Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

December 1, 1812

Gracechurch Street, London

My dear sisters,

It is less than a week since we parted, but I already miss you both, though my stay is so far everything I hoped for. I have had wonderful conversations with my aunt and with Jane as well. I have shared my wishes and aspirations with them, and they are resolved to help me.

I am impressed by Aunt Gardiner's energy and kindness. She has not only taken me to a dressmaker to be measured for several new gowns, she also permitted me to attend her and Jane as they interviewed applicants for the positions in Jane's household. It was most enlightening. She and Uncle are allowing me to have pianoforte lessons with Cousin Margaret's music master, a distinguished gentleman from Germany. He is very dignified, and I am a little in awe of him.

As you suggested, Lizzy, I have been practising my sociability as if it were an accomplishment to be learnt. I can see now that a proficiency in conversation is in fact a true accomplishment, more useful than any others. (How strange it is that netting a purse is considered an accomplishment!) It smooths the way with strangers and puts others at ease. I observe and learn from my aunt and uncle, who speak well and have many friends.

Although Advent has scarce begun, we have been discussing our plans for Yuletide. The Gardiners will take their family to Longbourn for Christmas as they have always done. Jane and Alexander will make the long journey to Lancashire so Jane can meet his family.

My new gowns should be ready by then. I greatly anticipate your opinions on them!

Sending my love,

Mary

" I am glad they are coming to spend Christmastide with us," said Kitty. "I think it would be too sad if it were only you, Papa, and me."

"Yes, especially since it is quite a bit of bother for them to travel. Uncle must leave his business, and it is a long ride for the children," agreed Elizabeth. "Perhaps we should go to them. I confess that the thought of spending Christmas here has little appeal for me."

The two sisters shared a long look. Their mother had loved the festive season, causing the house to be decked completely with evergreens, holly, and mistletoe, hosting parties and lavish dinners for their friends and neighbours. Christmases at Longbourn had been crowded, noisy, extravagant, and delectable. Every hearth had a fire, and many wax candles had shed their light on the happy faces present.

"I do not know whether decorating the house will raise our spirits or cause us to miss Mama and Lydia more," she mused.

"Perhaps we could try decorating only the drawing room?" suggested Kitty, a hopeful expression on her face. Elizabeth had her doubts, but Kitty seemed to wish it, so they would make it so.

Their celebrations were peculiarly uplifting: poignant, thoughtful, but with a surprising sweetness. The Gardiner children brought joy and laughter; Mrs Jenks's meals were less elaborate than in the past but comforting and delicious. With no neighbours or other guests, the Bennets and Gardiners contented themselves with indoor and outdoor games, music, and conversation. They remembered old traditions and made new ones. They sat near the fire and read stories together, which inspired them to read plays, each person taking on various roles; activities that neither Mrs Bennet nor Lydia would have been able to sit still long enough to participate in.

After spending a quiet evening and saying their good nights, Elizabeth had retired to her room when she heard a knock at her door. She opened it to find Mary standing there and invited her in.

"I know it is late, Lizzy, but we have hardly had a chance to speak privately since we arrived, and Aunt is already planning our return to town," said Mary. "Or do you wish to go to bed?"

"I was not ready to sleep yet. I was just going to read for a while. But I would much rather hear how you go on in London! Letters are delightful, but they are nothing to a good chat!" Elizabeth smiled. She sat on her bed and patted the spot next to her.

Both girls sat cross-legged on the bed and faced each other. Mary took a deep breath. "I do like it there, as I have said in my letters. But sometimes my feelings are so mixed up! I like the attention, yet I feel guilty over it. I like shopping, especially the bookshops, but I also like the drapers and the dressmakers…but the expense of it all! I try to allow myself to enjoy it, and Herr Heidemann says that expressing joy is necessary?—"

"Herr Heidemann?" asked Elizabeth, her brows high.

An uncharacteristic blush spread across Mary's face. "Oh, did I not tell you…well, Herr Heidemann is the music master I share with little Margaret. He is from Germany and was what they call a kapellmeister there, for a noble family, though he always wished to teach at a university. He has a patron, a noble German lady who married Lord Findlay. Under the patronage of Lord and Lady Findlay, he will soon be employed as a lecturer and professor at Cambridge, but until it can be arranged, he is taking on students for needed income. Margaret and I have each had several lessons with him so far. I have learnt so much already about the theory and structure of music. I had no idea there was so much more to it than knowing the proper fingering."

"And you were discussing joy?" Elizabeth's brows crept higher, but she managed to suppress her grin.

Mary sighed and looked down. "The first time he heard me play, he asked me questions. I expected things like who had taught me, how did I learn to play, and so on. But he asked me why I played. I told him because it was a suitable discipline for young ladies and how important it was for ladies to have accomplishments. He looked at me over his spectacles, then rolled his eyes and muttered something in German. Then he explained that in order to have true artistry in music, one must take personal joy in it." She looked up again, straight into Elizabeth's eyes. "That is when I understood the difference between your musical abilities and mine. You have always found joy when you play the pianoforte, have you not? It has never been just exhibiting for you, has it?"

Elizabeth smiled. "No, it has not. I can lose myself in music, though I am not what anyone would call a great proficient."

Mary nodded. "I am learning to change the way I experience music. Herr Heidemann has suggested I choose music that is lighter and brighter, at least for a time, and that I should not stop and try to fix my mistakes. I should just keep playing and think about them later. He also told me about what composers are thinking as they create their music. Music is written to express feelings."

Elizabeth nodded, pleased at the changes in her sister.

"Our aunt has also given me some of her favourite novels to read," Mary continued. "She feels that it is important to find joy in many aspects of our lives. We can talk about the characters in the novels as if they were real people and laugh at them. She says it is a good way to gain understanding of human nature. I also have that opportunity when I meet their many friends and colleagues."

At this, Mary paused. Tilting her head to one side, she said softly, "I think I shall be ready to consider marriage sooner than I ever believed."

All too soon, it was Twelfth Night, and the London party returned to their business and their home. As the Bennet family came nearer and nearer to the anniversary of their life-changing event, the letters between the family members increased in length and frequency. Elizabeth dreaded the date and was not sure how to feel. Their half-mourning would officially end. The ache of loss had lessened; a year's worth of experience had inured them to the absence of their mother and sister. The loneliness of their shunning was still there to some degree, but now they were making new friends, even though they were miles away in London. Their world had grown, and Jane's marriage and Mary's happiness in town gave them hope for the future.

When the day came, the anniversary of the day that had shattered their former lives, any sense of sadness was brightened by unexpected news from London.

January 27, 1813

Gracechurch Street, London

Dear Sisters,

It is likely that you have just received my last and are wondering why on earth another letter has arrived on its heels. How I wish I could share my news with you in person, but I shall just have to imagine what your responses may be. I have had an offer of marriage! You will have no trouble guessing who my future husband is. I have often spoken of him to you both. It is Herr Heidemann. He says that I have the bloom of youth but that I have an ‘old soul'. He means that I am more careful in my thoughts and behaviour than other young ladies and that pleases him. He says he is an old soul as well!

This may seem quite sudden and whimsical to you. I have been pondering my feelings for Herr Heidemann for some time but could not quite bring myself to confide them to anyone. (I find there remains a small part of me that fears mockery on subjects closest to my heart.) Aunt and Uncle guessed that Herr Heidemann and I had formed a bond weeks ago, though they did not act as though they knew.

I have written a separate letter to Papa, enclosed with letters from Gerhard and from Uncle Gardiner.

I shall close now so as to send this along with the others.

With love,

Mary

Elizabeth set the letter down and looked at Kitty, seated next to her. Kitty's eyes were misty. "Mary sounds very happy, does she not?" she said softly.

"Aye, that she does." Elizabeth nodded. "Mary never expected such joy, which makes it even more splendid."

Their father appeared at the parlour door with a handful of letters. "My girls, it appears that another trip to London is in the offing."