And yet, when the ledgers were closed, Darcy remained unsettled. For more than once, while Mr. Gardiner spoke with patient clarity, his own mind had strayed to the image of a young woman upon the shore, the ribbons of her bonnet fluttering in the sea wind. He rose at length.
“You have been perfectly open with me, Mr. Gardiner. I must think before I proceed further.”
“The obligation is mine, sir. I would not wish you to proceed upon any point you had not fairly weighed.”
“I never do. I must consider it.”
“I should have been surprised to hear otherwise, sir.”
“I am disposed to think well of the undertaking. Sir Thomas appears less disposed to think well of anything but his own importance.”
“You are frank. I have learned to esteem frank dealing.”
“It is possible that the whole may be better served by fewer partners than more. A feeble subscriber is a greater burden than a stout one. If Sir Thomas retreats, the vacancy need not be regretted.”
“You are not wrong. A light purse and a heavy opinion make a tiresome companion.”
Darcy could not be certain how much he had revealed of his own inclination, yet he did not regret it. He was already calculating the sum he would be prepared to hazard, and the larger sum he might undertake if the baronet withdrew, but he would not commit by word what must be sealed only after the last examination.
Mr. Gardiner closed the prospectus and set it aside. His manner altered from business to hospitality with natural ease. “If you are still in Brinmouth tomorrow, Mr. Darcy, will you dome the honour of dining with us. My wife keeps a plain table, but she manages it well. We are a quiet party, and I would not pretend it is an entertainment; yet you might find it agreeable.”
Mr. Gardiner named the direction and the house, adding a few particulars for clarity. Darcy looked up with surprise.
“Cliff Row,” Gardiner said. “Number Five.”
“Indeed. That is but a few doors from me.”
“Then the convenience is assured. Six o’clock.”
Darcy bowed. “With pleasure.”
In the street Darcy breathed the keen salt air as he walked back along the quay. The scheme was solid, and he would likely advance not only his own share but cover what Sir Thomas withdrew. Yet it was not the venture that occupied his thoughts. Again and again they returned to the young woman he had met upon the shore. For the first time, he wondered whether the careful order with which he governed his life might prove less sovereign than he had believed.
The next morning Darcy returned to the shore. He told himself he sought only the air, for Brinmouth offered little else in the way of exercise, but the excuse satisfied him less than it once might have done. He had not gone far when he saw her.
She was standing upon the sand, her face turned upward toward the sun and the waves. The bonnet hung loosely in her hand, her hair stirred by the sea breeze. Her footman kept his post a little way off, his eye quick to notice Darcy's approach. The fellow stiffened at first, but when Darcy made no movement toward the lady, he relaxed his guard.
She lowered her gaze then and saw him. For a moment she stilled, colour rising in her cheeks. With swift composureshe replaced the bonnet and walked towards him, the footman following closely.
As she passed, she sank into a brief curtsy, her eyes lowered. He inclined his head in return, the gesture as restrained as it was formal. She moved round him with quiet grace, the servant at her shoulder, and in another moment her figure receded up the path toward the village.
Chapter Eight
The Gardiners awaited their guest with composure, though Elizabeth, recalling that she had left a handkerchief upstairs, excused herself just as a firm knock was heard at the door. The housekeeper's voice carried through the hall, and then the door opened and Mr. Darcy of Pemberley was shown in.
Mr. Gardiner rose at once. "Mr. Darcy, you are very welcome. My wife has been looking forward to this evening rather more than I have allowed her to admit, and I believe you will soon understand why." Stepping aside, he added, "Allow me to present my wife, Mrs. Gardiner; formerly Miss Madeline Pembroke."
Surprise crossed his face before he had time to conceal it, and he stood for a moment without speaking before bowing more deeply than the occasion strictly required. "Mrs. Gardiner." His voice was careful. "I confess I did not—" He stopped and began again. "I have heard your name from Uncle Henry. From Amelia. I did not connect it."
Madeline studied him for a moment before stepping forward and offering her hand without waiting for the formal courtesy. When he took it, she pressed his fingers briefly before releasing them. "Will," she said. Then, more lightly, "You are rather tallerthan I remember. And rather more serious, though I am told the two often go together."
Something moved at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile, but the memory of one. "I was not a particularly cheerful boy."
"You were perfectly cheerful," Madeline said, "when no one was watching." She released his hand and stepped back, her expression warm but steady, giving him room without withdrawing the warmth. "We lived in different worlds after. It could not be helped."
Mr. Gardiner, who had been watching this from a few feet away with his hands clasped behind his back and the expression of a man who has arranged something and is pleased with how it is going, cleared his throat. "I ought to have prepared you, Mr. Darcy. I believed Henry had done it, and when I discovered otherwise I thought it best you should see with your own eyes how matters stood, before the other gentlemen joined us. I hope you will forgive the ambush."
Darcy had regained his composure, though not entirely. "There is nothing to forgive. I ought to have inquired more closely. Gardiner is not an uncommon name, and I—" He stopped. "I did not look for her."
