Page 14 of The Vanished Bennet Sister

He had suspected that there was a hidden factor in the Bennets' circumstances that was not fully accounted for by their presence. The house had been too refined and the younger sisters' manners, while pleasant enough, had not been formed by the kind of establishment they appeared to inhabit. These were not large inconsistencies, and he had not attended to them with any great diligence, but they had registered.

Then there was the matter of the Garroway girls.

Georgiana had mentioned in passing that her friends Charity and Diana had acquired a new instructor for extra tutoring before their eventual debut. The woman in question was a Miss Elizabeth Bennet, from Hertfordshire. Georgiana had seemed pleased by the news; her friends were not easy to impress, yet they seemed enamoured by their new instructor.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet was spending two mornings a week instructing a tradesman's daughters. It was not the occupation of a person whose family was comfortably settled. That reality belonged to someone whose family was considerably less comfortable than they led others to believe. She must have chosen to earn more income by herself rather than wait for their financial matters to worsen.

Miss Elizabeth was spending two mornings a week in the paid instruction of a tradesman's daughters. The arrangement had been managed discreetly. Miss Elizabeth arrived in a carriage on those mornings and Charity Garroway, who could not keep a secret under any conditions, had also mentioned fees.

He had wondered, when he first learned of this news, why a young lady from a comfortable home would take paid employment of that kind. Not from passion, surely. The work was practical but not glamorous, and the discretion surrounding it suggested the lady conducting it did not consider it acceptable news to be shared publicly.

He had thought the entire situation interesting. He had imagined that the secret tutoring implied an independence of mind and refusal of the passive role that the season prescribed for young women of marriageable age. That was what spiked his curiosity about her even further, leading to the questions at Mrs Abbott’s dinner, which were soundly deflected. Even her rescue of the bird in the garden had seemed extraordinary, lending further credence to his image of her as a person of some complexity.

He had made a private mystery of her and turned it over at intervals with some dedication.

The explanation, as it turned out, was not mysterious at all.

She was a gentleman's daughter of modest means. She had come to London for the season alongside her family because it was where prospects were made. Every young woman in every ballroom he entered during the season for the past several years came for the same purpose. The tutoring was not from independence of spirit but due to financial necessity, conducted with more ingenuity than most would have managed, the deflections at dinner were the comprehensible evasions of someone who preferred that the gaps in her family's situation not be examined by near-strangers.

The interest he had attributed to her due to the directness of her manner and confident way she occupied rooms were real qualities and he did not need to revise that assessment. They were traits that belonged to a capable, intelligent young woman, but there was nothing else in that which required the degree of attention he had given it.

She was not a puzzle. The piece of writing that included her was quite legible.

The carriage arrived at the Darcy townhouse. Darcy sat for a moment before descending, completing the thought further.

He had been curious about Elizabeth Bennet and the interest had not been unwarranted. She was not an ordinary person, and he had not been wrong to notice that. But he had followed that notion further than it merited, attributing depth where there was only competence, and had spent extra time doing so when the true explanation was different.

The situation was clearer now. He descended from the carriage and went indoors.

He handed his hat and gloves to the footman then headed upstairs. He sat at his desk and opened the correspondence from his steward at Pemberley, which was detailed and required his attention.

He did not think of Elizabeth Bennet again that evening. He was quite satisfied that he had figured it all out.

Chapter Seven

Elizabeth

Another week of the season unfolded, during which Elizabeth received two callers.

She had met Mr Phelps at the Worthington musical, where he had positioned himself beside her determinedly. He was the son of a solicitor from Clapham, with a broad face and high opinions of himself. He had talked through the second half of the programme, before announcing his intention to call with great confidence.

She had not, in the interest of the season, actively discouraged him. Nor had she encouraged him.

He arrived at the townhouse and sat in the drawing room, talking nonstop while Jane, who served as chaperone, sat in the corner her eyes focused on a book.

For over twenty minutes, he covered his income, his late father's income and the question of how a man of good sense ought to manage a wife. This last subject was where he had some peculiar views.

"I am of the opinion," he said, "that a woman's reading ought to be directed by her husband. Independent study, pursued without guidance, produces independent conclusions. This in turn tends to produce friction."

"I see," Elizabeth responded. "And what manner of reading do you consider appropriate for a wife?"

"Devotional texts and perhaps some history, if it does not stray into the contentious. A library ought to be under the husband's direct management."

Elizabeth looked up and met Jane’s gaze. Her sister shook her head, alarmed by the direction the conversation had taken.

"The only acceptable reading being one that fits his preference."

"I see we are in agreement."