Mr Gardiner is quite concerned about his guest
Sept 1, 1812
Mr Gardiner sunk his spoon into his syllabub as his glance travelled between his charmingly poised wife and their guest.
It was quite extraordinary, the alteration in Mr Darcy’s manner.
During their lengthy interviews to address what Madeleine had tactfully and restrainedly termed Lydia’s situation, Mr Darcy had been exceedingly assertive. Forceful, even. Driven. Like a man possessed. Decisive and outspoken, he had shown himself accustomed to cutting straight to the heart of the matter, and equally well-accustomed to taking charge.
He had been decisive in Derbyshire as well – albeit a very different sort of decisiveness.
Now the fire seemed to have gone out of him, and Mr Gardiner could not fathom why.
Mr Darcy was not silent, far from it, and had lost naught of his attentive civility. Throughout dinner, he had endeavoured to find suitable topics of conversation. He had spoken of Derbyshire landmarks that were familiar to Madeleine. Had skilfully turned the conversation towards the Bridgewater Canal, and the aqueduct over the River Irwell, and other feats of modern engineering. He had spoken extensively of Lambton – the church, the marketplace, the old smithy and the new bridge over the river. But while his conversation was eminently proper and patently aimed at pleasing and engaging each one of his listeners in turn, his mien was devoid of the sheer vitality that had been so obvious during all their previous encounters. It was also devoid of sparkle. Nor had Mr Darcy made any reference to Elizabeth.
Why?
A sinking feeling gripped hold of Mr Gardiner. A furrow in his brow, he inwardly cursed Lydia’s folly yet again. Had the wild and selfish chit ruined the prospects of her far more deserving sister?
During the brief sojourn in Lambton, it had been very plain to see that Mr Darcy harboured a tendre for Elizabeth. Before long, Mr Gardiner had learnt that his dear wife had noticed all the signs as well, and many more besides, which had eluded him.
They had spoken at length on the happy subject, in the privacy of their bedchamber. They had shared their thoughts and their impressions, and had rejoiced at the heart-warming prospect of their dear Lizzy forming an alliance with a young man of good character and good fortune, who was head over heels in love with her. A perfect match in every way, for reasons that went far beyond material considerations.
Frankly, it was Darcy’s obvious devotion to Elizabeth that had persuaded Mr Gardiner to let the young swain carry the day and make all the arrangements that had resulted in the patched-up affair that was Lydia’s wedding.
The reasons that Darcy had given – that he felt responsible because he had not disclosed to the world at large everything he knew of Wickham and the rogue’s proclivities – had been dismissed as a convenient pretext by both Mr Gardiner and his wife.
But now, as he witnessed Mr Darcy’s subdued and almost painfully guarded manner, Mr Gardiner’s heart sank. Had Mr Darcy conquered his best feelings and decided that he could not possibly marry into a family that now included Wickham? And Lydia’s marriage, which he had single-handedly brought about sparing no exertion, no expense – was that not a prelude to his union with Elizabeth, but his parting gift to her?
Mr Gardiner looked up with a start when his wife’s gentle voice drew him from disturbing ruminations.
“Oh, yes, I remember many a happy hour spent sketching the view from that very spot. I can fully comprehend Miss Darcy’s fascination with it. By the bye, sir, I hope your sister is not devoid of companionship while you are away. Are her friends still with her?”
“Yes, for now. But I believe that most of them will soon set off to Scarborough.”
“Will they? A pity.”
“Quite,” came Mr Darcy’s brief reply. He toyed with his chocolate soufflé for a long moment, then glanced up and resumed, solemn earnestness in his manner. “My sister charged me with conveying her best regards. My apologies, I should have done so already. It was most unfortunate that her acquaintance with you and Miss Elizabeth Bennet was cut short. She said she would have dearly liked to spend a great deal more time in your society.”
“The sentiment is mutual, I assure you. I believe I can safely speak for our niece as well as ourselves,” Mr Gardiner was glad to hear his wife reply. “We were very pleased and honoured to make Miss Darcy’s acquaintance.”
“And is– Hm! Is Miss Elizabeth Bennet well? And all her relations?”
“They are indeed, I thank you, sir,” Mr Gardiner felt compelled to intervene. “All the better, I imagine, once yesterday’s ceremony had brought an end to their turmoil and anxiety. I have not had the opportunity of saying this before, Mr Darcy, but it is on their behalf, not Lydia’s, that our gratitude is most deeply felt. I wish they could know to whom they are really indebted, but–”
The look akin to panic that flashed across Mr Darcy’s countenance obliged him to say promptly, “Fear not, sir. Much as I wish to be robbed of my borrowed feathers, I shall not breathe a word of your involvement.”
Mr Darcy set his spoon down and leaned back in his seat.
“I thank you,” he said with manifest relief. “I should not wish Miss Elizabeth and her relations to feel encumbered by any sense of obligation when we meet again.”
With the greatest effort, Mr Gardiner suppressed a smile.
‘Praise be, all will be well,’ he thought as he kept his mien commendably impassive and reached for his glass of wine.
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