Page 21 of Done for the Best (Engaged to Mr Darcy #5)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

HIGH-WROUGHT LOVE

T hough he could not imagine Mr Bennet would permit Elizabeth to receive a gift, Darcy hoped that the man’s naturally indolent nature might allow one or two things to slip through, perhaps believing them parcels, or things which she herself had purchased in town. Thus, did he take himself to the shops one summer morn, intent on purchasing something, anything to send to her.

It proved impossible. Nothing seemed quite right, not bejewelled combs for her hair, not a book, not a fan. It all felt horribly inadequate, yet what did feel adequate was too overdone, too much like he meant to flash his wealth at her—a strand of exquisite and perfect pearls, or a soft shawl from Kashmir. She was not the sort to be won over by expensive gifts, he knew, but he was at ends to discern what might do. I need it to be something that would make her willing to see me, to allow me to woo her properly and hope it will be sufficient to earn her forgiveness.

A tall order for any trifle. He had just left the fifth shop, nearly boiling with frustration, when he heard his name being called.

“Darcy!” Bingley waved to him with such enthusiasm that it drew the attention of the passersby on Oxford Street. He was accompanied by his ladylove, Miss Roberts, who was arrayed in all the finery one might expect of a bride about town. Her pretty face was wreathed in a delighted smile, but Darcy observed what could only be described as a rapid-fire snarl directed at Bingley that made him lower his wildly waving arm.

He was all dignity and decorum by the time Darcy approached and bowed. “Miss Roberts, Bingley. How do you do?”

“Oh, we are very well,” said Miss Roberts. “Very well indeed! Mr Darcy, I understand you will be standing up with my dear Charles, hm? Allow me, if you will, to acquaint you with our plans.”

With that, Miss Roberts was off and running telling him more than he wished to know about the plans for everything from the wedding breakfast to her renovation of Netherfield Park. Bingley stood by silently, with a fixed smile and glazed eyes as his lady rattled away.

“It all sounds charming,” Darcy managed to say at last.

“My uncle, the duke, means to visit us at Netherfield,” she said with a gleaming smile. “After we are settled.”

“How delightful.”

“He did say he knew you, Mr Darcy. I had to tell him, of course, that you would stand up with dear Charles, not wishing to draw his disapproval with any of the arrangements!” She tittered madly.

“Yes, I do remember being introduced to him. I look forward to seeing him at the breakfast.” In truth, he barely recollected the man, remembering only a reserved sort of gentleman who had a fondness for horses.

There was, then, a group of two ladies and two young girls who went by them. One of the girls, alas, had the misfortune of bumping into Miss Roberts as she passed. The girl was quick to beg Miss Roberts’s pardon and curtsey to her, but Miss Roberts only looked away, her nose raised.

“The absolute nerve,” she spat angrily as soon as the group had walked into a shop. “Charles, did you see that? This place is becoming overrun by the lower class. It will not be two years until decent people cannot even shop here safely!”

“I believe people of all classes occasionally bump into one another,” Darcy said, not hiding the note of reproof in his voice. “The street is full of carriages, and pedestrians must be safe above all.”

“Yes, dear,” said Bingley. “One would rather the girl bumped into us than be overrun by a carriage!”

Miss Roberts sniffed. “I do not know. Would it really be tragic if there was one less tradesman’s family? I mean, really! Who brings children to Oxford Street! Positively savage!”

“What made you think they were the family of a tradesman?” Bingley enquired.

Miss Roberts waved her hand dismissively. “The one is a Mrs Gardiner. I have been to her husband’s warehouses.”

At the name Gardiner, Darcy felt a jolt. Elizabeth’s aunt and cousins? He cursed himself for failing to recognise them, as Bingley did likewise, telling Miss Roberts he had once called at the Gardiner’s home to see Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Miss Roberts was not pleased to hear of the acquaintance, her smile growing tight.

Darcy decided he had had enough of Miss Roberts and her ways, and that he would leave them. “Bingley, will you be at our club later?”

Bingley opened his mouth to reply, but Miss Roberts was quick to again insert herself.

“Not today! He simply has no time for it today! We have a list of tasks a mile long!” She tittered again. “This one seems to think a trousseau purchases itself! I told him, ‘Charles, it is your wedding too. You simply must get new clothes!’”

Darcy had no notion of what to say to this. In truth, Bingley’s attire did run to the shabby if he was not encouraged to buy new, so she might have been correct.

“Perhaps I will call on you tomorrow, then,” he said, and Bingley, finally able to say something, urged him to do so, then took his lady and walked off.

As soon as Bingley and his less-than-charming bride-to-be disappeared round a corner, Darcy turned and entered the shop where, he believed, Mrs Gardiner still remained.

She was with the shopkeeper, settling a bill it seemed, for she laughed over her shoulder to the other lady and commented, “My husband will not be best pleased about this one!”

“Good day, Mrs Gardiner,” he said, drawing near.

She turned and smiled, and to his relief, he found no apparent censure in it. “Mr Darcy, it is good to see you, sir.”

“Pray forgive me for not greeting you properly out there.” He gestured towards the door. “I did not recognise you and the Miss Gardiners when you passed.”

Her smile dimmed slightly, and she inclined her head. “Do not think of it, sir.”

He understood her immediately. She believed that he was as haughty as…well, not both his companions, for Bingley was never haughty, but as haughty as Miss Roberts. And perhaps at one time, he had been, but he would not continue in it.

“No, no,” he said earnestly. “I truly did not realise it was you, else I should have been glad to greet you.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Elspeth was very sorry for running into your friend as she did.”

“The lady is no friend of mine. She is merely the betrothed of my friend,” he said. “Mr Bingley, who I believe you might know.”

“Only a little,” said Mrs Gardiner gracefully. “And I would not have imagined him to remember me, we were introduced only very briefly when he came to call on Elizabeth.”

“He did remember,” said Darcy. “But I believe his back was to you.”

Darcy glanced towards the other woman and asked to be introduced to her. With a demurring sort of smile, the lady stepped back, but Mrs Gardiner said, “My maid, Mr Darcy, Miss Norris.”

The younger of the two girls approached them, asking her mother if she could have a fan. Mrs Gardiner laughed and said, “Grace, you have no need of a fan.”

The girl appeared to be crestfallen but obediently nodded and turned to walk off. As she went, Darcy was struck immediately by an idea. An underhanded idea, but an idea nevertheless.

“Miss Grace?”

Startled to be addressed by him, the little girl paused, then recognition dawned. “You are the man who gave us flowers!”

“I am. Mr Darcy is my name.” He tried to look as agreeable as possible. “And I wonder if I might get some assistance from you and your sister? If you can help me, I should be well-pleased to buy you each a fan.”

“Oh, sir, no, that is not necessary,” Mrs Gardiner interrupted.

“Pray, madam, I assure you that what is very necessary is assistance. For me.” Lowering his voice he said, “I find myself almost…desperate to rectify things between myself and Elizabeth. She is not the sort to be impressed by trifles, I know, but I should like to send her one anyhow.”

The older girl came over to him and said, “Sir, my sister and I would be honoured to help you, but you need not buy us fans. You already gave us your flowers.”

He smiled, and complimented Mrs Gardiner on the excellent behaviour of her children.

“Thank you,” she said, her cheeks growing pink. “They do have their moments, like most children, but their father and I are exceedingly proud of them.”

“I thank you for your kindness, Miss Gardiner,” he said, addressing the older girl. “But I am a man of my word, and I have promised you fans, so fans you shall have. Now my trouble is that I should like to purchase a gift for your cousin, Miss Elizabeth. Alas, I fear that as a gentleman, I really do not know what she might like.”

Elspeth knew immediately what to do. “Perfume.”

“Perfume?” Mrs Gardiner echoed. “My dear, I am not sure?—”

“Lizzy spilt hers because she was crying,” Grace informed them all. “While she was at our house. And she said a bad word, she said, ‘Stupid fumble-fingers!’ But she did not know I was there.”

Crying because of me no doubt. Darcy inhaled sharply. “It seems we have our orders, then. Let us pick out the prettiest fans and then go to Floris’s parfumerie.”

What followed was the pleasantest hour that Darcy had spent in a long time. The girls had decided tastes in perfumes for their cousin and even encouraged him towards a scent for himself they felt certain ‘Cousin Lizzy’ would like.

“What you are wearing makes her sneeze,” Miss Grace informed him gravely. “If you must know, it tickles my nose a bit, too.”

“And mine as well.” Saye had entered the shop unseen. “Darcy, you were meant to meet me a quarter of an hour ago!”

“You are never punctual, so I gave it no consideration.”

Happily, Saye immediately forgot his pique. Mrs Gardiner was a very pretty young woman, and one thing Saye never looked away from was a pretty woman. “And who is this charming creature?”

“Mrs Gardiner, if I may present my cousin, Lord Saye,” Darcy replied guardedly. Surely Saye would comprehend these were the relations in trade? “Saye, this is Mrs Gardiner and her two daughters, Miss Gardiner and Miss Grace Gardiner.”

“Utterly rapturous to know you,” Saye pronounced, giving a none-too-subtle flick of his eyes over Mrs Gardiner’s gown as she, in a very genteel manner, echoed his sentiments. Fortunately, Floris himself came to them then, offering Darcy a phial to smell.

“That is very fine lace on your gown,” he heard his cousin remark to Mrs Gardiner.

“Thank you,” she replied.

“Alencon?”

“You have an excellent eye for lace, sir,” she said. “It is perhaps a bit extravagant for day, but I had some left from an evening gown and thought it ought not to go to waste.”

“Just so,” Saye agreed with a nod.

By the time they left the shop, Darcy had purchased a specially blended scent for Elizabeth, one for himself, and small bottles of a sweetly girlish fragrance for the two girls. The young girls held their new possessions tightly in their hands, but Elizabeth’s would be sent to her directly from Floris.

“Like a Trojan horse,” Saye muttered into Darcy’s ear. “Sneaking in your love to the lady whether she wants it or not.”

Mrs Gardiner, as was appropriate, protested wildly against the expense, but Darcy was adamant. He had enjoyed the time spent with them and regretted, painfully, that he had not been more agreeable to her previously. On an impulse, when parting, he asked her if she and Mr Gardiner would come to dine with him and his sister one evening soon, and after a short, surprised pause, she said they would be glad to.