Chapter 9
A SPHERE LESS CONCEITED
D arcy privately conceded the competition when Hurst pulled his fourth carp out of the river before an hour had passed.
His heart was not in it anyway. From this spot on the bank, he had a clear view of Pemberley’s easternmost wall, where an ever-shifting lattice of cracks seemed to dance over the stones beneath the passing clouds.
The actual fissure was not visible from this distance, though it might have been better if it were, for his imagination was playing merry hell with his eyes.
He had met before breakfast with Ferguson, who had informed him that neither of the stonemasons who customarily served the estate were available to take on the necessary work.
Rather than wait, Darcy had instructed his steward to set about finding another, but these things took time, and the delay was troubling at best. He was attempting not to brood upon the worst.
“Is that another, sir?” called Pettigrew as Mr Gardiner hefted his net aloft to proudly reveal his squirming catch. “Watch out, Hurst, you’ll lose if you are not careful. Mr Gardiner here is proving to be a dab hand!”
Darcy tipped his hat at Mr Gardiner in compliment but allowed the others to carry on the conversation with him.
Having Elizabeth’s uncle among the party was perhaps the chief reason he could not concentrate on fishing.
The man had shown himself to be intelligent, amiable, worldly, and sporting—everything, in fact, Darcy had dismissed him for not being, and he felt the full weight of Elizabeth’s reproofs for the injustice.
Therein lay the problem: Mr Gardiner presented a constant reminder of his niece, and that made everything else that might have occupied Darcy’s thoughts ten times less urgent and a hundred times less interesting.
“Bingley tells me you live in the city, Mr Gardiner,” said Cox, who had long ago abandoned his rod in favour of wandering up and down the bank, smoking cheroots. “Not much fishing to be had thereabouts—not for anything still alive, anyway. Where did you learn to hook ’em like that?”
“The river Stort,” Mr Gardiner answered. “I hail from Hertfordshire originally.”
“What brings you to Derbyshire?”
“Happenstance. My wife and I had planned a tour of the lakes this summer, but my work kept me in town a fortnight longer than planned, so we have been forced to curtail our travels.”
Darcy tensed. Though a hard lesson indeed, he had come to be deeply ashamed of the self-consequence that once induced him to scorn Elizabeth’s relations for their condition in life.
Nevertheless, he knew not how his friends would receive the intelligence that Mr Gardiner lived by trade.
He watched quietly, ready to interject should it seem as though any censure might be forthcoming.
Cox, like Bingley, had the markings of trade heavily imprinted upon his own fortune and was the least likely to object—and indeed, he raised nary an eyebrow.
Pettigrew, egged on by Hurst, was far too interested in his sport to spare a thought for how any fisherman as competent as Mr Gardiner made his money.
Pettigrew’s younger brother picked up on the mention and glanced Darcy’s way in askance, though a dark glare was enough to banish his interest. Sedrick was here only at his older brother’s request and had too little consequence and much more sense than to question the master of Pemberley about anything.
The remaining three were of most interest to Darcy.
Aldridge, whose family was almost as old as his own, looked surprised, though not wholly displeased.
He, above all Darcy’s acquaintance, valued excellent understanding, and he seemed satisfied with the lively debate already compassed with Mr Gardiner about the standard of editorship at the Times .
Templeton also looked taken aback, though it became clear when he quietly remarked, “Mellowing in your dotage, eh?” that it was not Mr Gardiner’s occupation that astonished him so much as Darcy’s own tolerance of it.
Garroway’s countenance gave nothing away.
A baron, he was the only titled guest in attendance; and with an estate of a similar size to Pemberley, and his mother a great favourite of Lady Catherine’s, he was very much of the same circle as Darcy.
If any among the party were likely to share his former, conceited prepossessions, it was Garroway.
“And what is your business, Mr Gardiner?” he enquired.
To his credit, Elizabeth’s uncle neither equivocated nor cowered, though he must have been aware of the derision behind the question. “I own several warehouses in the city.”
“And in what way did that impinge on your travels?”
Mr Gardiner gave a grunt of dissatisfaction.
“It was Castlereagh’s announcement back in June that he meant to repeal the Orders in Council that did it.
Everyone lost their minds and began sending cartfuls of wares to the docks as though all trade with the United States would instantly resume.
The wharfs began clogging up, which led to a backlog of domestic traffic that delayed more than half my stock, most of which comes from the midlands.
” He picked up his rod and began preparing to cast again.
“Of course, it was all for nothing. Now Madison has declared war, the ministry has impounded all American ships in port anyway.”
“If Liverpool had repealed the Orders when Madison first requested it, there would be no war with America, and we might not be facing even higher excises to pay for it,” Pettigrew grumbled without looking up from the spot where his line entered the water.
“That might have saved Mr Gardiner’s tour of the lakes, but it is not likely to have staved off the conflict indefinitely,” Darcy said grimly.
Mr Gardiner agreed, adding, “If Lord Liverpool is serious about mending relations with the Americans, he might wish to address his government’s policy on impressment.”
Sedrick, who had an opinion about most things, had one about this, and he came to sit next to Mr Gardiner to tell him about it.
Garroway turned to speak discreetly to Darcy. “He is an eclectic addition to the party, but not without promise. I daresay we shall survive. Where did you find him?”
“I am acquainted with his niece.”
“Oh?” he replied, all intrigue, but Darcy gave him nothing more and after a brief pause, Garroway conceded.
“Understood—none of my business. Have it your way. But I will say this.” He tipped his chin at Mr Gardiner.
“He is a distinct improvement on your other uncle, the late, prostrate Sir Lewis. He was never awake long enough to form an opinion, let alone express it.”
Darcy’s remorse was complete. Beyond a few raised eyebrows and some pointed questions, none of his friends—friends whom he had been certain would ridicule and censure any suggestion of an alliance with a family of such low connexions—had any serious objection to Mr Gardiner’s presence among them.
He was not unaware that his own liberality had likely influenced theirs, or that there were those in society who would be less forbearing.
Still, it shamed him deeply to see that the pride he once thought under good regulation was not typical of the sphere he grew up in but rather a product of his own, unregulated vanity.
“How are your wife and niece passing their time this morning, Mr Gardiner?” Bingley enquired.
“They planned to return Miss Darcy’s call. They are probably at the house as we speak.”
Darcy spent the next few minutes staring at nothing and listening to no one until at length, the prospect of appearing ridiculous began to seem a lesser evil than forfeiting the opportunity of seeing Elizabeth, whereupon he muttered something about arranging refreshments and set out for the house at a pace.
James directed him to the saloon, where his sister had received Elizabeth and her aunt.
Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst had joined her, and though initially vexed that more of the ladies had not troubled themselves to be sociable, Darcy soon decided it would have been better if neither of them had come either.
Mrs Hurst added nothing to the conversation, and Miss Bingley’s only notable contribution was a snide remark about Wickham’s company having left Hertfordshire.
It served her less well than he was sure she hoped it would.
Elizabeth answered calmly and collectedly that the militia’s departure had caused neither her family nor the neighbourhood in general any distress beyond a scarcity of gentlemen with whom to dance at the next assembly.
She looked at him as she said it, and her small, earnest smile turned Darcy’s insides over.
She believed him, then. His account of Wickham’s true character, so indignantly, so angrily dashed off in a letter in the hours after her rejection—all that bitterness she had overlooked and chosen to take him at his word.
The gratitude, the sheer relief this stirred in him eclipsed Miss Bingley’s paltry meanness and put a cheerful spring in his step as he escorted Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner to their carriage.
“It was very good of you to return my sister’s call, Miss Bennet. She will be delighted to have received a visit.”
“As were we by hers, and so soon after her own arrival.”
“She was eager to call. She has long been desirous of making your acquaintance.” He was not discouraged when Elizabeth looked away, for she had not turned her head so far that he could not see the little lift at the corner of her mouth. “Have you any plans for the rest of the day, Mrs Gardiner?”
“My husband intends to take us to see the Roman lead mine at Lower Kympton this afternoon.”
“If he ever decides he has caught enough of your fish,” Elizabeth interjected.
Mrs Gardiner laughed awkwardly and glanced expressively at her niece as though to admonish her for such forwardness. “And tomorrow morning, we thought we might walk along the river to Dedman Gorge. I would see whether it is as beautiful as I recall.”
“Be sure to cross to the west bank before you leave Lambton. You can no longer access the gorge from the other.” Darcy could also have told them where the otter holts were usually to be seen and the best resting places were to be found, but since he was already forming an idea to accompany them on their walk, he kept the information in reserve and only wished them a pleasant excursion.
“I look forward to seeing you all at dinner tomorrow,” he said as he handed both ladies into the open carriage.
“Yes,” was all the reply Elizabeth gave as she took her seat and fixed him with a curious look. He withstood her attention with thundering heart, more than happy to be the object of her scrutiny.
The carriage lurched into motion, and for the second time in as many days, Darcy was overcome with a bewildering array of emotions as he watched Elizabeth depart.
Yet of one thing, he was absolutely certain: he still wanted, with a passion that was almost alarming in its intensity, to make her his wife.