Chapter 5
True to his word, Mr. Darcy’s carriage was ordered as soon as Elizabeth expressed her desire to leave.
She and Mrs. Durrel woke Maggie up and, as soon as they were reassured that she was not in any danger, a footman carried her down the stairs into the carriage where blankets and warm bricks awaited them.
The damp seats had been covered and the floor mopped.
All in all, there was little evidence of the event that had occurred earlier.
“Do you think Mama will be angry at me for falling into the lake?” said Maggie, as they set out for the Gardiners’ house?
“Of course not,” said Elizabeth. “It was an accident. Accidents do happen. Though you must be very careful from now on not to go too close to the water. I was very frightened. Will you promise me that?”
“I promise,” said Maggie, solemnly. “I was frightened, too.”
“Well, you are safe and sound now,” said Elizabeth, hugging her closely, and trying not to think about what might have happened. “That is what counts. But you must not scare me like that again.”
Maggie nodded her head and squeezed closer to her side. A few minutes later, the sound of her even breathing indicated she was fast asleep. Elizabeth wrapped her in the blanket and made certain she was warm and comfortable.
As she left Darcy House behind her, Elizabeth began to think of the best way to tell her uncle and aunt what had happened.
She wondered what they had made of Miss Darcy’s message, or indeed, what exactly she had written.
Elizabeth had been too preoccupied to pay attention, but she was grateful the Darcys had made the effort to reassure the Gardiners.
Imagine if they had sent the carriage to pick her and Maggie up, then returned without them!
How horrible that would have been. Luckily, Mr. Darcy had dealt with it.
The Gardiners must have been waiting for them to arrive, because the door flew open before the horses had even come to a halt. It was unusual for her uncle to be at home this time of the day. Mrs. Gardiner must have forwarded the message to him.
“I received Miss Darcy’s message,” said her uncle. “What happened?”
“So you have come here in a carriage bearing the Darcy crest,” said Mrs. Gardiner, as Elizabeth opened the door. “What can that mean?”
Elizabeth looked at her aunt in surprise. “How did you recognize the Darcy crest?”
“I would recognize that crest anywhere. The Darcys own a large estate near Lambton, where I grew up. They are an old and noble family.”
It was as Elizabeth suspected. Mr. Darcy was in possession of both fortune and breeding.
“This is all very fascinating, I am sure, Madeline,” interrupted Mr. Gardiner, “but I have more immediate concerns. Where is Maggie? Is she ill?” He peered into the carriage. His eyes widened. “What happened to her clothes? Why is she dressed like a maid?”
Mrs. Gardiner pushed past her husband. “Maggie!” she said, in dismay.
“Hush,” said Elizabeth, putting a finger to her lips. “Do not wake her.” She signaled for the footman to take Maggie upstairs. “She needs to rest, that is all,” said Elizabeth, as Mrs. Gardiner came forward to inspect Maggie for injuries. “Please have them put her to bed.”
“What is the meaning of this?” asked Mr. Gardiner.
“There is nothing to worry about,” said Elizabeth, calmly. “I would welcome a cup of tea, and then you will know everything.”
Briefly, Elizabeth considered taking a coward’s way out by downplaying what had happened but discarded the idea.
Maggie’s parents needed to know all the details.
How did one tell a parent that they almost lost their child?
She felt horribly guilty. They had put her in charge of her cousin, and she had let her fall into the river. If it were not for Mr. Darcy…
It did not bear thinking about.
They went inside quickly and into the parlor, where Mrs. Gardiner rang for tea.
Seeing the anxiety on their faces, Elizabeth did not wait for it to arrive.
She took a deep breath, then recounted the events of the morning as steadily as she could, though her mind was a whirl of emotions.
She told them of Mr. Darcy's timely intervention and how he had ensured their safety.
Her uncle and aunt listened attentively, their expressions shifting from horror to relief and then to a deep regard for Mr. Darcy's actions.
"How fortunate it was that Mr. Darcy was there to aid you," said her aunt. "We owe him a huge debt of gratitude."
Mr. Gardiner came to his feet and began to pace around the room. “So we owe everything to Mr. Darcy! How can I possibly repay him for what he has done? We must call on him at once to thank him.”
“I am not sure he would welcome our visit.”
“Why not?” It was obvious her uncle would not take no for an answer.
"I do not think we should presume in making the acquaintance of Mr. Darcy and his sister. They were both very agreeable, but Mr. Darcy certainly gave the impression he would not encourage any further contact. He did not even ask for my name."
“It is natural for gentlemen such as him to prevent people who wished to take advantage of his status in society,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “His father was not at all arrogant, but perhaps the behavior of a fine gentleman in London is very different from his behavior in the isolation of Derbyshire.”
“I understand his reluctance,” said Mr. Gardiner, “and I certainly would not wish to cause offence. However, I would not wish to cause more offense by neglecting to thank him. I can write a letter of thanks and ask if we could call on him. If he does not wish it, he may simply ignore the letter.”
Elizabeth was of two minds on this. There were practical matters to deal with. Miss Darcy’s fashionable dress and other garments needed to be returned, as did the maid’s dress which Maggie was wearing. Yet her instinct told her that Mr. Darcy would prefer to be left alone.
“I do not think it is a good idea, Uncle.”
“He saved Margaret,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “We are forever in his debt.”
“I do not see any harm in writing a letter.”
Elizabeth felt that even a letter would be embarrassing, since Mr. Darcy had made his sentiments abundantly clear, but her uncle was determined, and in the end she had to concede that a letter could not do any harm.
Her uncle excused himself to write the letter and left the room. Elizabeth availed herself of the hot tea, the events of the day returning.
“I wish my uncle would not write.”
“You might be right, Lizzy. The Darcys of Pemberley have always been proud landowners, though they have a reputation for being both honorable and generous to their tenants. I would not like to impose on Mr. Darcy, but it might be worst if we did not at least thank him for what he has done.”
Elizabeth sank back in her chair, too weary to argue.
Her aunt noticed at once. “You are looking pale, my dear. Poor Lizzy! You look exhausted. You must have been terribly frightened.” She rose and went to sit down next to Elizabeth. She put her arms around her and embraced her tightly.
“I cannot help feeling it was all my fault,” she said, into her aunt’s shoulder. “I should not have let her go towards the water.”
Mrs. Gardiner released her niece and leaned back to look at her.
“Children do foolish things. Sometime just looking away for a moment can be enough for them to get into trouble. You cannot blame yourself for this. In any case, it all ended well, with Margaret none the worse for it. Do not be so hard on yourself.”
The words were reassuring, even though Elizabeth could not help thinking of how it could all have gone very differently if not for Mr. Darcy’s intervention.
She did not like the snub he had delivered, but after all, how could she dwell on his hurtful words when he had done so much for Margaret?
He had showed them nothing but kindness.
He had the right to refuse to further their acquaintance.
No doubt he was inundated with people seeking his attention.
She had liked Mr. Darcy, she thought wistfully.
Not when she first met him, when he was stiff and formal, but afterwards.
She had liked the gentleman she had glimpsed behind his facade, someone warm, with the ability to laugh.
Above all, he was kind. She suspected he did not often show that side of himself to others. He was handsome, to boot.
Yet the fact remained, he had not even asked for her name. It was embarrassing to be dismissed so completely.
Well, she did not have to befriend him. She just had to appreciate what he had done for her.
Somehow, that did not make her feel any better.
The letter went out, and Elizabeth awaited the response anxiously. She imagined him opening the letter and tossing it in the fire, and she felt ashamed.
“If Mr. Darcy invites you to his house,” said Elizabeth the next day, “I will not join you. I will not go where I am not welcome.”
“I do not care if we are welcome or not. Mr. Darcy saved our daughter.” Mr. Gardiner sent her a sideways look.
“I do not care how insulted you may feel, Lizzy. It is only right that we say thank you. Though I must say, I have never taken you for a coward. How would it look if we turned up and you did not trouble yourself to express your gratitude. After all, you were the one with our Margaret, not us.”
“I am not a coward,” said Elizabeth, sharply. “I just do not want to encroach on gentlemen who think I am beneath them.”
“Unfortunately,” said her uncle, “there are many gentlemen like that. I am obliged to deal with them all the time. How do you think my trade would fare if I were to take offence every time they slight me? I would be in the poorhouse by now. Come Lizzy. You know how the world works. Sometimes we must go hat in hand. It will be a brief call, we will do what we intend to do, and then you need never set eyes on him again.”
Her uncle’s words stung. It was not cowardice that held her back.
She did not, in fact, want to see him at all again.
It all felt terribly awkward. But her uncle was right.
Elizabeth owed him that much at least. He had been good to Maggie.
And he had carried Elizabeth back to the shore, even though it was not strictly necessary.
They were right. She needed to go.
On the seventh day after her uncle had sent Mr. Darcy the letter, Elizabeth looked across the table at her uncle.
“Well,” she said, “I told you he did not wish to further the acquaintance. I was right. He did not even send a thank you note for the gift of prodigiously expensive Brussels lace you sent for Miss Darcy.” She curled her hands around her teacup, warming her palms. “Do you not think it rude that he has not responded?”
“Patience, my dear niece. You are jumping to conclusions. There could be many reasons for his silence. He may have business to take care of, or he may be out of town.”
“He is not out of town,” remarked Mrs. Gardiner, as she buttered her toast. “We drove by his house this morning, and the knocker was still on the door. The Darcys are in town.”
“Madeline!” said her husband. “Have you been spying on Mr. Darcy? I am shocked!”
“We happened to go in that direction,” she said nonchalantly, her knife scraping against the toast. Elizabeth stifled a laugh.
“We?” said her uncle, sending the question in Elizabeth’s direction.
“I was not with my aunt,” said Elizabeth, though she would have liked to be.
After all, she had been inclined to do the same, except in a far less subtle manner.
She had been sorely tempted to go and knock on Mr. Darcy’s door to ask him what the deuce he meant by ignoring them.
Fortunately, common sense prevailed. Still, she was plagued by an almost irresistible itch to return to Hyde Park and walk along the Serpentine in the hopes of running into him.
What made matters worse was that she was now deprived of her daily walk in the park.
She was forced to go to Green Park instead, which was less convenient to reach and much smaller.
Moreover, her uncle now insisted on her taking a maid and a footman with her everywhere, which meant she had to match her steps to theirs and could not suddenly take off in a run.
Waiting for Mr. Darcy to write back was insufferable.
It became almost a test of her own judgment.
How could she have been so mistaken in his character?
Surely he was too much of a gentleman to indulge in such blatant snobbery.
A simple note of thanks for the lace would have sufficed.
It would have satisfied everyone, without committing him to any further acquaintance.
His silence lowered him in her eyes. It was almost as if he was making a point of being uncivil.
Until today, she had hoped against hope that he would live up to her expectations, convinced he would not let her down.
But one did not wait six days to send a note.
It was evident by now that Mr. Darcy would not welcome a visit from her uncle.
He did not want anything to do with them, and he wanted to make that clear.
It hurt, although it should not.
It was very possible, she thought, that she was assuming too much.
Perhaps the whole rescue and its aftermath had meant nothing to him at all.
Engaged in a social whirl among the elite in society, amongst balls and dinners and theatre performances, he had not given them a moment’s thought at all, not even enough to wish to make anything clear.
He had bid her farewell, and that was the end of it.
It was Elizabeth who was giving the whole thing too much importance. She was trying to guess what he was thinking when he was not thinking of her at all.
Why, oh, why did she persist in holding onto hope? She knew nothing about Mr. Darcy. Yet she was presuming to understand him. It was indeed laughable.
It was all very simple. Mr. Darcy had done a heroic deed on the spur of the moment, and she had put him on a pedestal. But it turned out her hero had feet of clay.