Chapter Twenty
The journey to London passed in a brightness that seemed almost borrowed from the sea they had left behind.
The road was long, yet none felt it tedious.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner spoke often of their children; of Grace’s impatience, of Bethany’s ribbons, of Eddie’s wooden ships and little Freddie’s delight in anything that rolled across the floor.
Elizabeth listened with a tenderness sharpened by absence, and Mr. Darcy, riding sometimes beside their carriage and sometimes within it, joined easily in their anticipations, asking questions with a warmth that made the children seem already half known to him.
For some miles the conversation was cheerful; then, as the road stretched open and quiet, it turned more deliberate.
“You must not go to Longbourn alone,” said Mr. Gardiner. “Whatever reception awaits you there, it shall not be faced unsupported.”
“My father may not readily approve an extension of my stay,” said Elizabeth. “Though there is nothing pressing that requires my return, he is not fond of arrangements made beyond his knowledge. And there is in me an uneasiness that the request might be denied simply because it is mine.”
“Then we shall not present it as a request,” said Mr. Gardiner. “You are assisting your aunt; that is reason enough. If more is required, I shall supply it.”
“She shall not return without me,” said Darcy. “If she goes to Longbourn, it shall be when I may properly attend her.”
Elizabeth felt the firmness of that promise more keenly than any earlier declaration. It was not defiance; it was protection.
“Very well,” said Mr. Gardiner. “Then we shall contrive matters so that Hertfordshire receives you both together.
Yet until Mr. Bennet's consent is secured, there is, in the strictest sense, no engagement to proclaim. It would be prudent to plan for all outcomes. Discretion, for the present, may prove the wiser course.”
“I shall not speak of it generally,” said Darcy. “My cousin must know, for I keep nothing from him; but beyond that, I would not have Miss Bennet's circumstances made subject to discussion. The explanation would require particulars better left unexamined.”
By the time they reached the Ashfords' house, the children had already been watching for them.
The carriage had scarcely stopped before the door opened and Grace came flying down the steps.
Bethany followed close behind; Eddie lingered only until Mr. Gardiner lifted him from the ground; and Freddie, determined not to be overlooked, fastened himself at once upon his father's coat.
Elizabeth was drawn into the welcome almost as quickly.
Mrs. Gardiner endured a moment of composure before laughter and tears overcame it together.
Lady Ashford received them with equal warmth, though of a quieter kind.
She stood aside at first, content to watch the joyful confusion, before drawing Mrs. Gardiner away for a few moments' conversation.
“Ashford's mother will never forgive me if I do not secure you for tomorrow evening,” she said with affectionate resignation.
“Richard is on leave, Henry is free of Parliament for once, and for the first time in months the whole of the Fitzwilliam household is assembled under one roof. I called on your mother yesterday; she unfortunately will not be able to come, being confined at home with a summer cold. She was greatly disappointed to miss it. Lady Matlock declares the rest of us must make up the deficiency.”
Mrs. Gardiner's expression softened. “Poor Mama. I had hoped she would be there.”
“So had we all.”
“Then we must certainly come,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “And when Lady Matlock declares, the rest of us comply.”
Lady Ashford's glance shifted briefly toward Elizabeth and Darcy, who stood a little apart amid the general confusion. “She may also,” she added, amusement in her voice, “have some curiosity to satisfy.”
The next evening Darcy left his house a little before six and walked toward Grosvenor Street.
The distance was slight; only a few doors separated his residence from Lord Matlock's house, yet he preferred to arrive on foot.
As he reached the corner, the Gardiners' carriage came into view, and he went forward in time to meet it. Mr. Gardiner descended first.
“You have chosen your moment well, Darcy.”
“I was determined to do so.”
Mr. Gardiner laughed, handed down his wife, and conducted her toward the steps. Elizabeth remained only a moment longer within the carriage. Darcy stepped forward at once.
“Miss Bennet.”
He offered his hand, and as she descended from the carriage he assisted her to the pavement.
“You have been much occupied today,” she said.
“I have. Though I found it a poor substitute for our morning.”
“You must learn to bear such disappointments.”
“I shall endeavour, though I cannot promise success.”
He raised her hand to his lips.
“You improve my chances very little.”
Elizabeth laughed, and he offered his arm. Together they followed the Gardiners up the steps, where Lord and Lady Matlock were already assembled in the drawing room.
“Madeline, my dear,” said Lady Matlock, “you have been too long away from us.”
“My dear Aunt Deborah,” Mrs. Gardiner returned, taking her hands, “we have been most happily detained.”
“That, I think, is already understood,” said Lady Matlock.
“Miss Bennet, I am very glad to see you again.”
Elizabeth curtsied. “You are very good, ma'am.”
Lady Matlock smiled and gave a slight inclination of her head. “We are delighted to have you with us.” She then turned to her husband, who welcomed the party with his usual ease.
“Richard,” said Lord Matlock, “you have not yet met Miss Bennet.”
Richard came forward at once.
“Miss Bennet, my youngest son, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. Richard, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“I have heard so much of you that I am glad to make your acquaintance,” he said, bowing over her hand.
“I hope, sir, that what you have heard has not raised expectations too high.”
“Not at all,” he returned. “If anything, I suspect my cousin has been sparing in his account.”
Darcy's look in answer was brief and not particularly encouraging. Richard only smiled and moved on to greet Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner.
At that moment Lord and Lady Ashford were announced.
“My dear Madeline,” said Lady Ashford, crossing quickly to her, “we feared we had kept you waiting.”
“You are but just in time,” said Lady Matlock. “We are all assembled at last.”
Introductions were completed without delay.
Lord Ashford greeted the company with composed civility, while Lady Ashford renewed her acquaintance with Elizabeth.
Servants moved quietly through the room with refreshments; Lady Matlock settled Mrs. Gardiner beside her upon a sofa, Colonel Fitzwilliam claimed a place near the fire, and Lord Matlock drew Mr. Gardiner into conversation.
Darcy found himself at Elizabeth's side almost without design, and for a quarter of an hour the company divided and reassembled in the easy manner of family.
At length dinner was announced. The company rose and passed into the dining room, where Lady Matlock declared that, as they were among family, she would have none of the ceremony of assigned places.
“Sit where you please,” she said. “I am determined to enjoy at least one dinner this season without consulting precedence.”
This indulgence being universally approved, the company seated themselves with little delay, and for a time the conversation remained general. Lady Matlock and Lady Ashford spoke of the town, of calls made and neglected, and of those engagements which must be endured whether one wished it or no.
“You cannot imagine,” said Lady Ashford, “how completely my children have forgotten me in favour of yours. Frederick has declared Eddie's ships superior to anything in his possession, and Margaret has taken to arranging Bethany's ribbons as though they were matters of state.”
“My children are no better,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “Grace speaks of Hyde Park as though it were a kingdom to which she has a rightful claim, and Freddie has not ceased to ask why he may not return tomorrow.”
“They will contrive it yet,” said Lady Ashford.
Lord Matlock set down his spoon and turned toward Mr. Gardiner. “And the ship; I understand she is nearly—”
“My dear Henry,” said Lady Matlock, “you will not begin upon ships at my table.”
He smiled and resumed his soup. “You see how I am governed, Gardiner.”
“I should not wish you otherwise,” said Mr. Gardiner.
At that moment the servants entered with the next course, and while dishes were removed and replaced, the conversation shifted.
Elizabeth answered Lady Ashford's inquiries about Brinmouth, speaking of the lighthouse and their morning walks; Mrs. Gardiner added an account of their sailing excursion and several small adventures that had attended it.
Lady Matlock, whose attention had more than once been drawn to Elizabeth, now observed her more steadily.
At the theatre, the resemblance had been no more than an impression; a turn of the head, a light imperfectly caught, a memory awakened before it could be examined.
Here, in the steadiness of a well-lit room, such illusions did not readily persist. She watched Elizabeth as she spoke with Mrs. Gardiner, with Darcy, and with the others at the table.
There was ease in her manner, and a quiet firmness in her tone; something thoughtful, yet entirely her own.
Her sister had possessed a gentleness of a different kind; a softness which yielded where this young lady seemed rather to consider and then decide.
Even the likeness in feature, when more calmly regarded, appeared less certain.
The shape might recall; the expression did not.
The eyes above all were different. Whatever had first suggested the resemblance could not be found there, nor indeed in any feature which admitted of close reflection.
She corrected herself with a degree of amusement.
The past had a way of presenting itself where it was most wished, and least to be trusted.
She had lost her sister too soon to sickness, and then Margaret with her infant child.
The hope that had briefly comforted them all had vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared.
That it was now near twenty years since she had last seen them, and that the recollection had first returned to her at the theatre, might sufficiently account for an impression she ought never to have encouraged.
Elizabeth Bennet was a very pleasing young woman, deserving of regard entirely on her own account, and with that conclusion Lady Matlock allowed the matter to rest.
“And the presents,” said Lady Ashford at last, looking from one to the other, “I begin to think that between you, Madeline, and Mr. Darcy, my children have been most thoroughly spoiled. I cannot imagine there was anything left in the town.”
“We are always tempted to indulge them when we are away, and this time we had more reason than usual. Your care of them could not go unacknowledged.”
“And very handsomely acknowledged,” said Lord Ashford. “Our nursery has not been so well supplied in years.”
“With Mr. Darcy engaged in the matter,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “I have long since resigned any claim to distinction. I am their uncle by right, yet I find myself quite eclipsed.”
“I should be sorry to deprive you of your consequence,” said Darcy.
“You have already done so. I must now rely upon charm alone, Colonel Fitzwilliam replied.
“The selections themselves were made with uncommon judgment,” said Lady Matlock. “There is not a single article among them that does not appear particularly well chosen.”
“I was about to say the same,” said Lady Ashford. “One might almost suppose, Mr. Darcy, that you had assistance.”
“I was not without guidance.”
“That explains it perfectly,” said Lord Ashford. “Left to himself, I imagine he would have purchased half the town without distinction.”
“I preferred not to risk omission.”
“I think,” said Lord Matlock dryly, “that none who were remembered will complain of it.”
“Nor those who were not,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “for they will never know what they have lost.”
“And the conveyance of all this bounty,” said Lord Ashford, “must have been an undertaking in itself.”
“It was,” said Mr. Gardiner. “I began to think we travelled less with luggage than with cargo.”
“And the pebbles,” he continued with deliberate gravity. “We must not forget those. I believe they formed no inconsiderable part of it.”
“They are not cargo,” said Elizabeth at once. “They are chosen.”
“Very carefully chosen,” said Mrs. Gardiner.
“I hope they will continue to be so,” said Darcy.
“For the sake of the pebbles alone, I hope so too,” said Lord Ashford with a smile. “Father, I called this morning at Doctors' Commons. They are still attempting to trace Trevelyan's will, but nothing further has been discovered.”
Lady Matlock set down her glass. “My son, if you persist in speaking of wills at my table, I shall be forced to abandon you to them.”
Lord Ashford smiled. “I beg your pardon.”
“I shall accept it,” she said. “But I think we have carried patience far enough.”
She rose.
“The ladies will withdraw. You may have your ships and your estates, and whatever else recommends itself to you.”
Lady Ashford rose at once; Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth followed.
“Come, my dear,” Lady Matlock added, turning to Elizabeth with kindness, “we shall leave them to their wisdom.”
The gentlemen stood as the ladies quitted the room.