A Few Ordinary Errands #2
“London is full of chance meetings,” she said.
“So it seems. Though I confess I am curious what two young women find to speak of, when they have known each other so briefly.”
“The weather, mostly,” Elizabeth said. “And ribbons.”
His laugh was light, genuine-sounding, and utterly without warmth.
“How very dull,” he said. “I had hoped for something more interesting.”
“Ribbons are often more interesting than gentlemen suppose,” Elizabeth said. “They cause strong opinions in families.”
“Do they?”
“My youngest sister has written three lines on pink alone.”
Mrs Gardiner smiled subtly. “And underlined two of them.”
“How formidable,” Mr Wickham said. “I should hesitate to oppose Miss Lydia Bennet on any point so deeply considered.”
“You would be wise,” Elizabeth said.
Then he said, “And my ward, Mr Darcy? Has London supplied any news of him?”
“Only the usual,” Elizabeth said. “That he is abroad, or in Derbyshire, or somewhere between the two, according to the confidence of whoever is speaking.”
“Poor Darcy. He has always had a talent for being everywhere in report and nowhere when wanted.”
“That is a talent many gentlemen possess,” Mrs Gardiner said.
Elizabeth had never loved her aunt more. Mr Wickham bowed his head, accepting the rebuke as if it had been a compliment.
“You are severe, Mrs Gardiner.”
“Only economical.”
“Then I shall endeavour not to waste your time,” he said, still smiling.
“That is always appreciated,” Mrs Gardiner replied.
“I hope Miss Bennet has not been too disappointed by London’s uncertain reports. Darcy’s movements are often difficult to follow, even for those of us who have the strongest claim to know them.”
“The strongest claim?” Elizabeth repeated.
“Family,” he said calmly. “And guardianship. A tedious word, but a useful one.”
“Useful for what, precisely?” Elizabeth asked.
“For many things,” he said. “Estates do not manage themselves, Miss Bennet. Someone must make decisions. Sign papers. Speak to bankers and stewards and solicitors, all of whom have a great many questions and very little patience for waiting on a young man’s convenience.
It is not glamorous work. But it is necessary, and someone must do it. ”
“And you find it agreeable?”
“I find it a duty I did not seek, but will not shirk. Whatever else may be said of me, Miss Bennet, I have never abandoned a responsibility once it was placed in my hands.”
“How fortunate for Mr Darcy,” she said, “to have so faithful a guardian.”
“Yes,” Mr Wickham said softly. “Is it not.”
Mrs Gardiner shifted the parcels in her arms. “Lizzy,” she said, “we shall be late if we do not go on.”
Elizabeth turned to her at once. “Of course.”
Mr Wickham bowed. “I would not keep you from Christmas errands. They are sacred things, I am told.”
“Only to those who have forgotten them until the week before Christmas,” Mrs Gardiner said.
“Then I wish you success, Mrs Gardiner. Miss Bennet. I hope London continues to instruct.”
“It is a very instructive place,” Elizabeth said.
“Yes,” he said. “I have always found it so.”
A bell rang somewhere down the street. Mr Wickham glanced towards it as though checking the hour.
“I am keeping you from your errands,” he said. “And myself from mine. London does not pause for conversation, however pleasant.”
“No,” Elizabeth said. “It does not.”
He bowed to Mrs Gardiner first, with perfect correctness. “Mrs Gardiner. A pleasure.”
“Mr Wickham.”
Then to Elizabeth, lower, though not so low that Mrs Gardiner could not hear it if she chose.
“I hope we meet again, Miss Bennet. London is, as you say, full of accidental streets.”
“So it is,” Elizabeth said.
He straightened his hat, inclined his head once more, and walked on without looking back, as though he had no need to.
“Lizzy.” Mrs Gardiner’s voice was quiet. “We are going home now.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said.
She did not argue. They walked the rest of the way in silence, and it was not until they had nearly reached Gracechurch Street that Mrs Gardiner spoke again.
“He knows.”
“No,” Elizabeth said slowly. “He suspects.”
“What makes you think that?”
“He asked what Mrs Wickham and I had spoken of. Then whether London had supplied any news of Mr Darcy. Everything else was meant to discover which question troubled me.”
“And did either?”
“I hope not. He spoke of his guardianship because he wished me to understand how much authority he possesses. But he does not know where Mr Darcy is.”
The conclusion settled as she spoke it.
“That was why he came,” she said. “He hoped I might.”
Mr Gardiner heard them in the parlour.
Mrs Gardiner repeated Wickham’s words carefully. My ward. Guardianship. Bankers and stewards and solicitors.
“Did he say solicitors?” Mr Gardiner asked.
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “Among other things.”
“Then he wished you to understand that his authority is not merely domestic,” Mr Gardiner said. “It has signatures attached.”
“I understood him.”
“And told him nothing.”
“Nothing he did not already know.”
“Then your silence may have instructed him more than either of us would like.”
“Will he approach you again?” Mrs Gardiner asked.
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth said. “But next time I shall know what he is trying to learn.”
“Hope is worth little unless it leads to caution,” Mr Gardiner said.
“Then I shall be cautious.”
Mr Gardiner returned to ordinary matters, because ordinary matters were the safest disguise. “Tomorrow I have a call to make west of Temple Bar.”
“How fortunate,” Mrs Gardiner said. “I have been meaning to look at ribbons near Bond Street.”
Elizabeth almost laughed. It was not amusement exactly.
It was the absurdity of being frightened, instructed, watched, and sent shopping all in the same day.
She had always thought courage would feel like movement.
In London, it seemed, courage looked very much like waiting, watching, and buying ribbon.