There has been a lot of speculation about how Elizabeth and Darcy will get together. I think this chapter will answer the question. 

Meanwhile, if you haven’t been following the story, you can read the Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2 and Chapter 3 here. 

Chapter 4

It was not a good time for her mind to drift, not in the middle of an interview, but Elizabeth suddenly remembered Mr. Darcy’s aunt – what was her name? Lady Elinor? No, it was Lady Catherine, the same name as Kitty’s. Lady Catherine had been thoroughly shocked that Elizabeth had never had a governess to teach her the accomplishments so essential to well-bred young ladies. Elizabeth had laughed it off at the time, indifferent to the odious woman’s remarks, but she was rapidly reaching the conclusion that Lady Catherine had been right. Her education had not been the best, and it did not stand her in good stead when she really needed it, which was right now.

She pushed the thoughts aside. She could not afford to lose hope, even if the interview was not going well. It was the fourth one this week, and she was beginning to worry.

“What musical instrument do you play?” said Mrs. Galsworthy, housekeeper to Lady Stanwell.

“I play the pianoforte.” The image of Lady Catherine sprung to mind. You play adequately, but not well. It would have to do.

“No harp? Lady Stanwell is particularly eager to teach her daughters the harp.”

“I’m afraid the harp and I are not well-acquainted.” She smiled, hoping to break the severity of the woman’s features, but instead, she received a suspicious look.

Careful, Elizabeth. You must not seem insubordinate. She arranged her face into her meekest expression. That seemed to satisfy the housekeeper, who continued down the list of requirements written for her by her mistress.

“Foreign languages?”

It would have been easier for Mrs. Galsworthy just to give Elizabeth the list and have her write the word ‘no’ next to all the requirements. Clearly this was not going to work. Elizabeth was tempted to put an end to her misery and leave, but Mrs. Galsworthy had travelled a long way to conduct her interviews. Besides, she had not been rejected – yet.

“None, I’m afraid, though I did invent a foreign language. I used to speak it to my sisters when they were young.”

The housekeeper raised her brow and fixed her with a cold look.

“No French or Italian, then?”

Elizabeth shook her head.

“Latin, perhaps?”

“No Latin. I have, however, read Plato and Aristotle in translation.”

“There is no call for teaching a young lady philosophy.” Mrs. Galsworthy’s voice implied that Elizabeth was suggesting something seditious.

Despite her efforts to stay cheerful, Elizabeth’s spirits plummeted as the housekeeper dipped her quill in the ink and wrote something down. Craning her neck, Elizabeth was able to read what it said. No knowledge of languages, underlined twice.

“What about arithmetic?”

Elizabeth sighed in relief. That was one area where her education had not been deficient.

“I am certainly more than capable of educating a young lady in arithmetic,” she said, thankful that Papa had taken the time to teach her something useful, even if it was because he wanted her assistance in balancing the estate ledgers.

“That is a mercy, at least.”

The housekeeper looked down at the paper in front of her. She had come to the end of her list.

“Thank you, Mrs. Heriot. That will be all.”

Elizabeth gave her a hopeful look. “So, am I to be hired?”

“I’m afraid not. Your education has been woefully deficient, and you have no experience with children.”

Elizabeth shook her head in frustration. “I do have experience with children. I have been taking care of my sister’s and my aunt’s children.”

“It is one thing to bathe a child and sing her lullabies, quite another to educate her and act as her governess.”

“How am I to gain experience with children when I have no opportunity to teach them?”

The housekeeper’s severe expression softened.

“You would be better served to apply to a school than to a governess position, Mrs. Heriot. Their requirements are fewer. You could teach elocution lessons, since your manner of speech is genteel. I’m afraid you don’t have the minimum requirements to become a governess. You’re wasting your time – and everyone else’s.”

They were not the words Elizabeth had been hoping to hear, but Mrs. Galsworthy was trying to be helpful.

“Thank you, Mrs. Galsworthy.”

As she walked out of the townhouse, Elizabeth struggled to regain her good spirits. A school? She would be little more than a drudge. The wages were terrible, hardly more than those of a servant. She would only take such a position if she was in urgent need of a roof over her head, and she earnestly hoped it would not come to that.

She headed in the direction of her aunt’s house. She did not want to see Jane just now because Jane would only try to convince her to give up the search. She went on foot – she could ill afford the expense of a hackney carriage. It would do her good to walk, in any case, though in her current state of mind, the hustle and bustle of London did not hold any appeal. She crossed the road impatiently, narrowly dodging converging fruit and vegetable carts, riders on horseback, curricles and carriages that were careening through the streets. A strong sense of nostalgia rushed through her, a longing for the days when she was able to walk to Oakham Mount without a worry in the world, and without a single person in sight.

She trudged slowly up the stairs of her uncle’s house in Gracechurch Street, burdened with a strong sense of loss. On days like this, the knowledge that she would never again live in Longbourn filled her with sorrow.

“No luck, then?” said Mrs. Gardiner, examining her face as she entered her uncle’s parlor. “Never mind, Lizzy. Next time.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I don’t know if there will be a next time, Aunt. Not unless I magically manage to learn how to speak French and to paint watercolors.”

“Perhaps if you took lessons with Miss Templin?” Mrs. Gardiner tapered off weakly as she realized how ridiculous it sounded to suggest to her grown niece that she needed to study with her daughters’ governess.

“I don’t think I could learn to speak French in a month, no matter how determined I may be, and unfortunately what few funds remain from Thomas’ savings will only last me that long.”

“If you can’t stay with Jane for whatever reason – and I’m sure you have a good one — you know you can stay with me and your uncle as long as you like.”

The sense of being a burden increased. “We have all trespassed on your hospitality enough,” she said, quietly. “You’ll be needing to prepare your daughters for the Season soon. That is a huge expense.”

Mrs. Gardiner made no attempt to deny the fact that, despite her uncle’s success, their finances were not unlimited. She sighed heavily. “That is certainly true. I wish we could stretch further. Your uncle is doing his best to keep your mother and sister Mary comfortable, even if your mama complains constantly about living in a cottage.”

Elizabeth squeezed Mrs. Gardiners’ arm. “You have done so much for us already. I don’t have the words to thank you. Unlike mama, I do know how much Uncle has sacrificed for us. I only wish I could do something for you in return.” She looked away. “Mama was right about one thing, though. If I had married Mr. Collins, we could all have continued to live at Longbourn. I was too stupid and naïve to see it.”

“Now, now,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “That was many years ago, and it can’t be undone, so it’s no use blaming yourself.”

“Who else am I to blame? It is I who rendered all of us homeless.”

She felt the bitterness of it, and the wisdom of Charlotte, who had married sensibly and come out of it triumphant.

***

The proprietor of the Agency for Recruitment of Governesses, Mrs. Simmons, undoubtedly thought it odd for a father of Darcy’s status to be interviewing governesses. Such a task usually fell within the duties of the mistress of the household or the housekeeper. However, Darcy was conscious that the wrong choice could spell trouble. He had made a grave mistake once, when he had agreed to hire Mrs. Younge as a companion for his fifteen-year-old sister. Had he investigated the woman’s credentials more thoroughly himself, he might have saved Georgiana from a great deal of heartache. Mrs. Younge had turned a blind eye to a planned elopement which was – fortunately – foiled at the last minute.

Darcy had learned from the experience. He could never trust anyone else to decide who would oversee Kathy’s education. Moreover, he was determined to interview all eligible candidates himself. Unfortunately, none of the six women he had met were what he was hoping for, which is why he had summoned Mrs. Simmons to the Darcy Townhouse.

“Surely in the whole of England there must be one suitable governess,” said Darcy, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Mrs. Simmons opened the file in front of her and shuffled through the papers.

“Your requirements are rigorous, sir, quite understandably so, of course,” she said, in a nasal voice, “I have a few other possibilities here, but none that would be entirely appropriate. If you would be willing to wait a while, perhaps someone better will apply. If it is not entirely a matter of urgency—”

“It is a matter of urgency,” said Darcy, forcefully. “The child has no mother, and she is growing too old for her nurse.” Darcy did not say that Kathy’s nurse was in fact growing too old for Kathy.

Mrs. Simmons shuffled through her papers again, as if hoping something would materialize out of thin air.

Darcy had had enough. There had to be someone in that thick file who would be the right fit. He put out his hand.

“I would like to look at the candidates myself.”

“But, sir, I can assure you, I have sifted through all the possibilities very carefully. None of them fit the requirements you have laid out. I hope you will understand that I need the folder for my other clients.”

Darcy gave her a quelling look. Reluctantly, she tied the string, then handed over the file.

“You may leave it with me overnight, and I will endeavor to send it to you by morning. You will be compensated, of course, for any lost income, even if I do not find the right candidate.”

This seemed to appease her. She rose and departed quickly, quite satisfied with the outcome.

Darcy opened the file and began to read through it. He was not exactly certain what he was looking for, but he had a vague notion. He wanted a governess that would not sap away the will of a little girl, as Aunt Catherine had done with Anne. As each of the governesses he had spoken to had talked of the value of discipline and the importance of teaching Kathy feminine accomplishments, he had cringed. It was all very well, he thought, but none of them had said anything about building character, nor about the improvement of his daughter’s mind.

Of course, discipline, if handled well, was important. He didn’t want little Kathy to turn out obstinate and arrogant like her grandmother. Heaven forbid! At times, his aunt’s ignorance appalled him, as did her indifference to the feelings of those around her. He would never allow his daughter to turn out like that. He wanted Kathy to know her own mind, to be spirited, and well read. Unfortunately, he had not yet found someone who could teach her these things.

He scrolled through the notes on seven different candidates, written in a neat, clear hand, and his opinion of Mrs. Simmons rose a few notches. The notes were very well organized. He was beginning to think she knew what she was doing. None of the ones he had looked at were remotely what he was hoping for.

As he wearily took up the notes for the eighth person, the name at the top caught his eye.

 Mrs. Elizabeth Heriot, of Meryton, Hertfordshire.

The words Elizabeth and Meryton immediately conjured up a vision of sparkling dark eyes and a laughing face that he had striven for a long time to forget. Could it be the same Elizabeth he had known? Surely there was more than one Elizabeth in Meryton?

The next line confirmed his initial suspicion. Widow. Née Bennet.

Serendipity, he thought. He had needed someone exactly like Miss Bennet for little Kathy and she had appeared, just at the right moment. He swiftly read through the list of her accomplishments. It did not take long to see why Mrs. Simmons would not have considered her suitable. There were many essential skills missing. She did not seem very qualified on paper. Only someone who knew her would recognize that there were other skills she possessed that could not be reduced to a line on a page.

He skimmed quickly through the reference letter which had been supplied by Mr. Collins. Darcy groaned and tossed it aside. The letter was a masterpiece of affectation and flowery language. It was precisely what Darcy would have expected — having endured many of his sermons — and it proved that inheriting Longbourn had done nothing to improve the man’s character. Come to think of it, it was ironic that Darcy had proposed to Elizabeth Bennet at Mr. Collins’ parsonage. He should have known nothing good would come of it.

Darcy thought of that day dispassionately, from a vast distance, as if everything had happened to someone else. He felt intensely relieved. It would have been difficult to justify hiring Mrs. Heriot — Elizabeth — as a governess if he was in any danger of resurrecting those emotions that had long been buried. Fortunately, he did not need to worry about that. She had been purged from his soul.

His mood lightened. He took up the quill and wrote a short note to Mrs. Simmons requesting Mrs. Heriot’s presence within the next two days. He sanded it and sealed it. It was too late to send it round now, but he would have it delivered first thing in the morning.

If anyone could help Kathy recover her good humor, it was Elizabeth Bennet.

*~~*

I hope you enjoyed this exerpt from the novel. As usual, I would LOVE to read about your reactions and speculations.