Page 19 of Mr. Darcy’s Diamonds

“Were you alone, Mama? Did the gentleman charm you because you were unhappy and lonesome? Did you love my father, and…did he love you?”

Elizabeth did not have any desire to fall in love yet, but she had thought many times of the romance her parents may have had. The love she was sure they had felt for each other had spread over her, as well. She had never doubted that they had loved her—never, that is, until she learned Papa Oliver was not her father. What if he had been a man her grandfather paid to marry her mother? Elizabeth had read tales of such things happening to protect ruined young ladies. That was probably what had happened to her mother.

“I am sorry, Mama. It was because of me that you were forced to wed a man you did not love. I suppose I have always been a burden. I am trying to make something of myself, though, so I will not forever be one. I hope to be useful and also to marry a good man someday, as Uncle Bennet told me I should.”

As she considered more of what her Uncle Bennet had told her long ago, she thought she remembered something else.

“Mama! Uncle Bennet said Papa Oliver loved us. Did you come to love each other, after all? Were we almost like a real family for a little while? Was he as kind as Uncle Bennet told me he was?”

Even with her resolve to rise above her true birth by becoming accomplished and useful, Elizabeth could find little to interest her as her thoughts constantly returned to her despicable gentleman father. No wonder she had been rejected. No wonder she was now unwanted.

The next day, a letter arrived from Mary. It was only the third letter she had received from anyone in nearly six weeks in London.

Dear Lizzy,

Your recent letters have concerned me. Is London so very terrible? I had hoped you would have new experiences to feed your curious nature, but you seem despondent. Do you remember reading to me of the great women of old? They all struggled but rose above their circumstances and were brave and bold. I have always thought you are like those women. Perhaps like the Empress Theodora—not in her sullied background but in the way she took charge of her life and became important to her people in times of crisis. Or like Heloise, who was brilliant and worked hard to gain all the learning she could.

Papa says he is working on finding masters for you, but I expect it will take some time. I know you will find sources of happiness wherever you are, and I hope your next letter will prove you have regained your spirits.

All the best,

Mary Bennet

Mary was correct. No matter what her background, which was not as bad as Theodora’s had been, she had a good life now with support from the Bennet and Gardiner families. She would cease to sulk and would try anew to befriend the Gardiners.

As the next weeks went by, Elizabeth smiled more, whether she felt happy or not, and her aunt and uncle often requested her to play and sing for them. They were both home several evenings each week lately, and they appeared to be trying to include her in their activities. Elizabeth assisted Aunt Gardiner with sewing for the household and one of her charities that provided clothing for poor children. As they sat together day after day, they moved beyond the barest of civilities and grew more comfortable together.

Aunt Gardiner really was very kind. She admitted her education had been less comprehensive than Elizabeth’s, but the younger girl did all she could to put her aunt at ease. She was well aware she took her education to the extreme among girls, but Uncle Bennet encouraged her, and learning made her happy. She assured her aunt she did not look down on those who had fewer opportunities or interests, and her aunt requested she share some of her knowledge. Thus it happened that as they worked, Elizabeth began telling her aunt some of her favorite stories from history or discussed scientific advancements and current events with both her aunt and uncle during supper. These open discussions engendered a friendship and acceptance she had craved.

Her aunt sometimes mentioned in passing that it would be good for Elizabeth to have friends her own age. She agreed, but how was she to form such relationships? She still went out but little, and it was not as though she saw young women walking up and down Gracechurch Street as she gazed out her window.

It had been easy to make friends when she was a child scampering about the countryside with boys and girls who cared nothing about who she was but how fast she could run, how high she could climb, or how entertaining her stories could be. At church, she saw only a few girls anywhere near her age, and none stayed more than a minute or two after services.

Elizabeth had been excited to find Dutton’s Circulating Library at 45 Gracechurch Street and already knew she would become a frequent visitor, but she had not yet found young ladies to befriend there, either.

When she went to her uncle’s Emporium one day with her aunt, she looked around for girls. Two fashionably dressed young ladies turned up their noses at her as she approached them near the lace. Was something amiss in her dress or her manner? Had they seen her leave the Gardiner townhouse across the street?

Elizabeth thought the Gardiners must accept her low origins because they were in trade so had more open ideas than the higher classes. She was therefore doubly excited when Aunt Gardiner announced a family in trade with children about her age had accepted a dinner invitation for the following week. This would be her first dinner party in London and the first people here of her own age to whom she would be introduced.

She went about the next week with far fewer moments of deprecation against herself. She had begun spending a quarter hour or half hour each day with Mandy and Bella, as well. Occasionally, she would carry one of the girls through the park, Joan or Aunt Gardiner carrying the other. Most days, she played in the nursery with them and their dolls. Sometimes, she sketched them while they played or slept. When they were with their nurse, she practiced the pianoforte for an hour or two each day, and once she was startled when little Mandy climbed up onto the seat beside her.

“Mandy! Why are you not napping?” Elizabeth looked down at the girl in surprise.

“I not tired,” she said.

Elizabeth grinned at the girl and offered to play her a song. Mandy nodded and giggled as Elizabeth’s fingers transitioned to an old favorite she had entertained Kitty and Lydia with years ago. As she sang, Mandy pressed some of the keys, so Elizabeth asked if she would like to learn to play a song.

Mandy’s pudgy fingers were uncoordinated, but Elizabeth moved them as she had done for Mary, allowing the girl to feel like she was playing the simplest of tunes by herself.

The change in music naturally drew Aunt Gardiner to the room, and she laughed to see Mandy’s attempts.

“You have escaped Joan again, I see,” the girl’s mother observed. “Lizzy, would you be a dear and return her to the nursery as soon as you tire of her?”

“Of course. We will play a little more first, if that is acceptable.”

“I will sit and watch for a moment, then,” she grinned.

Chapter Eleven