21. Gracechurch Street—Sunday, 31 December 1809
Darcy cared about his uncle and aunt, but he did not truly enjoy spending time with them. However, Elizabeth’s uncle and aunt were a very different story.
Gardiner did not know anything about glasshouse horticulture and only a bit about birds—he did help Elizabeth take the songbirds she bred to market every year—but he shared a worldview based on integrity, and he was as interested in new technologies and physical sciences as Darcy.
Perhaps as important was the fact that Gardiner found himself just as unusual among wealthy tradesmen as Darcy was among wealthy landowners.
They understood one another to a surprising degree, and they were on the best of terms.
Mrs Gardiner, too, was someone Darcy genuinely enjoyed conversing with—and it was not just the stunning coincidence that she grew up in Lambton, and had met and respected his parents, and loved the beauty of the Peak as much as he.
No, it was her kindness and natural happiness.
He could see the Gardiners’ good qualities echoed in Elizabeth, and he treasured the older couple in part because they were so important—and so formative—for Elizabeth.
He dropped Georgiana off with the Matlock family for a quiet New Year’s Eve dinner and went to the Gardiners’ house instead.
Darcy told Elizabeth, “My aunt sends you her well wishes and directs me to tell you that she is extremely bitter that you did not insist that we go to their house.”
“Did she indeed?” Elizabeth asked. Her eyes were mirthful, but she swiftly asked, “She was teasing, was she not?”
“Yes. But also no, but mostly yes.” Darcy shook his head. “She is more selfish than your aunt, but that does not mean that we have to indulge her every wish.”
“I agree.”
The Gardiners hosted a two-course dinner, and then Darcy and Elizabeth read story books to the three older children while Nurse watched little Tommy. The Gardiner parents had precious time together to reflect on the past year and make plans for the one to come.
When all the children were asleep, the four adults discussed the new Prime Minister, the Old Price riots, and Lord Byron’s satire. Somehow they ended up on a tangent about the common polypus and the myth of the colossal octopodes that could destroy ships.
Just before midnight, Gardiner ceremoniously opened the front door to symbolically let out the Old Year and welcome in the New. They toasted the New Year with Wassail. Then Darcy kissed Elizabeth’s hands tenderly and began to say his goodbyes when suddenly, they all heard music.
“Is the front door still open?” Mrs Gardiner asked. The volume of the music was of concern—she truly hoped her children would not wake up.
“The door is closed, and the music is courtesy of waits, I suppose,” Gardiner replied.
He and Darcy went down to the group of town pipers with a plate full of food and a bottle of wine.
When they opened the door, the music became much louder, and Darcy swiftly closed the door again, with them outside with eleven musicians playing flute-like pipes.
“Excuse me, good sirs,” Gardiner said, and he presented the plate of food. “I have a baby who is blessedly asleep at the moment—”
“Say no more,” one of the waits said, pocketing his pipe. All the other pipers put their instruments away as well, so that they could pass around the food and wine. Darcy gave them each a guinea, and the musicians cheerfully went on their way to play for—or awaken—other residents.
As they went back into the house, Darcy said, “On the whole, I prefer paying musicians to play rather than to stop playing, but that was money well spent if the children remain undisturbed.”
Gardiner laughed so hard he had to press one hand against his mouth so that he would not be the one to wake his children. He took the empty plate and bottle into the kitchens, and Darcy crept into the parlour with the question, “All quiet here?”
Elizabeth said, “Yes, the children slept through it. And we were just saying good night—I expect you arranged for your horse to be readied?”
“I did. Happy New Year, my love. The year is, I am certain, destined to be the best year of my life so far.”
“Happy New Year to you. I have to say, last year was my favourite year up ’til now, so I can readily believe that this year will be even better.”
The next morning, Darcy went to Matlock House to pick up Georgiana, and he greeted his aunt cheerfully: “Happy New Year, Aunt.”
“Happy New Year, Darcy. Was your evening full of scintillating conversation and a true meeting of minds?”
“That is well put, actually. I am not certain what was spoken of here last night, but I could not imagine more interesting conversations than what I enjoyed at the Gardiners’ home.”
“Let me guess: the war, the Prime Minister, and the Duke of York.”
“No, yes, and no. We spoke of the Prime Minister, but not the other topics you mentioned. Instead, we talked about the O. P. Riots, Lord Byron, polypusses, and octopodes.”
Darcy grinned at the sight of his aunt’s exasperated eyebrow motions. “Well, we certainly would never bother with discussing sea creatures, real or mythical, here,” she said acerbically, “but you may keep your little friends if that is to your taste.”
Kissing his aunt’s cheek, Darcy suggested, “You know me, Auntie. I cannot think and talk about orange trees and canaries all the hours of the day. I must break out a discussion about the common polypus once a month at least!”
“I cannot even tell if you are teasing, Darcy. I am certainly glad Miss Bennet enjoys talking of polypusses, because I assure you, Miss Carrington and Miss Graham would not.”
“Auntie, you have to admit that you invited ladies such as Miss Carrington in order to show me the contrast between my choice and your suggestions.”
“I admit that intention, but before you take the trouble of pointing it out, I also admit that Miss Carrington is not at all worthy, after all, despite her fifty thousand pounds. I was impressed that your Miss Bennet handled her firmly but remained polite enough that she was the clear winner in that exchange.”
Darcy nodded. “I will admit, in turn, that most of the ladies you invited were much better behaved and, likely, very worthy of being the Mistress of Pemberley—except for the fact that I find them so little interesting, I fear we would not only be strangers to one another, we would wish to remain strangers. Why would I choose that instead of one who is also very worthy of being Mistress of Pemberley but who captivates me, shares deep-seated interests with me, and attracts me more than any other woman I have ever encountered?”
“Her knowledge of comportment seems well enough, and I am happy that her interests intersect with your own, but I was most glad to see that she has a natural sort of lightness, of happiness, that you lack.”
“Precisely. Your stratagem on Christmas Day would have misfired even if I had only just met Miss Bennet and was not yet betrothed to her. I would count it as a misfire even if Miss Bennet did not have a single thing to say about the common polypus."
Darcy enjoyed the rare treat of watching his aunt truly laugh—something she would never do outside of her own home or with people other than family.
She said, “I cannot believe I tried to play matchmaker on your behalf, Darcy. I do not understand you in the least. I suppose it is well you took matters into your own hands.”
“I had no intention, at this young age, of seeking a wife,” Darcy admitted. “But when Fate presents you with your perfect match….”
“Just make sure that Fate, or Destiny, or whatever you choose to call it, ensures that you and Miss Bennet will be right here for Twelfth Night.”
They parted with that agreement. Georgiana was pleased, when they returned to Darcy House, that Mrs Annesley had returned from her holiday family visit. “I missed you, dear Mrs Annesley,” she called out as she hurried to her companion.
That day’s post provided good reports from Pemberley and Darcy’s minor estates, numerous invitations, and a scathing letter from Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Darcy’s maternal aunt.
He expected that the letter would express outrage that Darcy had chosen to marry someone other than his cousin Anne—and a quick scan proved that he was correct.
Given that there was no information in the letter and only a repetition of sentiments for which no one other than Lady Catherine wished, he put the letter into the fire.
A happier but sloppier letter made the announcement that Bingley had asked Miss Jane Bennet to marry him, and his proposal was accepted by both the lady and her father.
Darcy struggled to read the news through inkblots, crossed out words, and misspellings, but he believed that the wedding was scheduled for Monday, the twenty-second of January, just three days after his own wedding.
It was very good news. His unpleasant younger sister aside, Bingley would make a very good husband and father: he was cheerful, loyal, honest, hardworking, and kind.
Darcy hoped that his friend had made arrangements for Miss Bingley to live elsewhere, but Darcy knew better than to interfere with Bingley’s decisions.
He looked forward to hearing the news filtered through ladies—specifically Jane and Elizabeth—and he felt certain that Jane’s letter would be longer, more detailed, and easier to read.