“Who the hell invited him?”
13
Saye, evidently close enough to have heard Darcy’s muttered exclamation, turned with an insouciant grin. “I did.”
“Why?” Darcy demanded in a harsh whisper.
“To prove to you there is nothing to worry about.”
Darcy took a deep breath, determined not to appear vexed in front of Elizabeth for a second time. “You know,” he whispered, “a man’s persuasions bear very little relevance to his marriage aspirations. If Mr Hartham’s preferences do indeed tend in the direction you suspect, I should think him even more desirous of a good match. An intelligent, vivacious young lady in possession of a large seafront propertyin Brightonmust seem an ideal prospect. You have proved nothing.”
“Youare stupid,” Saye replied, not bothering to whisper and thereby drawing the attention of all those at the picnic spot upon them. As he began to walk towards them, he said over his shoulder, “It is not Mr Hartham’s inclinations I thought to demonstrate.”
Thus, though Darcy did not appear vexed, he didgive a superlative impression of a village idiot as the introductions were made between his party and Elizabeth’s, for Saye was quite right: it mattered not what Mr Hartham’s designs were—only Elizabeth’s. He knew painfully well that she would not scruple to refuse any man she did not want to marry. It was therefore up to him to make a better impression than Mr Hartham could. He duly forgot how to speak.
“Mr Gardiner, Mrs Gardiner, Miss Bennet, may I introduce my cousin, Miss Georgiana Darcy, and her companion, Mrs Annesley,” Fitzwilliam said, well versed in saving Darcy from being tongue-tied and stupid in Elizabeth’s presence, having done so—and teased him for it—often enough while they were together in Kent.
“It is delightful to make your acquaintance, Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth replied. “I have heard so much about you. It is pleasant to be able to put a face to the name at last.”
Georgiana blushed and glanced at Fitzwilliam, who explained that their aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, had spoken highly in favour of her musical abilities.
“Mr Bingley and his sisters, too,” Elizabeth added. “They had not a word to say about you that was not complimentary. Though your greatest proponent has always been your brother.”
Georgiana smiled happily. “Yours too.”
Darcy seized up like a broken automaton as he waited to see how Elizabeth would respond to that. She looked somewhat taken aback but quickly covered it with a smile.
“Miss Bennet is easy to compliment,” said Mr Hartham, sailing leisurely into the mile-wide opening Darcy’s hesitation provided. “Is that not so, Colonel?”
“Quite so,” Fitzwilliam replied. “I have rarely had such an enjoyable stay at Rosings than my last, for which I credit the addition of Miss Bennet’s society entirely.”
Darcy could only observe in consternation. Growing up watching Wickham worm his way into and out of every situation with a silver tongue had given him a deep aversion to all forms of flattery, and he felt unqualified to join in the others’ praise. It was a relief to hear the sound of footsteps on the pebbles, and he turned to see Elizabeth’s aunt approaching him.
“Lizzy tells me you own Pemberley, in Derbyshire, sir,” she said.
“That is correct.”
“I know the area well. I spent some years in Lambton before I was married.”
“Indeed?” Darcy replied, turning to face her fully, surprised and relieved. He had feared this beginning heralded a conversation about his wealth. That she had something so innocuous, so pleasing to discuss instantly put him at ease. Yet, as they exchanged memories—many of which touched on people and places Darcy knew well, including his own father—shame gradually encroached.
Mr and Mrs Gardiner were the relatives whose inferiority he had excoriated in the course of his proposal to Elizabeth, but they were clearly well-bred and well-travelled and had all the appearance of people of fashion. Darcy’s brief meeting with Mr Gardiner two days ago had been too short to draw any conclusions—and if anyone had behaved poorly on that occasion, it had been him. Since then, however, Tucker had given Mr Gardiner a glowing character, confirming that he was arespectable man of good understanding with a clear and admirable affection for his niece.
Now here was Elizabeth’s aunt, eloquently expressing a shared appreciation for the place Darcy loved like no other, with none of the gaucherie he had expected of a woman of her standing. He was humbled, he was embarrassed, and he was deeply disappointed not to have tended as well to Elizabeth’s reproofs as he had thought, for here he was again, distressingly close to being blinded by prejudice.
“What drew you away from Derbyshire in the end?” he asked, determined to do better.
“A change in my father’s work took us to London. The acquisition of a new husband kept me there. There are days I do miss Derbyshire, though.”
“Not today, surely?” said Mr Gardiner, who had heard himself mentioned and crunched his way over the stones to join them. He gestured out to sea. “Not with all this to feast your eyes upon!”
His wife looked thither with a wistful expression. “I confess, on such a day as this, a sea view is difficult to surpass.”
“You do not find it somewhat monotonous?” Darcy countered. “Compared to rocks and mountains, the sea can offer but little in the way of variation.”
“On the contrary!” Elizabeth said, startling him; he had not noticed her begin to pay attention to their conversation. She came closer as she spoke. “The sea changes every moment. I declare it is a different colour every time I look at it—one day green, another day silver. Sometimes it is the deepest black, begging the question of what lurks beneath.”
He smiled. “But one can climb a rock and exploreits mysteries, whereas with the sea, one must always wonder.”
