Chapter 29
OVERDUE CONFESSIONS
D arcy arrived in London on Saturday and called at the Gardiner residence the same day, only to discover that Mrs Gardiner was at home.
Resolved to deal exclusively with her husband, he did not leave his name and instead returned home and composed an invitation.
Mr Gardiner duly arrived, alone, at Astroite House on Sunday afternoon, and proceeded to demonstrate a far more obstinate sense of honour than Darcy had anticipated, even after having revised his opinion of the man’s sense and worth.
They argued back and forth on several points for far longer than either of the two objects of their discussion deserved, finally coming to an agreement that satisfied both and parting ways only twenty minutes before Bingley arrived for dinner.
Darcy began to rue inviting both men on the same day; he had miscalculated how draining so many unpleasant disclosures would prove.
Even once dinner was over, and he and Bingley were sitting comfortably with full stomachs and a glass of the finest port each, he found himself reluctant to begin a second round.
It occurred to him that Mrs Reynolds must have felt similarly averse when she knocked on his door earlier that week—and he was instantly provoked into action in an attempt to banish her from his thoughts. He dismissed the servants, which put his friend on guard.
“Is something the matter, Darcy?”
He nodded, slowly. “I have a confession to make, and I do not anticipate that you will like it.”
“Perhaps you had better not confess it then, for I do not like to be at variance with my friends—it gives me indigestion. And I have just eaten a vast amount of food.”
“I dislike it too, very much, but it is overdue that I own this mistake, and if you are angry with me, that will be my punishment for having interfered in the first place.” He paused, though he knew not what for.
“I was wrong to convince you that Miss Jane Bennet was indifferent to you last autumn. I believe now that she was not.”
Bingley sighed and scratched at a crumb on the table with a fingernail. “You did not convince me. I knew you were wrong.”
Of all the responses Darcy had foreseen, that had not been one. “Why, then, did you not go back?”
“I cannot altogether account for it. First, Christmas was upon us, and there were balls and parties almost every night for weeks on end, and by the time all that was over, I was not entirely sure how I ought to explain my absence. Then Caroline told me about Miss Bennet’s visit to London in January, and it rather made my mind up for me. ”
Shame burned Darcy’s gullet every bit as much as disputes did Bingley’s. “You know about that?”
“I do.”
Blast! “Bingley, I am truly sorry I concealed it from you. I could try and justify it—say I thought I was acting in your best interests—but there is no excuse. It was wrong.”
His friend grimaced ruefully. “I was sufficiently vexed at the time, I shall not deny it, but it served a purpose. It made me comprehend the magnitude of the opposition I would encounter if I married her. If you were opposed enough to the match to condescend to dishonesty to prevent it, I could only imagine the rest of society’s view.
I suppose it made me more clear-headed about your objections to her family. ”
“My objections to her family have been exposed as conceited twaddle now that I have met the Gardiners.”
Bingley stroked his jaw pensively. “I rather went the other way on the matter after meeting them.”
“You did not like them?”
“Oh, I thought they were a perfectly charming couple. I just…Well, as Caroline pointed out, they were exactly as you predicted they would be. Mr Gardiner was forever talking about his warehouses. Mrs Gardiner knew none of the women or places my sisters tried to talk to her about.”
Darcy felt no little alarm at hearing Bingley speak so. “Gardiner is a fine gentleman.”
“But he is not a gentleman, is he?” Bingley pressed.
“Neither are you, if we are to be pedantic about it, but you know what I mean.”
“I do. And you know what I mean. You have only convinced yourself there is no impediment here because you do not wish there to be one.”
Darcy caught the glint in his friend’s eye and conceded with a small chuckle and a shake of his head that he had walked directly into a trap. “Perhaps.”
Bingley returned to smiling amiably. “But you know people will object, Darcy. You warned me of that, and you were right.”
“I know. But I no longer care.”
“Not at all?”
“Not in the slightest.” With a conscious smirk, Darcy added, “It was suggested to me earlier this year that I re-evaluate my priorities.”
Bingley found this considerably funnier than Darcy expected him to and laughed heartily at it. “Is that why you were in such a bad mood all summer?”
Darcy did not deign to reply, but Bingley only smiled more broadly. “I take it you are going to make Miss Elizabeth an offer?”
“I am going to Hertfordshire to try to judge whether an offer would be welcomed.”
“She is hardly likely to refuse you!”
Darcy took a long draught of port to drown the tide of memories that assailed him of Elizabeth doing just that, and his own string of internal curses for still not being sure of her regard.
Gardiner had been infuriatingly circumspect, scarcely mentioning her name other than to say they were all sorry not to have been at liberty to explain their precipitous departure from Derbyshire.
Darcy had assured him he understood and apologised for not being there to receive them when they called at Pemberley, hoping it might induce further revelations, but it had not.
In fairness, he had been equally guarded, but his situation in life had accustomed him to a level of independence and self-sufficiency that made the prospect of divulging his personal affairs to anyone abhorrent to him.
Which made the next, necessary turn in the conversation all the more disagreeable.
“There has been a complication.”
Bingley huffed a sardonic laugh. “Is not there always?”
“Her youngest sister has recently married.”
“Miss Lydia? I did not think she was old enough to marry.”
“She is fifteen, and she was entangled with someone who ought to have known better.”
“Who?”
“Wickham.”
Bingley started. “ Your Wickham?”
“That is a ghastly epithet, but yes, I suppose so.”
“Ah. Well, that does make things rather awkward.”
“More than you know, but they will be gone farther away soon. I have that much comfort.” As concisely as he could, Darcy summarised Lydia’s elopement, the gaps in his own knowledge of the affair having been filled by Gardiner.
Bingley was appropriately dismayed. “What will become of them?”
“The money Mr Bennet has agreed to give them will scarcely cover Wickham’s gambling.
He has resigned his commission and has no other profession, since he refused to take orders or study the law when he had the chance.
And you ought to know, the nature of their marriage has caused talk in Meryton.
I hope my return will help assuage much of that, but there is always talk. ”
“This must have been beastly for Miss Bennet and her sisters.”
“That has been my concern,” Darcy agreed.
“But I hope the actions I have taken today will alleviate some of their misery. I have bought Wickham another commission—well, I have said I shall pay for it at any rate. Gardiner has agreed to arrange the purchase, which we both agree will need to be somewhere as remote as possible. And I have given him an extra thousand pounds to settle on his niece in addition to what she will have from her mother, to make sure she is more comfortable, wherever she and her husband end up.”
Bingley half frowned and half laughed. “That was a tad high-handed of you. You are not her brother yet.”
“But I am, regrettably, the closest thing to Wickham’s. And besides,” he added with a deep sigh, “none of it would have happened had I been less high-handed in the first place.”
Thus, with the greatest reluctance and a queasy feeling in his gut throughout, he explained to Bingley how Lydia’s fate had almost been Georgiana’s, and how he had thought it beneath him to warn the world about Wickham.
His friend listened with observable disquiet, unusually grave for a man whose response to most things was to find some good in them.
By the time Darcy finished, he began to worry he had erred in telling him.
“You will not think ill of my sister, I hope.”
“What? Good grief, no! And never could I. Miss Darcy is quite the sweetest creature I know—an angel compared to my sisters.”
“And I may count on your discretion?”
“Goes without saying. I wonder at you, though, Darcy. To think you have been carrying this, all these months, and said not a word to anybody.”
“I do not find it easy, unburdening myself to people.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that it might lessen your burdens if you asked for help now and again?”
“Why, have you some prodigious counsel to impart?”
Bingley grinned. “None whatsoever. I am only trying to impress upon you that you do not need to go through the world shouldering every problem on your own.”
Notwithstanding that Darcy’s discomfiture was increasing exponentially, he was not unmoved by the sentiment. “You are a good friend, Bingley.”
Bingley had finished his drink and had nothing to occupy his hands—and his hands were never still.
Darcy was accustomed to his friend’s fidgeting and was diverted to see him reach for the nearest candle stick and begin rotating it between his fingers, scrunching the tablecloth into whirls as it turned.
“’Tis rotten that you have had to put up with the cur all these years—and are set to be saddled with him forever, now. Will not Miss Darcy object to having such a brother?”
Darcy reached to refill his friend’s glass before the candlestick fell over and started a fire.
“I asked her, of course, before setting out from Pemberley. She is not enamoured of the idea, it is true, but then neither am I. But she is of the same mind as I—we would rather have Wickham and Miss Elizabeth than neither.”
Bingley looked almost proud, though if Darcy had done something to please him, he knew not what it was. “So,” he said cheerfully, “you would like me to reopen Netherfield.”
“I have not told you all this merely so that I can use your house, but so you can decide whether or not to join me.”
“But of course I shall reopen the house!”
He did not add anything else, and after a short pause, Darcy pressed, “And will you come? For Miss Bennet? Or have you decided against her?”
“I still admire her, but I have used her ill, and Miss Elizabeth did not mention that she still admired me, did she?”
Darcy grimaced, chastened to have yet more admissions to make. “Not while she was in Derbyshire, no. But she did when I saw her in Kent in April.”
Bingley tapped his finger against the side of his glass and frowned pensively for a few moments before nodding slowly.
“Yes, very well, I shall join you, though I do not know what will come of it. And Caroline will spit when I tell her, but that will only add to the fun. It will take a few days to get the wheels in motion at Netherfield. Can you wait?”
Darcy assured him he could, though every part of him chafed at the delay. “I would ensure Gardiner has everything resolved with Wickham before I go, in any case.”
“Yes, why are you dealing through Mr Gardiner? Would it not have been quicker to speak directly to Wickham?”
“I did not know where he was, but there are plenty of other reasons. I could not approach Mr Bennet, for he is unwell, apparently. Which provided a convenient excuse for not dealing with him at all. Much as I respect him as Miss Elizabeth’s father, I do not judge him to be a man with whom I could so readily consult as his brother. ”
“You are probably correct in your estimation. He is amiable enough, but not serious.”
“Indeed. He is insincere—and Wickham is mercenary. Were he to know I was the source of the money he would only argue for more. As long as he thinks it is coming from Gardiner, he will take what is offered. More importantly, I did not wish him to guess my interest in the matter until it is settled. I would not trust him not to make trouble.”
“So, Mr Gardiner is allowed to take all the credit?”
Darcy smiled faintly. “That was a stumbling block over which we debated for some time. I expect he will ask Wickham to keep his identity secret from Mrs Wickham—which ought not to present a problem. Wickham would lie on the Bible if it meant someone would give him money.”
“But you persuaded Gardiner to keep your part in it secret?”
“Yes, and I beg you would as well. I do not want Miss Elizabeth to find out. I should hate her to feel obliged to accept me.” When Bingley looked as though he would say something teasing, Darcy said, emphatically, “I must get it right, Bingley. I cannot—” He stopped short of saying he could not live without her, for it sounded ridiculous, even if it was true.
“I cannot be easy with the alternative.”
Though he looked somewhat taken aback, Bingley reached over to gently clink Darcy’s glass with his own. “I wish you luck. She would be fortunate to have you.”
Darcy thanked him sincerely and sent up a silent prayer that Elizabeth would feel the same way.