2. A Polite Dinner
As requested, Darcy appeared at Gracechurch Street at the designated hour. He was feeling uncomfortable and somewhat put out with the fact that Mr Gardiner was perhaps not quite as generous as he liked to pretend. It seemed the man was simply extracting his price in a different currency.
There was little doubt that being able to claim a connexion with the Darcys of Pemberley would do his nieces some good in whatever local society they occupied, even in the nearly inevitable scenario where he never saw them again. His good friend Bingley’s sisters had been trading on such a thin acquaintance for years, and there was no reason to believe the nieces of a tradesman in Cheapside would be any less ambitious.
The assertion that one niece was becoming too cynical sounded like every other excuse any gentleman had used to throw daughters, sisters, nieces (and even occasionally wives) in his path. Enduring it was just his penance for being born a Darcy, and he girded his loins to endure a tedious dinner just like every other tedious dinner in the company of marriageable women he had endured as far back as he could remember. The best he could think of the evening ahead was that almost anything, up to and including transportation, would be an improvement over another evening in the company of his sister, who was not taking her rescue at all well.
As was his wont, Darcy felt the need to bring someone more comfortable among strangers to help ease the burden. He always wondered why some men were so much easier in company than others. His Fitzwilliam cousins generally asserted he just did not take the trouble to practise, while his father suggested that it was not all that surprising to find a man awkward in company exactly like his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had been.
With his need for someone to ease the conversation and watch his back, he had at first tried his friend Bingley. He was the sort of man who could be dropped on his head anywhere from central London to an African village, and he would have a dozen friends before the evening was up. He could charm the birds from the trees or the fish from the streams—though his success at charming his sister into good behaviour was somewhat suspect. Unfortunately, his friend was toying with the idea of leasing an estate to ease his way into land ownership, and he was thus engaged in looking at several properties in Kent (maybe—with his friend’s writing, it could just as well be Kashmir).
Darcy fell back on his cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. The man shared guardianship of Georgiana, but he spent most of his time in his military duties, so his impact on his young cousin was minimal. The colonel had been organising training in the north for the past month, so he was not yet acquainted with what happened in Ramsgate. Darcy planned to bring it up the next day, after they dispatched the tradesman and his nieces. It was obviously not something to be committed to paper, nor a subject that could be adequately discussed in an hour.
Unfortunately, the colonel’s arrival was delayed such that they only managed to meet at the last moment in the lane outside the Gardiner residence on Gracechurch Street.
The colonel stepped down from his horse, handed it off to a groom, and gave his typical greeting.
“Darcy, good to see you. Care to explain the urgency, and why exactly we are meeting in Cheapside of all places when the brandy is almost certainly better in your study?”
“No doubt true, but needs must,” Darcy replied laconically. “We have good reason to be here.”
“Might you enlighten me? Cheapside is close to the last place in the world I would expect to encounter the Master of Pemberley.”
“True… too true. I will explain in detail later. For the moment, you must comprehend that the owner of this home did both of us a rather large favour. In recompense, he asked me to bring another gentleman and spend a polite evening in company with his nieces—whom I assume are marriageable, as usual. He gave the rather weak excuse that one of them is getting too cynical for his taste, and he wants to show her polite conversation with refined gentlemen, but—”
“But you have doubts?”
“Of course I do,” Darcy averred, looking around carefully to ensure they were alone. “We have both been through this experience far too many times to count, so I hardly think a bit of scepticism to be unwarranted. We are probably to spend an uncomfortable evening among some insipid so-called ladies, who depend on their uncle to bring men to the table. To be candid, I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men . However, the debt is owed, and I shall do my duty.”
The colonel was not surprised by the outburst, and while not exactly pleased with it, he was at least understanding. “Sounds to me like you are being overly fastidious. For all you know, the future Mrs Darcy is standing in the drawing room as we speak, just waiting to meet you—presuming a tradesman has a drawing room. At the very least, nothing guarantees they will not be entirely charming.”
Darcy laughed awkwardly. “You sound like Bingley. I would happily bet a year’s income the future Mrs Darcy will not be some niece of a Cheapside tradesman. We owe an evening of politeness, so let us gird our loins to get through it. Pretend they are Lady Catherine and Anne.”
“ Good lord, you are in a mood! I hope you can wipe that sour expression from your face before we enter. I presume the uncle asked for amiable company—though why he picked you for the task is quite beyond me.”
“Had you endured my last fortnight, you would be in a mood too, but I can be as polite as the next man when the situation calls for it. Let us just get our penance over and done with.”
They turned and walked the twenty yards to the front door and banged the knocker.
There was a delay of several minutes, which both men assumed meant a lack of servants. Neither had any idea if a home in Cheapside would even have a butler or the door was simply handled by the nearest maid. It was not the sort of knowledge the son or nephew of an earl was likely to possess.
At long last, the door opened, and much to Darcy’s surprise, he found himself facing the master of the house. The man’s face was entirely inscrutable, though it was the type of inscrutability with a hard edge to it.
Darcy introduced everyone in the usual way, though doing so with both men still standing on the porch did not seem quite right. If Mr Gardiner wanted polite company, the least he could do was invite them in.
Gardiner spoke calmly, though Darcy got the idea that he spoke that way regardless of the situation, since he did not appear to be a man easily rattled. He had not batted an eye about pressing Wickham into the navy, after all.
“Gentlemen, I apologise for the late notice, but due to unforeseen circumstances, I shall need to cancel tonight’s dinner. You need not trouble yourselves to return. Your favour, such as it was, shall be considered paid.”
Darcy was stunned, while the colonel was simply confused.
“I do not understand,” the colonel opined, while Darcy struggled for something sensible to say, or in lieu of that, anything at all.
Gardiner continued, “Mr Darcy was attending as a personal favour, but it is no longer required.”
“Might you explain why, sir,” Darcy asked in confusion. “If there is a problem, we would happily return at a more auspicious time.”
Gardiner stared in an unnerving fashion, though Darcy was beginning to get a sinking feeling of dread.
“I admit, it is a rather unusual situation. Ten minutes ago, my nieces were dressed to the nines, looking pretty, and prepared to hunt bear with a penknife. They were sitting by the front window enjoying the evening breeze, happy as a pair of larks. Two minutes ago, they abruptly became… ah… indisposed… and said they could not possibly attend dinner, blaming their absence on some vague female problems that were obviously beyond my understanding. Why they were also beyond my wife’s understanding is beyond me, but there you have it. No dinner tonight, and I would not dream of dragging such fine gentlemen as yourselves such a distance a second time.”
Darcy groaned quietly, while the colonel laughed a bit. “Ah, hoisted by your own petard, eh Darcy?”
“I do not get your meaning,” Gardiner replied.
Darcy suspected he knew his meaning precisely and in detail and was just twisting the knife. “I suspect your nieces overheard some comments I made to my cousin. It was a private conversation, but if overheard, I doubt the discourse would be well received.”
“Private conversation, eh?” Gardiner asked pointedly. “By private , I assume you were in your carriage, or your home, or in some other sealed room, or the deep woods. You would not , for example, carry on a private conversation on a public street twenty yards from a house holding a lady with exceptional hearing!”
Darcy looked completely chagrined. He had not been called to task for quite some time, and truth be told, he was not enjoying the experience—though to be fair, he doubted the niece enjoyed his conversation very much either.
“I am at fault for the situation, sir. I spoke out of turn, and not in a gentlemanlike manner. I was entirely in the wrong. I owe your nieces an apology at the very least. Do you suppose you might arrange for me to apologise at their convenience?”
Gardiner stared at him disconcertingly for quite some time. Darcy knew it was a tactic to make him nervous and did not much like comprehending that the man had a look that was every bit as effective as Eaton’s headmaster.
“When you mature, Mr Darcy, if you do , you will eventually realise that not everything can be solved with an apology. Shipbuilders have an old joke about how tight to make a bolt. ‘Tighten it ‘til it breaks than back off half a turn.’ That is how many men live their lives. Behave poorly until they are called to account, then slightly correct with an apology.”
Gardiner paused to ensure their rapt attention.
“In my line of work, many many actions have consequences that are life-altering and irreversible. Most men think a pretty apology will get them out of their self-inflicted wounds. Society has placed us in a position of power and authority to the point where we expect others to accept our weak excuses for our poor behaviour— particularly the women in our lives. Unfortunately, such easy forgiveness does nothing to improve our characters, so most continue giving offence all our lives, since any mistakes seem to be easily correctable.”
He stared hard at Darcy in particular. “My nieces have too much self-respect to accept a pretence of contrition.”
“It is not pretence!” Darcy stated emphatically.
“Unless you can convince me that whatever you said somehow came out of your mouth different than it appeared in your head, then I beg to differ.”
The colonel had been watching the exchange with a great deal of amusement, and decided to weigh in.
“He has you there, cousin. In my line of work, you cannot undo a bullet or bayonet—regardless of how you subsequently feel about the appropriateness of the shot. Some bells cannot be unrung, and some words cannot be unsaid.”
Darcy sighed. “I agree in the basic premise, but it allows very little room for self-correction or growth if one cannot make amends.”
Gardiner chuckled. “I doubt very much that your thinking process will be dramatically different a month hence based on whether or not you apologise to my nieces. If you wish to behave in a more gentleman like manner, buck up and take responsibility for your own attitudes. Try to change what happens inside your head rather than belatedly trying to fix the damage when it escapes. You missed this chance to do better, but the next opportunity will not be long in coming. If you wish to make amends, I suggest you do so pre-emptively with the next young lady you are planning to disparage. If you find young ladies too much of a challenge, practise on your servants, or tradesmen, or relatives, or street urchins. Kindness is not as complicated as you seem to think.”
The colonel twisted the knife. “I admit I am not the best example to follow, but you could certainly pick a better muse than Lady Catherine.”
Darcy did not like that assertion in the least, but it seemed the die was cast so he would have to take his lumps. He wondered if he would return hat in hand to Cheapside a month hence, and if he would be sent packing a second time. He supposed time would tell, but there seemed little to be done immediately.
“I accept your censure, Mr Gardiner. It is well-earned. Do you suppose I might be able to make amends later?”
Gardiner gave him the same disconcerting stare long enough to make him fidget again. “In addition to being cynical, as I previously mentioned, my niece is rather stubborn. For the most part, her good opinion, once lost is lost forever. I suggest you return to your own affairs, which probably require your attention. She was fine an hour ago, and she will be fine an hour hence.”
“How can I make amends?”
“As I said, there is no need. Her temper is not entirely implacable, and she was not made for ill humour. She will have entirely forgotten you within the week, if not the hour.”
“All the same, I should like to try, if I am allowed. I owe her.”
Gardiner stared a bit more, and finally said, “Have you a shilling on you?”
In great confusion, Darcy reached into his vest to extract one and handed it over.
Gardiner took the coin with a smug look.
“I actually have two nieces with me—a sweet one and a cynical one. Fortunately, the sweet one did not hear anything, and the cynical one will not enlighten her. That niece bet me no first-circle gentleman could speak politely for the space of a dinner in Cheapside with an eligible lady. I do not like to lose, so I stacked the deck by bringing a man who might be more amenable, out of obligation if nothing else. As it turns out, she wins. This will cover the bet, and I believe we may consider our transaction complete. You need not trouble yourself further. I wish you a good evening, gentlemen.”
With that, Gardiner retreated to the house after a rather hasty leave taking, abandoning two discomfited men who had no choice but to return home and get on with serious discussion (and serious drinking).
~~~~~
The rest of the evening was consumed with the rather disagreeable tasks of telling his cousin how he came to know Mr Gardiner, and just how close their ward came to absolute ruin.
Once that subject had been beaten to death, including the obligatory fantasies of how they might have dispatched the villain personally had they caught him (despite the fact that either man could have dealt with him at their leisure any time in the previous decade), they moved on to how the intervening fortnight between Mr Gardiner’s gallant rescue and the disastrous dinner invitation.
That period had been a nightmare of reconciliation, conciliation, and contradiction between brother and sister. The young girl could not settle on whether she was distraught because she had lost the love of her life, and her brother just could not understand because he had no heart; or distraught because she had been so stupid and worthless as to ignore all of her training and education sufficiently to throw her life away on a mere steward’s boy (and a scoundrel to boot). She was in love with the charming rogue one minute and hoping him to the devil the next. She was at times perfectly aware that she was feeling two contradictory sources of distress simultaneously; and at other times she went through both sequentially. She vacillated between despondency and burning anger.
When she got tired of vilifying her own feelings and felt up to some good old-fashioned blame, she vacillated between chastising herself for her own stupidity and naiveté; and chastising her brother for failing to warn her about rogues, cads, and scoundrels—and, not to put too fine a point on it— hiring the worst companion in the history of companions. Truthfully, Darcy preferred the latter but received more of the former.
Darcy had his own contradictory thoughts as well. He vacillated between chastising himself over his own failure to properly vet Mrs Younge, his failure to properly warn his sister about how to be careful—and, not to put too fine a point on it—his utter failure to bring George Wickham to heel years earlier, leaving the job up to some tradesman who had never once laid eyes on the man.
After a certain amount of brandy, he even lamented his father for the spectacular lapse of judgement in leaving his daughter in the hands of two bachelors, a situation not much better than being raised by wolves. He even occasionally lamented his father’s complete inability to see the evil in his godson.
Mrs Annesley was just the sort of woman who seemed like she should be able to sort the matter out, given enough time. Darcy had her investigated more thoroughly than he ever had Mrs Younge and offered the position. He ruefully thought he could have saved himself a good deal of trouble by simply engaging Mr Gardiner to choose a companion in the first place, since that was his particular area of expertise.
The fortnight had eventually passed, but when it finally came time to sober up and pay his debt to Mr Gardiner, he managed to stuff that up spectacularly.
On the positive side, the cousins did manage to definitively prove they could drink expensive brandy and become maudlin with the best of them. Their valet and batman were less impressed.
The next month offered up more of the same, and Mrs Annesley finally told him he needed to leave his sister to her care for a bit, as his hovering was not helping matters.
As it turned out, Bingley had finally settled on an estate to lease, in Hertfordshire or Herefordshire, or at least somewhere in England that had at least an even chance of starting with ‘h.’
By Michaelmas, Darcy had resolved the communication difficulties and, was ready to help his friend learn to be a gentleman in the wilds of Hertfordshire.
Darcy occasionally had twinges of conscience after the incident in Cheapside about whether he was the best example of a gentleman, but he could at least teach his friend how to run an estate.