“Miss Bennet,” he said, “I have spoken more than I intended. Yet I cannot regret it. I hope you will not.”
Elizabeth met his gaze. “I do not regret it, sir.”
Darcy was silent a moment. “I had thought to remain here but a week. Yet your uncle has much to show me, and I find myself unwilling to depart so soon. There is more to be seen, more to be understood. I should like, if you permit, to wait upon you and Mrs. Gardiner while I remain.”
Elizabeth felt the colour rise in her cheeks. “My aunt and uncle will be happy to receive you, sir.”
“Then I shall count it a privilege.”
Chapter Thirteen
At that moment the latch lifted, and Elizabeth entered, her cheeks touched with sea-air, a folded bonnet in her hand. The Gardiners greeted her warmly as the maid stepped forward to announce that breakfast was served. They passed together into the small dining parlour, where the table was laid with its simple abundance. Madeline took her place at the urn, Mr. Gardiner unfolded his paper, and Elizabeth, with thoughtful air, removed her gloves.
The meal went forward quietly. Mr. Gardiner spoke of his letters for the morning, orders to be dispatched for Gardiner Imports, and mentioned that he must meet Mr. Hall and the shipbuilder after luncheon. “Once we have their assurances, I shall feel the venture well begun,” he said, buttering his toast. “It is a comfort to know the capital is secured.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “It must be a fine thing to see a ship built from the beginning. I remember how proud you were when the first was launched.”
Mr. Gardiner’s eyes brightened. “Ah yes, a happy day indeed. This new one will be ours in truth, not a vessel purchased and refitted but built with our name upon her bow.”
Madeline looked fondly at him. “You have earned every good fortune, Edward.”
He waved the compliment aside, though pleased, and turned back to Elizabeth. “James told me yesterday that you favour the northern strand for your walks. It is a fine choice, he says, though he would have you keep to the higher rocks when the tide begins to rise.”
Elizabeth’s spoon paused mid-air. “Yes, sir. He is quite right.” Her tone was quiet; she wondered what else James might have said.
Madeline smiled. “He is very watchful. I am glad he attends you. The sea can be treacherous when one forgets the hour.”
Elizabeth coloured slightly. “He is very careful of me. I cannot fault him.”
“So he ought to be,” said Mr. Gardiner, setting aside his cup. “He has his orders. And I, for my part, have a desk full of letters awaiting attention.” He rose, gathering the morning's post and several folded memoranda. “I will see you two ladies for luncheon, and afterwards I must meet Mr. Hall at the harbour. Perhaps I will inquire whether young Darcy wishes to accompany me. After all, he did say he hoped to learn something of the business from its foundation. Six weeks may scarcely suffice if he means to see it properly begun.”
Madeline passed him the papers nearest her hand. “He will find you a thorough tutor in such matters. I doubt the venture could have a steadier hand.”
Mr. Gardiner tucked the letters beneath his arm. “You flatter me, my dear, though I will not deny that our company improves with certain additions. I should be glad of his company for the afternoon.”
His glance wandered briefly toward Elizabeth, who appeared occupied with her tea.
“Well,” he said, moving toward the door, “I leave you to your morning occupations. Do not let the hours run away without some share of leisure. I shall be in my study if either of you should need me.”
When Mr. Gardiner had gone, the maid returned to clear the breakfast things. Madeline gave a brief instruction regarding the tray before rising from the table.
Elizabeth set down her cup. “I shall change my gown before I join you, Aunt. The salt air clings more than I realised.”
“Very good, my dear. I shall be in the front parlour. The morning light is pleasant there, and my workbasket has been neglected long enough.”
Elizabeth rose. “Then I will not keep you waiting.”
Elizabeth entered a little later, her gown changed and her hair arranged with its usual neatness. Carrying her workbasket, she crossed to the chair beside her aunt.
“I was beginning to fear you had been claimed by the sea again,” said Madeline.
“Not this morning. Only the mirror. The salt leaves its trace.”
“A harmless vanity.” Madeline shifted her sewing to make room for Elizabeth's basket. “Sit, my dear. Let us see if my stitches are as patient as the tide.”
Elizabeth settled beside her and took up her needle. For a time there was only the faint sound of thread passing through cloth, the tick of the clock, and the call of gulls beyond the window.
After several minutes, Madeline spoke as though the thought had only just occurred to her.“You were very quiet at breakfast. Was it your mother's letter that made you so?”
