Chapter 22
WHERE EVERYONE KNOWS, BUT NOT EVERYONE IS HAPPY ABOUT IT.
“Covent Garden,” Mrs Gardiner remarked with pleasure. “That sounds wonderful, Mr Darcy. We would love to accompany you tomorrow evening.”
“I hope you will also join me in my home on Brook Street for supper at six o’clock. I am looking forward to returning your hospitality, Mrs Gardiner.”
There was an expression of real pleasure on Darcy’s face as he continued to speak animatedly with her aunt about the theatre; it made Elizabeth smile.
Darcy and Mrs Gardiner had grown close and seeing such happy evidence of their mutual regard warmed Elizabeth’s heart.
Mr Gardiner, too, had developed a genuine fondness for Darcy, a fondness that likely prompted him to think highly of Colonel Fitzwilliam as well.
The two gentlemen had settled themselves on the far side of the drawing room with Bingley and appeared to be engaged in a lively conversation about Netherfield’s fishing prospects.
Elizabeth turned towards Jane, seated beside her on her aunt’s settee, and her smile faltered.
From the moment Darcy had announced their engagement to Bingley at dinner, Jane had seemed out of sorts.
Elizabeth knew her sister had harboured ill feelings towards Darcy before she and Bingley married, but Jane had promised to do her best to put them behind her.
Until this evening, it appeared to Elizabeth that she had.
Elizabeth had no idea what to do to reconcile the situation, no idea how to improve her sister’s opinion of Darcy—or even how to encourage a conversation between them.
They were to be brother and sister, whether Jane liked it or not.
Having the two people Elizabeth loved most in the world at odds with each other was disheartening.
If only she could have a few minutes alone with Jane to talk, then perhaps Elizabeth could make her understand how deeply she cared for Darcy; there was little opportunity in her aunt’s home for privacy, especially since the gentlemen had been all too happy to forgo a separation after supper and remain with the ladies.
Jane emitted a long-suffering sigh.
Unable to maintain her silence, Elizabeth reached for her sister’s hand. “You seem out of spirits tonight.”
“I am by no means out of spirits. I am married to the most wonderful man in the world, and we are very happy. Indeed, I could not ask for a better husband than Charles.”
“I am inclined to agree with you. Mr Bingley positively dotes on you, and you deserve every ounce of his adoration and devotion. I am exceedingly glad to be able to call Mr Bingley my brother.”
Jane removed her hand from Elizabeth’s, smoothed an imaginary crease on her gown, and studied the carpet. “It appears I am to have a new brother as well. I am surprised to hear you have accepted Mr Darcy. I did not think you liked him.”
Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief. “You know that is not true. You know I have esteemed and admired him for many months now.”
Jane frowned. “Since you were at Pemberley. I always thought you would marry for love.”
“Jane, I am marrying for love. I love Mr Darcy with all my heart.”
“Perhaps you only think you love him. Perhaps you are mistaken.”
Elizabeth gaped at her, astounded that her dearest sister could entertain such a thought. “I am by no means mistaken in my regard. How can you say such a thing to me? How can you think I do not know my own heart?”
“I hardly know,” Jane muttered.
In her voice Elizabeth heard real regret. “Why are you so set against me marrying him? Why can you not be happy for me?”
“We ought not speak of this now. Forgive me.” She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand, offered her a tight smile as she rose from the settee, and crossed the room.
Bingley, Mr Gardiner, and Colonel Fitzwilliam stood as she approached and offered polite bows of acknowledgement.
With a gallant wave of his hand, Bingley offered her his chair.
She glanced once towards Elizabeth, then quickly away, and accepted it.
Elizabeth did not know whether she wanted to throttle her sister or dissolve into tears.
The cushioned seat of the settee dipped as Darcy joined her. “It appears your sister has abandoned you for her husband. I am sorry for your sake but gratified for my own.”
Elizabeth pushed her frustration with Jane aside. “How bold of you, Mr Darcy,” she teased, “to sit so close to me in front of all these people.”
“I would not call it bold, Miss Bennet, so much as resolute. These people are hardly strangers. Save for Colonel Fitzwilliam, they are dear members of your family. Soon they will be mine as well.”
“You appeared much at ease while conversing with my aunt. I daresay you are fond of her.”
“I am. I like the Gardiners very much. In a way, they remind me of my own parents. The genuine pleasure they receive from each other’s society is apparent.
It has been a long time since I have had the honour of knowing a husband and wife who enjoy a marriage born of real affection instead of suffering an arrangement of convenience. ”
“What of Colonel Fitzwilliam?” she asked. “He is so good-natured and attentive I cannot imagine his parents do not share a similar temperament. Lord and Lady Carlisle must be quite well matched.”
“Well matched indeed,” said Darcy. His voice contained a distinct note of dissatisfaction.
“I know of no two people more disenchanted with each other than Fitzwilliam’s parents.
While they share similar views regarding duty and breeding, they share little else, certainly not affection.
My uncle is…difficult.” Darcy huffed in annoyance.
“When I say he is ‘difficult’ I mean he is arrogant, prejudiced, and boorish.”
“Oh dear. I am sorry to hear that. I can imagine the earl is not an easy gentleman to please. He is Lady Catherine’s elder brother, is he not?”
“He is, but Lord Carlisle makes Lady Catherine appear quite demure in comparison.”
Elizabeth was surprised. Lady Catherine de Bourgh was not a woman whom Elizabeth would have described as demure.
There was nothing her ladyship liked better than to hear herself speak and to have her way in all things, including matters that did not concern her.
It was impossible to imagine any person making Darcy’s cacophonous aunt appear reticent or unassuming. “Do you get along with Lord Carlisle?”
“Not,” Darcy said, “without expending a great deal of effort on my part, and as of late, not at all.”
“Again, I am sorry.”
Darcy shook his head. “I am not.”
His voice had taken on an acerbic edge, and Elizabeth suddenly understood. “You informed him of our engagement.”
“I did,” Darcy admitted after a brief hesitation.
“I suppose he does not approve.”
“There is very little of which my uncle does approve. He would have me marry where there is no affection, no regard, so long as the lady has a large dowry, a title, and absolutely no proclivity for original thought or intelligent conversation. He does not know me, and what is more, he does not care to know me. He barely knows his own wife.”
Elizabeth could hardly credit what she had heard.
As mortifying as her family was at times, she could not imagine having a father or uncle who insisted she marry a shallow, simple-minded man rather than one who loved her and respected her and made her happy.
If that had been the case, she would either have been disowned or living in Hunsford, married to Mr Collins.
Until that moment she had given little thought to Darcy’s relations beyond their station and wealth.
Yes, she had met Lady Catherine, but Elizabeth had always believed her to be an anomaly of sorts, as eccentric as she was in her opinions and views of the world.
It saddened her to learn that Darcy not only appeared to be a stranger to his uncle but undervalued by him in all the ways that mattered.
“You are very quiet.” Darcy touched one finger gingerly to the back of her hand and lowered his voice.
“I fear it is my fault. I should never have mentioned my uncle’s disapprobation.
You must know I will never allow him to treat you with disrespect.
In fact, you need never even make his acquaintance. ”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I do not fear your uncle,” she replied, her voice laced with sadness.
“I was thinking of the value you place upon your family connexions. It must be hard to feel a sense of obligation to such a man. You lost your father at a young age and have carried a heavy weight of responsibility upon your shoulders ever since. From what you have said of him, I gather your father was an excellent man. Even Mr Wickham, as duplicitous as he is, had much to say of your father’s honour and goodness.
I cannot imagine losing the counsel, the friendship of such a beloved parent only to be thrust under the scrutiny of a dogmatic, critical man who understands so little of your nature.
It grieves me to know your uncle neither sees, nor appreciates the man you truly are. ”
Darcy stared at her, his expression one of unmitigated tenderness. “Elizabeth,” he murmured in a low voice. “You do not know how desperately I wish I could kiss you right now.”
Elizabeth smiled, ever so slightly. “We are by no means alone, so there is little chance of that happening. My uncle, exceptional man though he is, will not look upon such a lapse of propriety with an approving eye.”
“Perhaps he will be generous enough to allow you to see me to my carriage, then.”
“Are you leaving, Mr Darcy?” she enquired, raising her brow archly. “And without your cousin?”
Darcy laughed. “I am embarrassed to admit I have completely forgotten about him. No doubt it has something to do with your proximity. You have a way of making me forget myself.”
“So long as you do not forget me, sir. It would be most disloyal of you.”
His countenance grew serious, and he reached for her hand.