19. A Gentleman’s Duty
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A GENTLEMAN’S DUTY
Darcy had barely buttered his bread when his sister shared news over her toast.
“Did you know Mary and her sisters visited their aunt and uncle in Cheapside?”
He was aware, of course. They had even taken the dog, but he kept the butter knife moving steadily while waiting for what she evidently believed was interesting news.
“They had a very pleasant time, indeed.” His sister sounded wistful, no doubt, because she would have wished to accompany them. “Their little cousins, lemon cakes, and walks in the garden. The only excitement, according to Mary, was a very inopportune gentleman.”
“Who?”
“Why, I believe it was that baronet, Sir Geoffrey Hale.” Georgiana, oblivious to the detonation behind Darcy’s ribs, continued, “He claimed he was passing on Lombard Street, saw Elizabeth’s barouche, and stopped to pay his respects.”
Darcy set his knife down, suppressing an undignified snort.
A carriage traveling from Mayfair to Cheapside did not pass through Lombard Street, a den of moneylenders and their ilk.
Sir Geoffrey had likely delegated a watcher to track Elizabeth’s movements, waiting for her to enter a neighborhood without his protection.
“And what transpired?” Darcy asked.
“Mary said Mr. Gardiner was marvelous,” Georgiana forked a piece of bacon, which conveniently slipped off her plate in the waiting jaws of Elizabeth’s dog, Nettle, who had crossed the garden early in the morning—no doubt seeking scraps and a partner to play catch with.
“He sent Sir Geoffrey away when the gentleman brought Elizabeth a book of poetry. It was refused because it was improper.”
“That was correct.”
“Except he left it on the side table, Mary said, and she was curious, but did not dare to unwrap it. Mary said Alice—that is the eldest Gardiner child, she draws pianos from underneath, she is very clever—Alice said it was unkind to choose a book for someone without asking what they wanted to read, and then Mary laughed, and apparently it was the best part of the visit.”
“Indeed.” Darcy would not have called this intrusion the best part of anything.
Sir Geoffrey’s Sussex estates were mortgaged to the chimneys, his father’s debts a legacy no competent heir could clear.
Lombard Street meant moneylenders, not gentlemen.
And a book of poetry? In courtship, that was one step short of a proposal.
“Georgiana,” Darcy said, “did Mary mention whether Sir Geoffrey made any further arrangements to call?”
“Why yes, he requested dances for the upcoming ball, but Mr. Gardiner refused him—said he must apply to Miss Elizabeth’s guardian.” Georgiana arched an eyebrow at him. “Which, according to Mary, is you. I had no idea your trustee duties included policing dance cards.”
“Lady Sophia has made me her deputy for Miss Elizabeth’s social calls.” Darcy hoped the sudden heat in his cheeks did not betray him.
“Yes, and Sir Geoffrey Hale thought it was laughable that a single man such as yourself should be given such a position. Elizabeth, however, reassured her aunt that you were merely fulfilling your noble duty as Lady Sophia’s proxy. She seemed to see no conflict in your role.”
“There is none, dear sister. Lady Sophia inherently trusts my judgment. I have nothing but the utmost respect for Miss Elizabeth and the best interests for her prospects.”
“Then tell me, dear brother, would you be approving Sir Geoffrey’s request for the supper dance? He believes Elizabeth to be intelligent and of great literary merit.”
“I’m sure he does, but no, he will not cut in front of other more worthwhile gentlemen.” Darcy pushed from the table. “I believe Lady Sophia requests my presence to review the stack of cards.”
“Mary says it has grown to quite a tower. I do wonder,” Georgiana paused to take a sip of tea, “whether your opinion of Miss Elizabeth has quite changed from barely tolerable and not handsome enough to tempt you.”
Darcy practically dropped his fork. “Where have you heard this?”
Georgiana only smiled. “Do you forget I am friends with Miss Elizabeth’s sisters? I have informed them you are eminently just in the adjudication of dance card placements precisely because you have no interest in Elizabeth’s romantic prospects.”
She gave him a sidelong glance before dropping a boiled egg near Nettle’s chomping jaws.
Darcy’s cravat tightened, choking him with its rigid starched constraints.
Of course, he would be just and fair. He was, after all, the only single gentleman in London with no prospects—at least in Miss Elizabeth’s estimation.
She had made it clear during the tortured twenty minutes of her most eloquent refusal. Last man in the world.
He set his napkin on the plate and stood. “Lady Sophia expects me to review the silver salver. Thank you for the intelligence on Sir Geoffrey Hale. Ordinarily, I might have granted him the cotillion, but this breach of propriety cannot be overlooked. I shall go to Number 33 at once.”
“Brother,” Georgiana called after him, her voice brimming with quiet amusement as he reached the door, “I believe Miss Mary requested my presence as well. She is eager for a chaperone in the music room, in case Mr. John Lucas should call with his mother.”
Darcy had no interest in the Lucases or Miss Mary’s prospects.
Nettle trotted behind him as he crossed the garden at a pace Georgiana would have called indecent.
Stilton, the butler, let him into a house scented with beeswax and lavender.
Georgiana disappeared into the music room as Darcy made for the drawing room.
“Godmama…” The words died on his lips as Lady Sophia was absent entirely.
A note in her precise hand rested on the tea table: Gone to the modiste with Jane and Allegra.
I assume you have brought your sister, and Miss Mary and Nettle shall provide for propriety.
You have the room. Do not waste it. - S.
Waste what, exactly? Reviewing gentlemen callers?
Lady Sophia, he suspected, blamed him for every hint of romantic turmoil Elizabeth displayed—her imagination fueled by too much novel reading.
He had barely set down the note when Elizabeth swept in, balancing a sheaf of papers and a half-empty teacup. Ink stained her fingers. Her morning dress was pale blue, her hair pinned up with one rebellious curl at her neck—the same curl that had been his undoing since Hertfordshire.
“Mr. Darcy. Lady Sophia has abandoned us. She left a note that reads like a military dispatch. I had believed trips to the modiste were too hard for her bones.”
“I received similar instructions.” He took the chair across from her, and the absence of the desk between them remained, almost a month into the new arrangement, a condition he had not adjusted to and suspected he never would.
“I wished to discuss the ball and a matter that arose from your visit to Cheapside.”
“Sir Geoffrey.” Elizabeth settled onto the settee with a graceful smile, rather than the challenge he expected. “Mary told Georgiana, and Georgiana told you. The intelligence network in this household operates with impressive efficiency.”
“Sir Geoffrey Hale is not what he presented.”
“I am aware,” Elizabeth said, her fingers tracing the handle of her teacup. “Uncle Gardiner dismantled his commercial pretense as well as his importunity in calling on me without a proper card.”
“His difficulties extend beyond his societal offenses. The Hale estates are encumbered. His presence on Lombard Street suggests an association with lenders of last resort. His interest in you is financial, Miss Bennet.”
“Really?” She tilted her chin with that characteristic archness. “He seemed quite besotted, unable to resist an impromptu visit upon spying my carriage in the vicinity. He called me intelligent and of?—”
“Literary merit, yes, I’ve heard from my sister. However, I shall not be approving of his call nor his request for the supper dance.”
She nodded, looking quite a bit more subdued than he would have expected after such a heavy-handed decree.
“I agree. I had not spoken to him for more than a few seconds when he presumed, based on Lady Prideaux’s recommendation, that I would be enamored with a book of poetry.
Pity, it was wrapped so prettily, and one could not discern the poet’s name through the thick paper.
He does, however, seem quite charming and so gallant with his horses.
And with a title of baronet, I believe.”
“He is not the only man who is calculating your fortune,” Darcy said darkly. “When we go through the salver, you shall see many whose estates are mortgaged, gambling debts, and inheritances held in trust.”
“Are you saying no gentlemen would be interested in me without my wealth?” Elizabeth speared him with that directness which had always unnerved him. “Is that the story, Mr. Darcy? The reason you, as the trustee of my fortune, are required to review my dance card?”
“Absolutely not, Miss Bennet.” Darcy wished to lower that defensive tilt of her chin.
“You are far more than a number on a ledger. Those who know you value your loyalty. Your concern for your sisters and mother, your family. I only warn you, as a man who understands London, that not all gentlemen have your best interests at heart. Sir Geoffrey, for example, could claim a greater intimacy than he has by reporting how he had visited you at your uncle’s home.
He should not have admitted him even into the drawing room nor allowed him to leave the book behind. ”
“I believe Uncle Gardiner asked my preference, and I consented,” Elizabeth said, her face lowering as she seemed to quail slightly under the correction.
“His story about Lombard Street was designed to bring about your curiosity. I do not doubt his competency in gaining entry where he should not.”