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“Yes.”

“Better let Harry do it.”

“I can manage.”

“It will roughen your hands and then how shall we marry you?” joked Mr Gardiner.

Lizzy gave him a wan smile as they proceeded towards the house, walking slowly.

“So, as you might have guessed from your knowledge of your cousin, my negotiations with him on Mr Elliot’s behalf did not go as well as I could have hoped. Fortunately, Harry has agreed to spend ten pounds a year improving his formal education. His circumstances here are better than in London where he had to pay for lodging, and he appreciates he is essentially getting a free apprenticeship.”

“Will the combination be sufficient to support Mr Elliot?”

“It is not a wage consistent with his status as a gentleman. I hope we might yet find a couple of boys he can tutor as well. Do you know any in the district?”

“Well, perhaps Charlotte’s younger brothers...”

“Have you seen her lately?”

“She walks over every day. We usually meet under that oak tree yonder,” said Lizzy, pointing.

“Your mother will not tolerate her in the house?”

“Her temper has not been good. We are not of a mind to try her.”

“I will talk to Fanny. Hopefully she is more sanguine now Mary has prospects. It is unreasonable of her to exclude the future mistress from the house. How is Harry going?”

“Surprisingly well. He is very willing to learn, listens attentively, and is obviously very smart. His education is sadly deficient but hopefully that can be remedied in time. Most importantly he is very active, having already fixed the fence around the common pasture in several places where it was sadly needed. That is Old Tom’s job, but he does have a habit of just driving in another stake and declaring it to be fine. Harry was not happy with Tom’s ramshackle repairs and set about fixing it properly. There was plenty of timber seasoning in the barn. He shamed Old Tom into action. On Thursday, Charlotte and I took them a snack when we saw them working on the fence. Harry had his sleeves rolled up and was doing more than his fair share of the work, but I suppose that Old Tom is getting on. He complains that his back hurts.”

They had arrived at the French doors that led from the terrace to the parlour. Wiping his boots, Mr Gardiner followed his niece inside. In consideration of the Gardiners’ schedule, which required them to return to London that afternoon, Fanny had laid out an admirable early lunch on the dining table—a roast haunch of mutton, a turbot, beet salad, quince tart and soup. This was followed by rice pudding and almonds for dessert. Mr Gardiner could not fault his sister’s skills in setting out tasty viands, even if her domestic management lacked economy. Edward was just thinking what a pity it was that Mr Elliot should be living in a circumscribed state while his fiancée dined in surfeit not three hundred yards away when a novel idea occurred to him.

“Fanny, what do you say to inviting Mr Elliot for lunch every Sunday after the service? It would not look unusual, particularly since you are in mourning, to have the clergyman visit once a week.”

“What a good idea, Brother!” said Mrs Bennet with her mouth full. “It would be good to have a man to carve the roast! Sunday lunch is when I miss Mr Bennet most of all!”

Mr Gardiner was not sure that this sentiment was very worthy but promised to invite Mr Elliot when he visited the clergyman in the afternoon.

After lunch, Edward set off to Meryton, accompanied by his wife, to pay a visit to the Lucases. He came away from Lucas Lodge having gained not one, but two pupils for the clergyman. It was agreed that two of Sir William’s boys, having driven off their previous tutor not a fortnight ago, should board with Mr Elliot at Longbourn during the week.

After the Gardiners departed, the boys were called in, apprised of the arrangement, and told they would have their heads soundly knocked together if Sir William heard of the least infraction against their new teacher.

Chapter 18: Yonder window breaks

Jane’s second week with the Garths should have been easier. She had the Latin primer—fixing her major worry in the schoolroom; and she had more familiar sheet music—enabling her to perform more creditably in the evening. Cherise began to learn the new pieces as well and found them much easier than the music supplied to her by Miss Fairfax. Indeed, Jane’s continued examination of Miss Fairfax’s journal suggested she demanded a high standard in all her lessons. Jane felt her pupils should have been a source of joy to her. Felix continued to amaze her with his knowledge of mechanical toys and little Amabel began to worm her way into Jane’s heart.

Still, Jane, who had never before been so cribbed and confined, was not happy, and she could not help but continue to notice Mr Garth’s glassy-eyed stare as she sang and played every evening, or the secret glances shared by Cherise and Felix whenever Miss Fairfax’s name was mentioned. Nor could she forget the torn dress. A morbid curiosity to discover the circumstances of Miss Fairfax’s injury began to grow in her. Having tripped once coming down the narrow stairs from the attic, Jane wondered if the children, finding their lessons too demanding, might have precipitated their governess’s fall, or whether Mr Garth had come creeping along the corridor one night to impose himself on Miss Fairfax. By Wednesday, Jane was jumping whenever a door slammed.

On Thursday, she found a note secreted between the back pages of Miss Fairfax’s journal during the morning’s lesson. As there was no way she could discreetly read the slip of paper in the children’s presence, Jane crumpled it into her hand and pushed it into her pocket. Then there was the interminable hour she was forced to wait until lunch when she might slip off to her room to read it. In her fraught imagination, its contents wavered between desperate pleas for help to more mundane missives. Perhaps it was just a letter to Miss Fairfax’s aunt or, God forbid, for I have just crumpled it!—a love letter to Mr Churchill! The note turned out to be a laundry list—a discovery that might have amused Jane when she was residing at Longbourn. Unfortunately, she found her sense of humour had largely deserted her since her father’s death.

Still, there was some mystery that clung to the Garths’ house, something unspoken. Jane’s nervous trepidation came to a head on Saturday evening after the children had bathed and retired. She was sitting in bed with the covers pulled up to her waist and a cloak drawn round her shoulders, deciphering the Latin primer by the light of a single candle. The text had turned out to be more complicated on further examination than her initial reassuring perusal had suggested—all these declensions of nouns! If she had thought genders in French were bad enough, these cases of nouns presented a whole new level of difficulty! No wonder Latin was considered to be a dead language—the Romans probably found themselves tongue-tied in ordinary conversation!

Jane was rudely jolted from her study when she heard boards creaking in the corridor. She froze as the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, straining to listen for the least sound. Finally, there was a scratching on the door. Jane sat bolt upright and gripped her book.

“Who is it?” she asked breathlessly.

The door creaked opened and Cherise poked her head through. “Can I come in?”

Jane sighed inwardly. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”