“Oh, that is even worse! You know he is a tradesman, and they have such staunch ideas about their dignity. I am sure youmustbe insulted!”
“I am not, only…what can I do?” He did not sound confused or uncertain but, rather, willing to help me.
“My uncle was determined to remove us forthwith from our obligation to you, for not only is he concerned for my reputation, it is irksome to him that I threw myself upon your generosity. But I have managed to make him understand how terrible that would be for Mrs. Jennings, and he would be grateful for a moment to speak to you, to perhaps apologize and accept your hospitality, though I do not know for how long.”
“Of course. I did not believe he would go after he spoke to you, and so I told him. He appears to be a sensible man though understandably shocked to find you here. There will be no awkwardness, I assure you.”
“Truly? I would have thought you would be disgusted—”
“What—and set him in his place? Have you so little confidence in my manners?” he asked, with a tinge of affronted laughter lighting his eyes.
“I have seen your manners, and—forgive me, but no—I have little confidence in them.” I softened this frank reply with a sheepish grin, and I peeked up at him to see how he withstood it.
He returned to me a wistful look. “But I have become a student ofyourmanners, Miss Bennet, and with practice, I may yet be deemed to be charming. Come, I shall go to Mr. Gardiner, and you will stand by to observe my progress.”
Chapter Thirty-One
One must admire a man—deeply admire him—when he faces a challenge with confident good will. I do not think I had ever seen such a display of masculine maturity, for my father, in that circumstance, would have been mocking, Sir William Lucas would have been embarrassingly wounded, and Uncle Philips would have taken no pains at all to disguise his resentment.
Mr. Darcy, however, strode purposefully into the room and said, “I hope you have found Mrs. Jennings comfortable, sir? She has been such a delight to my sister and offered her the best kinds of occupation in winter when she cannot ride. But, forgive me, youmustbe hungry, for the posting house in Cardale is likely the last place you were fed. Might I yet convince you to stay for dinner, and have a room made up for that matter? Your horses and post boys are well settled, and we are in expectation of a frost that would make even the few miles to Lambton unpleasant at this hour.”
It was all I could do not to burst into peals of hysterical laughter. Mr. Darcy was using friendly grapeshot to overpower my uncle! If only I could say to him,well done, sir!since my uncle had no polite option but to submit to being made welcome.
“I would be grateful to you, Mr. Darcy,” he said on his dignity.
“I shall send a man to you—unless you have brought your own? In which case, I shall see him sent to your room.”
Thank goodness, Uncle Gardiner had with him his own manservant from London since the ministrations of Mr. Darcy’s valet would have been too much for his pride to suffer. Thus, our conference broke apart, and in a state close to prostration, I fell onto my bed until it was time to dress for dinner.
The meal was naturally a constrained affair. Since I am not a person who can easily overcome such a terrific insult as he had hurled at me, I was out of charity with my uncle, and I intended to hold a grudge for at least a full day. This seemed a sufficient period to behave stiffly in front of him, for I do not enjoy nursing grievances, and in truth, I loved him enough to guarantee my forgiveness. He had, after all, only voiced my own misgivings about the appearance of my stay at Pemberley. Had I not hotly objected to Mr. Darcy that I might be mistaken for his mistress? Members of the tradesman class were meticulous in these matters, for they could not afford the stench of vulgarity and still maintain their good reputations, whereas the upper echelons could sometimes survive a scandal through the exercise of their social power. Uncle Gardiner did not have that luxury, and in reality, neither did I.
As though to compensate for my silence, Mr. Darcy was civil—oppressively so in my opinion—and Georgiana, aware that there were deep currents flowing between all parties but not privy to what had been said or insinuated between us, reverted to the look of an uncertain deer. This left Mrs. Annesley obliged to come to our rescue.
By this time, Mrs. Jennings could be left to the maid on the basis of familiarity, and that evening I did so for the sake of having Miss Darcy’s companion present as though she had always been there whenever I sat at table with the gentleman. It wassomethingat least, and my uncle’s opinion of the situation must have been somewhat mollified when addressed by such a proper, conversant lady.
Mrs. Annesley and Uncle Gardiner were of an age and social understanding that enabled her to keep him engaged and aware of his duty to offer suitable replies to all she said. I noticed with a sense of settled admiration that Mrs. Reynolds had arranged for a more restrained menu than was normally served, perhaps aware that this was not an occasion for extravagant French cuisine. We had instead—as I had not so long ago wished for—a delectable ragout as the main course. My uncle found it so agreeable he had a second helping, and as Mr. Darcy suggested, hemusthave been hungry to have done so.
When dinner concluded, I did not know who should be the recipient of my greatest pity—my uncle or Mr. Darcy. They must sit together over a glass of port since not to do so would have been unthinkable, but what they would talk about I could not imagine. I had never known Mr. Darcy to be talkative, and Uncle Gardiner was still too perturbed to pretend otherwise. I was in no way surprised they lasted less than ten minutes, but neither looked put out when they joined us in the music room. This reassured me a little at least.
Mrs. Annesley suggested Miss Darcy play for us, and in truth, it was the most reasonable manner in which persons who have nothing to say to one another can survive an evening. I retreated to Auntie’s room for a spell and saw her comfortable, and when I returned, I sat next to my uncle. Georgiana’s playing that night was the most inspired I had yet heard from her, as though it was the one thing she could do for us in our discomfort. I clasped my hands in my lap lest I raise them toward the invisible angelic beings who must have hovered in masses near the ceiling in order to partake of such celestial music. Twice, I discretely resorted to my handkerchief, and when my uncle apologetically admitted that he was ready for his rest, I fled to the sanctuary of our darkened bedchamber in order to cry myself to sleep. As I had predicted, my life was in pieces all around me, the cause of which wasnowso obvious as to pummel me into submission.
The next morning after the ladies had breakfast in the little parlor—as was our habit while the gentlemen ate in the breakfast room downstairs—Uncle Gardiner and I went to Lambton.
We said very little to one another. I was no longer aggrieved, but I was profoundly sober to be returning to a scene I had no wish to revisit. My uncle—rested, fed, and no doubt satisfied that appearances, at least, had been marginally sufficient to prove I was not Mr. Darcy’s ladybird—fell to pondering the passing landscape. It seemed to me, however, that he was still clinging to his conviction that I had been foolish to move Mrs. Jennings, and he observed the house as we stepped out of the coach with an uncritical eye.
As usual, we were kept waiting at the door a touch longer than we should have been, and we were met by Doreen’s long-suffering sigh as she opened it to us.
“Miss!” she exclaimed in surprise.
“I have brought my uncle to see Mrs. Jennings’s house, Doreen. He is my aunt Gardiner’s husband, and it is he who will inherit it on her behalf.”
She had the sense to stand aside, let us in, and curtsey, but she stood, mouth agape and staring at us, prompting me to say, “Ask Mrs. Smith to bring out a tea tray if you will. We shall tour the house meanwhile.”
I took my uncle’s coat, hat, and gloves and looked surreptitiously around me, taking unchristian delight in the fact that the room was cold, dark, and dusty. Sheer perversity inspired me to go to the little alcove, bring out half a dozen gray tapers, and place them here and there after they were lit.
“There, that is perhaps more cheerful.”
“The upper rooms are not so bad,” my uncle said mildly as we went from room to room above stairs.
