Beginning, Section II, Next Section

How Do You Solve a Problem Like Elizabeth?

Posted on Friday, 14 May 1999

Five years later.

"Tom! Tom! Where are you, Tom!" Sandy screeched as she went looking for her husband. She did not have far to look, as Tom was where he always was--in the stables. He was feeding Darcy's Pride, stroking the stallion's mane with such gentleness that Sandy almost felt jealous. It seemed to her as though Tom had never looked or touched her in such a way. Yet he babied this animal and all the others that had been sired by that silly horse the former master had willed him.

Elizabeth was also to be found in the stables. She was taking care of the horse her father had given her two years ago, one of Sweet Liar's first offspring. She had named the horse Lying Lydia after a rather bitter disagreement with her sister. When her mother had heard the name she demanded that Elizabeth change it, and so the horse was officially called Liar's Gamble...but she still called the horse by that first name when she was bothered by her youngest sister.

The past years had been very good to Tom Bennet in financial terms. Sweet Liar had indeed proved to be the boon he knew the horse would be.

Unfortunately, he had also been right that Sandy would not learn to spend within the allotted budget he had set. Within the next three or four years, the money Mr. Darcy had left him would be gone. When that happened, he had already informed Sandy, she would have to return to work at full capacity in the Pemberley kitchen again. He had not told her about the money he trusted the young master to invest for him, the money that he intended to save for his children. If Sandy ever discovered that, then there would be nothing.

"There you are, young lady! Tom, I should have known that you would be out here encouraging her to act in a mannish manner. I am the laughingstock of Pemberley because my daughter continues to act in the hoydenish manner she did ten years ago."

Elizabeth looked at her father and rolled her eyes. It sounded like yet another of her mother's tirades was about to begin, and it was likely for the best if she were not present.

"Excuse me Mamma, Papa, but I think I shall take Lyi--Liar's Gamble for a ride."

"Absolutely not," Sandy said. "It is most improper for you to be riding about the estate like you do, as though you own it."

"Mr. Darcy does not mind."

"I mind, and although Mr. Darcy may turn a blind eye--and I remain unconvinced he has done so, for I notice that you do not go riding when he is not in residence--I am your mother. You shall do what I say."

"Yes, Mamma," Elizabeth said, knowing full well that she could disappear in a few minutes and Sandy would never notice. She would be too engrossed in whatever had sent her into a state to realize that the object of her speech had disappeared.

Elizabeth rode off quietly rather than kicking up her usual cloud of dust. Just once, just once, I wish I had been born a man. Things would be so much simpler if I had been. Then Mamma would not spend her days trying to illicit sympathy from the staff and then claim they are laughing about her. Then I could spend all my days at the stables and no one would care.

And I certainly would not still have a broken heart because Captain Richard Fitzwilliam is out there in the world and he does not love me.

She sighed. Five years since the debacle at the pond, and she still thought about him. Five years, and she still wished she had had the courage to tell him how much she had loved him.

Five years in which the only times she heard his name discussed were in his letters to his cousin. He had written her only one letter since he had joined Colonel Taggert's company, a brief note telling her that he was happy and beginning to get accustomed to army life.

In those five years, Elizabeth realized that at fifteen, she had been much closer to the nine-year-old girl than she had been to the woman she was now. She still loved reading, sitting at the pond during sunsets and in the moonlight, and horses. She still adored her father and found great amusement in her mother.

But she was much, much wiser than she had once been. At fifteen, Elizabeth knew that she had still felt it was possible for her to marry Richard and live happily ever after. Living at Pemberley, never having gone out into the world, had made her think such a thing would be possible. But Pemberley itself had undergone many changes since the death of the previous owner. Fitzwilliam Darcy had brought the Society Elizabeth had always longed to see to Pemberley, and what she found did not impress her in the least.

The first country party, which had been held nearly twenty months following the death of Old Mr. Darcy, had been a three-day affair culminating in a masquerade ball the final evening. The event had since become an annual undertaking for Pemberley, taking place less than a month following the end of the Season in London. Although it seemed to Elizabeth that the last thing Mr. Darcy wished to do was hold a party of such magnitude, he was a gracious, if reserved, host.

It was the guests that Elizabeth found such fun in. They came from all over England, the best society had to offer, or so Mrs. Reynolds had said. They were the people who set the standards the world emulated.

Elizabeth had found them to be a rather unconventional lot for being so high in society. She could not recall the number of times she had observed one gentleman or another slipping off into the garden with a lovely young lady, and the couple returning much later looking rather...rumpled. Or later in the evening, when she heard tales of certain single gentlemen chasing after parlor maids. Kitty had told her that tale, which Sandy had overheard. She had threatened to give Kitty a good thrashing should she ever hear of Kitty taking up an offer.

Sandy would have been horrified had she discovered Elizabeth's way of uncovering such things. Indeed, she would be furious to know her daughter had sneaked away to spy on the ton at play, and even more furious to discover that Elizabeth's favourite hiding place was the large tree that overlooked the gardens and the ballroom where the masquerade ball was held. Elizabeth considered it to be the best place for her to stay, for once when she had taken refuge in a rose bush she had been discovered and the 'gentleman' had been anything but. It was fortunate that Elizabeth was as agile and strong as she was, and the man so intoxicated by his host's good wine.

In the tree, however, she was safe. And she saw everything.

And deep within her heart, she longed for what she could not have.

The Pemberley party was not her only opportunity to see how society operated. Her mother, in her never ending crusade to get Elizabeth to learn a useful skill befitting a woman, had forced her into every position she had held at Pemberley. Elizabeth had been a parlormaid with her sister Kitty. She had been given a second chance at cooking and was immediately banished from the kitchens forever after she ruined the meal for a small dinner party. (Elizabeth had thought her dessert of apricot tarts would have made up for it--she did make those quite well.) Her mother had attempted to teach her sewing, but after Elizabeth wound up bleeding on an exquisite and expensive bolt of fabric destined to be an outfit for Miss Georgiana, her mother would not permit her near scissors and a needle again.

The only place Elizabeth truly felt she belonged was in the stables, riding free with Liar's Gamble, and in that tree, where she came face-to-face with the true Elizabeth Bennet.

In less than a year, Elizabeth would come into her legacy from Old Mr. Darcy. She had spent very little of the money she had been given, and had reluctantly agreed to let Mr. Darcy invest what she did not spend. She hoped that she might be able to live comfortably on that instead of having to take up some sort of trade, yet her mother would not let up.

"You must understand that your mother cannot see much past the next week, much less next year," Tom had told his daughter after a particularly difficult argument. "I do not know that your inheritance shall be enough to sustain you unless you stayed at Pemberley."

"I do not think I shall leave," Elizabeth said. She had resigned herself to the fate that night five years ago.

"You have talked often of visiting London," Tom said.

"But I would not wish to live there. I would miss everything far too much to ever stay there permanently. I would miss you and Pemberley and Sweet Liar and Lying Lydia."

She could not know her father's wishes on her future. And as she spurred the horse into a healthy gallop, she could not have an inkling of what was being decided in the stables at that very moment.

"How are we going to solve this problem?" Sandy demanded to know. She wished there were a place for her to sit, but the only thing that looked vaguely available was a small bale of hay and she would rather stand and suffer the nagging pain in her back than sit there.

"I was not aware we had a problem," Tom said blandly, as though he did not know what thought was foremost in her mind. "Have you run out of money and wish to have a bit more of the principal? If that is what you desire, I must tell you that I was talking to Mr. Darcy today and he was concerned about how much we were spending."

"How can you think of money at a time like this?" Sandy exclaimed.

"Well, as you tend to think of it far more often than I, naturally I figured that you wished to speak to me on that subject. If it is not a money problem, then pray tell, what is it?"

"The problem I am referring to, Tom, is our daughter. Elizabeth. Just today, I was informed that she did not report to the laundry as she was supposed to."

"That is her choice, Sandy. She hated the laundry. The women all treated her as though she were diseased and whatever they use to clean clothes was causing her hands to sting painfully."

"If she would give it a good chance, that would go away in time. She has become entirely too spoiled, Tom Bennet, and I blame you for it." Sandy sniffled and tears sprang into her eyes. The effect would have been better had Tom not become immune to this ploy long ago. "As for her being treated with some disdain, that is her own doing. If she were not--"

"Enough. Enough, for God's sake! I have heard you say the same thing over and over these past fifteen years. Ever since Elizabeth was old enough to know her own mind, you have disapproved of her every move and thought."

"That is usually because she has earned my disapproval. Tom, do you truly wish your daughter to never adapt to any part of this world? Do you wish for her to forever be an outsider? She does not belong to the ton I know she spies upon, yet she does not belong to the world she was born into."

"I know," Tom said quietly. He knew of Elizabeth's mysterious disappearances the nights of balls and parties at Pemberley. He knew of her tree. He suspected that she had harbored feelings for Richard Fitzwilliam since she was a child, but he could not ask. She would deny it, of course, and may become upset. She knew his opinion on the subject, as he had told Lydia on many occasions that she was being foolish to think a wealthy man would ever marry her.

"And you do not care?" Sandy knew that Tom was vulnerable when it came to Elizabeth.

"I care very much, but I do not know what you would have me do. Elizabeth is twenty. Next spring on her birthday she inherits her legacy from Old Mr. Darcy, and should she not wish to do anything but stay here at Pemberley and read and stay in the stables, there shall be nothing either of us can do about it."

"I think Mr. Darcy may not take the same perspective."

"He would allow her to stay if for no other reason than out of loyalty to me." Tom hated to say that, for he was a humble, simple man by nature and most of the time he did not believe that statement to be true.

Sandy took a small letter out of her pocket. It had arrived just that morning, and as far as she was concerned it was the answer to her prayers. That it was an answer to the request she had made of Edward several weeks earlier did not really occur to her.

"I have had a letter from my brother Edward," Sandy said. She opened the letter and handed it to him, for Sandy could not read. Any letters from her brother wound up being read to her, and she paid someone to respond as she wished.

Tom read the letter and frowned. "You asked him to give Elizabeth a position at his shop? Why did you do such a presumptuous thing? Elizabeth shall never agree to such a scheme. She refused it when you suggested it before."

"I thought we could present it to her as a fate accomplice."

"As a what?"

"You know...that fancy French term for when a person has no choice."

Tom knew she really meant fait accompli, but her mangled meaning did not bother him as much as her plan to present this scheme to Elizabeth in such a way. "Elizabeth knows she has a choice."

"Not if you insist upon it, Tom. If you tell her she must go to London and take this position, then she shall have to go."

"Why on earth would I do that?"

"Tom...you know why."

Tom sighed heavily. Sandy was right. It would be better for Elizabeth to realize that she could not continue to deny her fate. "She shall likely refuse it again," he said weakly. He knew that if he gave in to Sandy, he would be without his daughter for at least nine months and possibly longer. He wondered if Elizabeth would enjoy working at Edward's shop. If she did, she might never wish to leave London.

Tom did not think he could handle life without his daughter. His wife had long stopped being interesting to him. Jane was starry-eyed because the master's valet, Bingley, had finally taken notice of her. His younger two children were so much like their mother that he could only tolerate their presence for short periods of time. Elizabeth was so different from them that he did not wish to try and fit her into their likeness.

"The trick, Tom, is not to allow her to persuade you to change your mind. Once you are committed to this idea, you must be prepared to defend your position. I know Elizabeth, and she shall quite cleverly use anything she can to dissuade you."

"What does Edward wish her to do? I mean, what sort of work would there be for a young woman in a shop?"

"Edward's business has expanded greatly from the last time we saw him. He has both men and women working for him. Did you not read the part of his letter where he said that she could work selling ladies' gloves and hats? There is a position available there. He said he would rather have her as a seamstress, but I told him that that would not be suitable for her. She would not have to do any sewing."

"Are not the working women of his shop ridiculed?"

"Edward has said nothing of the sort. I am certain he would not have suggested Elizabeth work there if--"

"If you had not brought it up. Do not forget that part of it, Sandy."

"Then he would not have agreed to it if that were the case." Sandy knew that Tom was trying to do anything he could to refuse to help her in this instance, but she refused to be put off. Elizabeth had done exactly what she wanted all her life and look where it was landing her. Someone had needed to take the girl in hand long ago, but Tom would not allow it. "Tom, we need to agree to this if it is to succeed at all. Any signs of weakness and Elizabeth shall not do anything."

"But Sandy--"

"Tom! I am going to stand firm in this. It is the best thing for her. If you allow her to stay, she shall only be far more miserable in the future. Besides..." Sandy's mind did not run swiftly, but she did, upon occasion, come upon an idea that worked. "Besides, she shall finally get to see London, and as you know, she would like nothing better."

Tom could think of at least one thing Elizabeth would like better. But he knew seeing London was high on her list.

"I think, if we could present this as an opportunity for her to...expand her horizons...then she would be far more willing to go. And if you insist that she go to do that, then she shall go."

There would be no quieting her, he realized, until he caved in to her demands. "All right," he said reluctantly. "We shall tell Elizabeth this evening at dinner that she shall be leaving for London next week."

"Excellent." Sandy beamed at her husband, thrilled that she had finally gotten her way in a matter concerning Elizabeth. She gave him a small kiss on the cheek and returned to the house, eager for the day to end so she could inform her wayward child of the decision that had been made and the problem had been solved.

Tom turned to Darcy's Pride and muttered, "I hope Elizabeth shall forgive me one day. Do you suppose she shall?"

The horse whinnied, shook its head violently, and turned away from him abruptly.

"I suspect you may be right," he said.

In London

Posted on Saturday, 22 May 1999

Elizabeth departed for London ten days later. She did not speak to her mother or father once since the evening they had stood united to inform her of her future. The loss of her company hit Tom hard, especially in those final days when he wished so dearly to speak to her, to explain why he felt her leaving was the best thing. But she did not join him in the stables, except to saddle Liar's Gamble and disappear for hours. She did not join him in the tiny room of the cottage called the library. She did her utmost best in those ten days to avoid him--and by her absence, let him know her displeasure.

Tom knew things would have gone better and far easier were it not for Sandy. As the family had gathered together that evening, Sandy had smugly said, "Well! You should be rather pleased, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth, who had been reading, lowered her book and looked at her mother with some confusion. "Why is that?"

"Because at this time, come the next fortnight, you shall be in London. Did not your father tell you?"

Tom nearly groaned. This was not how he would have told her. Trust Sandy to make the worst of this whole mess. It should not have surprised him, having seen Sandy's expression all evening, and knowing her frustrations about Elizabeth.

Now the confusion in Elizabeth's eyes was giving way to suspicion. "No, he did not."

"Oh, Tom. Why did you not tell her?"

And trust Sandy to make him look the villain in all this. "I was under the impression that we were to tell her together."

"But I figured since you--"

"Tell me what?" Elizabeth demanded.

Her parents exchanged glances--his furious but resigned, hers unwavering smugness.

"Your Uncle Gardiner has offered you a position in his shop," Tom finally said.

"He has done so before. I informed him then that--"

"Your father and I have accepted for you. You leave for London next Friday."

Elizabeth knew she looked utterly foolish with her mouth hanging open, but this news upset her enough that she did not care. "You...you cannot...I shall not go."

"It has all been arranged," Sandy said.

"I do not care. You cannot make me leave Pemberley."

"Are you mad?!" Lydia exclaimed. "I cannot see why you would want to stay. Mamma, if she persists in being stubborn, I would love to go in her place."

"I would not trust you to go to London on your own," Tom said. "Lord knows what sort of foolishness you would get up to. Absolutely out of the question."

Lydia pouted.

"I am sorry, my dear Liddy, but this is really for Elizabeth's own good." Sandy rushed to her youngest daughter's side to comfort her.

"I thought you always wanted to go to London, Elizabeth," Kitty said. "You used to dream of going there."

"That was--" Elizabeth almost specified how long ago she had decided she did not want to leave Pemberley. Five years, to be exact, when she had contented herself with her lot in life. "--long ago," she finished. "I am happy here."

"Of course you are content. You run wild," Sandy snapped. "You have no responsibilities--"

"Mother, I have long since memorized your list of my imperfections, and it will do you no good to list them again. I have no intention of going to London, and that is final."

"Tom! Tom! I know I did not raise such a daughter, who would speak against her own mother in such a fashion." Sandy stood up and stuck her face right in front of Elizabeth. "Now you listen to me, young woman. You may think yourself quite independent because you have an inheritance coming next year, but it would do you good to remember that you are but twenty years of age. Therefore, your father still has the right to determine what you do and do not do--and where you go and do not go. Your father has made it quite clear to you that you are going to London, and that is the end of it."

"No, that is not the end of it! All I have heard is what you want, Mamma! You say I am going to London. You say I have no choice. All Papa has said is that a position has been offered me. He has said nothing about my leaving." Elizabeth turned to her father with pleading eyes. "Papa, I know what all this is about. Mamma has managed to convince you that this is for the best, but you and I both know that it is not. If I go, who shall help you with all the horses? Who shall make sure they get proper exercise?"

"If your father needs help, he can ask Mr. Darcy to hire someone. He should have done that years ago, rather than allow you to pursue such a--"

"Mother, I asked Papa to answer me, not you. Papa...you cannot send me away. You cannot make me do this. It is unfair."

Tom looked into his daughter's beautiful dark eyes, wishing he did not see the fear in them. Wishing that he could be anywhere but where he was at that moment. And of course, dearly wishing he did not have to deliver the blow that was coming.

"You have to go to London, Elizabeth," he said quietly.

"But Papa--"

"No. It is the best thing. In that, your mother and I are in agreement. You must go to your uncle...until such time as you turn one and twenty, at which time you come into your inheritance and can then choose for yourself whether or not you remain."

Elizabeth was trapped, and everyone knew it. She managed not to make more of a scene as she walked out of the room calmly. The moment she was out of sight, she disappeared and ran out the door, heading to the pond, sobbing. Tom saw her as far as the front door, hearing her cries and wishing he could comfort her. But if he did that, she would likely change his mind and he could not afford to do that.

Her pleas were the last words she spoke to anyone, saving Jane, before she left. To Jane alone she poured out her sorrow, her anger, her fury. Jane tried to be the voice of reason, but she knew that Elizabeth was beyond reasoning. Jane made Elizabeth promise to write as often as she could, as long as she did not use long, difficult words, for Jane was not the reader Elizabeth was. Elizabeth promised to write long but easy letters, as long as Jane would respond, and not show a single word to their father.

London
9 June.

Dearest Jane,

As you can guess, I have reached London, and I have discovered that you were the wiser of us when you said I would probably fall in love with the place on first sight. How right you were, my dear sister! Although I had convinced myself outwardly that London was a dreadful place to be avoided, inwardly I was still curious, as I discovered within minutes of my arrival! There are so many fascinating things to see here that I hope working shall not take all my time, or I shall be greatly disappointed.

Aunt and Uncle Gardiner have a lovely home on Gracechurch Street, which, although it may not be the most fashionable part of London, is still quite nice all the same. I am to stay with them as long as I am here and I must confess, if this is what Mamma had in mind when she wanted me to learn "my position in this world," then she is going to be greatly disappointed when I come home. Our aunt and uncle have servants to do their work in the home, and thus when I am at home my life is even better than when I was home at Pemberley! All that is required of me when I am there is that I spend time with the children, which I do not mind since they are such dears. (Much sweeter than Lydia and Kitty, I assure you.)

I start work at the shop tomorrow. I dread having to spend all day indoors, forced to wait on people, selling foolish items such as gloves and bonnets. I suppose the gloves would not be so bad, if they had some strength to them. Were I to wear these gloves a day, they would be positively spoilt, for they would be torn to shreds the minute I touched the reigns of a horse. As you well know, I think bonnets a complete waste of time. Such dreadful contraptions! And I must sell them. It should be a wonder if I am able to hold my tongue and not give my opinions. Uncle Gardiner has already lectured me about keeping true opinions to myself. I think Mamma sent him a warning letter about me.

Though I am beginning to like London, you must not tell Papa. I do not want him thinking he did the best thing, for I am still furious with him for insisting that I come. I shall write you again tomorrow, after I begin work, and shall likely say I hate London. But for one night, I thought you would be amused to hear that I did like it upon first glance.

Give Liar's Gamble a special treat for me.

Elizabeth.

London.
10 June.

Dear Jane,

I have spent my first day working at Uncle Gardiner's store, and all I have to say is that it surely must be the most peculiar place I have ever been in!

Uncle Gardiner is not there as often as he was in the beginning, for the store is the most successful in London and therefore he has been able to enjoy his family more by hiring people to do his work for him. He comes in a couple of times a day, mostly to see how everyone is doing. I have spoken to a couple of the workers and they say that he is a generous man, unlike some of the other places they have worked for. Still, they wish they could be paid more, work less, and that they did not have to deal with customers. I must say, after a day of working, that I agree with them. My feet have never been so swollen in my life!

Uncle Gardiner sells to both gentlemen and ladies. Most of the things he sells are simple items, such as what I sell, gloves and bonnets, hats and walking sticks. We get all sorts of people who come in for those things, including (from what I hear) some of the more elite in society who are looking for a bargain. I have been informed that when such people come in the prices should rise accordingly, if for no other reason than they are stingy. Uncle Gardiner also employs tailors and seamstresses, though they do not work as much as I shall be working, or so they have told me.

The workers are all, for the most part, rather nice, Mr. Humphries especially. He is quite a gentleman, full of energy and rather quick witted. He is a bit strange, however, and I cannot quite put my finger on what it is about him that makes me think so. Mr. Humphries is in charge of the gentleman's part of the store.

Working directly beneath him is Mr. Lucas. Quite honestly, I could do without Mr. Lucas, for he is quite annoying. Twice today he has made rather suggestive comments to me. Mrs. Slocombe, the woman in charge of the ladies' side, has told me that he often does that and when he does, I should just ignore him. It should not be so difficult to do, for Mr. Lucas cannot begin to compare to that dreadful George Wickham.

As for Mrs. Slocombe, she is a bit unusual herself, though I think that due to her liking a nip or two of brandy at lunch rather than to some character flaw. She has been widowed twice and says that she shall never marry again, for her husbands have never done anything for her that she could not do for herself. I find that to be a rather good philosophy. I think I shall follow it, except that I shall not marry at all. She was the one who warned me about raising prices on goods when the minor nobility come in. She warned me especially about a woman named Lady Grace Hamilton, who apparently comes in often and is quite dreadful.

Finally, there is Miss Brahms, who is very pretty and I dare say would have no trouble marrying if she wished. She does, in fact, have a beau, but she is hesitant to marry because she says she does not wish to have a marriage like that of her parents. I have given some thought to this and I realize that that is another reason I do not wish to marry.

Jane, in the day and a half that I have been here in London, I have seen a couple who love each other and treat each other as equals. I do not think I shall ever find a man who could treat me as an equal. Our aunt and uncle are so far removed from my own parents that when I think of them, I get quite saddened to think of how Papa has wasted his life with Mamma. I wonder what he ever saw in her that would induce him to get married.

All in all, I think I may just enjoy working here. Do not tell Papa, and whatever you do, do not tell Mamma! Or I shall never hear the end of it.

Your loving sister,

Elizabeth.

Pemberley
1 July.

Dear Elizabeth,

I have hoped that giving you some time to adjust to your new circumstances would allow you to reflect on my position, and why I made the decision I did. I know you have written your sister and, out of respect for you, I have not asked Jane what you have to say about London. I sincerely hope you find it beyond your childhood dreams, and I presume by the four letters that arrived just yesterday that you do, otherwise you would not write as much.

Elizabeth, my dearest daughter, I did you a great wrong when I did not forbid you my presence. You would have done far better to be around your mother, as I well knew. I am certain you knew this as well, but as long as you had my example to follow, you did not worry yourself with it. You cannot go through life doing nothing. One day, as you well know, I shall be gone. Your mother, Jane, and Kitty shall be fine, as they have positions within the household. But you, my dear, had nothing. Although Mr. Darcy is a generous young man, whatever you thought of him, I doubt that he would have indulged you further. You would have nothing but the small inheritance left you, and that would not last long.

I have thought about the decision since it was made, and I realize that of all the choices we could have given you, working for your uncle is likely the best of them. For one thing, you are away from your mother. It is a dreadful thing to have to say, and I am not saying that Sandy does not love you, for I know she does. But she has worried herself to no end that you shall end up with no option but to live as a beggar after my death, and this has caused her to be rather cross with you. Again, this is my fault for not encouraging you to leave the stables.

For another thing, you enjoy people. Being the stableman and coachman since my father retired, I can tell you that what I do is sometimes a rather lonely way to earn a living. You may say that you prefer the company of horses to people, but if that were true, you would not have stolen away to observe all the parties that Pemberley has hosted over the past four years. You would not have been in that tree, watching society and privately laughing at some of the foolish things you saw. You need to be around people, and this was one way to achieve that.

I think I have exhausted my argument. All I have left to say is that I wish you would forgive me, and write my about how you are in London.

Your father.

London
21 July.

Dear Jane and Papa,

Yes, Jane, you may show this letter to Papa. Papa, I have quite forgiven you for making me come to London, for if you did not, I would not be having as much fun as I am. (Do not tell Mamma, as I stress to Jane. I want her to think I am utterly miserable. Perhaps she might begin feeling guilty.)

Last night, the Gardiners took me and their oldest child, Maria, to an opera at Covent Garden. May I say that it was the most wonderful experience I have ever had! It was absolutely beautiful. I was crying at the end of the story, but that was not the whole of it. During the intermission, Aunt Gardiner pointed out where all the major nobility was. You shall never believe this, but I actually got to see a duke. Who would have believe it? The most important person who ever came to Pemberley was the Earl of Matlock, and he was only Mr. Darcy's relation. This was a duke, a son of our king. I do not recall now which it was, but they say he has quite an interest in one of the actresses who appeared in the opera.

Speaking of the Earl of Matlock, he has a box at Covent Garden as well. I saw him, with his sister Lady Catherine de Bourgh. The earl was looking in fine form, as he always is, though I must say that all the looks in the family must have gone to him and the late Lady Anne, for Lady Catherine is rather plain.

All in all, I dearly hope that I shall get to go again next month. The Gardiners have promised that I shall.

Work is going as well as could be expected, I suppose. Mr. Lucas is still somewhat of a nuisance, but he is nothing compared to the new person hired recently. I did not know this when I first arrived, but Mr. Humphries has only recently become the head of the gentlemen's side. The previous senior, Mr. Grainger, retired to live with his daughter in Cheltenham. Thus everyone moved up and there was a free position selling hats, gloves and walking sticks, which has been filled by a young man named William Collins.

He is the most detestable young man I have ever met! Worse than George Wickham because at least George had some intelligence. (I never thought I would give the man a compliment. See how much this new man is bothering me?) Mr. Collins cannot quite understand that I have absolutely no interest in him. I would not have been surprised if he had followed me up to the opera, but considering how much our seats cost, I would have been surprised if he could afford it.

Still, Mr. Collins seems to be a rather popular sort with the men, for it is in his nature to be subservient. (You can only imagine how difficult it is for me.) He sells quite a bit of goods because he manages to convince the men that anything suits them quite well. Honestly, if I were a man, I would ask his opinion only to know what not to buy, for anything he finds becoming is usually quite hideous.

Mr. Collins is persistent but dull, and as you know I could never marry a man who is completely without wits. I only wish he were bright enough to understand that.

Jane, in your only letter (that is a reminder that you promised to write often!), you mentioned that Bingley was giving you some trouble. If I have told you once, I have told you a hundred times--you are being far too shy! If you intend to win the man for good, you should be a bit more forward. I know that this is scandalous advice to give, but if you do not make your intentions known, you shall never win him over! (Before you ask, it is not my own--that comes directly from Miss Brahms, who says she is not romantic in any way. I do not believe her, but she maintains it to be the truth.)

I must stop writing for now. It is nearly midnight, and I have to be at work in the morning. Papa, I need not tell you that I miss you dearly, much as I am enjoying life in London. I miss all of you, even Mamma and Lydia.

Elizabeth.

Are You Being Served?

Posted on Sunday, 13 June 1999

Elizabeth's days had always started early, but never, she thought, had she ever felt as excited to awaken in the mornings as she did during those first weeks of working at her uncle's shop. Uncle Gardiner chuckled when he would awaken to see her eating porridge in the kitchen, and would say she would soon stop getting much enjoyment from work.

"I realize that," she said. "Until such a time occurs, I shall enjoy myself greatly."

Elizabeth and her uncle were always the first to arrive at the shop. Her uncle would open the doors in the back so his workers could come in without the customers trickling in after them before the shop was ready to open.

Next to arrive at the shop were Mr. Humphries and Miss Brahms on most days. Mr. Humphries was sometimes rather bleary-eyed from his adventures of the previous evening and Miss Brahms was more often than not in a foul mood, since she was not a morning person. Mr. Collins and Mrs. Slocombe managed to arrive at just the right time--in time for the store to open but late enough that they did not have to assist in the day-to-day cleaning duties, such as dusting. Mr. Lucas inevitably ran late, arriving at least five minutes past the opening of the front doors.

Elizabeth was rather confused at why her uncle tolerated such behaviour, as he had stressed to Mr. Collins when he was first hired the importance of punctuality.

"He is a cousin of your aunt's," Uncle Gardiner said with a grimace when Elizabeth asked one day. "His family persuaded me to take him on, as he is something of a wastrel. He sells very little, but it keeps your aunt happy. They are now asking me if I would be willing to hire his younger sister Charlotte, but since I hired you I have no place to put her."

Elizabeth must have had a guilty expression on her face, for her uncle smiled. "Do not fear, Elizabeth. You did not take a position I would have offered her. I am a bit hesitant to hire any other member of the Lucas family after dealing with James."

The hour between Elizabeth's arrival and the opening of the shop was usually the most interesting hour of the day, for that was when Mr. Gardiner was bombarded with tradesmen looking to sell their wares. Elizabeth's personal favorite was a gentleman named Mr. Mash, who made no pretense to gentility or civility, but rather enjoyed himself and could sell anything if he put his mind to it.

The shop opened at nine in the morning and closed at one in the afternoon for an hour so that the employees could have lunch. Mr. Gardiner had built a small room in the back for the employees to enjoy their meal. At two, everyone returned to work until six, when the shop officially closed for the day.

If Elizabeth felt the hour before opening to be the most interesting, especially on the days when Mr. Mash was hawking his wares, then the dinner hour was certainly the most entertaining. It was during this hour that the staff allowed themselves to relax somewhat, to talk openly about what they thought of the clientele, to discuss their lives.

With each day that passed, Elizabeth felt increasing gratitude to her father for making her come to London. She was sad that she had allowed herself to leave Pemberley without saying a proper farewell, and that her anger had continued in those first few days she had been in town. Elizabeth did not feel that forgiving him in a letter was good enough, though she had apologized so often in her writings that Tom had recently written, "My dear daughter, please stop apologizing. You have nothing to feel apologetic for, and certainly nothing that you would have to apologize for over such a period of time."

Elizabeth fully intended to stop apologizing after that...at least until she returned home and could apologize in person.

One day, she was straightening a display of hats when she saw a very familiar young lady walk through the door. Georgiana Darcy was accompanied by two young women of a similar age to Elizabeth, neither of whom she could remember seeing before at one of the Pemberley parties. The other woman was older, and Elizabeth knew quite well who she was--Mrs. Younge, Georgiana's governess-turned-companion. Elizabeth frowned, for she did not like Mrs. Younge. The woman had considered herself far above the rest of the servants, and had on more than one occasion insulted Elizabeth for her "hoydenish behaviour."

Elizabeth decided not to allow her to ruin the pleasure she was taking in seeing Georgiana. She had not seen her in a year, and was astounded at the difference a year made. Georgiana had turned fifteen recently, if Elizabeth remembered correctly, and within two years she would become quite a beauty.

Elizabeth wondered if Georgiana would recognize her. "Good morning, miss. Are you being served?" she asked politely.

Georgiana looked up in wonder, smiling. "Why, Elizabeth Bennet!" she exclaimed. "Whatever are you doing in London?"

"This is my uncle's shop. He was gracious enough to give me a position," Elizabeth replied. "If I may be so bold as to ask, what are you doing in London?"

"Fitzwilliam has brought me so that I may see the opera," the shy young woman said. "We shall be staying two weeks, then returning to Pemberley."

"We would like to peruse riding gloves," Mrs. Younge said abruptly, frowning at her charge. "Good morning, Miss Bennet. It is good to see that you have finally put away your childishness and--"

"We have riding gloves in all the latest styles," Elizabeth interrupted, drawing a dark look from the woman. Elizabeth thought the woman would box her ears if she thought she could get away with it.

The taller of the two young women with Georgiana gave Elizabeth a brittle smile. "The latest styles, to be found in Cheapside. It is a mighty claim."

"Forgive me," Georgiana said. "I did not introduce my friends." Georgiana motioned to the tall one and said, "This is Miss Caroline Bingley." Georgiana motioned to the shorter, prettier one. "And this is Miss Sabrina Tysen."

"Bingley? I believe Mr. Darcy's valet is named Bingley. Would he be any relation?" Elizabeth asked politely.

Miss Bingley reddened and said, "What impertinence! To insinuate that I would in any way be related to--to--"

"Miss Bingley, I am certain that Elizabeth meant no insult. She was simply curious."

"She should learn to hold her tongue."

Elizabeth began to suspect that Miss Bingley was indeed a relative of the valet. At the same time, she knew that offending a potential customer would only get in trouble with her uncle. "I merely asked because Bingley is...well, there is an understanding between him and my sister Jane," Elizabeth lied. "I beg your pardon if you took offense."

Miss Bingley still looked offended but she said nothing further.

"Georgiana? The riding gloves?" Mrs. Younge prodded.

"Oh, yes! Fitzwilliam has bought me a riding horse and says I am to learn to ride, so I shall require gloves," Georgiana said.

Elizabeth opened a drawer underneath the counter and pulled out several pairs of gloves. Had she been asked, she would not have recommended a single pair of the frilly garments her uncle's shop offered. For a true horsewoman, the gloves would not last a day. Nonetheless, she knew that her opinion would not be asked and besides, Georgiana was not likely to use them as much as she would.

Elizabeth spread the items across the counter and smiled. She pointed to a particularly pretty pair she thought Georgiana would like. "These are the most popular among ladies," she said. "Today they happen to be at a special price."

Miss Bingley scoffed at the lot. "They are tolerable, I suppose, but I would not call them modish in the least."

Miss Tysen finally spoke. "I have a pair of gloves just like those. I bought them at Ford's just yesterday." She checked the price tag and frowned. "They cost me more at Ford's. I think I may take them back and come here."

Georgiana was eager to get the same kind of gloves Miss Tysen bought, for Miss Tysen was a young lady of good sense and fashion as well as being genuinely nice. It was a shame that Miss Bingley was her friend and insisted on joining them as often as possible.

At the same time, she knew that Miss Tysen hardly ever sat atop a horse. Georgiana turned to Elizabeth and asked, "What do you think, Miss Bennet? Would they be suitable for riding?"

Elizabeth replied, "Of course."

"Would you wear them?"

Elizabeth hesitated, which went unnoticed as Mrs. Younge and Miss Bingley protested Georgiana's question greatly.

"Why would you ask a shop person's opinion?" Miss Bingley asked.

"She hardly has any opinion which would matter in the fashionable world," Mrs. Younge added.

"I ask because she is most knowledgeable about what sort of gloves should be worn for riding. She is an excellent horsewoman," Georgiana defended. "My brother said so himself."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. Mr. Darcy had given her a compliment? When had this momentous occasion happened?

Although Elizabeth was shocked by the statement, she did notice that Miss Bingley looked particularly put out by it. So that is the way it is, she thought.

"Well," she said finally, "I would not wear them myself."

"Why not?" Miss Bingley demanded. "You said they were most fashionable. Do you not wish to be fashionable?"

Elizabeth sighed. "I do wish to be fashionable, but when I am riding a horse I am aware of the need to be sensible. Were I to wear those gloves, they would be ready for the scrap heap by evening, thus being a waste of money. However, Miss Darcy, I do not think you shall be riding as often or as much as I would. The gloves are perfectly suited for you."

"Then I shall take them," Georgiana replied.

"Excellent. Would you like anything else today?"

"I do not think Miss Darcy requires anything else," Mrs. Younge said. "Certainly not from here."

"Mrs. Younge, I was wondering if you could possibly call for the carriage," Georgiana requested. "I think we should return to G---- Square. My brother shall be most distressed if we are gone long."

Mrs. Younge looked most vexed, but she left to summon the carriage.

"A most attentive brother, Mr. Darcy is," Miss Bingley said admiringly.

"Although I should think him well-distracted because his cousin is in town for the week," Miss Tysen added.

"His cousin?" Elizabeth felt her face getting warm. "Which cousin would that be?"

"I fail to see what business that is of yours," Miss Bingley said. "Honestly!"

Georgiana looked at Miss Tysen, who smiled and said, "Caroline, I think it would be best if we waited outside for the carriage."

"Very well, Sabrina. Georgiana, we shall be waiting in the carriage for you."

Elizabeth breathed a small sigh of relief when they were gone. "Was there anything else you wanted, Miss Darcy?"

"No, just the gloves. However, I think I shall arrange to come back here next week, without Miss Bingley."

Elizabeth wondered if Georgiana could escape Mrs. Younge but decided not to belabor the point. "Which cousin did you say was visiting?"

"I did not say who...and it is my cousin Richard. He is the other reason we came to London."

Richard was in London. Elizabeth was torn between pleasure at the news and fear that he might come to the shop and see her working there. You should be ashamed of yourself, Elizabeth. There is absolutely nothing wrong with working at this store.

"That is...good."

"Yes, it shall be good to see him. Fitzwilliam is hopeful that perhaps he shall make an offer to Miss Tysen at last."

Elizabeth felt the blood drain from her face. "An...an offer? Of marriage?" she heard herself ask.

"Why, yes. Miss Tysen does not think that Richard has much interest in her, but Fitzwilliam says it would be prudent if he did marry her. She has a good-sized fortune, and of course Richard has very little. I have only seen them together once and I think Miss Tysen has the right of it, for Richard seemed distracted the entire time. Were he in love with her, he would have been distracted by her, would you not think so?"

"I would," Elizabeth murmured, but all she could think was, Richard might be marrying someone else. How could he do that?

But Georgiana did not think that he was interested in her. She did not think that Richard would propose to Miss Tysen. That was good, if nothing else.

Elizabeth rang up Georgiana's purchase and accepted the money. She encouraged Georgiana to come back and breathed a small sigh of relief when the girl left the shop.

Elizabeth was still in something of a daze over the idea of Richard marrying someone else when the bell over the door jingled and Elizabeth found herself facing a new customer.

The woman was petite, with silver hair swept up in such an elaborate style that Elizabeth could not help being impressed. Her hazel eyes missed very little, taking in the shop in a glance and seeing the new employee with a degree of interest. The woman was well-dressed, as befitting a member of Society, but the look in her eyes made Elizabeth wonder if she had always been a part of it.

The woman carried in a small dog. It was quite possibly the ugliest dog imaginable, and the look it gave Elizabeth was almost as haughty as its mistress. Elizabeth gave it a small wave, only to have the dog bear its teeth at her.

Elizabeth had been so caught up in noticing the new customer that she did not notice when the other employees disappeared rather abruptly. She smiled and approached the woman. "Are you being served, milady?"

"As you can very well see for yourself, miss, I am not. I do not see why they make you ask such a foolish question."

Elizabeth felt her face get hot, but said, "I agree that it does seem a rather silly question, but it is necessary to ascertain whether or not someone else is helping you, otherwise we would be unable to keep track of who would get the commission."

The woman did not smile, but Elizabeth had not expected her to.

"What may I help you with this morning?" Elizabeth asked politely.

"I would like to see a pair of riding gloves."

A popular item today, Elizabeth thought, though she opted not to mention that to the woman. The woman's entire attitude was beginning to colour Elizabeth's opinion of her, which had not been particularly high to begin with.

Elizabeth opened the drawer and took out the sets of gloves she had shown Georgiana earlier. She pointed to the same style and said, "This pair of gloves have proven to be rather popular lately."

The woman picked them up and frowned. "No. They shall not suit me at all." With a disdainful sniff, she added, "I do not think any of these shall suit. Have you nothing more durable?"

A horsewoman? It was the last thing she pictured this woman being, with her air and demeanor. "More durable, milady?"

"Yes. I do quite a bit of riding when I am at my country estate, which is where I am headed. None of these gloves you have shown me would last but a few minutes."

Despite herself, Elizabeth could feel her opinion rise a bit. "Well, milady, I have just the thing." She pulled out a pair of ordinary gloves and showed them to her customer. "These have proven to be most durable. I myself have worn this style before."

The lady looked Elizabeth over with a cautious eye. Elizabeth supposed the lady disbelieved the idea that a simple shop girl would have access to a horse; however, Elizabeth's hands and complexion would tell the tale.

"I suppose they shall do," she finally said.

"Will there be anything--"

Before Elizabeth could finish the sentence, two events occurred at the same moment. Another customer came through the door--and the obnoxious dog, excited over the activity, took the opportunity of her mistress' lax hold to jump out of her arms and run out the opened door.

"Pug!" The lady shrieked.

Elizabeth was out from behind her counter immediately and out the door, not bothering to shout at one of the missing employees to finish the sale and credit her for it. She saw that the dog had hesitated once reaching the outside. She took a few steps toward it when it caught sight of her and darted out into the open road.

The dog froze right in the path of an oncoming carriage.

Elizabeth knew that it was foolish, and that the dog was not worth the gesture, but she did not have a moment's hesitation. She ran out into the road and scooped up the suddenly petrified dog, rolling to the ground out of the way just as the carriage went past. She could feel the rush of wind on her face and knew that it had been a close call for both herself and the dog.

Elizabeth's heart was pounding hard from the effort of her chase and the narrowness of her escape. She stood up on shaking legs and looked down at her skirt, which was torn from where she had rolled on the ground and practically coated with dirt. She was still holding the dog as though someone were about to abduct the poor creature. When she finally looked at it, she sighed.

"Bad dog," she said with a frown, shaking a finger at it. "Bad, bad dog."

The dog had lost its haughty look and instead looked completely pitiful. Elizabeth sighed. "Oh, all right," she said. "I do apologize for saying that. But you should learn not to run out in the road like that. You undoubtedly gave your mistress a fright!"

Elizabeth made sure to look both ways before returning across the street to her uncle's shop. The lady reached for her dog and made all sorts of sympathetic noises over it. Elizabeth began to feel downright unappreciated when the woman turned to her and smiled.

"That was the most foolhardy thing I have ever seen, young lady, but I thank you for it. I do not think any other person who works here would have bothered. I suspected you were different when you said that you wore riding gloves that would last...and now I see that you are. May I ask for your name?"

"I am Elizabeth Bennet."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Elizabeth Bennet. I am Lady Grace Hamilton, and this is my pug, Pug."

Good heavens. Lady Grace. The same Lady Grace Mrs. Slocombe had warned her about. No wonder everyone else had hidden when the woman walked in.

Still, a woman who loved horses and was so concerned about her dog could not be altogether horrible.

"Do you have plans for dinner this evening?" Lady Grace asked.

"No, I do not."

"Excellent. You shall dine with me." Lady Grace reached into her reticule and pulled out a card. "This is my address. Of course, you shall probably wish to change so I shall trust you to get yourself there. Do not worry about return transportation, for I shall have my driver see you home."

"Lady Grace, I could not possibly--"

"Nonsense. I insist. I dine promptly at eight, and would appreciate it if you would be on time."

"Of--of course," Elizabeth said.

Lady Grace left with a flourish. Elizabeth remained standing in the center of the room, clutching the card she had been handed.

"I cannot believe it! You have been invited to dine with Lady Grace!" Mrs. Slocombe exclaimed. "I would have thought she would invite me."

"I do not see you running out into the road to save her dog," Miss Brahms said.

"Dogs are an abomination. They are smelly, disgusting creatures that require constant care and get into all sorts of mischief."

"You mean your late husband was an actual dog?" Mr. Lucas asked. "I was under the impression he was just a figurative dog, not a literal one."

"Mr. Humphries, control your junior," Mrs. Slocombe snapped.

"I shall do my best, but discipline does not quite do as well as it used to."

Elizabeth chuckled until she looked down at her dress. She thought about her wardrobe at her aunt and uncle's house and sighed. She had absolutely nothing appropriate to wear to a dinner with a lady, but whatever she could come up with would have to do.

Although she would not admit it to anyone else at the shop, she was excited about the prospect of dinner with a lady. And she did not think Lady Grace to be the harridan everyone had warned her against...at least, not yet.

Lady Grace's Dinner Party

Posted on Wednesday, 30 June 1999

Lady Grace's carriage pulled up to the Gardiner's Gracechurch Street address at seven-forty. The sight sent the parlor maid who had been assigned to watch for it into a spell, for she was highly excitable and the idea of a true lady inviting Elizabeth to dinner was far beyond anything she thought she would ever see happen. One would almost have thought the carriage was for her.

The entire household had been in an uproar once Elizabeth had informed the Gardiners of the news. Mrs. Gardiner had immediately sent for a seamstress to help outfit the girl, but reason told her that there would not be enough time for it. Then a search began for a suitable dress from Mrs. Gardiner's wardrobe. There were many such items, but when they met her critical eye, all fell short of what she believed to be suitable for the occasion.

Elizabeth had been tempted to forget trying to impress the woman and wear her working clothes. Finally, she was able to convince Mrs. Gardiner that the lovely peach gown with white lace suited her perfectly, and surely Lady Grace would not comment on her apparel.

"She shall likely appreciate a distinction of rank. If I try to appear above my station, she may resent me for it," Elizabeth explained. "The peach dress shall do."

Fortunately, Elizabeth was similar in figure to Mrs. Gardiner, and the dress fit well. When Elizabeth added the beautiful amber and gold cross her father had given her on her last birthday, everyone declared that Elizabeth looked perfect.

"Enjoy yourself, my dear niece," Mr. Gardiner said. "Do not let anyone who may be present at this dinner make you feel inferior. Not one of them would have dared soiled their hands to save that miserable pet."

"Do not stress yourself, uncle. I think this evening shall go quite well."

The carriage carried Elizabeth to a grand mansion in Grosvenor Square, one that Elizabeth might have said was bigger than Pemberley had she not been prejudiced in the latter's favor as being the grandest home in England. Yet Lady Grace's residence was most impressive. The door opened, and a man appeared to assist her in descending from the carriage.

"Thank you," she said politely.

"Y-yer quite welcome, miss," the coachman stammered, for she had startled him by her graciousness. It was rare to receive any sort of acknowledgment from the gentry, who usually ignored him and waved him away. "Enjoy your evening."

Elizabeth approached the front door to the mansion and gave it a quick knock with her knuckles, not noticing the brass structure built for just such a purpose. The door was immediately opened by the butler.

"Yes?" he said in a rather nasty tone of voice.

"I am..." Elizabeth nearly abandoned all her courage at the look this haughty man gave her. She had to remember that he was little better than herself, and therefore no one whom she should fear. She had not feared Stames, the butler at Pemberley, after all. "I am Elizabeth Bennet."

"Ah, yes. You are the young woman who saved that miserable excuse of a dog today." The butler's stance suddenly changed, and a smile crept over his face. "I suppose we should all thank you. Had that rotten Pug actually met his well-deserved end, Lady Grace would now be in a severely foul disposition. This way, if you please, miss."

Elizabeth relaxed and followed the man into a parlor room. Lady Grace was holding court amidst several people, mostly her age or older. The only other person close to Elizabeth's age was a man of about thirty who looked enough like Lady Grace to be her son.

"Ah! Elizabeth! You are precisely on time, and excellent sign upon this occasion. In the future, dear, you should know that being a bit late is far more fashionable," Lady Grace said.

Elizabeth did not see where being late would ever do her any good, but she replied, "I shall remember to do so--only at social gatherings, of course."

Lady Grace laughed heartily--again dissolving Elizabeth's notions of her gained from Mrs. Slocombe's comments and complaints. Elizabeth swiftly found herself being introduced to the other members of the party, most of whom were relatives of Lady Grace's.

The young man was indeed Lady Grace's son, and his name was Lord Robert Hamilton. Upon their introduction, he insisted that Elizabeth call him Robin. The next man whose age Elizabeth guessed was close to fifty was named Captain Steven Peacock, a retired military man, and extremely flirtatious. He was a cousin of Lady Grace's. Lady Penelope Bright was Lady Grace's sister-in-law. Her husband, Sir Arthur, had done some sort of service for the King which had brought about the knighthood. The last member of the group was a man simply called "Young Mr. Grace," though he had to be at least eighty. Young Mr. Grace, as it turned out, was Lady Grace's godfather and namesake, a dear friend of her late father's.

"Young Mr. Grace?" Elizabeth murmured to herself. "Is Old Mr. Grace yet living?"

"He is, but he does not get out much," Captain Peacock replied, overhearing her comment.

"Shall we adjourn to the dining hall?" Lady Grace suggested. Lord Robin offered Elizabeth his arm, which she took, and the two of them walked directly behind Lady Grace into the dining room.

Elizabeth had expected the table to be seated according to rank--indeed, both her aunt and uncle had told her it was likely to be so. When Lord Robin led her to a spot right next to Lady Grace at the head of the table, however, Elizabeth wondered if anything in this evening was going to go as expected.

During the course of the meal, Elizabeth discovered that Lady Grace was a Countess in her own right, and that the King had made her husband the Earl of Denby so that he would not be outranked by his own son.

"It was a prudent love match," Lady Grace said with a fond smile. "My family had little but the country home I grew up in and a meaningless title. I met my Charlie when we were admiring the same horse. Charlie Hamilton had a good fortune but absolutely no name to speak of, so when we realized we cared for each other it was clear that we simply had to marry. Everyone agreed it was the only logical conclusion. Charlie needed a respectable wife, and my family needed a fortune."

Elizabeth glanced at Lady Bright to see how she was reacting to such a declaration. Lady Bright seemed to approve for she nodded her head. Elizabeth thought that had it been her brother, she might be offended at the idea that his own name was not good enough, but she soon realized that by Charles Hamilton marrying the Countess of Denby, Lady Bright's position in the world rose as her brother's did.

"To say that we married for love would have been most appalling to people. They would never understand. Love was something that might, perhaps, come after marriage, but it was agreed upon that love made people foolish and should not come into marriage considerations. Thus, marrying for such reasons as people believed we did made more sense to them."

"Why should their opinion have mattered to you, milady? If you loved him, you should have married him regardless of his fortune."

"I have no doubt that I would have," Lady Grace said calmly, not seeming offended at all. "I just feel that it was good fortune that the only man I could ever love needed me as I needed him."

"Do you wish to make a prudent match while here in London, Miss Bennet?" Young Mr. Grace asked.

"That...would be..."

"Simply lovely for her," Lady Grace said.

"But I doubt I shall ever have the opportunity."

"Oh, you poor dear. No dowry?" Lady Bright asked.

Elizabeth was a bit confused. Why would Lady Bright think she had a dowry? Had not Lady Grace informed her guests of what Elizabeth was doing there?

"I...I do have an inheritance of nearly two thousand pounds," Elizabeth said quietly. She thought that it was perhaps a bit more than that, but she did not know for certain.

When Elizabeth mentioned the amount of her legacy, she could not understand why everyone at table looked so startled. Even more unsettling were the comments she then heard.

"I thought it was much more than that," Captain Peacock said.

"Becoming miserly, Gracie? I know I taught you well, but you did say you were going to--" Young Mr. Grace added.

"It is a legacy from an old family friend," Lady Grace said hastily. "The girl is not completely certain what her dowry shall be, as I have not seen fit to tell her, and why should she know? As long as she has one. That is something else you taught me, Mr. Grace."

The other guests relaxed and Elizabeth frowned at her plate. What sort of jade's trick was this? Was Lady Grace amusing herself at Elizabeth's expense?

"You are not out yet, are you?" Lady Bright was saying.

Elizabeth tried to turn her thoughts from Lady Grace back to the conversation. "No," she said hesitantly.

"She has been in mourning, as you may not have heard," Lady Grace said in a somber tone. "The poor girl has been so distraught with grief at the death of her parents. She only consented to come to London recently."

"Milady--"

"Now, my dear Elizabeth, I know you are still pining the loss of your dear mother. Do not deny it."

Elizabeth was tired of the game, so she replied, "No, I am not. I am not pining for anyone's loss, not anymore."

Lord Robin had just taken a sip of wine and sputtered when Elizabeth spoke. His eyes gleamed with humor.

Lady Grace was flustered. "Yes, of course. It was quite a while back. Yet you cannot blame me because you spent nearly four years grieving. I thought you still were." She cleared her throat and gave her son a pointed glance, which was clearly some sort of signal.

Lord Robin rose and invited the gentlemen into the library for cigars and brandy. Lady Bright declared that she was exhausted from the day's traveling and wished to go home, but insisted that Sir Arthur stay to enjoy the rest of his evening.

Left alone with Lady Grace, Elizabeth confronted the woman with her evening's work.

"Milady, what did you tell them about me?"

The woman looked at Elizabeth and sighed. "I told them you were a distant cousin from my Charlie's family. And you might well be. I think Charlie's great-grandmother's name was Bennet, before she married Mad Jack Hamilton."

"Why did you tell them that when it is not true?"

"I suppose I should have discussed this with you first, but I feared you might say no," Lady Grace said reluctantly.

Elizabeth was beginning to think Lady Grace was mad.

"I have given this a great deal of thought since this afternoon. You see, I know that Pug is a terror, loathed by my servants. Yet that dog is all the companion I have had since my Charlie died several years ago. My son has his own interests, and I have been unable to keep a lady's companion. I suppose there are those who call me fussy and particular, and I admit my faults without hesitation. I know what I want in my friends and acquaintances, and I very rarely find it."

"But what has this to do--"

"There are very few people in this world who would have bothered to run after Pug, or any creature for that matter, and fewer still who would risk their own lives for him as you did. It proved to me that you have a gentle heart and a determined spirit. Just what...what I would have wanted from my Elizabeth, had she lived."

"You had a daughter?"

"Yes. Robert's twin. She died a few months after being born. So you see, I never had a daughter to spoil and bring out into Society and find a husband for."

"Milady, I do not think I could ever take your daughter's place."

"I realize that. My sister-in-law has three daughters, and I envied her every moment she had with them. Robert was his father's son, and though I know he loves me very much, he cannot take the place of a daughter. I always wished to adopt a little girl, but Charlie thought it unwise."

"I am too old to be adopted."

"Miss Bennet, I must ask you something. Have you ever wished to be more than just a young girl in trade?"

Elizabeth did not answer for several moments. She could hardly tell Lady Grace that she did not even wish to be a girl in trade, for all that she was adjusting well to her new life. Still, she could hardly lie and say that she did not wish for such a thing to happen. "Yes, of course I have. But my position in life--"

"A man who truly loved you could overlook it."

"What is it that you wish to do?"

"To reward you for having a good heart and performing a good deed. I wish to give you a debut. To give you a chance to rise above what you think you must be."

"All of this because I rescued your pug?"

"I asked about you. The people you work with said you were a lovely young lady. They all thought that rescuing Pug was a typical action for you. They told me how much you talked of where you grew up and how much you loved horses and reading."

"Then you know that I am the daughter of the stableman and the head cook, and nothing more, despite what you postulate about being my related to the late Lord Denby. I could never pretend to be more than who I am."

"I do not think that your birth has much to do with who you are, but rather what people think you are. The person you are, Miss Bennet, is who you make yourself to be. And you are an educated, bright, lovely young woman who needs but a little guidance and luck to find true happiness."

"And you think I could...could trap some besotted fool into marriage?"

"Why not? I did."

"But--but you said you loved Charlie--I mean, Lord Denby."

"I did. But I knew of Charlie Hamilton long before he knew of Grace Chauncey. I knew I wanted to marry him when I was fourteen years old. It took me four years to grow up enough for him to notice me. Charlie was a confirmed bachelor of seven-and-thirty when we met, and he probably would not have even considered marrying me without--"

"--your title, which I do not possess."

"You shall have me to guide you. I shall say that--"

"I have not agreed to do anything, milady." Elizabeth looked into Lady Grace's eyes and saw a flicker of disappointment.

Be honest with yourself. Have you not always dreamed of making your debut in society? And what of Richard? This may be your only chance to win him at last.

But it would all be a lie! And he would know it is a lie, because he knows you!

Then perhaps it is time to forget him and find another. Did you not agree to that before you left Pemberley?

"I shall tell people you are my dear, dear cousin Bridget's daughter, and that I am giving you a debut and a modest dowry. When you choose a husband, you may tell him the truth. Or better yet, because men hate knowing they have been deceived, we shall say that I disapprove of your choice and shall disinherit you. You run away with him and live happily ever after. Oh, you may scandalize Society for a while, but eventually they would adore you because they love such tales."

"What of the people I have served at my uncle's shop? They would never believe such a tale."

"We could work out those details later. We would have until September. What matters now is that you say yes."

I must be mad. "All right," she said. "Although how I shall explain this to my family--"

"I shall take care of all that. Mrs. Goranson?" Lady Grace summoned her housekeeper. "Miss Bennet shall be staying with us."

"Excellent," Mrs. Goranson replied.

As Elizabeth and Lady Grace awaited the gentleman's return, Elizabeth wondered what she had gotten herself into.

Metamorphosis

Posted on Monday, 5 July 1999

Had Elizabeth truly realized what Lady Grace had in mind when she agreed to her scheme, she would have left that beautiful mansion long before dessert had been served.

Lady Grace had not only insisted that Elizabeth stay as her overnight guest, but had rather presumptuously arranged to have all her things sent from Gracechurch Street to her country estate in Hertfordshire. Lady Grace had the servants pack up all her things in preparation of the trip, and later that afternoon Elizabeth found herself in a carriage bound for the town of Meryton without having the chance to send her aunt and uncle a note to let them know where she was.

"Do not worry," Lady Grace said. "I paid a visit to your uncle early this morning and informed him of our plans. He is sorry to lose you in his store, of course, but wishes you luck and success."

Elizabeth hoped that Lady Grace was telling her the truth. If Uncle Gardiner did not know of her whereabouts, he would suffer unnecessary worry and might possibly contact her father. The last thing Elizabeth would ever wish is to cause her father alarm.

Elizabeth was so nervous that she was hardly paying attention to Lady Grace's conversation. She was speaking of how her family had gained the home they were going to, a place called Longbourn.

"...from his odious cousin, who fortunately only had daughters. I remember visiting here as a child and being treated with great inferiority because although my family had the title, we did not have the money. Of course, things were never on close terms between the Timberlakes and the Blairs, but the title should have meant more than money. In most circles, it does. I recall hearing my cousin, Mr. Blair, once say that he would prefer the money over the title, but I knew better. He wished to have it all, only he never did father a son. Now all of it is going to my son Robin, since none of the Blair girls produced a son and I was the only child on my father's side. It is a most peculiar thing that all of the children in my generation were girls. And most of us have only had girls as well. My Robin is the sole exception."

"I am one of five daughters myself," Elizabeth said absently.

"Oh? Then perhaps the Hamiltons are similarly afflicted in this generation, for Charles' sister only has girls as well."

"Milady, it is highly doubtful--"

"Now, Elizabeth. If we are to successfully manage to bring you to society's notice, you must remember that you are to be related to me."

"Perhaps we should be a little more logical in this charade," Elizabeth suggested, hoping she wasn't offending the lady.

"How so? I thought my explanation covered everything."

"Any good deception, I have read, must have some bit of truth to it. So we could say that...that my parents are alive."

"But I told my relatives that they are not."

"They must be alive for anyone to believe this. I cannot refer to my dear father as deceased. You could say that you were in need of a companion, and you discovered that a relative of your husband's was working at Mr. Edward Gardiner's shop. You offered me the position and liked me so well that you decided to present me to society and give me an inheritance. That would explain everything nicely, and would require far fewer lies. It would make things much easier."

Lady Grace thought on the matter and then smiled. "You are quite right. Everything is explained in a fashion that people could believe. What a quick, lively mind you have, Elizabeth Bennet."

"Thank you, milady."

"Lady Grace."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your first lesson in how to manage London society. You must call me Lady Grace. Milady would give the whole scheme away."

"Oh...of course. I shall remember, though it may be awkward at first."

"This is why we are going to Longbourn, so that you may be fully trained. When we return to London at the start of the Season, you shall be fit to marry royalty."

Elizabeth laughed. "I doubt that shall ever happen, mi--Lady Grace. But I shall enjoy the challenge."

"So shall I."

The first week at Longbourn was devoted to dressmakers. Lady Grace had an unerring eye for fashion and was not to be pleased easily. Elizabeth felt a great amount of pity for the poor young seamstresses who did not do the work according to Lady Grace's standards, for she remembered being in such a life and more than once commented that perhaps Lady Grace was being a bit too harsh.

"Nonsense," Lady Grace said briskly. "You must learn how to handle people."

Elizabeth did not think she would ever wish to "handle" people as Lady Grace did, and told her so.

A great argument then arose between Elizabeth and Lady Grace when the latter insisted on paying for Elizabeth's wardrobe for the coming Season.

"Absolutely out of the question," Elizabeth said. "I am not to be a charity case. I may not have much in this world, Lady Grace, but I have pride and I at the very least have enough funds to pay for--"

"My dear Elizabeth, I fear that you do not have the slightest inkling of just how expensive these gowns are. Not to mock your uncle's shop, but his gowns catered more to the middle classes, and were therefore more affordable. The gowns for you shall be--"

"Far too expensive to bother with."

"Which is exactly what you shall need to succeed in society."

"Then perhaps we should only buy the dresses I can afford. I do not want you to go to such great expense for me."

"My dear Charlie, God rest his soul, left me with more money than I shall ever need. A great portion of it went to Robin, but what I received I left in my son's capable hands. If there is one thing Hamilton men can be certain of, it is that they have a great deal of luck with money. The cost of your dresses is nothing to me."

"Perhaps not, milady--Lady Grace. Yet it is of great cost to me, and not just in terms of money."

"Then consider the dresses a loan. When you marry well, you may repay me."

"What if I do not marry well? What if I marry a poor but kind man?"

"Then I shall be quite happy for you and you may still make arrangements to repay me."

Elizabeth reluctantly agreed to take the dresses and prayed she would be able to make a decent match. If she did not, she would be paying for the gowns until she was old and grey. When her wardrobe arrived from the dressmaker's, Elizabeth could not help admiring the gowns. They were quite lovely, if unsuited for the sort of life she might have or would have if she returned home to Pemberley without a husband.

The second week at Longbourn was spent learning how to address people of rank. Elizabeth learned the differences between viscounts and earls, marquises and dukes. She learned why Lady Grace was "Lady Grace" when her sister-in-law was "Lady Bright" and not "Lady Penelope." It was a task she grasped easily.

Far more difficult was learning the dances, which took the rest of the second week and all of the third. Elizabeth turned the other way or bumped into her partner, or tripping over the hem of her gown. Lady Grace nearly gave up on the whole idea of having Elizabeth learning to dance, but Lord Robin (who came from London for this very purpose) had far more patience than his mother. It was Lord Robin who, through his relentless support, finally helped her master dancing.

Elizabeth and Lady Grace spent the fourth and fifth weeks going over protocol and etiquette. Elizabeth learned that the things she had done in the past, such as going off unescorted, could not be done. Lady Grace said, "It is often considered unfashionable for a young woman to speak her mind, but I think in your case it is something to be cultivated. Ladies who have opinions are considered Originals, and if there is one thing I wish for you to be, it is original. I do not want you to be like every other debutante of the Season. I want you to be striking."

"As long as I am not too outspoken," Elizabeth said.

"Correct, or you shall get a reputation as an insolent, headstrong girl. That I do not wish for you. So it is a matter of knowing when to let your feelings be known and when to keep silent."

"When would that be?" Elizabeth asked.

"It would be all right for you to speak up when you are in the presence of gentlemen, and as long as you were not too forceful. However, it would be best if you were not to be opinionated in the presence of ladies, especially older matrons with marriageable daughters, for they gossip and what they say is rarely good."

"It seems like a fine line between being honest and completely lying. This whole thing seems like that."

"Well, I suppose it is. Yet it is for a greater good. When we get to London, you shall be yourself, but not like yourself. You shall be someone completely new, and yet old. Does that make any sort of sense?"

"Not exactly, but it shall have to do."

Everything was for a "greater good," or so it seemed to Elizabeth. There were many times that she wished she could give up the entire scheme, and in her letters to her father she wrote the truth, that she was confused, that she was frustrated, but that she was absolutely fascinated.

Two weeks before they were to return to London, a letter from her father arrived.

Dear Elizabeth,

To assuage your fears, let me assure you that Lady Grace did contact your uncle before your departure from London, and that your uncle wrote me a letter, though he was as confused about this whole mess as I was. Your letter did clear things up quite a bit, and I am glad you have written me regularly to tell me of how things are going.

I wish to apologize for not writing sooner, but there has been an outbreak of influenza at Pemberley. Mary, Kitty, and your mother were all in bed with the illness for two weeks, but all have recovered, though Kitty is still coughing upon occasion. I have not told anyone, saving Jane, about your good fortune, if it is to be considered as such. I am uncertain of how your mother would react and of course, your sisters could not be trusted not to tell her.

I hardly know what sort of sense to make from your letters. You wrote that you hate being at Longbourn, yet you love being there. You wrote that you would like to strangle Lady Grace, yet you had genuine affection for her. If you do not wish to stay, come home to Pemberley or return to your uncle in London.

I apologize for the shortness of this letter, but I think you shall be pleased to hear my reason. The first offspring from Liar's Gamble is soon to be born, and though I know you are disappointed that you shall not be present for the event, I know you shall soon reap the benefits. A Mr. Tysen has already expressed interest in purchasing the horse, and the money from the sale I shall send to you in London. This way, you do not have to be more dependent on Lady Grace's generosity than you already are. I know your pride.

One final thing. You asked me to write you about Jane and Bingley, and I regret to inform you of this, but they are currently not speaking to each other. I do not know all the particulars, but Jane has mentioned that she thinks Mr. Darcy does not approve. I have tried to reassure her that Mr. Darcy would do no such thing, as she is my daughter, but Jane is insistent. I wonder if perhaps Bingley does allow himself to be too greatly influenced by his master and may have misconstrued something he said (for as you know, Bingley is somewhat obtuse, for all his kindness). If this is the case, I have thought of having a word with Mr. Darcy and asking him if he could mend things. I have every hope that by my next letter, the two shall be speaking again.

Your loving father.

The last part of the letter infuriated Elizabeth, for she knew quite well that Mr. Darcy had likely told Bingley something. And it was not likely he would take it back as a favor to his stableman. She could not imagine what Mr. Darcy had against her sister, although if it had something to do with herself, she would write him a letter telling him exactly what she thought of his interference. She nearly sat down at a desk and wrote, but decided to wait until her father knew for certain what had happened.

Lady Grace walked into the room as Elizabeth was thinking about her father's letter. "Bad news from home?" she asked, noticing Elizabeth's expression.

"Not exactly. My mother and two of my sisters have been sick, but apparently are now recovering. My eldest sister, Jane, has been madly in love with Mr. Darcy's valet, Bingley, for months, and now they are not speaking to each other. Jane thinks Mr. Darcy had something to do with it." There was a great deal of contempt in Elizabeth's voice when she mentioned Mr. Darcy.

"You do not like the master of Pemberley? I have heard him described as a nice young man, if a bit shy."

"Shy? Fitzwilliam Darcy? I have known the man since my earliest infancy, and shy is not a word I use to associate with him. He is arrogant and proud. If he has had a hand in separating my sister from his valet, I shall return to Pemberley to tell him what I think in person."

Lady Grace smiled. "I have the feeling you would do just that. You are a very loyal young woman."

"Of course I am. If you cannot be loyal to your family and friends, what sort of person are you?"

"Indeed." Lady Grace's smile grew. "Elizabeth, I think you are ready for London."

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