My own complexion must appear no less ruddy. I pulled at my cravat as fire crept up from my neck. There could be no valid excuse for Mr. Barton’s conduct.
Hayward shuffled his feet forwards. “In the past, Barton explained his reasoning for providing Miss Bennet with inferior clothes in comparison to his daughter—he does not want any prospective suitors of Miss Bennet to assume she has a fortune. It is a shame her father left her penniless.”
A vein bulged over Mr. Gardiner’s forehead as he leaned forwards. “Has Mr. Barton led you to believe my niece isimpoverished?”
“Yes…um…he has made that clear.”
“That is a falsehood. She has over fourteen thousand pounds to her name.”
I gulped.Fourteen thousand pounds?How could that be?
My friend’s gaze darted to me for a moment. “I am at a loss. This does not make sense.”
What could be Mr. Barton’s motives for his deceptions? Did he blacken Mr. Gardiner’s name to cover for his own criminal deeds? I swigged therest of the brandy, and my vision drifted from Hayward to Mr. Gardiner. “Is it possible that Mr. Barton, perhaps after accumulating gambling debts, misappropriated Miss Bennet’s funds?”
“No, thank goodness.” Mr. Gardiner refilled his glass again. “He has no access to her fortune. Mr. Bennet left the management of her five thousand pounds—which comprised my sister’s dowry—to me. I have invested the money over the years in various stocks and bonds. About six years ago, a lucrative business contract with a merchant resulted in a windfall, and I added four thousand pounds to my niece’s funds. As of last month, her portion had grown to fourteen thousand five hundred pounds. The money will remain under my care until she reaches her majority next year.”
I scrambled for a way to reconcile the situation. “Is it possible Mr. Barton is ignorant of Miss Bennet’s inheritance?”
“No, for I have provided an accounting of her funds each year. I sent the statements to Mrs. Barton until her death, for she oversaw all aspects of Elizabeth’s care. Thereafter, I addressed them to Mr. Barton.” Mr. Gardiner shifted to the edge of his seat. “If I write a letter to my niece tonight, could I impose upon one of you to ensure she receives it?”
“Yes.” I blurted the word in my haste to speak before Hayward. “You may send the missive to my care this evening—Darcy House on Park Lane.”
“I appreciate this very much. I shall prepare a document for her with a summary of the current value of her portion to include with my letter. I hope she will find satisfaction in the knowledge she need not depend upon anyone else for her livelihood. Notwithstanding, I shall extend an invitation for her to reside here with my family. My wife would welcome her, and my four children would take delight in meeting their cousin.”
Mr. Barton had a great deal for which to answer. In any event, the sooner Elizabeth left his care and became my wife, the better.
At the sound of a soft pair of knocks upon the door, Mr. Gardiner stood. “Come in.”
Hayward and I rose as an attractive brown-haired lady entered the room.
She gave us a cursory glance and approached Mr. Gardiner. “Forgive my intrusion, Edward. Will your guests be joining us for dinner?”
“They are both welcome to stay.” Mr. Gardiner eyed us in turn. Hayward and I shared a look; I gave my friend a subtle nod, and he accepted for us.
Mr. Gardiner took his wife by the arm and introduced Hayward and me to her.
After she offered pleasantries to us, Mrs. Gardiner’s sight lingered upon me. “I spent my youth in Lambton. Perhaps you knew my father, Mr. Fletcher. He was the local attorney.” A touch of the Derbyshire dialect marked her pronunciation.
“Yes, I have met Mr. Fletcher. My late father respected him as a knowledgeable and competent man.”
A grin lifted her cheeks. “That is kind of you to say.” She removed a neatly folded piece of fabric from her pocket. “When our butler informed me who had called, I retrieved this.” She opened the cloth, revealing a handkerchief with a pattern of bluebells embroidered on each corner. “As a child, I had a memorable encounter with Lady Anne Darcy, when she came upon my mother and me on the high street. She greeted my mother and asked me my name. As much as I desired to speak to her, I was tongue-tied. I had never seen a lady so regal and beautiful before. My behaviour mortified my mother, and she answered for me. Lady Anne seemed to understand my plight and did not take offence.”
Her brown eyes shone. “I grew so embarrassed at my faux pas, I began to sob. Lady Anne took out this handkerchief and dabbed at my tears. She declared me to be too pretty to cry. Then she tucked the silk cloth into my hand and told me keep it with her compliments. I could not even utter the words to thank her, but I have treasured this ever since. Now, though, I should be honoured to return it to you. Perhaps you would like to give it to your sister.” She offered the handkerchief to me.
I held my palm up. “No, thank you. My mother gave the handkerchief to you and would want you to keep it. Georgiana and I have plenty of mementos of our mother.”
She lowered her hand. “Well, if you are certain…”
“Yes, without a doubt.”
Hayward and I enjoyed a sumptuous meal with the Gardiners. Our conversations with Mr. Gardiner revealed his thorough knowledge on a myriad of subjects, including agriculture and husbandry. He shared his intention of purchasing an estate within the next year or so. Mrs. Gardiner asked after the postmaster in Lambton, and my response led to us sharing memories of the area and of several prominent citizens.
I left Gracechurch Street with the conviction that I should be pleased to acknowledge the Gardiners as my friends—and eventually my relations.
Friday, 11 October
London
