Chapter 59 #2
A clock struck nine, a loud whistle blew—and at that precise moment, every light in the Gardens was instantly illuminated.
Small tapers hanging in the trees, large lamps by the paths, each one lit up at the exact same moment.
Gasps of astonishment, and a ripple of applause greeted the success of the undertaking, which impressed even the most sophisticated visitors.
“They do it every night,” said Mr. Gardiner, highly satisfied at seeing a difficult thing well done. “Apparently, it has never been known to fail.”
Mr. Hayward was explaining to Mary how the trick was achieved—by means of cotton wool fuses and very accurate time-keeping.
She was listening with the greatest attention, when, looking up to sip her coffee, she noticed a young man hurrying eagerly towards their table.
When he reached them, he called out to Mr. Hayward with friendly familiarity.
“Tom, I thought it was you. I spotted you from afar—have been calling your name this ten minutes or so—I was obliged to run away from my companions to seek you out.”
Mr. Hayward rose, smiled in recognition, and shook the hand of the young man, who looked expectantly at the party around the table.
“May I introduce you all to my friend Mr. William Ryder? We studied the law together some years ago. Mr. Ryder, may I present Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, various small Gardiners, and Miss Bennet.”
As Mr. Hayward named everyone at the table, Mr. Ryder bowed to each of them, even the children, which made them giggle behind their hands.
At this, he bowed to them once more, accompanying his flourish with an exaggerated wink, which, as he had intended, provoked even more delighted laughter.
Unperturbed, he turned to the rest of the table, addressing them with the greatest good humour.
“I beg your pardon for interrupting you. I hope you will forgive me for trespassing on your privacy, but your little circle looked so inviting, I could not resist approaching you.”
“We are always glad to meet a friend of Mr. Hayward’s,” replied Mr. Gardiner.
“Will you join us for some wine? We shan’t be staying a great deal longer.
The lights have been lit which means it is best for families to take their leave quite soon.
But we have time to offer you a glass, if you wish it? ”
Mr. Ryder, it appeared, did wish it; and in a few moments, he was seated amongst them, a rapidly emptying glass before him, chatting in the liveliest manner.
In the course of a quarter of an hour, his hosts learnt he had been in the country for the last few months, that he usually lived in Brook Street—here Mary could not help looking towards Mr. Hayward, who inclined his head gravely at this news—and that he was a great frequenter of the Gardens, visiting them whenever he could.
His conversation, though it did not allow much opportunity for others to interrupt its flow, had that transparent willingness to be pleased that rarely fails to recommend itself to its listeners; and it did not take long before Mr. Ryder had secured an invitation to take tea at Gracechurch Street the following week.
As he was preparing to take his leave, his name was called from a little way across the grass.
Mary looked up—she knew that voice. There on the path, staring towards the Gardiners’ box with a look of barely concealed indignation, stood Caroline Bingley.
As their eyes met, Miss Bingley allowed herself a chilly nod of recognition.
Beside her stood her sister, Mrs. Hurst, and her sister’s husband, neither looking pleased.
“Ah, I see I am summoned,” murmured Mr. Ryder.
He made his goodbyes and was quickly borne off by his friends, Miss Bingley giving a last toss of her head which left no doubt of her sentiments at having been deserted in such a way.
Her gesture was no doubt intended to leave everyone at the table feeling a little affronted, but Mary could not help believing it had been particularly directed at her.
“How extraordinary to see Miss Bingley again,” Mrs. Gardiner remarked as they left their box. “It was not very well bred in her to be so standoffish, especially when you consider she has been entertained in our house. But I am more affronted than surprised.”
Mrs. Gardiner looked as if she might have enlarged on this theme, but it was plain that Mr. Gardiner had on many previous occasions been compelled to listen to recitations of Miss Bingley’s faults; and for all the love he bore his wife, he was not eager to hear it again.
“Your friend is certainly a prodigious talker,” he said hastily to Mr. Hayward, in an attempt to change the subject. “I imagine that must be an asset to him in his profession?”
“It might have been, if he had persevered with it,” replied Mr. Hayward. “But he did not finish his studies. I don’t think Ryder was born to be a lawyer.”
“So how does he support himself?” asked Mrs. Gardiner.
“He has some money of his own. And he’s related to a great lady in Kent, who makes him an allowance that enables him to live as he wishes.”
“I wonder, sir,” asked Mary, suddenly seeing in her mind the pieces of a jigsaw coming together, “is Mr. Ryder’s benefactress by any chance Lady Catherine de Bourgh?
My sister Elizabeth is related to her by marriage, and she is well known to other friends of mine.
I wonder if that is how Mr. Ryder came to know Miss Bingley.
If he is a favourite of Lady Catherine’s, they might have met at family gatherings in Derbyshire. ”
“That could perhaps be the lady’s name,” replied Mr. Hayward, “although I cannot quite recollect it.”