Chapter Four Invading Cheapside #2
The silence that followed this announcement was profound.
Mr Darcy stared at her. "Lambton? You are the daughter of Mr Nash?"
"I am," she nodded. "Did you know him?"
"I..." Mr Darcy seemed to be undergoing a rapid internal restructuring of his entire worldview. "My father spoke of him. He handled some affairs for the estate. He was highly respected."
"And I remember the late Lady Anne," Mrs Gardiner continued, her eyes soft. "She was a great lady. She once gave me a ribbon from her bonnet when I fell and scraped my knee at the church fete. I was five years old."
Miss Darcy let out a small gasp. "You knew our mother?"
"Briefly. But one does not forget kindness."
Elizabeth watched Mr Darcy. The mask of haughty indifference was cracking. He was looking at Mrs Gardiner not as a woman of trade, not as an embarrassing connection, but as a link to his own home, his own past. The tension in his shoulders dropped an inch.
"I had no idea," he murmured. "Miss Elizabeth never mentioned..."
"We did not have much opportunity to discuss family history in Hertfordshire," Elizabeth said coolly. "We were too busy discussing the defects of poetry and the fine art of holding grudges."
"Touché," the Colonel whispered to her. "You really are fearsome. I like it."
The Viscount, who had been listening with half an ear while admiring Jane's profile, chimed in.
"There you have it, Fitzwilliam. Mrs Gardiner is practically family.
She is a Derbyshire lass. That makes this visit entirely sanctioned by the ghost of ancestors past. Now, Miss Bennet, tell me, do you like the theatre?
I have a box at Drury Lane that is criminally underused. "
Elizabeth's eyes darted to him. He is trying to court her, she realized with a jolt. He is trying to step into Bingley's shoes before the spot is even cold.
And looking at Mr Darcy—who was still staring at Mrs Gardiner with a look of stunned respect—she wondered if he knew. Or if he was simply too busy trying to survive the morning to notice that his cousin was stealing his friend's intended.
The door opened again, and this time, Elizabeth braced herself.
"My husband," Mrs Gardiner announced as Edward Gardiner entered the room, and went on with the introductions.
If Mr Darcy had been expecting a rough-handed merchant in a dirty apron, he was disappointed. Mr Edward Gardiner was a gentleman in every way that mattered. He was well-dressed, well-spoken, and possessed a quiet dignity that commanded respect.
"Mr Gardiner," Darcy bowed.
"Mr Darcy," Mr Gardiner replied, bowing. "Lord Keathley. Colonel. This is an honour. My housekeeper told me we had visitors, though she failed to mention we were hosting half the peerage."
"We travel in a herd, sir," the Viscount said, shaking Mr Gardiner's hand firmly. "It confuses predators."
"And who are the predators in this scenario, my Lord?" Mr Gardiner asked, with a twinkle in his eye.
"Usually, mothers with unmarried daughters," the Colonel laughed. "But in this case, we are the invaders. We came to apologize for placing a rigid Viscount directly in Miss Bennet's path, causing the collision yesterday."
"I was hardly rigid," the Viscount in question protested, though he was smiling at Jane. "I was merely stationary. And I have never been more grateful for my lack of momentum."
"I see." Mr Gardiner looked at Mr Darcy. "And you, sir? Are you also here to apologize for trampling?"
Elizabeth held her breath. This was it. The moment Mr Darcy would sneer. The moment he would make some comment about the warehouse next door or the smell of commerce.
Mr Darcy looked at Mr Gardiner and Mrs Gardiner, the woman who had known his mother. Then, his gaze landed on Elizabeth, who was watching him with a mixture of defiance and expectation.
"I am here," he said slowly, "to renew an acquaintance that I regret neglecting in Hertfordshire. And to pay my respects to the family of..." He glanced at Elizabeth, then away. "To the family."
It wasn't a grovel. But for Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy of ten thousand a year, standing in a Cheapside drawing room, it was practically an ode of humility.
Elizabeth felt a strange sensation in her chest. It was annoying. She preferred it when he was villainous. Complex Darcy was much harder to hate.
She turned to his sister, who was looking overwhelmed.
"Miss Darcy," Elizabeth said gently, moving to sit beside her. "I recall Miss Bingley mentioning you are very musical. Do you play?"
Miss Darcy's face lit up. "Oh, yes! I love the pianoforte. But I am shy of playing for strangers."
"Then you must play for us," Elizabeth said. "We are not strangers. We are merely noisy neighbours."
"She plays beautifully," Mr Darcy said, his voice soft. He was looking at his sister with such open affection that Elizabeth felt another crack in her armour. "Far better than I deserve."
"William is too kind," the girl blushed. "But... I would like to hear you play, Miss Elizabeth. William says you play with great feeling."
"He means I play poorly but loudly," Elizabeth laughed.
"I did not say that," he protested, and for the first time, he looked directly at her. His eyes were dark, intense, and filled with a significant amount of hope. "I said you play with spirit. And that I derived great pleasure from listening to you, that one time you entertained us at Netherfield."
The air in the room suddenly felt very thin.
"Careful, Darcy," Richard murmured. "You are bordering on a compliment. You might hurt yourself."
The visit lasted exactly the appropriate time, though if Lord Keathley had his way, he would have moved in and ordered lunch.
"We must depart," the Colonel announced, checking his pocket watch. "I have a meeting at the Horse Guards, and Robert has to go look in a mirror for an hour."
"Slander," the Viscount said, standing up reluctantly. He bowed over Jane's hand, holding it a fraction too long. "Miss Bennet. It has been illuminating. I hope I may call again? Perhaps to discuss the theatre?"
"I should like that, my Lord," Jane said softly.
Elizabeth looked at her sister. Jane was smiling. A real smile. It wasn't the dazzling look she had given Bingley, but it was promising.
"And you, Miss Elizabeth," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, taking her hand. "You must help me torment my cousin. I feel we would make an excellent team."
"I am always at your disposal for such noble pursuits, Colonel," Elizabeth grinned.
Finally, it was Darcy's turn. He stood before Elizabeth, looking large and awkward and devastatingly handsome in the morning light.
"Miss Elizabeth," he said.
"Mr Darcy."
"I..." He struggled. He looked at Mrs Gardiner, then back at Elizabeth. "I am glad to have found you well."
"And I you, sir."
"Perhaps," Miss Darcy spoke up, her voice trembling slightly but determined. "Perhaps you might all come to tea? Tomorrow? At Darcy House? Please? I have no friends in London beyond my family, and..." She looked at Elizabeth with pleading eyes.
It was a blatant manipulation. It was clearly orchestrated by the men, who were all looking at Georgiana with expressions of encouragement.
And Elizabeth Bennet, who could stand up to any haughty aristocrat, found she could not say no to a lonely sixteen-year-old girl.
"We would be delighted, Miss Darcy," Elizabeth said.
"Truly?" Mr Darcy asked, the word escaping him before he could stop it.
"Truly," Elizabeth said, her eyes meeting his. "If only to see if your tea service is as grand as your manner."
He actually cracked a smile. It was small, crooked, and transformed his entire face.
"It is grander," he promised. "And I shall endeavour to be less so, only to prove my point."
Mr Gardiner escorted them out, and they were gone. As the door closed behind them, leaving the Gardiner drawing room suddenly quiet, Mrs Gardiner picked up her embroidery.
"Well," she said casually. "The Viscount is in love with Jane. The Colonel is in love with your wit. And Mr Darcy..."
"Is a puzzle," Elizabeth finished, staring at the closed door.
"A puzzle with a very large estate and a connection to Lambton," her aunt mused. "And, I suspect, a heart that is not quite as stone-cold as you believe, Lizzy."
"We shall see," Elizabeth whispered. "We shall see, Aunt."
But as she went to the window to watch the carriage pull away, she caught a glimpse of Mr Darcy looking back at the house. He didn't look like a haunting ghost anymore. He looked like a man who had just survived a battle and was already planning the next campaign.
And Elizabeth, to her infinite surprise, found she was rather looking forward to the skirmish.