A Perilous Match

Chapter 4

Gracechurch Street, London

Marquess of Dorset.

N o intricate geometric patterns to frame the title. Just a simple, fine engraving on a crisp white card. Mr Darcy had a gift for the kind of understated elegance which stood above others like a beacon.

Aunt Gardiner had wordlessly passed the card along to Elizabeth once they had returned from their afternoon calls.

“Did Lord Dorset leave any message?” Jane asked the butler after Aunt Gardiner ordered tea to be brought to the parlour.

Hughes replied, “No miss. His lordship was here but a moment.”

It was strange to hear Mr Darcy referred to in such terms, and surprising that he had featured into the environs of Cheapside. Elizabeth placed the card back on the tray and took a seat by Jane.

“Shall we be at home for Lord Dorset should he call again, Lizzy?” Aunt Gardiner asked.

Why was such a question directed towards her? Surely they had no other suspicion but her dislike of the man. She had not told her aunt or Jane about Hunsford—or at least, she had not told them about Mr Darcy’s failed proposal since she felt it would serve no purpose but to pain them and mortify her. She had confessed, however, that they had quarrelled in Kent, which went some way in explaining their mutual awkwardness in meeting yesterday.

Jane did not believe the explanation, but she was too considerate to call Elizabeth on her omission. Her pointed looks, however, scolded her sister sufficiently.

“We could not snub him,” Elizabeth conceded, though she hoped that he would not call again. She could not imagine that their meeting brought him any pleasure. Indeed, he had seemed just as discomfited. Perhaps he had been relieved for their absence, which would allow him to gain the credit of calling upon them without any of the attendant mortification for their continued acquaintance. Such a thought provided so much comfort that she was obliged to believe it to be the likeliest truth.

“Of course we could not,” said Jane. “It speaks well of him that he should acknowledge the acquaintance while deep in mourning.”

“Indeed,” agreed Aunt Gardiner. “What a tragedy the family suffers.”

Upon returning to Gracechurch Street the day before, she and Jane had combed through the columns of The Times and The Morning Post out of curiosity and found the news of the Dorset family tragedy buried amongst the latest developments on the Peninsula.

“To lose an uncle and two cousins. He must think very highly of you, Jane and Lizzy, to leave his card at such a time.”

Elizabeth flushed.

“I thought you said that he was a disagreeable gentleman, Lizzy?” Aunt Gardiner asked.

“I have never seen him so agreeable as he was yesterday,” she protested.

“He was a little different,” Jane acknowledged, “which is not to be wondered at, considering.”

“I saw nothing of improper pride,” Aunt Gardiner said. “He is a little stately to be sure and his manners less open than those of Colonel Fitzwilliam. He is by no means ill-favoured.”

“What of his behaviour to poor Mr Wickham?”

“You know, Lizzy,” began Jane, “we may be mistaken there. We have only heard Mr Wickham’s side of the story. Mr Bingley believed that Mr Wickham was not so wholly blameless in the affair.”

Elizabeth arched a brow. “You will blame Mr Wickham and exonerate Mr—Lord Dorset—entirely?”

Jane sighed. “There may be some misunderstanding that we are not privy to. I only believe that we should withhold our judgement. We have never seen anything but honourable behaviour in Lord Dorset.”

Elizabeth bit back her urge to protest Jane’s defence of the man. He did not deserve her testimony.

A maid entered the parlour with the tea tray and a newly arrived letter from Longbourn. Aunt Gardiner took it gratefully.

“Mr Bennet must have some special news for us to have sent another letter so soon,” she commented.

Uncle Gardiner was still at his warehouses and likely to be occupied with new shipments for some time so Aunt Gardiner felt justified in opening the missive without him. After all, it was addressed to the entire Gardiner household.

The letter was short and to-the-point, unembellished by any knowledge of the goings-on of Longbourn. They could only guess that Mrs Bennet and her younger daughters enjoyed good health, that Mrs Long and Lady Lucas continued to plague their mother’s efforts to attract suitors for her daughters, and that Mrs Phillips provided intelligence of the most valuable kind—that of the movements and habits of Colonel Forster’s militia. Such definite knowledge would have to wait for Mary’s moralising commentary upon it. Though prone to dwell upon a critical lens, Mary was their most reliable correspondent; so diligent was she in her task that she repeated every bit of news to be had—even that which earned her disapproval because it provided an opportunity for her understanding of the scriptures and Fordyce’s sermons to shine through the page. Mary dearly loved a scolding.

Aunt Gardiner read aloud.

My dear family,

I hope this letter finds all the inhabitants of Gracechurch Street in fine health. Now that the requisite household enquiries have been made, let us proceed to the intelligence you most wish to know.

I am very sorry to have to relay the knowledge that the entailment has not and will not be broken. Mr Collins remains in the capacity to turn you all out as soon as I am dead.

In short, we have received communication from Mr Collins that he does not mean to give up the entailment for a farthing less than ￡15,000. As you can imagine, this sum is outside the pale of our consideration. We simply do not have the money nor the means of raising such a tidy sum.

I would have liked to have seen Longbourn remain with my daughters, but there is nothing more to be done. Guided by the wisdom of his patroness, my heir’s price is immovable; for as long as Lady Catherine believes this sum to be just recompense, Mr Collins will not negotiate.

I do thank my brother Gardiner for his assistance in this matter.

Yours, etc.

Thomas Bennet

“So that is it, then?” said Elizabeth. “There is nothing more to be attempted?”

Aunt Gardiner folded the paper, which she handed to Jane. “There is nothing more we may do without my brother-in-law’s sanction, but I will speak with Mr Gardiner about this development. It is disheartening, certainly.”

“Perhaps if Uncle Phillips were to write to Mr Collins, he may have more success. My father is not a solicitor after all. Uncle Phillips may be able to phrase an offer in such a way as to make a negotiation more appealing for our cousin.”

“Oh Jane,” sighed Elizabeth, “it is avarice and not address that will appeal to Mr Collins.”

“I do not mean to suggest flattery, Lizzy, but Uncle Phillips may be better able to persuade Mr Collins into a negotiation.”

Elizabeth did not think it likely, especially if he were taking his cues from Lady Catherine.

Unbidden, she thought of Mr Darcy and his declaration of improbable love. Was she foolish to have rejected a man of sense and respectability in the world? With such wealth and influence at her disposal as his wife, she might have saved Longbourn. But, no, Mr Darcy’s opinion of her family was clear and freely given. He would not entangle himself any further with such a family after their marriage. They may have been lost to her entirely, especially now that he was a marquess with a seat in the House of Lords and a greater role to play in the Ton. Even she could acknowledge the just embarrassment of Mrs Bennet as mother to a marquess.

Such a recollection saved Elizabeth from something like regret, but not the shame of her mercenary thoughts.

Still, she could not stop glancing at his card, and when her aunt and sister were otherwise occupied, she slipped it into her pocket.

***

Elizabeth’s belief that Mr Darcy would avoid calling upon them in Gracechurch was disproved by the next afternoon. He came somewhat early in the afternoon and brought with him a very welcomed visitor—Mr Bingley.

Aunt Gardiner welcomed Mr Darcy with great warmth and pleasure. As a fellow native of Derbyshire, she was predisposed to think well of him, and though she was not more than five years his senior, she could not help displaying a sort of maternal care. She could not bear to see anyone grieved or discomfited. Her reception of Mr Bingley was warm, though a little reserved, she cast a protective glance towards Jane, and Elizabeth understood that her sister’s suitor would have to prove himself to more than one lady.

Jane’s embarrassment had been great at his appearance, and with little time to compose herself, gave him little encouragement beyond blushing looks.

Mr Bingley himself was more reserved than Elizabeth had ever seen him, and though he took a seat close to Jane, he spoke little to her. He seemed unsure of his reception, and the pair sat in mutual embarrassment for some time, relying on others to carry the conversation.

Mr Bingley even looked at Mr Darcy once or twice—though whether he sought approval or reassurance, Elizabeth could not say, and Mr Darcy did nothing but provide a nearly imperceptible nod. This given, his friend turned to Jane again and enquired stiltedly about the weather and whether she had been able to enjoy the parks so far this spring.

Elizabeth exchanged a rueful glance with Mr Darcy and tried to overcome her own embarrassment at his appearance, and for a few minutes, it was left to Mr Darcy and Aunt Gardiner to carry the conversation, which they did with more ease than she could have imagined.

Mr Darcy was different than he had been in Hertfordshire and Kent. Subdued, even. Kinder, certainly. She hardly knew how to interact with a Darcy that was not haughty or cold, and struggled to think of anything to say to him. She settled upon, “Colonel Fitzwilliam did not accompany you this afternoon?”

Mr Darcy raised an eyebrow and she flushed.

What must he think of her asking after his cousin so soon after her own rejection of him?

“My cousin was otherwise occupied with his Major General today, Miss Elizabeth,” he replied. “I will, however, pass along your compliments.”

“Oh!” she stammered dumbly. “I do not mean… you cannot mean that I—”

Mr Darcy smiled wryly. “I understand you perfectly.”

“No! I fear you do not,” she protested. “Colonel Fitzwilliam is a very fine gentleman, but I do not wish to… I am not enquiring after him particularly.”

“Yes, as I said, I understand you perfectly, Miss Elizabeth,” he replied, smiling widely.

He was amused!

He liked seeing her flustered.

“I will pass on your compliments, but stress that you are not asking after him particularly.”

Elizabeth gaped. “You are teasing me!”

“Well yes. It is not often that I see you rendered speechless, Miss Elizabeth.”

She laughed in surprise and pressed one hand to her cheek, willing herself not to find Mr Darcy charming now . “Sir, I hardly know whether to be offended by such a description of myself.”

“I do not wish to ever offend you,” he said with deliberate lightness that set her heart pounding at this soft allusion to Hunsford. “However, I will not deny the pleasure of surprising you, Miss Elizabeth.”

There was a bustle in the front hall indicating other callers, which put an end to the gentlemen’s visit. They rose with some reluctance, Mr Bingley sending anguished glances Jane’s way.

Upon taking leave of her aunt, Mr Darcy approached Elizabeth. She stood, nervously, swallowed thickly when he took her hand to bow over it. “It was a pleasure to see you again today, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, something unreadable but full of meaning lingering in his eyes.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “It was good of you to come.”

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he followed her gaze towards Jane and Mr Bingley. Then his attention was all her own again. “Perhaps Bingley and Miss Bennet would feel more comfortable renewing their acquaintance in another setting. Would you be available for an outing to Hyde Park tomorrow afternoon?”

Elizabeth exhaled slowly, only then aware that she had been holding her breath. “Jane,” she called, finally letting go of Mr Darcy’s hand, “Lord Dorset has invited us to accompany him and Mr Bingley to Hyde Park tomorrow.”

Jane smiled shyly but happily. “I should like that very much.”

“And you, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr Darcy said, drawing her attention again, “should you like it?”

“I am not averse,” she admitted. This admission was not an untruth. She would never have expected such notice and kindness from Mr Darcy after their quarrel in Kent, but he had proven himself far less resentful than she could ever have supposed. And, he had brought Mr Bingley back to her sister. No, she was not averse.

She would mind her sister and her aunt’s advice in withholding further judgement of his actions concerning Mr Wickham. After all, they only knew Mr Wickham’s tale. She would not be unjust when Mr Darcy had not been resentful.

“Then, that is progress, is it not?” he said quietly.

Elizabeth coloured and Aunt Gardiner looked at them with some wonderment and a new awareness. Mr Darcy bowed again and his friend followed him out, leaving Elizabeth and Jane staring after them and struggling to regain their composure when Aunt Gardiner’s friends were announced.