Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

D arcy did not know what to expect when he alighted from his carriage at the address in Cheapside his sister and her companion had managed to acquire.

It was not this.

Whatever he was, Elizabeth’s uncle was no mere attorney. His home was a grand structure of four storeys, adorned by colonnettes, fluting, and compound Corinthian piers below an ornate cornice. Its elaborate stonework and many windows mirrored its prosperous surroundings.

After presenting his card to a neat maid, he was politely shown into a high-ceilinged marbled hall; he stood beneath an exquisite chandelier with countless prisms and dozens of candles, while masterful portraiture stared at him disapprovingly.

And then, he waited. And waited.

There was no chair, and after some moments, Darcy began feeling as if he were some itinerant peddler with inadequate wares. His teeth clenched; if this was a show of disdain, it was a surprisingly effective one, and he felt all the humiliation of it. This was the family who had rejected him and his sister on the basis of her errors, and now they attempted a direct affront. His anger at the insult was great, but his need to see Elizabeth again was much greater.

Finally, the maid returned. “Mr Gardiner will see you now. If you would please follow me.”

He had no real choice, as it was clear that he would not be allowed to see his bride without talking to the man. It was frustrating, if not unexpected. He could not deny the elegance of his surroundings; everywhere he looked, he saw tasteful furnishings of gleaming woodwork and marble chimneypieces—the type of elegance which came at significant cost. The rug beneath his feet was so thick, his footsteps made no noise. He was shown into a large study. Mr Gardiner looked at him from across the polished surface of a vast desk, and slowly rose.

He was not a tall man, but broad of shoulder and muscled beneath his well-tailored clothing. He was also surprisingly young to be the master of such a property. There were lines at his eyes and mouth, as if he smiled and laughed often. He showed no such cheerfulness now; his look was an impassive one, but cold.

Darcy was not offered a chair.

“I cannot help but wonder at your audacity,” Mr Gardiner said, once the door shut behind the maid. “It is why you were not summarily ejected from my home once I heard you were in it. I eagerly await learning what possible reason you could have for showing yourself here.”

“Surely it is no mystery,” Darcy said, as a new idea very belatedly occurred to him . Elizabeth, not wanting to betray Georgiana’s elopement, must have given her family no suitable reason for the swift halt called to our wedding ceremony. It would be another explanation for the overt hostility, the returned letters—though his missive sent via the colonel for her had made it plain that her father was to be told.

The sudden notion guaranteed that his tone was much less indignant than it might otherwise have been. Nevertheless, he would have his way in this; these misunderstandings must be overcome. “I have come to speak to my affianced bride.”

“Astonishing,” Mr Gardiner replied. “I understand you have a sister, sir?”

Darcy stiffened. What is he about? Does he know, or not? Considering the ceremony over the anvil so recently averted, raising the topic of Georgiana was highly unfeeling—but could also be considered proof, he reminded himself, that Elizabeth had kept his sister’s secret. “Yes.”

“Tell me, Mr Darcy, how you would feel about the man who left your sister waiting at the church for hours, in the hopes that her bridegroom might appear on her wedding day?”

What was this? Fitzwilliam had failed to mention that his letters had not arrived before the morning of the wedding, nor their lengthy wait at the church for him to show; it must have been a terrible mystery for them both. Oh, Elizabeth! I am so sorry, my darling!

All was explained. If Elizabeth had not fully enlightened them as to the real reasons for his failure to appear, her family must not have accepted a lamer justification. Fitzwilliam might even have urged her to a secrecy that led to this misunderstanding. He had been very unhappy with Darcy’s candour .

“I take it that Miss Elizabeth did not share with you the details surrounding my absence?”

The man stared at him with an expression of incredulity. “Just how was she supposed to accomplish that? After raising her hopes, speaking to her father, and lying about your intentions, you disappeared, never to be seen again. Blast you, I would put all of my considerable resources towards a breach of promise suit, were she not already mortified beyond what any young lady should ever have to bear!”

Darcy could only gape at him. “What? But I wrote to her!”

“I can assure you, she received no such communication.”

“But…I sent it—care of my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. He said—he said?—”

“What your cousin did or did not receive is a matter of conjecture, but what he said is on the lips of every person in Meryton, as well as the immediate countryside. As he departed the area on the morning of Elizabeth’s supposed wedding, the only remarks he made were to one of their respected neighbours who wondered why he was not at the chapel. Your cousin said he would deny the ‘yokels’ trying to force you into wedlock, that it was all rumours and misunderstandings, which he was under no obligation to support. I believe a direct quote was ‘a man has every right to come to his senses once he’s out from under a siren’s thumb’. Meanwhile, my niece waited at the church for hours, with the entire neighbourhood witnessing her humiliation.”

“The devil you say!”

“I do say. Elizabeth would not truly believe it for some days, hoping and expecting to hear from you. Instead, she heard reports suggesting you would soon be engaged to a Miss de Bourgh. My niece makes her home with me now, having chosen to leave Longbourn rather than become the object of pity and scorn by her neighbours.”

“This is impossible!” Darcy cried. He felt sick. “My cousin would not betray me like this, nor behave so callously to a lady.” But doubts raced through him, and Gardiner’s frosty expression told him otherwise. More must be said before this meeting degenerated into a squabble regarding who said what and when.

“Sir, I can assure you this has been a terrible misunderstanding,” Darcy implored earnestly. “I have never been engaged to Miss de Bourgh, nor created any expectations in her whatsoever. A family emergency arose, requiring my immediate attention. I explained all of it in a letter sent to Miss Elizabeth, but due to the delicate nature of the issue, and the approaching date of our wedding necessitating the utmost haste, I requested that Colonel Fitzwilliam deliver her letter in person. I am shocked and appalled to find she has never received it. She is due my deepest apologies, and I pray she will accept them.”

“And you are just now finding time to deliver them?”

“Indeed not! I have sent letters to Longbourn, and they were returned. I visited there myself, and was turned away at the door by Mr Collins, Mr Bennet’s heir. It was he who informed me that Miss Elizabeth was in town, but it took me some time to discover your direction.”

Mr Gardiner’s brows rose, his surprise obvious; Elizabeth’s family must not have mentioned these attempts at contact to him. Darcy pressed whatever little advantage it gave him. “Please, allow me to speak to her. I vow I can explain. ”

For some moments, they stared at each other; it was obvious that Mr Gardiner was not fond of the idea, nor of him. All the same, Darcy would not back down. He could not afford to think of the colonel’s potential duplicity at this moment; the situation called for all his dignity and address.

Finally, Mr Gardiner seemed to conclude that there was nothing else for it. “Elizabeth is not at home, and I do not expect her for another two hours, at least. However, if you leave me your direction, I shall send word when you may return and speak to her—assuming she wishes it. I shall not force her.”

This was not ideal; Darcy could just imagine sitting with Elizabeth beneath this man’s watchful eye with the barest modicum of privacy, unable to say half of what needed saying. Also, he must show both Elizabeth and her family the respectability he offered, as attested by his Mayfair home. If he could change the venue of the conversation, he was certain he could change its tenor.

“Perhaps you would be willing to bring her to my home? Please, accept my invitation to dinner tonight—you and your wife, as well as your niece. At any time this evening which is convenient to you.”

Mr Gardiner raised a brow, and his next words showed his abilities as a tactician. “Taking the battle, as it were, into your own territory?”

“A territory which, by all rights, should have been Miss Elizabeth’s long before this.”

The rejoinder did as he intended—reminding the man that it was not simply Elizabeth’s feelings at stake, but her future.

And my own.