Page 54

“I shall repeat this to no one,” she said.

“I know” was his quiet reply.

Elizabeth did not reply at first. To trust her with such a secret—to trust her with his sister’s reputation—was enormous, and she felt all the honour of it. “I shall ask Uncle Gardiner to write to my father, warning him to keep the girls close. Papa listens to him. I shall not mention your sister.”

Voices approached from the passage. Elizabeth bent over her sewing again, though her mind was such a whirl that for a minute or two she could not recall where she had left off. Mr. Darcy resumed his chair before Jane and Mr. Bingley returned with the book they had been seeking.

For the rest of the visit, Elizabeth spoke when addressed and laughed when someone made a jest. But every so often she found Mr. Darcy engaged with her aunt, or correcting Mr. Bingley on some point that Mr. Bingley immediately ignored.

Nothing about him had changed. Only her understanding had.

That evening, Elizabeth approached her aunt and uncle after the children were abed. “Mr. Wickham is not the man I believed him to be,” she said.

Uncle Gardiner looked up from the newspaper he had just unfolded. Aunt Gardiner set down her work.

“That is a substantial alteration in opinion,” her uncle said. “May I ask what produced it?”

“I cannot tell you the particulars. They are not mine to repeat.” Neither pressed, and Elizabeth loved them a little more for that. “I am persuaded, however, that Lydia and Kitty ought to be cautious of Mr. Wickham. Papa should know at least that much.”

Uncle Gardiner nodded. “I shall write to tell him that I have received some concerning information and advise that he keep the girls under stricter supervision. He may wish to inquire into Wickham’s character for himself.”

Aunt Gardiner regarded Elizabeth, but Elizabeth pretended not to notice.

As promised, Mr. Frederick Pye came to dinner on the sixteenth.

Elizabeth had heard enough of him from Uncle Gardiner to expect a middle-aged merchant with spectacles atop his head and a ledger tucked beneath one arm. Mr. Pye proved to be perhaps three-and-thirty, reasonably attractive, fashionably but not ostentatiously dressed, and possessed of a dry humour that one laughed at only after it had nearly passed one by.

He was the second son of a gentleman, who spoke of investments and shipping with the same ease that Mr. Darcy spoke of his estate. He disagreed with Uncle Gardiner at least twice before the meat course arrived and appeared to enjoy the debates almost as much as her uncle did.

Mr. Darcy was seated at her left, between her and Mr. Pye. He was near enough that she was conscious of his sleeve whenever either of them reached for anything, and he spoke to Mr. Pye about a canal scheme for the better part of an hour.

After his confession about Miss Darcy, Elizabeth had expected some small sign of acknowledgement. A nod, perhaps, or even just a glance.

Instead, he was civil. He asked whether she had been able to walk of late and accepted her answer politely. He agreed with Mr. Bingley’s compliments about the soup. Then he turned to speak to Mr. Pye and her aunt in turn.

This was not coldness, exactly, but it was certainly not ease.

Elizabeth thought perhaps Mr. Darcy was regretting confiding in her. It must be true, for he was only reticent with her. He spoke with the other gentlemen and at length with Mr. Pye.

She found the notion strangely unpleasant.

Miss Bingley did not dine with them, but she did sit with them afterwards. When the gentlemen joined them, Mr. Pye was introduced to her. He bowed. She offered the proper civilities.

Mr. Pye took the chair nearest Miss Bingley, which was the only one remaining, and asked whether she found the city very dull after Grosvenor Street.

“I find it very loud,” Miss Bingley said.

“Ah. I see you have met the children.” He said it so very seriously, with so grave an expression, that Miss Bingley’s lips twitched upward before she could stop them. She turned it into a soft clearing of her throat. Mr. Pye turned his head away to spare her, but Elizabeth saw him smile at the fire.

She was relieved, for she had worried Miss Bingley might fuss about the introduction as though it was beneath her, though Mr. Pye was the second son of a gentleman and her brother and Mr. Darcy were enjoying his company. But Miss Bingley showed no sign she thought anything amiss.

Mr. Darcy stopped beside Elizabeth’s chair only long enough to bow before he walked over to her uncle. Elizabeth did not know what to make of it.

The gentlemen remained until nearly ten. After they departed, Uncle Gardiner went to his study, Aunt Gardiner accompanied Miss Bingley back to her chamber, and Jane disappeared upstairs after declaring that she intended to write to Mamma before bed.

Elizabeth finished gathering her sewing and the children’s abandoned books before moving upstairs. A letter for her had arrived during her preparations for dinner, and she had put off the pleasure of reading it until now.

She picked up the letter from her little writing table and settled into the chair by the fire. Elizabeth broke the seal.