Page 27

He regretted his peevishness when it seemed to chase Elizabeth’s defiance away, leaving behind an expression of pained disbelief.

Mr Gardiner apologised for allowing the conversation to become too political and promptly changed it, though it did little to rescue the general humour, and soon afterwards, his wife announced that she and her niece would withdraw.

They all stood, and when Mrs Gardiner turned to ask her husband a question, Darcy seized his chance.

Stepping closer to Elizabeth, he began in a low voice. “Madam, I?—”

“Pray, do not make this any harder,” she interrupted in a terse whisper. “Let us endure this as best we can, then we shall never have to see each other again.”

“I need to talk to you,” he insisted.

She turned an incredulous look upon him. “Why start now? You have not troubled yourself at any other point this evening.”

He did not dignify that with a response; he had been happily attending to her relations for the last several hours while she scowled in silence. “I need to speak to you about your mother.”

“I really think you have said everything you need to say on that subject. I perfectly comprehend your sentiments.”

“No, you do not—you cannot. But it is imperative that you do.”

“What is your meaning?”

“Will you visit my sister tomorrow so that I might explain?”

“Lizzy, are you ready?” Mrs Gardiner said, coming around the table. “Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr Darcy. I did not mean to interrupt.”

“Not at all, madam. I was just explaining to Miss Elizabeth that my sister tasked me with inviting her to call at Berkeley Square tomorrow.”

Elizabeth looked miserably uncomfortable. She cast her aunt a plaintive look, but if she was hoping for rescue, Mrs Gardiner did not provide it.

“We have no other engagements, Lizzy.”

“But Jane is ill, and we cannot both leave her.”

“My sister’s companion will be present,” Darcy said quickly, remembering Elizabeth’s attempt to escape Lady Rothersea’s invitation by a similar method. “You need not be concerned about coming alone.”

“Well, that is settled, then. I shall let Benjamin know you will need the carriage,” Mr Gardiner said, after which Elizabeth seemed to comprehend that she had no choice but to accept.

She thanked Darcy with an air of helplessness and followed her aunt out of the room.

The look she gave him as she left made him feel strangely untethered.

“Port or brandy, sir?” Mr Gardiner asked.

Darcy slid back into his chair. “Port, please.”

The servant placed a bottle and two glasses on the table, then left.

“I’ll not keep you in here long,” Mr Gardiner said as he uncorked and poured the port. “But I did want a moment of your time. I expect you have been wondering why I invited you to dine with us.”

Darcy was taken aback by the unexpected beginning. “No, I cannot say that I have.”

“Well, that is to your credit, but I did have a purpose, and it is this—I should like to address the matter of the rumours that appear to be circulating, concerning you and my niece.”

“Oh?” Darcy said, instantly wary. He sincerely hoped the man was not about to try and force his hand.

“Yes. My wife and I wished to assure you that they have not arisen because of anything that has been said or done by any member of this family. Neither will they be encouraged by any of us. I understand that Lizzy has been invited to a soiree as a consequence of it all, but rest assured, she is far too sensible to be drawn in by a little foolish tittle-tattle.”

He sighed heavily and shook his head. “That said, Mrs Gardiner and I know how society can be, and we are conscious of the difference in our stations, even if my niece does not like to admit it. Therefore, allow me to assure you that we shall do whatever we can to disassociate ourselves from these reports. I can only apologise for any inconvenience you have suffered. Your sister’s invitation for Lizzy to call is one that I hope neither of you felt obliged to offer. ”

“Your assurances are welcome but entirely unnecessary. I know very well that Miss Elizabeth does not take such folly seriously.”

“I am heartened to hear you say as much, sir! And I shall rest a good deal easier now that I have been able to assure you of our equal probity.”

‘Our equal probity’ . The words took their time dying on the air, seeming to join with the recollection of Elizabeth’s hurt expression to make Darcy feel queasy.

“Shall we go through, then?” Mr Gardiner announced.

Darcy nodded and followed him in troubled silence.

Elizabeth did not look at him when they entered.

He wondered whether she had been privy to what her uncle had planned to say—whether she had asked him to say it.

He wished she would look at him; he suddenly felt in desperate need of being anchored in the way that only she seemed capable of doing.

“Is everything well?” Mrs Gardiner asked her husband.

“Perfectly so,” he replied amiably. “Now, I wonder whether we might prevail upon Lizzy to play for us?”

Darcy looked at Elizabeth hopefully. He might as well have not been there; she did not look at him or anyone else as she moved to the instrument and asked her uncle what she ought to play.

“Oh, I do not know. Whatever you prefer.”

“How about the piece you played at the ball last week?” Darcy said, desperately hoping it might draw her gaze.

It did not. She began playing without remark—and without the music, he noticed. He thought it must be a favourite, for he had heard her play it before Aubrey’s ball—at Lucas Lodge the previous autumn. She played it well, though she did not always sing it faithfully. That only gave it more charm.

His gaze drifted to Mr Gardiner, who was smiling proudly at his niece, and he reflected again on what had been said in the dining room.

The man’s integrity was a far cry from the coarse and grasping response to the situation that Darcy would have expected of such a man.

Indeed, he had to admit that, in opposition to all his prepossessions, he had found Mr Gardiner to be pleasantly well-bred with an excellent understanding.

Fitzwilliam had tried to tell him as much, weeks ago, after they met at the theatre.

Darcy could not immediately account for why he had dismissed his cousin’s testimony.

Neither could he recall why, exactly, he had failed to notice the Gardiners’ good qualities when they spoke at Aubrey’s ball.

Elizabeth, too, had accused him, during their argument, of not recognising the Gardiners’ worth.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he belatedly comprehended it was not her sister she had been needling him about at dinner; she had been distressed by the way he was behaving towards her aunt and uncle, accusing him of not troubling himself to speak to them.

He supposed that was somewhat true, but only because they had been interesting to listen to.

That excuse did not sit well, and he was forced to acknowledge that, if someone had come to dine at his house and only sat silently, in all their state, waiting to be entertained, he would not have taken kindly to it either.

He had not put himself out at all! He had come this evening, with swagger enough to put Wickham to shame, intent on convincing Elizabeth of his generosity and condescension.

Instead, it had been the Gardiners who showed him the true meaning of genteel behaviour, apologising to him for the inconvenience of rumours which, by rights, they ought to be furious about, for it was their niece’s reputation in peril.

Darcy’s disquiet bloomed into panic, for Elizabeth’s displeasure suddenly seemed much more valid.

He thought of all the things she had said to him, which he had blithely disregarded.

‘It would help if you did not keep turning up in all the same places as me’.

‘You were supposed to pretend not to know me’.

‘Let us endure this as best we can, and we shall never have to see each other again’.

‘No amount of gossip could persuade me to marry a man who disdains everything and everyone I hold dear’.

He rubbed a hand over his mouth. It had simply never occurred to him that she meant it, though she had said it enough times in enough different ways.

Elizabeth did not want to marry him. She did not want anything to do with him.

As sure as the devil, she could not want to have been coerced into calling on his sister tomorrow—the very thought of which was now abhorrent to Darcy.

What had he been thinking, coming here? Would that the Thames could rise up and swallow the whole of the City and him with it!

In the absence of any such reprieve, there was nothing to be done but to sit quietly and wait for Elizabeth to finish her song so he could do as she wished and leave.