Page 22 of Done for the Best (Engaged to Mr Darcy #5)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

EVER A FRIEND

W hen Mrs Gardiner and her small group were all safely tucked into the lady’s carriage, Darcy walked with Saye down the street towards their club. They were silent as they went, which was extraordinarily uncommon for his cousin. At length, Darcy was compelled to say, “Well, then? Speak as you find.”

“I am not sure I take your meaning.”

“I am sure you have something to say about Mrs Gardiner, yes? Elizabeth’s connexions in trade?”

Saye shrugged one shoulder. “If you say you are all eaten up with love for the girl, then you will need to countenance her relations.” He sniffed. “Pray do not forget that we are related to Lady Catherine. She married a commoner, much as she should wish to forget that.”

“Sir Lewis was knighted. And very wealthy.”

“Knighted,” Saye scoffed. “Shake a few pounds at old George, and he would have knighted positively anyone…and his son is no different. In any case, they must be quite wealthy, these Gardiners. That lace was not inexpensive, and she treated it as nothing. The carriage, too, was new and well sprung.”

“You have formed quite an opinion on only two minutes’ acquaintance! Do you have anything to say about her petticoats?”

“In fact, she had lace on them as well. I observed it when you handed her into the carriage, and she pulled her skirts in behind her. My point is that I would not be disgusted to know Mrs Gardiner. And you”—he pointed a finger at Darcy—“ you ought to become a bit more broad-minded.”

They paused, needing to cross the street, which was busy with carriages and people.

“That is something, coming from the haughtiest man I have ever known.”

“If I lost the woman I loved over it,” Saye informed him loftily, “I would change it. And in any case, I daresay I am more broad-minded than you are.”

That comment did not warrant reply. “Then you will not mind coming to dine with us?” Darcy challenged as they walked across the street. “How is Thursday?”

“Are you making some attempt to call my bluff?” Saye chuckled. “Darcy, you will need to try harder than that.”

“You said you would not dislike knowing Mr and Mrs Gardiner. Then…will you dine with us?”

“Darcy.” Saye paused, shaking his head. “How many times do I need to tell you of my influence? I could have Mrs Gardiner at Almack’s next Wednesday if I wished it to be so.”

“No, you could not.”

“Yes,” said Saye in his maddeningly superior way, “I could. Pray do not test me on it, for in truth, I do not think married ladies find much to enjoy at Almack’s unless they have a young lady to bring forward. Although…” He drew out the word. “There we have it! I shall secure a voucher for Mrs Gardiner to bring Elizabeth to Almack’s and see if I cannot stir up a few rivals for you.”

He chuckled at his own wit and gave Darcy a punch on the sleeve.

“And yet, all your boasting of Almack’s aside, you still have not answered the question. Will you dine with us?”

“Thursday does not work for me. Make it Friday and…” Saye smirked. “I will bring my mother and father.”

The dinner at Darcy House proved a success. Lord and Lady Matlock had come with Saye, and all of them, ladies and men alike, had had a splendid evening together. Lady Matlock had even said, afterwards, that she very much would have mistaken the Gardiners for people of fashion.

There was but one dissatisfaction in the evening for Darcy, and that was that Mrs Gardiner had little to tell him of Elizabeth beyond the fact that she was ‘improving daily’ in her health and planned to go to Brighton. It had shocked Darcy to imagine that she would again leave home to travel; but Mrs Gardiner informed him of her purpose, to watch over her youngest sister, and Darcy understood it, even if he believed it ought to have been her mother’s duty. Well did he know what ills might befall a young lady at the seaside!

It was nearly a se’nnight until he was able to pin Bingley down for a talk in Miss Roberts’s absence. Darcy, along with Saye, called at the rooms Bingley kept at the Albany.

“What is this?” Saye enquired suspiciously as Darcy deviated from the route that would have taken them directly to their club. “I knew walking anywhere with you was a dreadful notion.”

“I need to speak to a friend.”

“What friend? Not Bingley?”

“Come!” Darcy ordered. “You dined with the Gardiners, did you not? And seem to have come through the experience well enough.”

“The Gardiners are everything charming and clever,” Saye replied. “Bingley is a pup. Too young and too eager by half. Were he a duke, I would still find him intolerable.”

“The call will be short,” Darcy promised. “He might not even be home.”

In fact, Bingley was scarcely awake when Darcy and Saye arrived, but nevertheless received them happily, albeit in his dressing gown. A meal had just been brought up for him, and he invited Darcy and Saye to partake with him.

“Coffee will do,” Darcy told him, and Saye, after a sharp poke to the ribs, mumbled something about needing nothing.

Bingley’s man poured coffee, then left them to their conversation. Bingley did not appear enthusiastic about the eggs before him and eyed them briefly before preferring his own cup of coffee.

“Not hungry?” Darcy enquired. “Or do you fear a revolt of the gastric variety?”

Bingley chuckled lightly. “I confess it is the latter. Sophie does enjoy a good party, and I fear I am drinking too much and sleeping too little. My head and my stomach begin to protest against the revelry.”

“Things will no doubt settle after the wedding,” Darcy observed, taking a sip of coffee. “Do you mean to travel afterwards?”

“She wishes to go to Italy,” Bingley replied with as much eagerness as one might display for a trip to the smithy for a tooth extraction. “She says people of fashion must go to Italy for at least six months.”

“Six months?” Darcy raised one brow even as a sinking feeling beset him. Six months of Bingley on the Continent was six months that he could not expect an invitation to Netherfield Park.

“Sometimes a year,” Saye offered brightly. “Unless of course she falls with child. When that happens, you will want to get back to English soil as soon as you can.”

“With child?” Bingley looked as if the notion had never before occurred to him.

“You do know how all of that works, do you not?” Saye enquired. “Allow me to explain. First you will want to?—”

Bingley was looking decidedly nauseated, and Darcy thus interrupted his cousin. “Of course he knows, Saye. Bingley—it seems the notion of a sojourn in Italy does not agree with you.”

Bingley sighed and looked down at his plate. “Ah, Darcy, I cannot lie to you. You always feared I would show my affection too freely and find myself trapped in an untenable position, and here I am.” He scrubbed his hands through his hair. “No, I do not wish to go to Italy with her. I do not wish to live with her or have children with her. I do not even much wish to dance with her.”

Darcy heaved an unhappy sigh, an ache in his chest from his friend’s torment. Saye said nothing but flicked a glance in Bingley’s direction that might have been sympathetic.

“She was so sweet the first night we danced at Almack’s. It is not my usual place, as you know, but Caroline somehow got a voucher and insisted I take her. I had met Miss Roberts before, and she seemed kind enough, but that night she was all that was charming and I…I asked her to dance twice.”

“Twice, at Almack’s?” Darcy exclaimed. It was well known that one did not dance twice with any one lady at Almack’s. Not only did such behaviour displease the lady patronesses, but in a place known as the Marriage Mart, it was tantamount to a declaration. More than one breach of promise suit had arisen after two dances at Almack’s.

“When she parted from me, after the first, she encouraged me to ask her again. I do not mean to blame her—I know the rules well enough—but I confess I was a bit overwhelmed by her charms and therefore did it anyway.”

Darcy offered a sympathetic wince in reply. Saye, less concerned with Bingley’s sensibilities, rolled his eyes and said, “Quite stupid of you, Bingley.”

Bingley nodded glumly, then with a burst of desperation asked, “What am I to do about it?”

“Do?”

“Surely there is something?” Bingley begged. “I cannot go through with it. I cannot! I am twenty-three years old, and the most optimistic outcome I can think of is an early death.”

“Ask her to release you.” Saye leant towards Bingley, drawn into the drama despite himself.

“I tried to, once… She was having a tirade about the lower classes encroaching into Mayfair. She said if she saw one more matron in shiny new jewellery parading about as if she owned the place, she would not be responsible for her actions. I said that as my money comes from my father’s work, she ought to reconsider my suit. It did not go well.”

“What did she do?”

“Shrieked. Cried. Slapped me…twice. And said the only thing worse than a tradesperson was a jilt and she would not allow me to lower her. Would it truly be so terrible if I broke things off?”

“You would not be received again,” Darcy told him gently. “Nor would Miss Bingley. The club would remove you, and there would be little hope of regaining any sort of position in Society for you.”

“Nor your children,” Saye added in with a sort of delighted foreboding. “You would do best to move to somewhere savage, America perhaps.”

Bingley lowered his head into his hands and moaned.

“I am sorry. I wish I could offer some consolation,” Darcy said sympathetically.

Bingley sat up straight, his countenance brighter. “What if I shot off my own leg? Surely she would not wish to marry a lame man?”

Darcy laughed but sobered quickly, realising that Bingley was not making a joke.

“Shoot the Earl of Tooleywag down there,” Saye suggested. “Perhaps once she knew you were unable to be a proper husband, the rest would follow naturally.”

Bingley frowned and pushed his breakfast about with his fork.

Darcy rubbed his hand across his mouth thoughtfully. “Are her servants loyal to her?”

“I have witnessed her slap her maid on several occasions, and she abuses her coachmen something awful.”

“Spread a few coins among them, see what they will tell you,” Darcy advised, well aware that he was once again inserting himself into Bingley’s affairs. “If you are certain you truly wish to know, that is! Do not do it unless you are prepared to discover the worst.”

“You mean…a liaison?”

“A liaison, an affair de couer,” Saye said. “A tumble in the hay at her father’s estate. Anything at all.”

“There might be nothing, but if something were to come to light, something which made you rightly doubt the lady’s character…”

An expression of hope had come into Bingley’s eyes. Leaping up, he clapped Darcy on the arm. “You are ever a friend, Darcy! Ever a friend!”

“I will keep my ear to the ground as well. One never knows what might come to light,” Saye offered with an amiability that Darcy immediately mistrusted.

“Thank you, Lord Saye,” Bingley said, seeming truly gratified by the idea. “You have no idea?—”

“But once we see you sprung from this thing,” Saye continued, with an innocent-looking grin, “you must promise to repay us with a house party! I cannot rest until I am a guest at the famed Netherfield Park!”

“Name the date and it shall be done,” Bingley promised, his eyes bright.

Darcy and his cousin left Bingley and his breakfast and went to their club. They had invited Bingley to attend them, but he had declined, being required as he was at Miss Roberts’s mother’s drawing room.

The day was fine, and Saye whistled as the two men walked.

“Unable to rest until you have spent time at Netherfield?” Darcy enquired of his cousin. “At a house party?”

“Indeed,” Saye replied.

“Why?”

“Miss Lillian Goddard of Ashworth lives near there,” Saye replied. “County does produce some beauties, does it not?”

“You wish Bingley to have a house party so you can do what? Make him host a ball so you can dance with Miss Goddard?”

“Dance with her? I mean to marry her.”

Darcy gaped at his cousin, but Saye was not looking in his direction. “Have you been?—”

“Alas, I find myself a tardy boy. The Season draws to its close, and I do not have time sufficient to properly woo her. Ergo—house party!” Saye paused on the street and turned to Darcy who halted as well. “This Italy thing. It cannot stand. I need Bingley in Hertfordshire in September, having balls and parties.”

Darcy chuckled and began again to walk, as did Saye. “Persuasive as you are, Saye, you can hardly require a man to give up his Italian honeymoon so you can court a woman at his county house.”

“It simply will not do. He will be gone for months and then, rest assured, she will be with child. Do not let his squeamishness over breakfast fool you. The boy will be riding neck or nothing in that saddle.”

“Nevertheless, it is his life, and he must make his own decisions.”

Saye chuckled. “That is rich, coming from you of all people.”

Darcy rolled his eyes. “My past mistakes notwithstanding?—”

“We must get him out of this marriage,” Saye interrupted. “Absolutely must. If her people have nothing on her, then we will need to come up with something else. Keep me apprised.”