3. Three

Three

“ W hy are we doing this? Admit it, Darcy—you would rather be anywhere else in London tonight.”

“Quite true,” Darcy replied, adjusting his gloves. “Though my preference would be anywhere but Almack’s. No matter how many times you try to sell me on its charms, I have yet to find a single one.”

Bingley shook his head, chuckling. “You’re insufferable. The ladies there are lovely—charming, eligible, exactly the sort you claim to want.”

Darcy gave him a look, a half-smile tugging at his mouth. “If by ‘charming,’ you mean ‘practiced in the art of fainting prettily,’ then perhaps. But I have little interest in women who look ready to topple over at the sight of my bank account.”

“So, you’re after a lady who will ignore it?” Bingley shot back. “ Bonne chance . Perhaps you’ll find her down by the docks, far from the rarefied air of society.”

“Not precisely. But there are qualities a woman ought to have if she is to be a companion worth the effort.”

Bingley shot him an incredulous look. “I daresay you’ve become so particular you’ll require her to quote Plato by heart and handle one of your mile-high ledgers over afternoon tea.”

“Plato might be a bit much, but I would like someone who cares about more than the latest invitation to Almack’s.”

Bingley folded his arms, looking at Darcy with sudden interest. “And tell me, do you imagine this paragon of yours is simply waiting for you to stroll by? You want a veritable goddess, but you will not trouble yourself to look for her.”

“No, Bingley, I am well aware. In fact, the very definition of the woman I seek is that she is not ‘waiting’ for me at all.” Darcy cast a glance out of the window as they turned up another street, then back at his friend. “But neither will I find her in a room full of fortune-hunters and ambitious daughters of the peerage.”

“Some of the best families in London frequent Almack’s!” Bingley protested. “And what else would you have them do? Surely, it’s not a crime for a lady to seek a worthy match?”

Darcy held up a hand, shaking his head. “It is not that simple. The more wealth I accumulated, the more… complicated society became. It was one thing when I was only Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley. But now—”

“Now you’re even richer,” Bingley finished. “It is no secret that your name is at the top of all those party invitations and when you do accept one, the lady of the house brags to her friends for weeks about it. I have it on good authority that at least four families are waiting with bated breath on your sister’s come-out just so they have an excuse to call at Darcy House.”

Darcy grunted. “And that is why she will be entertaining all callers at Matlock House instead. The matter is already settled.”

“Oh, Darcy, you will spoil their fun! That puts everyone back to hoping you will turn up at a ball or two, poor things. Not that I can blame anyone for wanting a bit of security.”

“Security is one thing. But London is overrun with women who think wealth and eligibility are all that is required of a gentleman. To them, I’m a bank draft that can walk and talk. It is not exactly flattering.”

“I suppose you would like them to faint for nobler reasons?”

Darcy sighed, giving his friend a long-suffering look. “If you must know, yes.”

Bingley sighed, shaking his head. “You are impossible, Darcy. You say you want a lady of breeding, but you will not go where they are. You want a woman of intelligence, yet you mock them for their accomplishments. Is there nothing that would please you?”

Darcy hesitated. “As terrified as I am to confess something like this to you—for I know you will run with it as if it were marching orders—I would like to actually enjoy a lady’s company someday. But men of our position must be… particular.”

“Particular?” He raised his eyebrows, laughter brimming behind his look of disbelief. “If you’re any more particular, Darcy, I’ll have to drop you off on some mountain where you can live like a hermit.”

“I am serious. If I am to marry, it will be to someone who can be a partner in every sense. She must be intelligent, able to manage the pressures of her place in society, for it is no easy precipice. She must be reliable, not a changeful miss blown about by the caprices of gossip and fortune. And for my own pleasure, she must have some warmth—some gentleness. Not ambition, not social climbing. That… that would ruin everything.”

For a moment, Bingley was silent, his expression thoughtful as they drove. “You speak of a precipice… do you ever worry that entering trade has… changed your place? In society, I mean.”

Darcy’s mouth flickered in an almost-smile. “Of course it has. The old families no longer see me as one of their own, for I bear the ‘stench of trade’ now. My own uncle still grimaces whenever he is obliged to introduce me anywhere. But the new sort of man sees me as an interloper—a ‘gentleman’ who would not stay in his own sphere. I am a man of both worlds now, yet a master of neither.”

Bingley’s mouth twitched downward as he shuffled his boots on the floor of the carriage. “I’d never any thought of what it would cost you when I asked you—surely, you must have some regrets.”

“Not for a second. I made my decision eight years ago in Calais, and I have never looked back. But it has… complicated things.”

Bingley nodded slowly as he looked up once more. “So, you feel you are even further from the kind of woman you’d like to marry.”

Darcy shook his head. “No, it is just… she will be harder to find, and no amount of your manipulation and wishful tactics will make her surface any sooner. The woman I seek must see past the money and the name, Bingley, or none of it is worth a farthing.”

Bingley was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak quite like this.”

“Then consider it a rare confession.” Darcy gave him a small, wry smile. “Perhaps the result of your influence. You were, after all, the one who got me into all this in the first place.”

Bingley laughed. “And you’ve thrived in it, just as I knew you would. But let me make my own confession.” He took a deep breath, eyes thoughtful. “One of these days, I’m hoping you’ll meet this impossible woman of yours. Not just so you can spare me some of this moralizing, but maybe, for once, allow yourself a bit of happiness.”

“And on that day, Bingley, may she also distract me enough to save you from my insufferable standards.”

Bingley grinned. “A man can hope.”

Darcy shook his head as the carriage pulled to a halt in front of Gardiner’s residence. “For now, I’ll settle for a quiet dinner with a man I can trust—a simple meal without society’s expectations breathing down my neck.”

“Ah, yes,” Bingley sighed, straightening his jacket as the footman came to put down the step. “Trade routes and exchange rates and shipping delays… why did we even bother to leave our studies?”

“Come, now!” Darcy chided as they stepped down. “It will not be entirely disagreeable. Gardiner always kept a fine sideboard, and you used to get on well with Mrs. Gardiner.”

“That is because an elegant, beautiful lady is a delight at any table. You ought to try it yourself sometime, Darcy.”

Darcy shot his friend a pointed look, but there was no time for more conversation. The door swung open, and the butler stepped aside to let them in. Darcy crossed the threshold, feeling a rare sense of relief at the thought of a private evening with talk he could understand. No dancing or fear of offending ladies, no worry that every word out of his mouth would be parsed and printed in the gossip rags the next day. Just ease and…

And then he saw her .

She was standing near the staircase, her back half-turned, speaking to another lady with an ease that looked entirely unselfconscious. Her gown, a deep plum, set off her dark hair, which was swept up in a way that highlighted her cheekbones. But more unfussy ringlets were left to curl softly at her temples, framing her face in a way that lent her a certain gentle elegance. Her expression was animated, her eyes bright with intelligence, as if she were engaged in some private amusement.

But it was her eyes that struck him—clear and direct, and an unexpected, vivid blue. She flicked them over him with a look that held neither fluster nor expectation, and then her gaze moved simply to Bingley with the same lightness.

For a second, he felt caught, as though she’d just swept him into her awareness with the same curiosity he felt now, entirely against his will.

“Darcy?” Bingley murmured, nudging him.

“Right,” he muttered, shifting his gaze back to Mr. Gardiner and extending his hand, though his focus remained strangely split.

E lizabeth adjusted the lace cuff of her sleeve, casting a sidelong glance at Jane, who was smoothing the drape of her gown with altogether too much care. It was apparent to anyone watching that Jane was concealing some small amusement, though she seemed determined not to let it slip. Across the drawing room, Uncle Gardiner stood with his hands clasped behind his back, shifting slightly from one foot to the other as if balancing on deck in a storm.

“Are you quite well, Uncle?” Elizabeth asked. “It seems as though the floorboards are conspiring to keep you in motion.”

Her uncle gave a start and laughed, though it had an awkward edge. “Yes, yes—just restless. We… we do not often host visitors of such… stature.”

“Uncle, I hardly think the gentlemen bite. Besides, I thought you were well acquainted with them already.”

“Oh! To be sure. Though it has been some time since we spoke, and our paths do not often cross these days. Still, I…” He tugged at his cravat as he cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I was honored that they accepted the invitation.” But as he shot a fleeting look toward Aunt Gardiner, who was inspecting the room with an air of pleased accomplishment, Elizabeth’s suspicion took root.

Whatever the supposed purpose of this dinner, there was no doubting that her aunt was behind it. Mrs. Gardiner had the air of a seasoned general, surveying the setup and positioning herself just-so, leaving Elizabeth feeling that the timing of this particular invitation had much more to do with her own travel plans than anything related to her uncle’s business.

Moments later, the butler appeared and announced their guests. “Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, sir.”

The gentlemen entered, offering greetings with the smooth polish of men accustomed to society. Mr. Bingley was all warmth, his smile widening as he took in the room with clear pleasure.

But Mr. Darcy, after glancing at his host and hostess, faltered slightly when his gaze fell on her. Elizabeth noted the pause, watching as Mr. Bingley looked faintly alarmed, nudging his partner and murmuring something under his breath. Mr. Darcy quickly regained his composure, but his hesitation struck her somewhat oddly. His pupils dilated far too quickly to be entirely natural, and he was suddenly holding his breath—a mark of a man who would probably much rather be elsewhere.

The reason was not difficult to decipher. Doubtless, the gentlemen had anticipated only seeing her uncle and perhaps her aunt this evening. Elizabeth clenched her teeth slightly behind her polite smile and slid a glance toward Aunt Gardiner, as if she could shuffle the blame for her very presence onto their hostess without having to utter a word.

Mr. Gardiner stepped forward. “Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley—thank you for joining us this evening. It is a pleasure to welcome you again. I daresay it has been far too long.”

“Thank you, sir,” Mr. Darcy replied with a measured nod. “We were pleased by the invitation.”

Elizabeth caught the briefest flicker of tension in her uncle’s stance, just before he glanced at his wife, who gave him a quick, encouraging smile. Mr. Gardiner cleared his throat, turning to Jane. “And I do not believe you have yet had the pleasure of meeting my nieces, Miss Jane Bennet, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet. They have been visiting us these last two months.”

Mr. Darcy’s gaze turned to them with polite interest as he nodded to each of them. “It is an honor.”

Mr. Bingley, all brightness and ease, followed suit, his smile widening by the moment. “Indeed, Miss Bennet, Miss Bennet. I cannot think of a more pleasant surprise than meeting fair faces in good company.”

Elizabeth smiled, meeting his enthusiasm with a polite nod. Meanwhile, she noticed Mr. Darcy’s gaze flickering between Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner with a faint look of bemusement, as if he sensed the evening’s unspoken motives. If only she could sink through the floorboards…

Mr. Gardiner cleared his throat and turned back to the gentlemen. “Ah, yes, well, please, do be seated, sirs. I must thank you again for accepting our invitation. It is not often I have the chance to host two of the brightest minds on Change Alley. And… of course, we might discuss that recent matter of…” Uncle Gardiner hesitated for an instant, glancing again at his wife. “The, ah… the Lisbon shipments.”

What was that? Elizabeth’s attention shifted between her aunt and Jane, noting the shared, almost conspiratorial look between them at the mention of “Lisbon shipments.” The entire setup felt like a rather elaborate pretense.

Mr. Darcy seemed to catch some nuance as well, his gaze drifting toward her with an almost imperceptible glint of amusement. “Indeed, sir. I am now… exceedingly curious.”

“Oh, but we need not assault the gentlemen with your questions all at once, my dear,” Aunt Gardiner protested. “Can we not begin with the usual pleasantries? It is always delightful to have friends from Derbyshire in London.”

“Ah, yes—Derbyshire,” Mr. Bingley said with a grin. “I had forgot you hailed from there, Mrs. Gardiner. And yet I wonder if Mr. Darcy himself would even recognize it, as long as it has been since he saw it.”

Mr. Darcy gave him a mildly reproachful look. “I remember Derbyshire well, thank you, Bingley. It is simply that business in London has required my attention.”

“Required?” Bingley scoffed. “You might as well admit you have buried yourself in ledgers, Darcy, and barely come up for air!”

Mr. Gardiner laughed. “Ah, a man dedicated to his pursuits—Mr. Darcy, you must know you are in good company here.”

Mrs. Gardiner cast her husband a look. “And yet, Mr. Darcy, it is still a fine thing to revisit one’s home and take a bit of leisure now and again. You may recall that some years ago, we were able to purchase a bit of property that included the cottage where I grew up, and have scarcely had an opportunity to see it since. We intend to journey north next summer for just that purpose. Perhaps we can hope to see you back in Derbyshire one of these days?”

Mr. Darcy’s gaze softened slightly. “I would not deny Pemberley has its appeal, Mrs. Gardiner. But my friend here”—he gestured to Bingley with a faint smile— “seems intent on keeping me tethered to every venture in London.”

“Which is, naturally, to everyone’s benefit,” Mr. Bingley replied with mock solemnity. “You know Darcy. He is a fearsome creature when he has nothing whatever to do, so he invents things to keep himself occupied and create the illusion of being indispensable wherever he goes.”

“As I recall,” Mr. Darcy returned mildly, “each of those ‘things to keep me occupied’ originated in your imagination, not mine.”

“Only because you were starting to get that ‘look’ in your eye again, old man, and I feared I, myself, would be your next project,” Mr. Bingley laughed. “Better to try to keep up with you than to have to stay a step ahead of you, I say.”

Elizabeth chuckled and nearly forgot her place—the words simply came. “I daresay, Mr. Darcy, that business cannot be so consuming that you never find time for your home in Derbyshire. We make time for those things that are important to us, do we not?”

He turned to her, a faint look of surprise flickering across his face. “Perhaps I have… forgot the charm of certain places.”

“I would not have thought the charm of one’s home could be such a fleeting memory, sir.”

There was a tug at the corner of his mouth. “You have caught me out, Miss Elizabeth. You are quite right. There is nothing amiss with my memory, nor is anything wanting from the charms of my home. I have simply persuaded myself that I am more useful elsewhere, and for the most part, I have been proved right.”

She pressed her lips and tilted her head. “That is an interesting condition you added—‘for the most part.’”

“Indeed, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Bingley interjected. “The only person Darcy has ever lied to is himself, and having so little practice at it, he is not at all skilled in the art. He scarcely believes half the things he tries to persuade himself of.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Mr. Bingley, I cannot decide whether you mean to compliment or insult your friend with such a remark.”

“Both, I imagine,” Mr. Darcy replied, but there was a spark of humor in his eyes. “I will own my flaws openly before any man… or woman, if I may,” he added with a deferential dip of his head. “But Bingley is partially in jest, for a frank appraisal of his words would have you assuming that I am not entirely in touch with reality and that I fancy the world is a place more to my own liking than it truly is. I assure you, that is not altogether the case.”

“Then, on what matters do you deceive yourself?” she asked.

Mr. Darcy shifted in his chair, and his eyes flicked briefly to Mr. Gardiner. At that, Elizabeth sucked in a breath. Somehow, she had managed to monopolize her uncle’s guest. It had not been her intention, and yet… something in her was terribly curious how he would answer.

“It might be said that sometimes I…” he hesitated, “… I suppose my friend’s assessment is correct. I permit myself to believe that I am the only one who can accomplish what is needed.”

Elizabeth arched her brows. “A failing, indeed, but not a very interesting one, Mr. Darcy.”

A flash of laughter brightened his face. “Indeed! I must ask, then, Miss Elizabeth, what sort of faults you find ‘interesting.’”

“Oh, all the nefarious ones. Gentlemen who own too many watch fobs to be entirely decent, ladies who wear ostrich feathers out of season, and anyone who insists that the violin is more pleasant to the ear than the piano.”

His brows ticked together in what appeared to be slight bewilderment. “Then perhaps you will find me ‘interesting,’ after all, Miss Elizabeth, for while I have never worn an ostrich feather, I am afraid you will find me guilty of the other two faults.”

“Excellent! We shall have something to talk about, after all.”