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Chapter Three

Hertfordshire, 1799 Mrs. Bennet

“A nd here is the nursery, madam.” Mrs. Smith, Longbourn’s soon-to-be retired housekeeper, pushed open the door and stepped aside. “We have had it refreshed and aired—new mattresses on the beds and the like.”

Mrs. Bennet stepped into the room and nodded in satisfaction. Her dark mourning dress contrasted starkly against the bright colors in the room. The large window illuminated the space with natural light. Standing before the glass, one could see trees and flowers. There were six little beds lining one wall, and a chest filled with toys on another. A door led to chambers occupied by the nurse and governess.

The younger children, who had accompanied the matron upstairs, squealed in delight and poured into the room. The three eldest entered more sedately. My children will be well looked after, she thought, including Lizzy.

Mrs. Bennet paused as she watched the girl looking curiously around the nursery. Oh, Elizabeth . Mr. Bennet’s inquiries had yielded nothing. He searched Derbyshire for news, but no carriage accidents had been reported. Indeed, no one searched for any missing children.

“I fear something nefarious befell her family,” her husband told her in a hushed voice one evening as they sat before the fire in their Lambton chambers. He fingered the black armband he wore, his expression clouded with concern.

“We cannot send her away,” Mrs. Bennet protested.

“I do not intend to do anything of the sort. You told me when we found her we would not consign her to an orphanage. Besides, the children have taken to her. Jane especially.” Her husband pressed a tender kiss to her lips. “We are to depart for Longbourn tomorrow. The neighbors there will not know any different.”

“She does not look like any of the other children,” she reminded him. And indeed, she did not. The girls all had fair hair of varying shades of blond. Little Thomas had brown hair, but it was soft and warm in tone — more like chocolate. Elizabeth’s curls, by contrast, were a deep brown with hints of red.

“We shall say she favors your grandmother. No one has met the lady, other than you.”

Mrs. Bennet nodded. “Very good. I have secured her possessions in a small box.” They discussed the strange piece of jewelry the girl had been clutching when she was discovered on the road, wondering whether it might have belonged to her family. The front bore a crest, though it was unfamiliar to both Mr. or Mrs. Bennet. Inquiries into its origins and locating a copy of Debrett's would have to wait until they settled in at Longbourn.

Coming back to herself, she addressed the nursery maid. “We shall hire a governess as soon as an acceptable candidate can be found. For now, do not hesitate to bring me any of your concerns.”

She and Mrs. Smith left the room and went downstairs. Mr. and Mrs. Hill were waiting in the housekeeper’s office, and they made their way there.

“I shall leave Mrs. Hill with everything she requires before I go to my daughter,” Mrs. Smith told Mrs. Bennet. “My records are in good order, so I expect the transition will be smooth.”

“Then I shall leave you to it.” Mrs. Bennet went to her husband’s study and found him poring over the estate books.

“Are the children settled?” he asked without looking up.

“They are.” She came around the desk and put her hands on her husband’s shoulders. He leaned back, relaxing in the chair as she rubbed the soreness away. “Tommy has found your old toy soldiers and is lining them up along the windowsill. He is launching pillows at them in a mock battle.”

Her husband chuckled. “Such a rambunctious boy.” He reached unconsciously for the black band situated on his arm, and Fanny wondered what memories danced in his thoughts. Mr. Bennet rarely spoke of his departed family, for the grief was still too near.

Mrs. Bennet ceased her ministrations and moved to her husband’s side. “I wish to send out inquiries for a governess,” she said. “I told the nursery maid I would do so. Besides, Jane and Thomas are too advanced for my help anymore.” The admission rankled. Mrs. Bennet had been educated like many young ladies and given just enough knowledge to manage a household. She wanted more for her girls, though. Young Thomas especially needed more education than she could provide.

“Elizabeth seems more knowledgeable than Jane or Thomas, despite being younger.” Her husband glanced up. “She reads and writes very well.”

“Yes, though the particulars of her background are unknown to us, it is evident her education was not neglected.” Mrs. Bennet moved around the desk and sat in the chair that faced her husband. “Did you know she went on and on about cotton textiles the other day? I could barely follow the conversation.”

“It is peculiar.” Her husband frowned. “Worry not, my love, we shall see to her well-being.” The gash hidden by Elizabeth’s hair was a daily reminder that she had suffered horrors they did not know. Her memory had not returned. True, she could read and write and speak. She remembered her Christian name, and that she had recently turned eight, but everything else about her life remained lost.

“I know we have only just taken possession of Longbourn, but already there is much to be done.” Mr. Bennet gestured at the book in front of him. “Father relied on antiquated farming methods. I intend to make immediate changes. Spring planting is only just beginning, which makes it an ideal time to introduce improvements this season, with more to follow next.”

“Is there a steward here?”

Mr. Bennet shook his head. “No, Father never hired another after Mr. Simms died. I plan to send out inquiries today—and shall include one for a governess.” He picked up another sheet of paper. “My father meant to purchase three farms adjoining Longbourn. They are part of the Purvis Lodge estate. I believe I shall see the transaction through. The additional income may be invested for our daughters’ dowries.”

She nodded. “Very good. Will you have time to review the household accounts with me later? Hill is looking them over at present, but she has not your experience.”

“Yes, we can do that after tea.”

And so, the Bennets settled nicely into a new routine at Longbourn. Their new neighbors came to call, expressing their pleasure at making the acquaintance of the family, and offering condolences at the loss of Old Mr. Bennet and his eldest son. The sentiments were graciously received, and in time, Mr. Bennet began to heal from his grief.

The children adjusted to their change in circumstances with ease—the young are often more resilient than adults. Even Elizabeth seemed to settle comfortably into her place at Longbourn. She at first addressed her benefactors formally, but within six months, she began calling them ‘mama and papa.’ This pleased both Mr. and Mrs. Bennet greatly, and soon they resolved to forget that she had ever been anything but their own dear child.

There were a few instances that caused alarm during the first year at the estate. The four older children engaged in a game of apodidraskinda , an activity Mr. Bennet taught them after reading of it in one of his Greek tomes by Julius Pollux. One child would hide and count to one hundred whilst the others hid themselves somewhere in the house. The seeker would find the others. The last person found would win the game.

Mrs. Bennet could hear Elizabeth counting in the hallway outside the parlor. She smiled happily, listening as the child counted first in English before reverting to French at fifty. Finally, she reached one hundred and cried loudly, “You have had your time–now I shall seek you out!”

There were giggles echoing in the hall. “Found you, Tommy!” Elizabeth cried. Her adopted brother shouted, “No fair!” but came to the drawing room anyway, the place designated as where those who were ‘out’ would wait.

Tommy played with the drapes as he waited for his sisters. Mary joined him next, and they played with a basket of blocks at Mrs. Bennet’s feet.

Suddenly, the peaceful atmosphere was shattered by a terrified scream. Mrs. Bennet jumped up, heart racing, and ran from the room. She made her way down the hall toward the study. Pushing open the door, she stepped inside. Jane stood in front of Elizabeth, patting her cheeks and crying. The other girl stood frozen, the horrible vacant look from when they found her back in her eyes. Mrs. Bennet put her hand on the child’s shoulder, and she promptly collapsed.

“What happened?” Mrs. Bennet asked after lowering herself to the floor, Elizabeth in her arms.

“I do not know! I was hiding under Papa’s desk. Elizabeth came in looking for me. She became very quiet. I peeped out because I thought she had gone, but she had not. She saw me and went stiff—just froze! I do not know what happened, but then she was screaming! Oh, Mama, is she well?”

“I believe she will be. Run Jane, fetch your father.”

Mr. Bennet came quickly, having just returned home for tea. He carried the still unconscious Elizabeth to her bed in the nursery, instructing Nora and the governess, Miss Lynd, to inform him when she awoke.

Mrs. Bennet stayed by Elizabeth’s side, holding her hand until she woke.

“Mama?” she asked timidly. “Where am I?”

“You are in the nursery, Lizzy.” Mrs. Bennet brushed a curl from Elizabeth’s forehead. “Oh, what a fright you gave me, child! Are you well?”

“I hardly know.” Elizabeth pushed herself into a sitting position. “I do not recall what happened.”

Mrs. Bennet related Jane’s tale. Her adopted daughter frowned in confusion. “What could have possibly caused me to behave in such a manner?” she asked. “We were only playing a game.”

“Perhaps it caused you to remember something,” Mrs. Bennet postulated. “Tell me, do you? Is there anything?”

Elizabeth closed her eyes in concentration. “I see a man’s face,” she whispered. “He wants me to be quiet. He did not seem angry… That is all.”

Mrs. Bennet struggled to hide her emotions. Surely, this man has a connection to my daughter, she thought. But why did she scream? What is there to fear from him?

“Well,” she said aloud. “All will be as it has been. Let us just stay out of Papa’s study when we play our games, hmm?”

Nodding, Elizabeth agreed. Mrs. Bennet asked if she would like some tea and called for a tray when the girl agreed.

Later that night, she told her husband what Elizabeth had remembered. “Do you think she went through something very dreadful?” she asked.

Her husband wrapped his arms around her. “It seems that way,” he murmured into her hair. “Whatever she endured in the past, we shall ensure her future is immeasurably better. Elizabeth will want for nothing, least of all love.”

Another strange occurrence came during their first winter in Hertfordshire. Snow fell just before Christmas, and the children squealed in delight as they stared out the window.

“There is not very much snow at all,” Elizabeth remarked dismally. “Not nearly enough to play in.”

“Hertfordshire is further south than Derbyshire,” Tommy reminded her. “I do not like the cold, so I do not mind.”

“Have you never ridden in a sleigh?” Elizabeth asked, turning to the boy. “It is such fun! You can fly over the snow!”

“I have never. When did you do that?” Tommy looked expectantly at Lizzy. Mrs. Bennet watched it all curiously, wondering what she would say.

Elizabeth’s face held a dazed expression, and she blinked in confusion. “I think I did it once. We had warm bricks at our feet and a thick woolen rug on our knees. I sat on someone’s lap…” she trailed off, distress flickering across her countenance. “Maybe I dreamed it,” she murmured finally. “I think I should like to lie down.” Without another word, she left the room, the same dazed expression clouding her features.

When she told her husband of their daughter’s confusion later, Mr. Bennet expressed hope that perhaps her memories were returning. But when Elizabeth said nothing more, they let the matter rest.

In the year 1800, they observed Elizabeth’s ninth birthday. Not knowing the exact date, the Bennets based their decision on the information she had imparted to them the day they found her. Thus, they designated the eighth of March and celebrated accordingly. Cook prepared all her favorites, and Mr. and Mrs. Bennet gifted her a new book andgown.

The following years saw Elizabeth flourish. Her head wound had long since healed, the scar now well disguised by her hair. All evidence that anything untoward had befallen their young charge seemed to be eradicated. Yet, certain sights and sounds, smells and words, seemed to encourage memories to surface. There was never anything clear or certain; they were always shrouded in mist and blanketed with confusion. Elizabeth always became very quiet when they occurred, often retreating to her bed for the remainder of the afternoon.

Mrs. Bennet worried about her adopted child. Her love for the young girl was equal to what she felt for her own children, and she feared that someday someone would appear and take her away. Evidence suggested that Elizabeth’s past was not a happy one, and she refused to allow her to go back to whatever misery had preceded their finding her wandering along a road in Derbyshire.

With each passing year, no one came to claim her, and Mrs. Bennet grew easier. Elizabeth blossomed in both beauty and intelligence, her desire for knowledge pushing her to read and study far beyond what her adopted brother and sisters were wont to do. She loved them all, both elder and younger, and could often be found playing with Kitty and Lydia in the nursery each afternoon. Her example inspired Jane and Mary, and the five girls became nearly inseparable.

Tommy joined in their games until the time came for him to attend Eton, but he wrote faithfully, and his bond with his sisters remained strong and unwavering.

Mr. Bennet worked diligently to restore Longbourn to full prosperity. He invested with Mr. Gardiner to ensure that each of his five daughters had a modest dowry for their future needs. His investments saw excellent returns. By the time Jane came out at eighteen, her dowry had reached ten thousand pounds. The other girls had less, but by the time each of them married, he hoped that their dowries would be at least equal.