“Perhaps not the best topic to raise at the table. Maybe we should talk of something else. You could make some remark about the very fine weather we’re having, that it should hold to the end of harvest.” Darcy couldn’t resist a smug look, for LadyMatlock had obviously intended to discomfort him in front of Felicity, as he did his best to ruffle her.
“No, Fitzwilliam. If we do not discuss it, you and your father will make some excuse to leave the topic—whether it is to take port in the study, have Georgiana perform on the piano forte, or write urgent letters that must be attended to.”
Darcy could see Felicity was mortified by the discourse. Mrs. Annesley, Georgiana’s companion, made to leave the table.
“Mrs. Annesley,” said Darcy, “you are family. I would prefer you stay, if that is all right with you.” The lady nodded and picked up her spoon, though she only moved it around the bowl rather than taking a sip of the excellent soup.
“Alice,” Darcy’s father rolled his eyes, “Fitzwilliam has been back in this country less than two months. While Frederick passed some twelve months ago, the news did not reach New South Wales until January last. Fitzwilliam has scarcely time to mourn his brother, let alone contemplate marriage.” He nodded to the footman to remove the course. It was a pity, because he enjoyed turtle soup, but all had ceased eating, and it was rapidly cooling—not a dish to partake of cold.
“Always excuses, George. I mourn Frederick, we all do—he was a fine nephew. But he didn’t marry; he has no heir. There is a great risk to the estate if there is no succession. None of us are immune to fate.”
“I see little such risk. Georgiana’s a Darcy; she’s a well-formed girl—nay, woman. Perhaps, if Fitzwilliam doesn’t marry, then she can bear the heir.”
Those words brought back memories of St. Albans and a young woman forced into marriage to save her family and their estate. Darcy would not impose on Georgiana. She should be able to make her own way without having the responsibility for Pemberley thrust on her shoulders.
“No, Father, I must clarify my position. Frederick had nointention of marrying. It was an institution to which he was indifferent—he could not marry a woman without reciprocating her love, and a loveless marriage, to him, was an anathema. He had seen the joy that his parents’ love for each other had brought to Pemberley and their children. For me, I am not opposed to marriage; it is an institution to which I cleave with the highest approbation.”
Oh, to talk of marriage as though it were in the future, something as yet unknown. He looked to Felicity, her hands clasped on her lap. “My cousin is a lovely lady, so very elegant. She’s a credit to the earldom and to you, Aunt. One day, some man will be proud to have her on his arm.”
Felicity glanced up at him, a small smile creasing her face.
“As my father said, I’ve only recently returned from the colony; my life has, literally, turned upside down. I know very little of managing an estate the size of Pemberley; I also have responsibilities to Governor Macquarie—I am his representative in England and his advocate in government. There is little opportunity to consider other issues, no matter how important they seem to some. To marry in haste would be unwise for all parties.”
***
Darcy took his breakfast overlooking the courtyard in the House. It was early; the stench of London in summer had yet to invade the room, though he was now accustomed to the miasma that pervaded the streets, seeping up from the Thames. He had been in town for a week. Lady Matlock was most displeased when, just five days after she and Felicity had arrived at Pemberley, he announced his departure for London to meet with the judiciary committee.
Renewing his acquaintance with Mr. Ellis Bent, he found him partly recovered from the illness that had forced him toleave the colony. Bent exhibited a lingering animosity towards Darcy, keenly aware that, had he remained in Sydney, he would have been the one elevated to the lieutenant governorship. But conversation moved on to other matters. Being an acquaintance of Bent, Mr. Gardiner’s name was mentioned in conversation and, reminded of the gentleman living in Gracechurch Street, Darcy determined to visit him. Particularly, he wished to obtain intelligence of how the Bennets were faring. Certainly, Elizabeth would be keen to know and surely would wish to visit her family as soon as possible on arrival in England.
The warehouse of Gardiner & Co. was adjacent to a private wharf on the Thames, near London Bridge. He gave the clerk his card and was shown into a panelled vestibule with a small coal fire keeping the room pleasantly warm.
“Mr. Darcy, welcome to my premises.” Mr. Gardiner entered and bowed to Darcy. “Please, come through to my private office. Would you take refreshment? Coffee from Java, perhaps, though I’ve some fine tea just arrived from Bombay?”
“If your coffee is as good as that of Mr. Robert Campbell, which, I believe, is sourced from the same island, then coffee, if you please.”
“Mr. Campbell did, indeed, arrange a shipment from Batavia. A very fine brew, though many here in England have become accustomed to inferior beans. I must persuade them to purchase the Javanese variety—at extra cost, though worth the better flavour.”
Darcy agreed but moved quickly to his purpose. “There are two reasons for my visit. My butler, Mr. Winthrop, already purchases your Madeira and port, but I thought to view your other wines; mayhap, I should as well see your coffee varieties and tea.”
“A pleasure, sir. And the other matter?”
Darcy paused. How was he to raise the topic of Elizabeth’s family without showing too much interest? Mrs. Gardiner had already inferred that his familiarity with Elizabeth was, perhaps, closer than that of mere acquaintances.
“You may not know, sir, that I was the Chancery lawyer who represented Mr. Collins in court at St. Albans some four years ago. Much to my shame, I proposed the Bennets move to the dower house, though the judge did award them a fair portion from the income of the estate. Unfortunately, the law was on Collins’s side; there was little else I could do.”
“My sister, Mrs. Bennet, told me the sorry tale. Indeed, I know where the law stood, and thank you for ensuring they weren’t thrown into the hedgerows. Further, she confessed to me that they do very well in the dower house. But how can I assist you—it was a fair while ago? Do you still have an interest in the case?”
Uncharacteristically, Darcy shuffled in his chair. “I met Miss Bennet in court at St. Albans, and we were passengers together from the Cape to Port Jackson; during the journey, I came to know her well. I recall her dismay at having to flee England to avoid marriage to Collins. Lord Finch, the judge, is unfortunately misogynistic in his views. I wish to assure myself that the family is well, that there is nothing I can do to assist them.”
Gardiner’s eyes crinkled. He agreed with his wife; there was more to Darcy’s interest in Elizabeth and her family. But if the gentleman was unable or unwilling to disclose the whole of the matter, then that was his prerogative.
“By the strangest coincidence, I received only yesterday a letter from my sister. She says that Mr. Collins and his wife have disappeared. The coach and horses are gone, together with their clothing, but the servants received no instruction either to close the house or when the Collinses will return.”
***
Meryton was typical of many English villages, having a pleasant aspect on the dip slope of the Chiltern Hills, the streets clean, and a large, elegant assembly hall placed off the market square.
Having obtained the direction to the chambers of Mr. Phillips, Darcy sought the building, which stood only a short distance from the inn where he rested his horses. He was greeted by a clerk at the door, and, after presenting his card, shown into a large office, the walls lined with shelves filled with books and bundles of documents, with each section of the bookcase indexed by a label penned in an exceptionally even hand.
