Chapter Fourteen
The yard smelt of tar and salt. Men moved among the timber stacks with practised ease; a mallet rang, then the long rasp of a plane followed, soft as a breath.
Mr. Hall spoke of scantling and knees; the shipbuilder, a square, careful man, showed the moulds upon the floor.
Darcy listened with attention that surprised himself.
He had meant at first to call such knowledge by the name of prudence; now he found it possessed a plain beauty of its own.
When Hall went off with the foreman to reckon a shortfall in seasoned planks, Mr. Gardiner drew Darcy aside and they walked between two rows of oak, the shade cool upon their shoulders.
“You will forgive a merchant's questions,” said Mr. Gardiner. “I like to see whether the figures in a man's head agree with those in his hand.”
“I have no objection to either,” replied Darcy. “I hope to have the head for it, and to learn the hand.”
Mr. Gardiner's look held a glimmer of amusement. “So you told me the other night. You remained at Brinmouth to study the business.”
Darcy felt the colour rise. “I did say so. The reason is not false. It is only not the whole.”
“I had supposed as much,” said Mr. Gardiner. “You wish to call at our house more frequently, and to be, when it suits my wife, in Miss Bennet's company.”
“I do. Always with Mrs. Gardiner present, and never at hours or in places that might give rise to remark. If my visits are not welcome, I shall withdraw at once.”
“They are welcome,” said Mr. Gardiner. “My wife and I suspected your mind.
We wish only for propriety and Lizzy's ease. There is one thing more. If this attention should ripen, Longbourn may not rejoice as we should hope. I cannot tell you why with certainty. It is only a sense that I have. You may rely upon us meanwhile.”
“You astonish me. I do not speak in vanity. Yet a man in my position is not often thought an unwelcome suitor. If there is an objection, I would rather know it than offend unawares.”
“My doubt does not touch you,” said Mr. Gardiner.
“It touches Longbourn. Lizzy is not considered there as she ought to be. If the same attention were offered to another of her sisters, I think there would be bells and neighbours and every triumph at once. With Lizzy there is less warmth. I cannot tell you the whole cause; I only know the effect. As to my sister, she values what she readily understands. Lizzy has never been the daughter most like her. It is no great mystery, yet it has had its consequences.”
They turned at the end of the row and came back along the timber. Mr. Gardiner went on in a quieter tone.
“As for Mr. Bennet, I do not say he would oppose you aloud. He would laugh, call it surprising, and retire to his library. Yet in truth he would lose his household steward. Lizzy keeps his books, spares him the small frictions of a family, and sets his affairs in a line. He is content that it should be so, and does not willingly part with what eases him. That is all I mean.”
“I am obliged to you. Whatever reluctance they may feel, I hope never to give Miss Bennet uneasiness on that account.”
“Very proper,” said Mr. Gardiner. “Then let us make the terms simple. Your morning walks may continue. James shall follow a little nearer. He understands his duty. And besides meeting my niece upon the shore, what else had you considered?”
Darcy hesitated, the colour touching his cheek. “Very little. I had thought only that it would be pleasant to see her safely to the lighthouse some fine day, if Mrs. Gardiner approved. The view is said to be worth the climb.”
Mr. Gardiner's eyes brightened. “A good beginning. My wife will like the lighthouse. And on another day we might take tea in town. There is a quiet room at the inn where Madeline is known.”
“As you think best.”
“And if you wish her to see what interests you here,” Mr. Gardiner added, glancing toward the moulds, “the ladies may walk through the yard when the men are at their dinner. The frame will rise next week. It is a sober sight, and suits Lizzy's temper.”
Darcy looked relieved. “You are very kind to arrange it. I ought to own that I have never truly courted any lady. I have been little in ladies' company. If I am awkward, it is from want of practice rather than want of care.”
“That is easily mended,” said Mr. Gardiner. “We need not settle everything today. Let us fix the first two engagements, and the rest shall propose themselves. A man learns best by doing.”
Darcy smiled. “Then the lighthouse when the wind is fair, and tea in town before the week is out.”
“Just so. After that, we shall see what offers itself. One proper step invites another.”
“You draw the lines with such good sense that a man must be foolish to miss them.”
“A man in love is sometimes foolish,” returned Mr. Gardiner. “I do not think you are so. Now, Hall is waving. Come and give your judgment where it can do no harm. You shall decide whether that plank is half an inch too proud, and we will claim you for an authority.”
Darcy laughed and went with him. As they turned back into the light, he felt a steadiness take hold. The first steps were chosen; the rest would follow in their time.
They came in together near the dinner hour.
Mrs. Gardiner received them with her usual cordial gravity, and the small dining parlour, neat and cheerful, gathered the party in a circle of quiet propriety.
The talk began with moulds and timber; then, at Mr. Gardiner's choosing, turned to what most concerned the company.
“Mrs. Gardiner and I are agreed. We shall be glad of your visits, Mr. Darcy, and the morning walks may continue openly. Only let James be within sight.”
A brief silence followed.
“Darcy and I also spoke of an outing,” continued Mr. Gardiner. “The lighthouse, when the wind is fair.”
“I have heard it affords a noble prospect,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “What may be seen in clear weather?”
“A fine sweep of the coast to the south,” replied Darcy. “The pale water over a shoal. Fishing boats keeping a sensible distance. On the brightest days, a faint headland very far off.”
“Then we shall attempt it the day after tomorrow,” said Mr. Gardiner, as though settling an ordinary household arrangement.
“Tea in town before the week is out. When the frame stands, we will walk the ladies through the yard while the men are at their dinner. The rest may follow as it proposes itself.”
Elizabeth made a few inquiries regarding the excursion, and Mrs. Gardiner supplied the rest. Darcy was grateful for the order of it, yet not wholly easy.
Something in Elizabeth's manner was altered.
She was as kind as before, but less unguarded.
Whether the change arose from embarrassment or caution he could not determine.
It was enough that she received him kindly still.
He therefore took his leave soon afterwards, kissed her hand with respectful formality, and wished her good night.
“Good night, Miss Bennet.”
“Good night, Mr. Darcy.”