At first, Mary found it hard to accept the truth of her good fortune. She could not quite credit that she would not be obliged to take up her pen again and write to her mother or the Bingleys, cowed and defeated, asking for permission to slink back to Derbyshire. But now she knew she was to stay with the Gardiners, she was determined to do as her aunt had requested, and no longer speak so slightingly of herself. Indeed, she would attempt to go further. She would do all she could to enter into the spirit of their household, to behave with as much good humour as the Gardiners did themselves. If she had been invited to join their family, it was only right she should not dampen their pleasures with sad looks and awkward silences. She would endeavour to make herself worthy of their generosity by entering as fully as she could into the Gracechurch Street life.
She began by offering to instruct her young nieces on the piano. Mrs Gardiner hesitated, asking if she understood what this would involve. She was sad to say that neither of the girls showed any evidence of talent. Would Mary not rather spend the time playing for own amusement? But Mary would not be deterred, assuring her that she really wished to help; and in the end, her aunt capitulated.
‘If you are determined to sacrifice yourself, I will not stand in your way. Both Marianne and Jane should practise far more often than they do. If you could spare a few hours to keep them at their scales, I should be very glad of it.’
The following morning, and every subsequent day at eleven o’clock, Mary found herself sitting beside her young cousins at the piano, beating time for them and correcting their finger positions. At first, both she and the little girls were shy; but they were sunny, friendly creatures, and their reserve was soon forgotten. By their third lesson, they were chattering away freely, with every appearance of pleasure. Against all her expectations, Mary too found herself enjoying the lessons, especially as her pupils began to show a marked improvement in their performance. Perhaps Lady Catherine had been right and she would have made a good governess after all?
She even began to look forward to family dinners. These were very different from the ordeals she had endured at Longbourn; at Mr Gardiner’s table, there was no teasing and no snubbing. He liked meals to be as pleasurable as everything else in life. The better she came to know him, the harder Mary found it to believe he was her mother’s brother. He was so sensible, so gentlemanly and so affable that it was impossible to credit they were such near relations. He did not stand on his dignity and was often to be found on the carpet playing with his children, holding them in his arms and tousling their hair. They were not afraid of him, and chattered away in his presence without the slightest restraint. One night, as he shook his two noisy sons off his lap and attempted to finish his dinner, he caught Mary’s eye.
‘No one could say these children are seen and not heard.’
‘All the better for them, I should say. They always look very happy.’
‘I hope so. I hate to see children crushed and silenced by too much correction. Home should be a pleasant, laughing sort of a place, I always think. What do you say, George? Edward, what is your opinion?’
The boys merely nodded their agreement, their minds already on another game. Mary glanced up to see Mrs Gardiner looking over the candles at her husband and sons; Mr Gardiner caught his wife’s eye and smiled back. It was the briefest gesture, but it seemed to Mary to contain within it all the depth of their feelings for each other. It was strange, she thought, but the Gardiners’ mutual affection did not make her feel more alone, as she had at Pemberley, where the intensity of the Darcys’ passion had left her painfully conscious of her own exclusion. At Gracechurch Street, the pleasure her uncle and aunt took in each other was felt to advantage by all around them. Mary had no doubt her nephews and nieces felt it and benefited from it. She even began to sense its effects herself.
Little by little, her frozen feelings began to thaw, and as they did so, she raised her head and began to look around, curious to discover more of what lay beyond the Gardiners’ house. At first, she contented herself with short strolls to the end of the street. But soon she craved to go further afield. The City crowds no longer intimidated her as they had once done, and she soon thought herself ready to brave longer journeys. Mrs Gardiner would not allow this until they had trod the pavements together often enough for her to be assured that Mary had mastered enough of the neighbourhood’s complicated geography to be allowed out alone. Finally, she allowed it, but only when Mary swore to follow all her advice – ‘do not stray too far away, speak to no one, and if you feel uneasy, find a respectable woman and ask for her protection’. With these words ringing in her ears, in a short while Mary was soon familiar with all the most interesting streets in the vicinity. Soon it was her habit to put on her hat and walk from Gracechurch Street to Cheapside and beyond, with no other object but to enjoy the atmosphere of each new place she discovered. She would never have believed she would come to take so much pleasure from losing herself in the city’s crowds. There was a freedom, she concluded, in being one amongst so many, in knowing you might never again see the people who passed you so closely with such uninterested eyes. You could be anyone – no one knew who your family was, or where you came from. It could not be more different from Meryton, where your name and history were common knowledge, and your past would always define you. Here, no one cared. It was a thought that gave her a little twinge of fear, but also of excitement.