Chapter XVIII #2
Darcy continued more quietly. “I know Wickham better than anyone presently in London. I know the sort of establishments he frequents, the acquaintances he cultivates, and the men to whom he is likely to turn when his money is exhausted.”
Gardiner listened without interruption.
“Moreover,” Darcy went on, “I possess advantages you do not. I have agents who can make discreet enquiries, acquaintances in places where you would have no reason to apply, and the means to pursue him without neglecting my own affairs.”
“You believe you can find him?”
Darcy’s expression hardened. “I believe I stand a better chance.”
Gardiner studied him for a long moment. “May I ask why you are willing to undertake so much for a family with whom, until recently, you had little connection?”
Darcy did not answer immediately. “Because,” he said at last, “I have known George Wickham for most of my life.” He paused.
“I bear some responsibility for allowing such a man to remain at liberty for so many years. I once believed exposing his character would serve no useful purpose. I fear I was mistaken.”
Gardiner regarded him thoughtfully.
“Very well,” he said at length. “I accept your offer… and my sincere thanks.”
Darcy merely inclined his head. Gratitude had never sat comfortably upon him. Without another word, he reached for the map, folded it neatly, and kept it. The gesture required no explanation; the search had become his.
“And Longbourn?” he asked.
The question seemed to surprise Gardiner slightly. “My sister is much as one might expect. She has wept herself into headaches and exhausted every prediction of disaster. Every morning, she is persuaded that the worst is about to occur before breakfast.”
Despite himself, Darcy almost smiled. “And Miss Bennet?”
The singular did not escape Gardiner’s notice. “Jane bears it with remarkable composure. More composure, perhaps, than is entirely natural.”
Darcy nodded slowly. He could easily believe it. “And the others?”
“Kitty alternates between tears and self-reproach. It looks like she was informed of some of the happenings. Unfortunately, she did not think she ought to share with her family. Mary has discovered a great many moral lessons in the affair and is determined to share them. As for Elizabeth…”
Gardiner paused briefly. Darcy’s expression remained unchanged.
Nevertheless, the older gentleman found himself unexpectedly reminded of Derbyshire. Of Pemberley. Of attentions which, at the time, had appeared merely courteous. Then seeing him in Lambton, with Elizabeth, then at the inn.
Perhaps they had been. Perhaps not.
“Elizabeth has suffered more than she admits.” The answer came quietly.
Gardiner watched him carefully. The question had been asked almost casually, but the answer clearly mattered.
Darcy looked up.
“She has no illusions about what all this means.”
For the first time since his arrival, some trace of emotion escaped Darcy’s control.
Only for an instant. Yet Gardiner saw it.
“She blames herself to a degree which is entirely unreasonable,” he continued. “The rest of us have attempted to persuade her otherwise with very little success.”
A silence followed.
When Darcy spoke, his voice was lower than before.
“That does not surprise me.”
“No.” Gardiner’s gaze rested upon him thoughtfully.
“I imagine it would not.”
Neither man spoke. Then Gardiner seemed to reach a decision. “May I ask a question, Mr. Darcy?”
“Certainly.”
“You are not assisting us merely because you happen to know Mr. Wickham.”
It was not quite a question.
Darcy met his gaze. “No.”
The answer was so direct that Gardiner found himself momentarily taken aback. He had expected evasion.
Instead, Darcy continued quietly, “I would have considered it my duty in any event.”
Gardiner inclined his head. It was a respectable answer. It was also not the whole answer. Yet he judged the moment unsuitable for further enquiry. Instead, he said, “My niece would be grateful to know that.”
Darcy looked away. “That is not necessary.”
“No,” said Gardiner softly. “Perhaps not.”
“The neighbourhood?” Darcy asked after a moment.
Gardiner gave a humourless smile. “I fear Meryton has behaved very much as Meryton was always likely to behave.”
Darcy said nothing.
“There have been a few exceptions, certainly. Some genuine kindness. Some attempts at discretion. But not many.” His expression darkened.
Darcy’s jaw tightened. “I see.”
“My sister’s family receives very few visitors now.
Invitations have ceased almost entirely.
Those who do call seem unable to decide whether they have come to offer sympathy or satisfy curiosity.
” Gardiner looked at him steadily. “No meal is eaten without someone mentioning it. No walk is taken without lowered voices. They all suffer from it.”
The simple statement carried more force than any longer explanation might have done. “Jane attempts to shield the others. Elizabeth pretends not to care. Neither succeeds particularly well.”
Darcy lowered his eyes briefly.
Gardiner shook his head. “It is an unfortunate thing, Mr. Darcy, to discover how quickly society punishes an entire family for the errors of one member.”
The words lingered between them.
Darcy found himself thinking of Longbourn. Of five sisters condemned together for a fault committed by only one. The injustice of it struck him more strongly than ever.
He nodded slowly.
For a moment, neither said anything. Then Darcy set aside the map. “Mr. Gardiner,” he said, “there is another matter of which you should be informed.”
Something in his tone caused the older man’s attention to sharpen immediately.
Darcy hesitated only briefly.
“Miss Lydia has been found.”
For perhaps the first time since Darcy’s arrival, Gardiner lost all composure. He stared. He appeared unable to speak at all for several moments.
Then he rose abruptly from his chair. “I beg your pardon. Found?”
“Yes.”
“Yes – How? Where? Good God! Is she… well?”
“She is.”
Gardiner closed his eyes briefly. The movement lasted scarcely a second, yet it revealed more than any display of emotion could have done. When he spoke again, his voice was noticeably unsteady. “Thank God.” The words seemed drawn from him involuntarily.
Darcy looked away, granting him the privacy of the moment.
Gardiner resumed his seat after several seconds.
“God bless you, sir.”
“The circumstances in which she was discovered were unfortunate. But by a singular good fortune, she is… no irreparable harm has been done.”
Mr. Gardiner snapped his head. “What do you mean?”
“Miss Lydia deserves more credit than I believe she has often been given. She resisted where another girl might not have done.”
“She-she,” Mr. Gardiner swallowed, “What are you saying? Is-is untouched?”
“Yes.”
“Good Lord… After all this time… And where is she?”
“At my house.”
This produced a second silence. Not shock exactly. Something nearer astonishment. Gardiner blinked twice before he found his voice. “At Darcy House?”
“Yes.”
Gardiner regarded him steadily. “My niece is under your protection?”
“She is under my sister’s protection principally,” said Darcy. “Miss Darcy and Mrs. Annesley, her companion, have shown her every kindness. My family doctor has attended her.”
Gardiner looked at him in silence. The arrangements sounded less like a temporary refuge than a deliberate attempt to protect a frightened girl from further injury.
For a long moment, Gardiner said nothing, breathing heavily. Then quietly: “You have done a great deal for people who possess no claim upon you, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy’s gaze dropped briefly to the papers before him. The answer, when it came, was equally quiet. “I could not have acted otherwise.”
Gardiner studied him for a moment, as though considering something he ultimately chose not to say.
“Good God… Mr. Wickham,” he exclaimed.
“He had abandoned her.”
Gardiner drew a long breath and passed a hand across his face. When he looked up, he thought out loud. “But then why did she not come here or…”
“She was not in a position to do so.”
His head shot up.
“Mr. Gardiner, it is best if you do not ask questions.”
The older man looked at him in silence.
“Is it better I do not know?”
Darcy gave a deliberate nod.
Gardiner looked away, then nodded. When he turned back, he said, “My wife must be told.”
“Of course.”
Without waiting for further discussion, he crossed to the bell-pull and rang.
Several minutes later Mrs. Gardiner entered the room. She looked from her husband to Darcy with immediate concern.
“Edward? Mr. Darcy!”
Gardiner moved towards her at once. “My dear, sit down.”
“I don’t understand…”
Her husband took her hand.
“Lydia has been found.”
For a moment, she stared at him. Then the colour drained from her face. “Found?” She glanced at Darcy worriedly.
“She is safe.”
She looked back at her husband and seemed to have difficulty understanding what he was saying. Mrs. Gardiner closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, they were bright with tears. “Safe?”
“Yes.”
A hand rose instinctively to her mouth. “Oh, thank Heaven. Where is she?”
Gardiner gently guided her to a chair before calmly recounting the essentials. More than once, she looked towards Darcy, as though scarcely able to reconcile what she heard with the gentleman seated quietly across from them.
When her husband finished, she turned to Darcy at once. “Mr. Darcy, I do not know how we can ever thank you.”
“There is no need.”