Chapter 10 #3
Aunt Gardiner laughed softly. “A good match for you, then,” she teased. “He is a bit stately, but his care for you is evident. Do you respect him as well as love him, my dear? For I know you, more than most, require both.”
“He is not perfect,” Elizabeth admitted. “But neither am I. He is everything good, and I do not believe I have ever met a better man. He is stately and stiff at times, but he is also clever and strong and kind.”
Aunt Gardiner sighed happily. “I never thought to see you besotted, Lizzy. It is enough for me. We must pack your trunk.”
“It will not require a great deal of time, Aunt,” Elizabeth said. “I have only a few gowns here, and Jane’s would not suit.” Her sister was several inches taller and her figure more fully formed.
Her aunt waved a hand in the air. “But mine will, at least until your handsome Mr. Darcy sends you to the modiste for your own.”
Elizabeth shook her head vigorously. “Oh no, Aunt Gardiner, I could not!”
Aunt Gardiner crossed her arms over her chest. “And why is that? You and I are nearly of a size. Do you think my dresses are not good enough for a countess? Your uncle’s fabrics grace all the shops in Mayfair as well as Cheapside.”
“You know very well that is not my complaint, Aunt,” Elizabeth said with a fond shake of her head. “I could not rob you of your gowns when you might have need of them!”
Aunt Gardiner lifted an eyebrow. “Do not be ridiculous, Lizzy. One thing I have in abundance is gowns made up of your uncle’s best fabrics.
I am a walking advertisement, he says, and therefore must always look smart.
” Her eyes shone. “My husband is not a romantic, but he has his own ways of spoiling me. Besides, you are only borrowing them, and you have nothing to wear on your wedding day. Oh!” she cried enthusiastically. “I have just the thing.”
Elizabeth’s eyes teared as she watched her normally composed aunt dart to her wardrobe and, with a flourish, remove the most stunning dress Elizabeth had ever seen.
It was made of ivory silk with a lace overlay for the skirt.
The lace was embroidered with a tiny geometric pattern in the same color as the satin.
The gown was complemented by a long robe of evening primrose crape that fastened below her breast. Large, colorful flowers were embroidered along the hem.
She reached out to touch it. “Oh, Aunt,” she said quietly.
“Would not uncle be offended were I to wear this when it is so obviously a special gift from him?”
Aunt Gardiner huffed. “If only it were, dear. This was meant to impress a potential investor and so it did. The fact that your uncle loved seeing me in it does not mean that he had any other inclination. He might even have complained about the cost were he not a little afraid of my response.”
Elizabeth laughed in disbelief. “He would not. He adores you, Aunt Gardiner.”
“Oh, well, I suppose that is true,” her aunt replied slyly.
“I might like him a little as well.” She rang for her maid.
“But you will take the dress and no excuses. I will not send you to be wed to a Darcy of Pemberley in a morning dress, and your uncle will be delighted that it is being worn for such an auspicious occasion. He does like to get his penny’s worth. ”
Darcy watched Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth remove from the study, their heads bent together as they whispered to one another. It pleased him to observe how much the Gardiners cared for her.
He was duly impressed by the behavior of Elizabeth’s family.
The story to which they had been subjected was fantastical, yet there had been no outraged protests, no interruptions, no weeping or calls for salts.
Although she had finally given way to tears today after a week of nearly constant strain, he saw hints of Elizabeth’s practiced composure in that of her relations.
Mr. Gardiner had questions. Many of them. After he had been satisfied as to the men’s treatment of Elizabeth, he finally asked, “What reason would these men have to trespass upon your home? I cannot fathom what they might hope to gain.”
“I am afraid we are not certain either,” Darcy admitted. “Elizabeth heard the man say that they recognized Anders, so they knew it was my carriage that had stopped. They did not follow us to town immediately, however.”
“Waiting for additional instructions, perhaps,” Mr. Gardiner replied.
“At first, they were waiting for some sign that Miss Elizabeth was not in the river. When she was not, I suspect they worked out that she was in my home,” Darcy said.
“But there would have been no sign of her. We concealed her presence even from most of the staff. Evidently, they could wait no longer.”
“They tipped the coal wagon as a diversion and stole inside,” Fitz mused.
Mr. Gardiner’s brows pinched together. “Do you think they created the diversion or simply took advantage of an accident?”
Darcy shook his head. “Does it matter? All it would require was a glance in the mews to realize two horses were gone, but they would not have known how long we would be gone. When they spied the wagon, they took their opportunity.”
“But why?” Mr. Gardiner asked, returning to his initial query. “This is all rather poorly planned. It is not as though they could carry Elizabeth away without being noticed.”
“They did just that at Longbourn,” Fitz reminded them.
Darcy felt his stomach turn to ice at the words, but he and Fitz felt the same—whoever had been hounding him and threatening Elizabeth had been biding their time and waiting for their chance.
He hated to think it, but had they been better organized, better prepared, he and Fitz may never have had a chance to get their feet under them.
“We dismissed Howard when we discussed him, but Bingley says he owes the man money and Miss Bingley says he was invited to the ball. I also believe that Wickham knows more than he told us.”
“By the by,” Mr. Gardiner asked curiously, “how did Mr. Wickham recognize Mr. Darcy’s button? Or was that another prevarication on his part?”
Darcy shrugged. “They originally belonged to my grandfather. My father used them on his own jackets. Wickham would have seen them any number of times over the years.”
“You are not bothered that one was taken?” Elizabeth’s uncle asked.
“They are not sentimental items, Mr. Gardiner,” Darcy informed him. “They are only buttons.”
Fitz sat back in his chair. “We know the substance of Wickham’s grievance. Perhaps we should hear the details of your quarrel with Howard, Darce. There must be some reason for all of this and if he is the man, he could easily hire others to do the job.”
Darcy nodded. “It was about nine months ago, I think. Before my annual visit to Rosings.” He turned to Mr. Gardiner.
“Howard approached me at the club, and he asked that I attend him the following day. When I did, he was not prepared to take no for an answer.”
Mr. Gardiner frowned. “I do not understand.”
Darcy grimaced. “He had a younger sister who needed to be married rather quickly.”
“Ah,” Mr. Gardiner replied, and settled into his chair. “Proceed.”
Fitz grinned at the nonchalant command, and Darcy frowned at him. “I politely declined.”
“Exact words, Darcy?” Fitz prompted.
He thought back to the conversation which had shocked him so completely.
“I believe I said something like, ‘I am sorry for your predicament, but your sister is your concern. I have my own to consider and no inclination to marry at present.’” He frowned.
“Howard would not relent, and eventually, I said that there were certain expectations for any Mrs. Darcy that his sister obviously could not meet.”
Mr. Gardiner tipped his head slightly to one side.
Fitz winced. “That is what you said?”
Darcy nodded.
“And I presume,” Fitz continued, “that was just the way you said it?”
“Why?” Darcy asked, confused. “What have I said that was untrue?”
“Sometimes,” Mr. Gardiner responded drily, “how you say a thing is just as important as what you say.“ He shared a glance with Fitz. “However, in this case, you may have failed on both counts. Insulting both Mr. Howard and his sister might not have been the wisest course.”
“Precisely,” Fitz concurred.
“It was the truth,” Darcy insisted. Fitz and Mr. Gardiner were being obtuse, the pair of them.
It had been an affront, and Howard had not been put off by his initial refusal.
Darcy did not see any profit in disguise.
Was he to make a fool of them both by pretending he was amenable to such a request?
That he would welcome a connection to Howard no matter how it was obtained?
Howard was a man of honor—he should have understood Darcy’s refusal and not pressed him.
Indeed, the question ought never have been asked.
No, the situation had required clarity, and he had provided it.
It had been a terrible interview, Howard sitting behind a large mahogany desk in an overly decorated study, Darcy seated before it. Darcy had refused, and then, as he was leaving, he had tried to be compassionate, saying something about them both having sisters for whom they stood guardian . . .
“Oh.” He lifted his face to meet Fitz’s curious gaze. “Oh, good God. Ramsgate . . .”
“What are you saying, Darcy?” Fitz asked sharply.
“I did not mention Ramsgate, I am certain of that, but his sister and mine were part of a group of girls who are preparing together for their come-outs. Miss Howard might easily have known of Georgiana’s travel plans.
” He rubbed the back of his head. “Mrs. Younge’s loyalty was easily purchased, and Wickham was in Ramsgate before he appeared in Meryton.
We believed Ramsgate was Wickham’s plan, but when has he ever planned anything?
He seeks opportunity, but he does not create it.
“ He dropped his head into his hands. “It is too great a coincidence.”
Fitz’s voice was cold. “You believe Mrs. Younge and Wickham were in Howard’s employ.”
“I believe it is possible. Mrs. Younge attended those gatherings, so she would know of Miss Howard. And as it appears she already knew Wickham, she might easily have introduced him to Howard. Wretched woman.”
Fitz crossed his arms over his chest. “Then it is revenge. A sister for a sister?”
Darcy had not thought of it in quite so stark a manner, but it made a twisted sort of sense. He nodded. “Yet to ruin Georgiana over a perceived slight—I cannot reconcile that with the man I believed him to be.”
“Whatever has happened, Lizzy has been caught up in it.” Mr. Gardiner’s stare was not cold, but it was steady. “I do not wish to pry, Mr. Darcy, but as it has placed my niece in danger, I must know what happened in Ramsgate. Did Mr. Wickham plan to ruin your sister?”
There was a knock at the door, but it opened without pause. “Do excuse us, Mr. Gardiner,” his wife said. “Elizabeth and I are ready to depart. Might you continue your conversation on the way?”
Darcy noted Elizabeth had changed her clothing and done something with her hair that was quite becoming.
With chagrin, he realized that in their rush to leave Darcy House, she had not been able to exchange the damaged gown she had been wearing all day for another.
He had made quick work of discarding the uniform Fitz had provided, but Mrs. Spencer was not available to help Elizabeth.
His intended always appeared lovely to him, but of course she would not feel confident arriving at Matlock House in a wrinkled gown and a repaired pelisse.
Yet she had uttered no protest, only asked to travel here first.
“Ah,” Mr. Gardiner said approvingly. “The sarsenet. It does make up rather well, does it not, Lizzy?”
“Are you fishing for compliments, Uncle?” Elizabeth asked pertly.
“It is the only fishing I can do in London,“ Mr. Gardiner replied with good humor. He moved towards the door. “Gentlemen, I believe we have been given our marching orders.”