Page 80 of Near Pemberley

Either the search had failed, or it had never reached the places where Wickham was most likely to hide.

Darcy immediately regretted the unfairness of the thought.

Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner had been strangers to London intrigues of this nature. They could not be expected to know Wickham as he did.

Nor, he admitted reluctantly, could they have anticipated the places to which such a man might descend. Few respectable gentlemen ever needed such knowledge.

Had Miss Lydia not crossed his path by accident, he might never have learnt of the family’s continued misfortune until months later. Perhaps not until spring, at Rosings, when he could have asked Mr. Collins about his relatives.

The possibility was intolerable.

He set the thought aside.

Or, would he have gone to Longbourn before then?

Whatever had been done or left undone, the immediate question remained the same. Mr. Gardiner was family. He would know how matters stood at Longbourn. More importantly, he was one of the very few people with whom Darcy could speak openly regarding Miss Lydia without causing further distress.

Drawing a card towards him, Darcy wrote a brief line beneath his name.

Mr. Darcy presents his compliments to Mr. Gardiner

and hopes to have the honour of calling upon him tomorrow morning,

should it be convenient.

The message was folded and sealed.

When his valet appeared, Darcy handed it over.

“See that this reaches Mr. Gardiner this evening.”

“Yes, sir.”

The servant withdrew.

Darcy turned back towards the scattered papers upon his desk.

***

The following morning brought little improvement in the weather. A fine rain drifted across the streets as Darcy’s carriage made its way towards Mr. Gardiner’s lodgings.

Mr. Gardiner’s residence stood in a respectable part of Gracechurch Street, sufficiently removed from the noise and bustle of Cheapside to satisfy even more fastidious observers. Though not fashionable in the manner of Grosvenor Square or Berkeley Street, it was plainly the house of a prosperous man. The windows were well kept, the brass polished, and the quiet efficiency with which Darcy was received suggested not merely prosperity, but the quiet pride of a man who had built it himself.

He was shown to the host’s study almost immediately. Mr. Gardiner rose from his chair as Darcy entered. After the usual greetings had been exchanged, both resumed their seats.

Gardiner found himself studying his visitor with quiet curiosity. Nearly two months had passed since their meeting in Derbyshire.

The acquaintance had been pleasant enough. He retained a favourable impression of Mr. Darcy and frequently recalled the civility with which he and Mrs. Gardiner had been received at Pemberley. Yet the connection had been brief and, so far as he had supposed, concluded.

He had not expected to encounter the gentleman again. Certainly not in Gracechurch Street. A man of Darcy’s consequence did not ordinarily seek out a London merchant without reason.

“I confess, sir,” Gardiner said at last, “that your card occasioned me some surprise.”

“I expected it might.”

The answer, though perfectly polite, offered no explanation whatsoever. For the first time, a smile touched the older gentleman’s face. “Though perhaps I ought not to complain. I am still recovering from the disappointment of that fishing excursion.”

Darcy looked momentarily surprised. “The disappointment?”