“Why keep this from Lady Catherine?”
“She would have written to Mr. Darcy at once, and learned of their subterfuge sooner than desired. Besides, she has no true connection to Wickham beyond his ill intent. It is better she finds out in other ways, if ever at all.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jane and Aunt Madelinewere still discussing the previous night’s theatrical performance, their voices animated as they debated the merits of Mr. Kean’s portrayal of Richard III, when Lambert appeared at the parlour door. The butler bore a calling card upon a small silver tray, which he presented to the lady of the house with practiced deference.
After examining the cream-coloured card with its elegant black script, Aunt Madeline’s eyebrows rose perceptively. She cast a meaningful glance towards Jane before instructing, “You may show the gentleman in, and kindly ask Mrs. Seggie to prepare additional refreshments, perhaps those delicate almond biscuits she made yesterday and the Darjeeling.”
The ladies had barely exchanged glances, when Lambert returned.
“Mr. Darcy,” he announced, his voice resonating in the modest but well-appointed parlour.
Both women rose gracefully, exchanging courteous greetings with their visitor, who stood tall and imposing in his impeccably tailored dark coat. Jane’s mind raced beneath her composed exterior. What business could bring Mr. Darcy to Cheapside, a district he and his Netherfieldcompanions had previously regarded with such disdain? Her thoughts immediately turned to Elizabeth, who had mentioned an unexpected encounter with Mr. Darcy in her latest letter from Kent, the pages still folded in Jane’s writing desk.
A flutter of anxiety seized her heart, causing her breath to catch. Has something happened to Lizzy?
Darcy stood stiff andawkward at the front of the room. His visit was unexpected and, given his previous behaviour in Meryton, possibly not welcome. Unsure of how to begin a conversation, he was relieved when Miss Bennet, or rather, Lady Jane initiated the polite back and forth of impersonal conversation.
“I am pleased to see you again, Mr. Darcy,” she said, and gestured towards the older lady standing to her right. “May I present my aunt, Mrs. Edward Gardiner. Aunt Gardiner, this is Mr. Darcy, of Pemberley.”
He was surprised she presented her aunt first and thought the former Miss Bennet was unaware of societal protocol. For the sake of Elizabeth, he would pay it no mind and adhere to his original plan of warning Lady Jane of Bingley’s “goals and dreams.”
“I am aware of who Mr. Darcy is, as I hail from Lambton,” her aunt replied, surprising Darcy into a genuine smile.
“Lambton! I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Gardiner. Pray, tell me, what was your family’s name? I am interested to know if we have anyone in common.”
He was diverted by the mysterious smile his hostess gave him, until she revealed her family name. “I was known as Madeline Cavendish before I married my husband.”
Immediately, everything fell into place. He recalled how his cousin, Viscount Ashton, had informed them, that night at the theatre, that Miss Bingley had insulted a niece of the Cavendish family. Now that he was aware Mrs. Gardiner,néeCavendish, was related to the Bennet sisters, it made sense. It also made his previous comments of Elizabeth and Jane lacking connections even more outrageous.
“May I ask what brings you to my uncle’s house?” Lady Jane enquired, interrupting his thoughts. “Has something happened to Lizzy?”
“Lady Elizabeth was hale and hearty when I last saw her prior to my departure from Kent.” He noted the widening of Lady Jane’s eyes at him calling Elizabeth by her honorific title. “Pray excuse my abruptness, but I did not seek an audience with you to exchange pleasantries, at least not at this moment, but have come regarding Mr. Bingley.”
Her posture stiffened before relaxing into the composed demeanour he had often observed in Hertfordshire.
“Your sister informed me of your attachment to him, and your belief that such feelings were reciprocated.” Darcy cleared his throat. “I cannot in good conscience allow you to mourn the loss of a gentleman who does not merit such devotion.”
“Does not merit?” she echoed.
“I have learned that Mr. Bingley has squandered much of their inheritance, resulting in a drastic reduction of his fortune. He requires a bride of considerable means to restore his finances. Despite his admiration for you, marriage was never his intention, at least not with the former Miss Jane Bennet. He is unaware of your family’s recent elevation.”
“You have my gratitude for speaking plainly.”
“I value your kind words, though I must confess the fulltruth.” A warmth crept up Darcy’s neck to his cheeks. “I interfered, believing your affections were mild. Whether I judged correctly or not, I overstepped. However, my remorse lessened as I came to understand my friend’s true character. Only then could I find some solace in my interference.”
“Mr. Darcy, I bear you no ill will. You acted to protect your friend. Given how it turned out, we now know for certain our Lord has a sense of humour.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“We are told to trust in Him, and He will direct our path. My path diverged from Mr. Bingley’s for reasons once obscured by my own naiveté and confusion, but now, my route is lit by the light of a thousand torches. I am being shown, quite clearly, where I am meant to tread.”
“You possess a remarkable spirit, Lady Jane. I would count myself fortunate to call you a friend.”
“Consider it done, sir.”
Though Lady Jane’s countenance remained serene, her renewed scrutiny was evident. The delicate clink of porcelain as she placed her teacup against its saucer, and the deliberate folding of her hands in her lap, heralded an uncomfortable interrogation.
