Chapter 9
Darcy did not like uncertainty, and yet he found himself uncomfortably aware that it had become a frequent companion of late.
He drummed absent-mindedly on the window frame as the carriage bore him through streets that grew steadily less familiar, away from the orderly symmetry of the fashionable quarters.
Darcy had arranged the meeting with Mr Gardiner deliberately, choosing to meet at his warehouses instead of the house on Gracechurch Street.
How to arrange the next step in their plan to combat the rumours might have presented considerable difficulties otherwise, for another visit to the family home would have been only too likely to stir up more talk.
Passing information through Mr Gardiner seemed the wiser choice.
He could not be suspected of wishing to see Elizabeth again when meeting her uncle at his place of business.
Even so, Darcy did not deceive himself. This was no ordinary call.
The meeting with Mr Gardiner filled him with more trepidation than he would have liked to admit.
His expectations were not generous. He had encountered men of trade before, some admirable, others tiresome, and many inclined to mistake courtesy for opportunity.
While Mrs Gardiner’s manners were refined and correct, the same would not necessarily be true of her husband.
With that thought in mind, Darcy prepared himself for an unpleasant encounter.
For a conversation marked by excessive familiarity, thinly veiled ambition, or a desire to extract some advantage from his position.
He thought grimly that it would not surprise him if Mr Gardiner sought to impress him with his success, or worse, to hint at an alliance that might serve his niece’s interests.
Darcy’s mouth tightened at the thought.
The carriage slowed and came to a halt before a row of substantial brick buildings.
They were well-kept, solid and without ornament, their doors opening onto a street busy with carts and porters moving with practiced efficiency.
There was nothing showy about the place, but neither was there any suggestion of disorder.
Darcy alighted and glanced up at the sign bearing Mr Gardiner’s name. It was as tidy as the rest of the place, a welcome indication of proper pride and a respect for good order.
Inside, he was greeted promptly and politely by a clerk who requested his name and offered him tea.
Darcy declined with a nod and was shown into a waiting room that surprised him by its quiet comfort.
The furnishings were plain but clean, the shelves lined with ledgers arranged with meticulous care.
Maps adorned the walls, charting routes and ports with a precision that suggested both ambition and competence.
Darcy found himself examining them more closely than he had intended.
There was a logic to the operation that appealed to him, and Darcy found himself nodding in approval as he traced back Mr Gardiner’s plans from the notations on his maps.
Nothing appeared excessive. Nothing appeared neglected.
This was not the enterprise of a man scrambling for advancement, but of one who had already achieved it through steady application.
He had been waiting only a few moments when the clerk returned.
“Mr Gardiner will see you now, sir.”
Darcy rose and followed him into a spacious office where a large desk stood near the window. Mr Gardiner was on his feet at once, his expression open and composed.
“Mr Darcy,” he said, extending his hand. “You are very welcome. I apologise if I kept you waiting.”
“You did not,” Darcy replied promptly. “I arrived early.”
Mr Gardiner smiled faintly. “A most laudable habit. Please, sit down.”
They did so, and Darcy found himself momentarily at a loss for how to begin. He had rehearsed this meeting in his mind, yet now that he faced Mr Gardiner directly, he sensed that careful evasion would be both unnecessary and unwelcome.
Mr Gardiner, for his part, appeared content to let him speak first.
“I am obliged to you for agreeing to meet with me,” Darcy began. “I wished to discuss a matter that concerns your niece.”
Mr Gardiner inclined his head. “I thought as much.”
Darcy paused, struck by the absence of surprise in his tone.
“I will be plain,” Darcy continued. “There has been talk in London. Speculation that touches Miss Elizabeth’s name, and by extension, your family’s.”
Mr Gardiner’s expression grew serious, though not alarmed. “Yes. I have heard it.”
Darcy met his gaze steadily. “Then you will understand why I wished to address it directly, rather than allow it to circulate unchecked.”
“I appreciate that,” Mr Gardiner said. “Though I confess, I was curious to know how you intended to proceed. My wife and my niece have informed me of the previous attempts made. Regrettably, we must agree that these attempts have not met with success.”
Darcy drew a breath. “No, indeed they have not, for which I extend my apologies. I believe my present proposal will prove more reliable. My aunt, the Countess of Matlock, is to host her annual spring gathering in a fortnight’s time.
It will be well-attended. I believe that if Miss Elizabeth were present, properly escorted by some eligible gentleman, and if I were seen there with another lady, it would demonstrate clearly that there is no understanding between us. ”
Mr Gardiner studied him in silence for a moment.
“And you believe,” he said at last, “that this would put an end to the rumours and protect my niece’s reputation?”
“Yes,” Darcy replied. “And strengthen it. It would show that she is received by my family without reservation, while removing any suggestion of attachment between us.”
Mr Gardiner’s expression remained neutral. “And have you selected the lady who would attend with you?”
The question caught Darcy off guard.
“No,” he admitted. “I have not.”
Mr Gardiner’s brows lifted slightly, though his tone remained polite. “I see.”
Darcy felt an unwelcome tightening in his chest. He had known this point would arise, yet he had not been prepared for how difficult it would be to answer it honestly.
The truth was uncomfortably clear. Every attempt to imagine himself at the party with another woman had ended in vague dissatisfaction, followed by a far more vivid image of Elizabeth Bennet standing across the room, composed and distant.
He forced the thought aside.
“If the plan meets with your approval,” Darcy said carefully, “I would write to Miss Elizabeth, explaining the circumstances and seeking her consent. Then I would ask you to give the letter to your niece, allowing us to circumvent the reputational problems of a single gentleman writing to an unmarried lady. You would, of course, be welcome to read the letter before it is delivered.”
Mr Gardiner regarded him with an expression Darcy could not easily interpret. There was thoughtfulness there, and something else that might have been amusement.
“While I would allow such a plan,” Mr Gardiner said, “it will not be necessary.”
Darcy frowned slightly. “Not necessary?”
“My niece is here,” Mr Gardiner replied. “She is looking at lace in the warehouse with her sister and my wife. Should you wish, I will ask her to come in so you may speak to her directly. I will remain nearby.”
Darcy’s pulse quickened despite his efforts at composure. “An excellent idea, and much simpler than passing letters. I thank you, Mr Gardiner. With your permission, I should very much like to speak with Miss Elizabeth.”
Mr Gardiner nodded and moved toward the door, pausing only to add, “I will leave it open.”
Darcy nodded, acutely aware of the significance of that simple assurance.
After only a brief wait, Elizabeth Bennet followed her uncle into the room.
She looked surprised, though not displeased, and Darcy felt that familiar, unsettling lift at the sight of her. She was dressed simply, suited to the businesslike setting, and there was an alertness in her expression that suggested she already suspected the subject of their conversation.
“My uncle said you wished to speak with me,” she said.
“Yes,” Darcy replied, rising at once. “If you will allow it.”
Mr Gardiner withdrew into the adjoining room, the door remaining open just as he had promised.
Darcy found he was suddenly conscious of how little control he had over the situation.
He had come prepared to persuade, to explain, to manage the exchange with careful restraint.
Instead, he stood before Elizabeth Bennet with the uneasy awareness that whatever occurred next would depend as much upon her judgement as his own.
And that, he realised, troubled him far less than it ought to have done. Absurd though it was, he felt he could rely on her sense of what was right as much as on his own.
Elizabeth did not sit at once.
She remained standing near the desk, her posture attentive rather than defensive, and Darcy was struck anew by how little she resembled the version of her he had once imagined.
There was nothing calculating in her expression, nothing tentative.
If she was cautious, it was the caution of a woman willing to listen.
“You wished to speak to me,” she said again, with a faint smile that suggested she did not intend to be intimidated by formality.
“Yes,” Darcy replied. “I wished to explain a proposal I have made to your uncle, and to ask your opinion of it directly.”
She nodded. “Please begin.”
Darcy looked at her a moment, rather wondering at her saying so little. But as there was nothing to be done but to begin his explanations, he did so. Elizabeth continued to be very quiet, saying little beyond the most necessary responses.