Mrs Gardiner sighed deeply, observably dispelling some of her anger. “There has been no harm done, and I do see that it has been difficult for you. Besides, it seems we have all been exceedingly fortunate, for he has obviously forgiven you.”
“I know, and I could not have been more astonished to discover it. Though I know not what to make of it. I should hate to give him false hope. Until I know my own feelings, it would be cruel to encourage his affections.”
“Perhaps you might be careful where you direct your high spirits until you better know your own heart, then, but he seems a sensible man. I am sure we may dine with him as friends without issue. I doubt we will even see him when we go tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“We must return Miss Darcy’s call, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth found she was not averse to such a visit. Despite her shyness, Miss Darcy had seemed a most agreeable young lady—certainly as nice as any of her aunt’s acquaintance on whom they would no doubt call if they did not go to Pemberley. It would be as pleasant a way to pass the morning as any. And her aunt might be wrong; they might see Mr Darcy while they were there.
The prospect did not displease her, and she gave her agreement to the scheme.
“Aunt, I beg you would not tell anyone about this. The situation is delicate enough, without raising anyone’s expectations.”
Mrs Gardiner assured Elizabeth of her secrecy and departed, leaving her niece even wider awake than she had been before she came in. Having prided herself all her life for being an excellent studier of character, retrospect had shown Elizabeth she was far from a good judge—woefully unqualified to yield the power, which her fancy told her she still possessed, of bringing on the renewal of Mr Darcy’s addresses.
CHAPTERNINE
A SPHERE LESS CONCEITED
Darcy privately conceded the competition when Hurst pulled his fourth carp out of the river before an hour had passed. His heart was not in it anyway. From this spot on the bank, he had a clear view of Pemberley’s easternmost wall, where an ever-shifting lattice of cracks seemed to dance over the stones beneath the passing clouds. The actual fissure was not visible from this distance, though it might have been better if it were, for his imagination was playing merry hell with his eyes.
He had met before breakfast with Ferguson, who had informed him that neither of the stonemasons who customarily served the estate were available to take on the necessary work. Rather than wait, Darcy had instructed his steward to set about finding another, but these things took time, and the delay was troubling at best. He was attempting not to brood upon the worst.
“Is that another, sir?” called Pettigrew as Mr Gardiner hefted his net aloft to proudly reveal his squirming catch. “Watch out, Hurst, you’ll lose if you are not careful. Mr Gardiner here is proving to be a dab hand!”
Darcy tipped his hat at Mr Gardiner in compliment but allowed the others to carry on the conversation with him. Having Elizabeth’s uncle among the party was perhaps the chief reason he could not concentrate on fishing. The man had shown himself to be intelligent, amiable, worldly, and sporting—everything, in fact, Darcy had dismissed him for not being, and he felt the full weight of Elizabeth’s reproofs for the injustice. Therein lay the problem: Mr Gardiner presented a constant reminder of his niece, and that made everything else that might have occupied Darcy’s thoughts ten times less urgent and a hundred times less interesting.
“Bingley tells me you live in the city, Mr Gardiner,” said Cox, who had long ago abandoned his rod in favour of wandering up and down the bank, smoking cheroots. “Not much fishing to be had thereabouts—not for anything still alive, anyway. Where did you learn to hook ’em like that?”
“The river Stort,” Mr Gardiner answered. “I hail from Hertfordshire originally.”
“What brings you to Derbyshire?”
“Happenstance. My wife and I had planned a tour of the lakes this summer, but my work kept me in town a fortnight longer than planned, so we have been forced to curtail our travels.”
Darcy tensed. Though a hard lesson indeed, he had come to be deeply ashamed of the self-consequence that once induced him to scorn Elizabeth’s relations for their condition in life. Nevertheless, he knew not how his friends would receive the intelligence that Mr Gardiner lived by trade. He watched quietly, ready to interject should it seem as though any censure might be forthcoming.
Cox, like Bingley, had the markings of trade heavily imprinted upon his own fortune and was the least likely to object—and indeed, he raised nary an eyebrow. Pettigrew, egged on by Hurst, was far too interested in his sport to spare a thought for how any fisherman as competent as Mr Gardiner made his money. Pettigrew’s younger brother picked up on the mention and glanced Darcy’s way in askance, though a dark glare was enough to banish his interest. Sedrick was here only at his older brother’s request and had too little consequence and much more sense than to question the master of Pemberley about anything.
The remaining three were of most interest to Darcy. Aldridge, whose family was almost as old as his own, looked surprised, though not wholly displeased. He, above all Darcy’s acquaintance, valued excellent understanding, and he seemed satisfied with the lively debate already compassed with Mr Gardiner about the standard of editorship at theTimes. Templeton also looked taken aback, though it became clear when he quietly remarked, “Mellowing in your dotage, eh?” that it was not Mr Gardiner’s occupation that astonished him so much as Darcy’s own tolerance of it.
Garroway’s countenance gave nothing away. A baron, he was the only titled guest in attendance; and with an estate of a similar size to Pemberley, and his mother a great favourite of Lady Catherine’s, he was very much of the same circle as Darcy. If any among the party were likely to share his former, conceited prepossessions, it was Garroway.
“And what is your business, Mr Gardiner?” he enquired.
To his credit, Elizabeth’s uncle neither equivocated nor cowered, though he must have been aware of the derision behind the question. “I own several warehouses in the city.”
“And in what way did that impinge on your travels?”
Mr Gardiner gave a grunt of dissatisfaction. “It was Castlereagh’s announcement back in June that he meant to repeal the Orders in Council that did it. Everyone lost their minds and began sending cartfuls of wares to the docks as though all trade with the United States would instantly resume. The wharfs began clogging up, which led to a backlog of domestic traffic that delayed more than half my stock, most of which comes from the midlands.” He picked up his rod and began preparing to cast again. “Of course, it was all for nothing. Now Madison has declared war, the ministry has impounded all American ships in port anyway.”
“If Liverpool had repealed the Orders when Madison first requested it, there wouldbeno war with America, and we might not be facing even higher excises to pay for it,” Pettigrew grumbled without looking up from the spot where his line entered the water.
“That might have saved Mr Gardiner’s tour of the lakes, but it is not likely to have staved off the conflict indefinitely,” Darcy said grimly.
Mr Gardiner agreed, adding, “If Lord Liverpool is serious about mending relations with the Americans, he might wish to address his government’s policy on impressment.”
