Chapter Eighteen
“ W e categorically deny that you are able to do any such thing, Uncle,” said Lizzy earnestly. “Do tell us. We will dismiss it if we do not like it, but we must know what your idea is in order to do so.”
Mr. Gardiner drew in a long breath. “Well then, it is this. I have thought for some time that my business has a solid enough reputation and is profitable enough that it would bear expansion. Had I access to sufficient funds, I might develop it to a point where it would yield tenfold what it does now. My proposition is this: Should you put your fortune in the funds, the interest you would gain from that would be unlikely to exceed four percent. I could comfortably give you five percent of your capital.”
“Which would give us an income of two and a half thousand pounds,” said Jane, eagerly, “this is a splendid idea — five hundred pounds a year for each of us, with the added benefit of assisting you, dear Uncle. What could be better than that, Lizzy?”
Mr. Gardiner held up a finger. “It would be to my considerable advantage, Jane — I could not secure a loan of that size for so little interest anywhere else.”
“All the better then. Do not let it trouble you, I beg. What need have we for fifty thousand pounds? We have all we need provided by Papa at Longbourn — I for one have never been unhappy with our circumstances. This way we might have a remarkable sum to add to our comfort each year and furthermore we cannot possibly be of interest to anyone who would wish to marry us for money. It is ideal.”
Laying a hand on her husband's arm, Mrs. Gardiner said, “I wonder, my dear, if we might perhaps make it so that the percentage paid to our nieces could increase as the income from your business does? It would ease your mind. I know your keen conscience, Edward.”
Mr. Gardiner took his wife's hand in his. “An excellent suggestion, my love. Say then, that after each two years, if all goes as expected, the percentage paid to the Miss Bennets of Longbourn may rise in accordance with the success of the business. Then after ten more years, you would have the option to withdraw your capital from the scheme with my grateful thanks.”
The housekeeper appeared at the door. “Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy have called, ma'am.”
“How swiftly the time for morning calls has come.” Mrs. Gardiner glanced at the clock. “No, they are a little early — no matter. Show them in.”
The gentlemen entered the room and bowed. Mrs. Gardiner, in her usual collected manner, greeted them, performed the necessary introductions to her husband, and subsequently invited them both to be seated. Mr. Bingley hesitated briefly, but as Jane happened to look up at that moment and smiled, he crossed to take a seat near hers. Mr. Darcy, glancing first to Elizabeth, chose a seat near his host that afforded him a good view of the second Miss Bennet's profile .
Resolutely, Mr. Gardiner attempted to engage Mr. Darcy in conversation, with an expressive look to Elizabeth that she ought to assist him .
“My wife mentioned that you were present last evening at Mrs. Lambeth's, Mr. Darcy. What a night that was, from what I hear.”
“Indeed, sir. Yes, Mrs. Gardiner is correct.” He looked a little awkward for a moment and then addressed Mrs. Gardiner, with civility, “I trust you are fully recovered now, madam.”
“That is kind, Mr. Darcy. Your friend was good enough to see us safely home and aside from being rather tired, I am well. I do not have the resilience of my Lizzy. She took the children on an outing to the Thames this morning after breakfast.”
“It is frozen over, you see, Mr. Darcy,” supplied Elizabeth. “I thought perhaps they might like to see it in its less fluid form.”
“And did they?” His expression did not betray much interest in his surroundings, save perhaps in the intensity with which he regarded her.
“Miss Gardiner did, but Miss Rachel disliked the wind and Master Gardiner was largely occupied in chewing my ribbons.”
Something in her manner evidently amused him, for his mien softened a little, but he said nothing in reply. Elizabeth seemed to be equally struck dumb, for she offered him no assistance to keep the conversation going.
Stifling her sigh, Mrs. Gardiner decided that the best course of action would be to call for the tea tray.
Across the room from the silence, Mr. Bingley was discovering the difficulties in having a frank discussion with a young lady who was deeply conscious that her relatives were within earshot .
Vainly he sought to find a little privacy. “I say, Miss Bennet, is it not a fine day? Shall we perhaps all walk to the park together? We saw one as we rode in, did we not, Darcy?”
Jane, her eyes wide and very blue, glanced outside at the sky and seemed lost for a response. His friend was not encouraging. “Would you call it a fine day, Bingley?”
“It is too cold for my nieces to be out walking, sir.” Mr. Gardiner sounded a little regretful that he could not oblige, so crestfallen did the young man appear.
“Ah. Yes. Of course. Of course. It is certainly chilly; we felt it to our fingers even through thick gloves, did we not, Darcy?”
The housekeeper appeared and Mrs. Gardiner bade her bring tea to them. This instruction having been given, she looked about her for a topic of conversation .
“I hear that you hail from Derbyshire, Mr. Darcy. I was born in the village of Lambton.”
Mr. Darcy, who had been surreptitiously studying Elizabeth's averted profile, looked surprised by this and turned his attention politely to Mrs. Gardiner .
“It is not five miles from my home, madam. I ride through it often.”
“Yes, your estate is named Pemberley, is it not? When I was a girl, my sisters and I used to run as far as the wall to the south of your park.”
He nodded but had no response readily available. “There was a fine horse chestnut tree in Lambton,” he offered after another moment.
Mrs. Gardiner nodded seriously. “So my brothers assured me. I am afraid I never had the privilege of climbing it as they did. My greatest interest in a tree came when a swing had been attached or when it was bearing apples.”
Once again the conversation floundered and Mrs. Gardiner turned to Elizabeth. “You are unusually quiet, my dear — perhaps you are weary after all. I had wondered if you might like to play something for us?” She made an elegant gesture toward the piano and waited expectantly.
Lizzy was evidently on the cusp of declining when her aunt caught her eye most particularly and she swiftly reconsidered. “Ah. Certainly, Aunt; is there anything you would like to hear?”
“I cannot think of anything at present. Let us instead ask the gentlemen. Mr. Darcy, my niece is willing to entertain us. Do you have any particular favourites?”
“Mr. Darcy's sister plays exceptionally well, I understand,” interjected Lizzy, before the young man could speak. “I am sure there is nothing I can play that he could not better hear elsewhere.”
“I recall in Hertfordshire that you had a preference for Dowland, Miss Elizabeth. Those pieces were pleasing to the ear.”
“High praise indeed, sir. Very well, I own I do favour his works, if only because they are far easier to play than Mozart. Idleness in practice is a failing of mine and Mozart takes far too much time to perfect.” She stood and made her way across the room to the instrument. It was not a particularly fine instrument, but it was kept well in tune and served its purpose. Elizabeth had occasionally attempted to amuse the younger girls by teaching them the rudiments, but either they were too young or they had no musical genius to speak of.
Mr. Darcy followed her over to the instrument and watched in silence as she opened it up. It took her some moments to find her music under his unwavering eye .
Teasing him was the only option available to her — her aunt's hints from earlier that day were too much in her mind. “Do you mean to intimidate me, Mr. Darcy, by watching me as I make innumerable errors? I do trust that you will not find constant fault with me for this performance.”
He still said nothing, but drew from his pocket her dance card from the evening before.
“Oh! My card — thank you, sir. I hope the gentlemen were not offended that I could not stay. I do not suppose they were disappointed, for there were many other young ladies present, were there not?”
“They had no right to be offended, Miss Elizabeth, as they knew well.” He hesitated. “Mrs. Gardiner feeling unwell should be sufficient reason for any gentleman to stifle complaint. I also have your sister's card. Lord Cranshaw bade me assure her that he understood her departure and looks forward to another opportunity.”
“That is very gentlemanly of him.” It was easier to respond to the latter part of his remark rather than fathom out what she should say to the rest of it .
“Lord Cranshaw is a gentleman. Mr. Lennox took some persuading that you had indeed left the house.” There was something a little tight in Mr. Darcy's voice then, but Elizabeth could not determine why he should sound so, nor why he should stare at her so. She pressed the first keys.
“Did he?” She kept her tone light “I wonder why he disbelieved you.”
“Certainly not from any dishonesty on my part, madam.” He paused and added, “He was eager to congratulate you on your sister's performance in the card room. Several of the gentlemen I spoke to after you left informed me that she is an unparalleled card player. I ought, perhaps, to have expected that, after Netherfield.”
The memory of Jane's triumph made her smile; the knowledge that the winnings would set them up forever deepened the delight. “You see, then, that she had little to fear in playing Mr. Sutton.”
His reply was serious. “My friend also played at that table, Miss Elizabeth, and lost very badly. ”
Annoyed by his tone, she played three more complete measures before replying. “Jane wishes to forgive his debt, Mr. Darcy, but my uncle informed her that it would be an insulting thing to do. So you need not think badly of Jane for winning. She did not make him sit beside her.”
This was a new thought to him, apparently, and his interest perhaps had a dubious quality to it. He turned his head away from her to look in Jane's direction. Miss Bennet was blushing but conversing composedly with Mr. Bingley. Mrs. Gardiner was likewise watching them over the tea that she was pouring out .
“I meant only that Mr. Sutton has won such large amounts from men like Bingley that my caution was not unfounded. Your uncle is quite correct — your sister must be paid what is owed to her, however ill-judged it was of my friend to stake such amounts.”
Mrs. Gardiner rose and offered Mr. Darcy a cup of tea. He took it with a word of thanks and turned his attention back to Elizabeth, who played now with great concentration. Mrs. Gardiner returned to the tray and carried cups to Jane and Mr. Bingley.
“I beg your pardon, Aunt. I ought to have carried them for you. I had not noticed the tea had come.”
“It is of no importance, Jane. I must step out with your uncle to the next room. I wish to discuss his list in more detail, and will have little more opportunity for the rest of the day. Shall you mind my going? Elizabeth is occupied, as you see, and I know how you like to listen to her play.”
It was a discreet excuse. Mr. Bingley looked relieved that they might have a little more opportunity to talk. Jane shook her head. “Do go ahead, Aunt. I will stay with Lizzy, of course.”
As soon as they had left, Mr. Bingley seized his opportunity to speak to her .
“Miss Bennet, forgive me.” His words came rapidly. “I have not much time but I must speak. I intend to visit my bank this afternoon and will pay my debt of honour to you as soon as possible.”
“I believe you to hold honour highly, Mr. Bingley. There is no need to assure me of this.”
“I also want you to know that I had not known you were here, and if I had I should have come to call upon you immediately. I have not yet had opportunity to speak to Caroline and Louisa — they were abed when I returned home — but Darcy informed me this morning that it was a deliberate concealment.”
Jane reddened. “Mr. Bingley, you have no need to tell me this about your sisters. If they did not tell you I was in London, they must have had good reasons.”
“I must tell you. I need to tell you, Miss Bennet, because I want you to understand why I did not call, and also, why I went away in the first place.” He pressed on, his tone turning desperate. “I was told that you could not care about me, Miss Bennet, and that…” she turned her face away to the window at this, “that — forgive me — that perhaps you might feel obliged to accept me if I asked you to be mine because…because…”
This made her look to him again. “Because of the disparity of fortune between us,” Jane supplied for him, her expression carefully blank, even as she flushed. “You need not explain that, sir.”
“It was a foolish reason.”
“It was foolish to believe it,” whispered Jane, “but I suppose I had given you some reason to believe that I would accept a man for pecuniary reasons.”
“No! No, indeed you did not. Miss Bennet, I thought you then and I still think you an…an angel. The best and most good-hearted woman I have ever met. So many times this winter, I have thought to myself that I do not care if you could not love me as I do you, that I should go back to Hertfordshire and cast myself on your mercy. If you will only accept my hand, then my fortune will never have been so useful to me if it persuades you to take me.”
Jane stifled a noise in her throat and glanced down at her clenched hands, unable to speak. The music seemed to fill the room and she wondered if Lizzy was deliberately playing with more volume than usual.
“I have been the most miserable fellow in the world, Miss Bennet, and never has my father's money seemed such a curse to me. I could not make out if you would have taken me without it, you see.”
“Did you think me a fortune hunter, sir?”
“No,” he replied hastily, “but I had thought you so sweet natured that you might sacrifice your own happiness for your love for your family. You are so perfect that it seemed beyond impossible that a fellow such as I could win you. I was persuaded that I had deceived myself; that I had allowed my hope to colour the reality.”
“That is something then. You believed that perhaps Mama might persuade me to marry where I did not love, but you did not think me unworthy to be your wife and you did not think I had a grasping nature.”
He made a quick movement with his hands as though he would clasp her fingers and then aborted the movement, remembering that they were not alone. Darcy and Elizabeth were speaking quietly at the pianoforte, perhaps even within listening distance. “I never felt that. I had decided, at the ball — at our ball — that my life was set for happiness because you would be in it but…but afterwards, they told me that they had not seen what I thought I had seen, and I am ashamed to say I believed them rather than my heart.”
A moment was required for Miss Bennet to withdraw her handkerchief and turn away to wipe her eyes. Her voice, ordinarily so serene, hitched as she spoke. “Mr. Bingley, you are now worth less than you were; am I correct, sir?”
“Yes, and I cannot regret that because I am once again near you. Darcy says I was unwise to stay at that table, and perhaps he is right, but I find I do not care a jot.”
Jane drew a long breath, summoning her courage. She felt as though her heart, so burdened for months, was now a bird fluttering within her chest. “Mama is not here to persuade me.”
Mr. Bingley had fixed his eyes on the window when it had started to rain, but at this he turned to look hopefully at her. She could only think how she loved his eyes, the clearness of them, and how painful it had been to fall asleep each night wishing she might see him looking at her again, just as he did now. It had been her shyness that had partially been responsible for keeping them apart — she had been too timid, too afraid, and it had cost her in happiness.
Jane continued on, desperate rather than brave. “Will you have me now, then? Even if you had nothing I should accept you. So ask me, Mr. Bingley, knowing that I do not desire an offer of fortune and I never will want anything but your heart. ”