could read for hours on an evening.”
Elizabeth realized how blessed she was. No matter what her financial circumstances, she could still read. Over the years reading had been one of her joys, a comfort in times of trial.
He continued, “I have several secretaries, but they spend more of their time reading reports and correspondence to me. It does not seem fair to make them read Shakespeare as well.”
She smiled, then remembered that he could not see it. She said, “I doubt they would mind. It might be a refreshing change for them.”
He said abruptly, “Mrs. Holt, I would like to hire you.”
“As a governess?” She had never thought to ask – was Mr. Darcy married? Did he have children?
He said, “Not exactly. I would like to hire you as a secretary. To read out loud to me for several hours a day.”
Elizabeth hesitated. “At what wage?”
Darcy was not surprised by the question. “Sixty pounds a year.”
She would have only earned thirty with Mrs. Rowe. She said, “I accept. Thank you.”
“Very good. Can you start immediately?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you have children, they may live on the estate as well.”
That was very kind of him. “I do not have children,” she said quietly and tried not to think of her dear little baby, born too soon and too small to live.
Mr. Darcy stood and offered his arm. “Shall we join your aunt?”
She accepted his arm, pleased and surprised by the action. Mr. Darcy seemed to have changed over the years, and not just his sight. His manners were gentler now.
Mrs. Gardiner stood when they approached.
Mr. Darcy turned to Elizabeth and said, “Would you please do me the honour of introducing me to your aunt?”
Elizabeth performed the introductions, and in them, said to her aunt that she had just met Mr. Darcy that day.
Mrs. Gardiner looked at her with surprise, but Elizabeth shook her head, visually warning her aunt not to contradict her. Mrs. Gardiner raised her eyebrows to indicate that they would need to talk later.
Together they all walked up to the house where refreshments were waiting.
CHAPTER TWO
“I don’t think it is proper for you to work for a single gentleman,” Mrs. Gardiner said as soon they were alone in their room in Lambton.
Elizabeth untied her bonnet strings and said, “I will be his secretary. It is no different from being a governess or a companion.”
Mrs. Gardiner disagreed. “It is very different. You will be in the same room with him, most likely unchaperoned.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I am no longer Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I am Mrs. Holt. And married women, especially widows, have more latitude in what they can do.”
“But your reputation!”
“Is already ruined, as well you know,” Elizabeth reminded her. “Indeed, I could not have imagined a better situation for myself. He is paying well, and here in Derbyshire, it is unlikely that anyone will recognize me. I can live out my days quietly, without fuss.”
“Is that what you want, Lizzy?”
“It is what I want.”
Mrs. Gardiner said, “Years ago you did not like Mr. Darcy, but today he seemed quite civil.”
“Yes. His manners have greatly improved. But also, my prior opinion of him was based primarily on Mr. Wickham’s assertions.”
“That villain.”
“Yes. I no longer trust anything that he said about Mr. Darcy. Indeed, by the time we first visited Pemberley, I had already begun to revise my opinion of Mr. Darcy’s character.” His letter to her had softened her harsh view of him.
Mrs. Gardiner said, “I recall that his housekeeper spoke well of him.”
“Yes.”
“But why did you pretend not to know him today if you were acquainted
before?”
The word acquainted was painful. Mr. Darcy had loved her once, but she had treated him as an adversary rather than a friend. Elizabeth said, “At first, I did not want to explain how I became Mrs. Holt, and why I need to work for a living.”
“Why you choose to work for there is no need for it,” Mrs. Gardiner corrected.
“And second, I feared he might not have hired me if he remembered me. I think it best that Elizabeth Bennet remains dead to the world.”
“What if he discovers your identity later?”
Elizabeth said, “Then I will be dismissed, and I will come back to live with you.”
Mrs. Gardiner sighed. “I wish you would marry again, and then none of this would be necessary. You are only twenty-nine years old. I gave birth to my youngest when I was thirty-five. Surely there is still time for you to marry and have a family.”
Elizabeth said, “You and your children are the only family I need.”
Mrs. Gardiner shook her head. “I do not like it, but you are a grown woman. I cannot order you about, as much as I would like to.”
Elizabeth kissed her aunt on her cheek. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Gardiner said, “If Jane were still alive, you’d be married now.”
Elizabeth did not want to think about the untimely death of her oldest sister. “Perhaps that is true,” she said calmly, “But I think even then, that I might have been too ornery to marry.” After all, in her youth, she had refused two men – Mr. Darcy and her cousin Mr. Collins.
Mrs. Gardiner smiled. “You are not too ornery. You are delightful.”
“With you, perhaps,” Elizabeth teased. “But I am not delightful to men. I find so many of them ridiculous that I have no patience for them. In truth, I would rather be Mr. Darcy’s secretary than be the wife of any man I’ve met thus far.”
Mrs. Gardiner said, “Promise me, though, that if some nice gentleman proposes that you will consider the matter?”
“Who is going to propose to me?” Elizabeth said. “I am going to be living in the servant’s quarters.”
Mrs. Gardiner said, “You never know what might happen.”
“What about you?” Elizabeth said, changing the subject. “You are still pretty. Perhaps you should find a nice older gentleman to marry.”
At this, Mrs. Gardiner gave a little laugh. “Now you are the one being ridiculous.”
IN THE MORNING, A CARRIAGE arrived at the Lambton inn to take her to Pemberley. Elizabeth hugged her aunt in farewell. “Write to me,” Mrs. Gardiner said tearfully.
“I will.” Elizabeth promised.
When Elizabeth arrived at Pemberley she was shown to her room by the housekeeper, Mrs. Lewis. Mrs. Lewis was not as elderly as Mrs. Reynolds, but she had a similar manner. She seemed friendly and sensible without airs. Mrs. Lewis explained the rules of the household, which included upper and lower servants, with varying privileges. Mrs. Lewis said, “As Mr. Darcy’s secretary, you may eat privately in your room or with me.”
Elizabeth realized that at Pemberley, she would be neither fish nor fowl. She was not technically a servant, but more of a companion who might occasionally join in social events.
“Mr. Darcy will wish to see you for at least two hours in the afternoon and for two hours in the evening. He will inform you of those times.”
That meant she would have the mornings to herself. Elizabeth thought it would be a convenient arrangement. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Lewis left the room and Elizabeth sat on her bed. She smoothed the coverlet with her fingers. This was the beginning of her new life. She thought that her life could be easily divided into three stages, like the volumes for some of her favourite novels.
Volume 1 could be entitled “Youth”, for she had been young, brave and carefree, blithely turning down offers of marriage. That volume ended with the death of her father. Eight years ago, when Elizabeth was first visiting Pemberley, she received news that Lydia had eloped with Mr. Wickham. Elizabeth promptly returned home to Hertfordshire to discover that Mr. Bingley, one of Jane’s suitors, had returned to Netherfield, a neighbouring estate.
Her father and Mr. Gardiner searched for Lydia for weeks, ultimately finding her in London. She had been abandoned by Wickham. She was unmarried and with child.
Mr. Bennet, exhausted and discouraged from the ordeal of searching for his errant daughter, fell ill with a cold and died, which ended Elizabeth’s youth.
Volume 2 could be entitled “Travails” for Mr. Bennet’s death put them all in a difficult financial situation. Mr. Collins, her father’s cousin, inherited their home Longbourn, which meant that Elizabeth’s family was homeless. Mrs. Philips, her mother’s sister, housed them in Meryton for a few weeks, so that Jane could still see Mr. Bingley.
Fortunately, Mr. Bingley proposed and he and Jane were married quietly. There were rumours that Jane was with child, as well as Lydia, but that was not true.
At first, Mr. Bingley generously invited all of Elizabeth’s family to live at Netherfield, but within six months, he found that situation unpleasant, and he bought Mrs. Bennet a small house in London. Mrs. Bennet and her three younger daughters went to live in London and Elizabeth stayed in Hertfordshire with Jane and her new husband.
If her life were novel, this would be one of the happier times, an oasis in the middle of despair.
Jane and Bingley were so happy together. Their only sorrow, if it could be called that, was that Bingley and his friend Mr. Darcy became estranged. Darcy did not come to the wedding, and although Bingley invited him to visit multiple times, he did not come.
At the time, Elizabeth did not know how to feel. On one hand, she was relieved that she did not have to speak to Darcy again after his awkward marriage proposal, and on the other hand, she wanted to apologize for refusing him so vehemently.
In the normal course of events, Jane soon expected a child and before the first anniversary of her wedding, she was brought to her lying in.
The babe was born. A fat, happy boy named Thomas Fitzwilliam after her father and Bingley’s missing friend, but Mr. Darcy did not attend the baptism, either.
If this were a novel, this would be a section that Elizabeth would only read once. For Jane never recovered from the birth. Within a few weeks, she wasted away and died.
Elizabeth stayed at Netherfield, caring for the baby for several months, but eventually she saw that her presence only increased Bingley’s grief. Her daily appearance reminded Bingley of her beautiful sister, the woman he had loved and lost.
Elizabeth then moved to London to live with her mother, and this is when her life took its darkest turn.
Mrs. Bennet enjoyed living in London, but she had no concept of frugality. Once her year of mourning had ended, she threw many house parties, hoping to find husbands for her daughters. Lydia pretended that she was a widow and called herself Mrs. Wickham. “I shall say he was killed in a duel, which is what should have happened!” Lydia proclaimed.
As for the house parties, over time they became card parties, and eventually the Bennet home became a private gaming hell with Elizabeth’s sister Mary managing the accounts.
Mrs. Bennet was thrilled with her busy, vulgar life. Her brother, Mr. Gardiner tried to stop her, but she dismissed him, saying, “I have my own money now. I don’t need you to tell me what to do.”
Elizabeth tried to curb her mother’s excessive, extravagant mode of living with no success.
In addition to the gaming, Lydia began accepting private meetings with gentlemen for a fee.
“What are you doing?” Elizabeth demanded one morning after seeing one dishevelled gentleman slip out of the house.
Lydia shrugged. “It is a way to make a few extra pounds without Mama knowing.”
Elizabeth could not believe what she was hearing. She knew that Lydia was selfish, but she had not realized how immoral she could be. “Do you want to turn this house into a brothel?”
“Oh no,” Lydia said. “I will be too exclusive for that.”<
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Elizabeth did not know what to do.
She spent the evenings in her bedroom not joining the card parties.
And then, one night, her life changed forever.
One of Lydia’s gentlemen didn’t want to wait his turn and so he came to Elizabeth’s bedroom instead.
Elizabeth fought and screamed, but with the noise of the party downstairs, no one heard her, no one came to her rescue.
She was ruined and the man left money on the bedside table.
In the morning, Elizabeth confronted her mother who patted her hand and said, “I know it is very distressing, but if you don’t tell anyone, no one will ever know. You can still get married and I will show you ways to make your husband think he is the first.”
Lydia, overhearing their conversation said petulantly, “It’s not fair, Lizzy, for you to take my beaus.”
That afternoon, Elizabeth packed a small portmanteau and moved in with the Gardiners in Gracechurch Street.
Within a few months, it was apparent that she was with child.
Mr. Gardiner made arrangements with an elderly friend of his – Mr. Holt – to marry her, to give her and her baby a name.
Elizabeth did not want her mother to know what had become of her or to be able to hunt her down, so she asked Mr. Gardiner to tell her mother that she had died.
As far as the world was concerned, Elizabeth Bennet was no more, and Mrs. Holt, presumably a distant cousin of Mrs. Gardiner, took her place.
Mr. Holt was a kind, white-haired gentleman who made no demands upon her other than asking her to play the pianoforte in the evenings.
Elizabeth thought she would finally be at peace, but her own baby was born early and died as well, which would be the end of Volume Two.
Volume Three of her life, however, looked as if it might be better. Elizabeth did not have a title for it, yet. Mr. Holt lived three years after their marriage and died peacefully in his sleep. His family inherited his business and the majority of his estate. Elizabeth, as his widow, would receive fifty pounds a year, which considering the circumstances of their marriage, was more than generous.