Chapter 18 #2
Mrs Bennet, likely hearing the ruckus her youngest daughter had made, chose that moment to join them. “What in the world was all that commotion about?” she demanded, looking to each of her daughters for an explanation. “Where is your Uncle Gardiner? And where is my dear Lydia?”
While Bingley answered her to the best of his ability, Elizabeth looked to Darcy. That she was disconcerted as well as embarrassed was evident. She opened her mouth to speak, appeared to think better of it, and started towards him instead.
After being accosted by Mrs Wickham only moments before, Darcy was in no mood for Elizabeth to make demands of him.
Informing her that he had acted on her family’s behalf and paid Wickham an exorbitant price to marry her foolish chit of a sister was out of the question.
He shook his head minutely and hardened his gaze, silently warning her to stay away.
He could tell at once, by the flash of disappointment that appeared upon her countenance and in the expression of her eyes, that Elizabeth had not expected him to look upon her so harshly. Her eyes held his, her gaze lengthy and searching, before she quit the room.
The acuteness of her disappointment distressed him, but Darcy could not follow her, not when she would surely demand answers from him that he was by no means willing to reveal to her, especially in her father’s house.
“I do not understand,” said Mrs Bennet. “Why would my dear Lydia want to go away again so soon? She has only just arrived!”
Exasperated, Bingley looked to Jane, who shifted the youngest Gardiner upon her hip. “They are husband and wife, Mamma,” Jane reminded her. “Surely, you must agree a woman’s place is with her husband.”
Mrs Bennet threw her hands into the air. “Mr Bennet!” she shrieked. “Oh, Mr Bennet! Come quickly! You must make Lydia stay at home for the next fortnight at least, for she is determined to go to town with Mr Wickham!”
Darcy turned on his heel and strode from the room, through the foyer, and out the front door. He did not stop at his carriage but continued up the drive and onward towards the pale that marked it.
It was there that Mr Gardiner found him ten minutes later, solemnly pacing the width of the drive. “Mr Darcy,” he said, “I am grieved by Lydia’s abhorrent behaviour towards you. Please allow me to apologise on behalf of my wife and myself.”
“You are not responsible for Mrs Wickham. As ever, she appears to have no qualms about speaking for herself. You and Mrs Gardiner owe me no apology.”
Mr Gardiner’s expression darkened. “You are benevolent, sir. Constantly, my wife and I lectured Lydia on the necessity of maintaining strict secrecy regarding your involvement in her marriage last summer! Not ten minutes ago we repeated the urgency of keeping her mouth firmly shut on the subject but believe she cannot be trusted to remain silent, especially when she is denied her way. The last thing we want is to indulge her, but fear if left at Longbourn while her husband goes to London, she will reveal all. We have therefore proposed to take them both to town but will pay them no courtesy or acknowledgement beyond that gesture.”
“That is generous of you, Mr Gardiner, but you are already five in total. Travelling with two more will surely be a burden. Though I cannot—will not—offer the Wickhams passage to town, I would like to be of assistance to you and Mrs Gardiner. Please allow me to see her and the children safely to Gracechurch Street.”
“That is kind of you, sir, but Madeleine and I think it best if we both travel with the Wickhams. Perhaps you might consider conveying Elizabeth and our two eldest instead. Robert and Emily would view it as an adventure, and their accompanying you and Elizabeth would be looked upon as entirely proper by her father, I am sure.” Mr Gardiner looked meaningfully at Darcy and extended his hand.
“Elizabeth informed us of your engagement. I believe congratulations are in order, Mr Darcy. Madeleine and I were hoping, praying for you to find your way to each other. We are sincerely happy for you both.”
“I thank you,” Darcy replied warmly as he shook hands with Elizabeth’s uncle. “She did not want the occasion of Mrs Bingley’s marriage to be eclipsed by news of our own engagement, and so we are waiting to make our announcement to the rest of her family. Mr Bennet has given his consent.”
Mr Gardiner regarded Darcy thoughtfully.
“I hope you will not wait long to announce your intent to marry. An engagement is a time of great joy and discovery for a young couple, especially if they are fortunate enough to love each other. If I may offer you a few words of advice—do not allow anyone to dictate your course with Elizabeth, not even Elizabeth, else you will find yourself ever yielding for the sake of others’ enjoyment and rarely satisfied yourself. ”
There was truth in Mr Gardiner’s words, and it occurred to Darcy that much of his life had been spent doing exactly that: denying or delaying his own wishes and desires to spare his loved ones the pain of having disappointed theirs.
His father, Lady Catherine, Anne, Lord and Lady Carlisle, Georgiana, Fitzwilliam—even Elizabeth.
He recalled each sacrifice he had made to either ensure their pleasure or ease their pain with startling clarity.
Bowing his head, Darcy adjusted his gloves.
His mouth twisted ruefully. “I fear I have grown used to it.”
“And that is precisely why you should think of your own felicity now. You are engaged to be married. It has been a very long and difficult road. Do not add to the distance you have travelled to reach this juncture but forge a new path full of promise and joy. You owe yourself that much, and what is more, you deserve it.” Mr Gardiner laid a firm hand upon Darcy’s shoulder, inclined his head, and made to leave.
“She does not know,” Darcy uttered softly.
Mr Gardiner paused and regarded him with a quizzical expression. “I beg your pardon. Who does not know of what, sir?”
“Elizabeth.” Darcy exhaled harshly, rubbing his mouth with his gloved hand.
“She knows nothing of my involvement in bringing about her sister’s marriage.
We were not engaged then. No understanding existed between us.
I acted without her approbation, without her knowledge, without having any claim upon her whatsoever.
“I had no right to offer the assistance I did, never mind provide it. I knew you and Mrs Gardiner suspected my attachment to your niece, but that was all it was at the time. Not an engagement, not an understanding, but an attachment felt so deeply, so sincerely that I could not bear to sit idly by and do nothing, not when I had the means to prevent Elizabeth’s suffering.
I acted with the sole purpose of bringing her relief, and in doing so I deceived you. ”
“The only person you have really deceived, Mr Darcy, is yourself.” He laid his hand upon Darcy’s shoulder.
“Come, sir, or we will surely find ourselves stuck in Hertfordshire for the remainder of the week. Talk to my niece. You are to be married, after all, and it will not do to begin your life together with secrets and misunderstandings between you.”
It was slow going upon the London road. After stopping at a posting inn to water the horses and partake of a light repast, the four carriages with their fifteen occupants were once again on their way to town, albeit at a more cautious pace than had previously been assumed.
Elizabeth directed her cousins’ attention to the thick, white flakes of snow falling steadily outside the window of Darcy’s coach.
“They are lovely, Cousin Lizzy,” Emily cried with pleasure, pressing her nose to the glass. “They look like Mamma’s lace doilies, only much smaller. I wish I could catch one and keep it in my box of treasures.”
“And what would you do with it?” Elizabeth asked.
Emily grinned. “I would take it out in the summer when it is very disagreeable and hot, and it would feel cool in my hands.”
“Would it not melt?” Darcy enquired from the seat opposite, where he sat beside Robert.
“No, Mr Darcy,” Emily said patiently, “for my snowflake would be made of magic.”
Darcy raised his brow. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” she insisted.
Robert rolled his eyes. “There is no such thing as magic, Emily. I am sure Mr Darcy must be laughing at you.”
“Much the contrary, Miss Gardiner, I assure you,” Darcy insisted. “Is not the very idea of magic the foundation of dreams?”
Upon hearing Darcy’s pronouncement, Emily’s eyes sparkled with delight.
Robert, as sceptical as ever, frowned. “There cannot be magic snow, for it does not exist. It is not logical.”
“Must you always be logical, Robert?” Emily asked irritably.
Robert shrugged his shoulders. “It is far better to be logical than illogical.”
“That is your opinion,” Emily said with a huff. “I believe being logical all the time must be incredibly boring. Do you not agree, Mr Darcy, that being forever logical must be incredibly dull?”
Darcy appeared not to know how to answer such a question from such a quarter. He looked to Elizabeth with an expression of helplessness, but his intended only pursed her lips, attempting to conceal her amusement.
He started to speak, then stopped and shook his head.
Elizabeth, seeing the depth of his struggle, took pity on him. “You enjoy arithmetic, do you not, Emily?”
“Of course,” Emily replied. “It is my favourite subject besides reading.”
“Well, the subject of arithmetic is very logical, would you not agree? There are many different methods one may employ when solving an equation, but there is only one correct answer. It is nothing if not logical.”
Emily pondered that for a moment, then grinned. “You are terribly clever, Cousin Lizzy. You must know everything there is to know in the world.”
“Believe me when I say I do not. In fact,” Elizabeth said, looking meaningfully at Darcy, “there is much I have yet to learn.”
Darcy held her steady gaze briefly before turning his attention to Robert and enquiring whether he also enjoyed arithmetic.
Though he appeared composed, the way he pointedly avoided looking at Elizabeth gave her the distinct impression he felt anything but easy.
Though they could not speak unreservedly in front of her young cousins, Elizabeth was hopeful her uncle would allow them to speak privately once they reached Gracechurch Street.
There was much she wished to ask regarding Lydia’s behaviour that morning.
It was likely her aunt would invite Darcy to stay for supper in any case, and Elizabeth determined she would do all in her power to persuade him to accept.