Chapter 11 #3
Another smaller child appeared at the staircase landing then, rubbing sleepy eyes while clutching a blanket. “Cousin Lizzy?”
Elizabeth crossed toward her. “Madeline, you ought to be having your nap.”
“But I heard Mama said you came.”
Mrs Gardiner sighed. “Yes, and now no one in this house will sleep before midnight.”
Mr Darcy stepped back automatically as Elizabeth lifted the little girl into her arms, but not before Madeline blinked curiously toward him.
“Who is he?”
Elizabeth opened her mouth.
“Mr Darcy,” he supplied smoothly. “Miss Elizabeth was kind enough to permit me the honour of escorting her safely to London.”
The ease with which he repeated the fiction unsettled Elizabeth almost as much as the gentleness with which he spoke to the children.
Madeline considered this carefully. “You speak funny.”
Mrs Gardiner closed her eyes. Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to hurt.
Mr Darcy, however, merely inclined his head gravely. “I have been accused of that before as well.”
Edward laughed so loudly at this that even Mrs Gardiner surrendered momentarily to amusement.
The entire scene had become so absurdly domestic that Elizabeth scarcely knew how to process it.
This was Fitzwilliam Darcy. Mr Darcy of Pemberley.
The proudest, most reserved man she had ever known.
And yet here he stood in her aunt’s modest London hallway, patiently allowing himself to be inspected by overtired children as though nothing about the situation discomforted him in the slightest.
She had never imagined him capable of such ease.
A servant appeared at last to lead the children upstairs, while Mrs Gardiner ushered the remaining adults toward the sitting room. Mr Darcy remained standing near the fire once they entered the room, politely declining Mrs Gardiner’s offer of refreshment after only brief hesitation.
“You have already been exceedingly kind, madam. I ought not impose further.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs Gardiner replied warmly. “Any gentleman willing to escort my niece safely across half of England has earned at least a cup of tea.”
Elizabeth nearly choked again.
Mr Darcy’s expression remained admirably composed. “I thank you; perhaps another time.”
Mrs Gardiner’s eyes moved thoughtfully between them once more. Elizabeth recognised that look.
“I fear Miss Bennet’s relations will be anxious until word reaches Hertfordshire,” Mr Darcy continued smoothly, either unaware of or deliberately ignoring Mrs Gardiner’s growing suspicions. “But I trust the circumstances will appear considerably less alarming once properly explained.”
“Yes,” Mrs Gardiner said slowly. “I imagine they will.”
Elizabeth had the sudden, horrifying certainty that her aunt imagined nothing of the kind.
“I should allow Miss Elizabeth to rest,” Mr Darcy said. “No doubt she is tired from the journey.”
Mrs Gardiner rose. “You have our sincere thanks, Mr Darcy.”
“It was no hardship.”
Elizabeth looked at him. Something in the quiet certainty of the words caught unexpectedly at her composure again.
Mr Darcy bowed first to Mrs Gardiner, then to Elizabeth herself. “If I may, Mrs Gardiner, I should like to call tomorrow to ensure Miss Elizabeth has suffered no ill effects from the unexpected journey.”
Though too polite to say anything aloud, her aunt looked far too pleased by this announcement. Elizabeth could practically see conclusions forming. “Mr Darcy,” she managed carefully, “you would be very welcome.”
His gaze met hers fully for one brief moment. “You need not thank me for doing what any reasonable man ought.”
And somehow, impossibly, that only made her more aware that very few men actually would have done it.
Pausing only to have Edith collected from her circle of eager listeners in the kitchen, Mr Darcy left them with a bow and a few more courteous words. The front door had scarcely closed behind them before Mrs Gardiner turned slowly toward Elizabeth. “Well,” she said.
Elizabeth, suddenly exhausted beyond measure, sank onto the nearest sofa. “I knew that look immediately,” she muttered. “And I assure you at once that whatever conclusion you have reached is incorrect.”
Mrs Gardiner sat opposite her with unmistakable calm. “My dear Lizzy, you arrived unexpectedly in London after travelling privately in Mr Darcy’s carriage under circumstances which are very plainly unusual. You cannot reasonably expect me to form no conclusions whatsoever.”
Elizabeth pressed a hand against her forehead. “It is not what you think.”
“That depends entirely upon what I think.” Mrs Gardiner’s tone remained maddeningly composed.
Elizabeth laughed despite herself, though fatigue softened the sound considerably. “He does not admire me.”
Mrs Gardiner’s brows lifted. “My dear child, the man sat in a coach for hours to prevent you from travelling alone on a public stagecoach.”
“He happened to discover me there accidentally.”
“And then chose, with no incentive I can imagine but one, to involve himself in a situation with considerable potential for scandal.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth and closed it again.
Mrs Gardiner watched her quietly for a moment before her expression gentled. “Lizzy,” she said more softly, “what has happened?”
The warmth in her aunt’s voice nearly undid the last remnants of Elizabeth’s composure.
It took nearly a quarter of an hour to explain it all.
Mr Collins, her mother, the license, the argument with Mary, and the escape at dawn.
Mrs Gardiner listened without interruption, though more than once visible alarm crossed her face.
When Elizabeth finally finished, silence settled heavily between them.
At last Mrs Gardiner said slowly, “Good heavens.”
Elizabeth gave a tired laugh. “Yes. That was approximately my own conclusion.”
“And your mother truly intended to force the match?”
“She intended to pressure me into submission,” Elizabeth said. “Which, practically speaking, amounts nearly to the same thing.”
Mrs Gardiner leaned back against her chair with visible distress. “My poor girl.”
Elizabeth looked down at her hands. “I know it appears melodramatic now that I am safely here. But at Longbourn, it did not feel absurd. Only inevitable.”
“No.” Mrs Gardiner’s voice sharpened. “No, Lizzy. Do not diminish what happened merely because you escaped it.”
Something in the firmness of the reply startled Elizabeth into silence.
Mrs Gardiner continued more carefully. “A woman may endure pressure for so long that she begins to believe her own discomfort unreasonable. That does not make it so.”
Elizabeth felt suddenly, dangerously close to tears again. She looked away.
After a moment, Mrs Gardiner spoke once more, though in a considerably lighter tone. “And Mr Darcy?”
Elizabeth blinked. “What about him?”
Her aunt looked genuinely incredulous. “My dear child, nearly every part of this story involves Mr Darcy.”
“He merely assisted me.”
“Merely.”
Elizabeth frowned slightly. “He was angry on my behalf,” she admitted reluctantly. “Far more than I would have expected.”
“And kind.”
“Yes,” she said at last. “Unexpectedly so.”
Mrs Gardiner’s expression became thoughtful. “My dear girl, this does not entirely fit the description I gathered from your letters. I saw no false pride in Mr Darcy tonight — indeed, he was uncommonly patient and civil.”
“I know,” Elizabeth said. All at once, she felt almost too weary to speak. “I cannot explain it.”
“He is reserved, certainly, but I cannot think him unfeeling or indifferent.” She paused. “And tonight I observed no sign whatsoever that he considered himself above this house or anyone in it.”
Suddenly, Elizabeth remembered the ease with which Mr Darcy had spoken to Edward. The quiet patience in his voice. The unguarded smile she would once have declared impossible.
Something shifted uncomfortably inside her thoughts. “I think,” she said slowly, “that I may not understand him nearly so well as I believed.”
Mrs Gardiner’s eyes rested on her with suspiciously perceptive calm. “No,” she said gently. “I do not think you do.”