Page 83 of Near Pemberley

“Moreover,” Darcy went on, “I possess advantages you do not. I have agents who can make discreet enquiries, acquaintances in places where you would have no reason to apply, and the means to pursue him without neglecting my own affairs.”

“You believe you can find him?”

Darcy’s expression hardened. “I believe I stand a better chance.”

Gardiner studied him for a long moment. “May I ask why you are willing to undertake so much for a family with whom, until recently, you had little connection?”

Darcy did not answer immediately. “Because,” he said at last, “I have known George Wickham for most of my life.” He paused. “I bear some responsibility for allowing such a man to remain at liberty for so many years. I once believed exposing his character would serve no useful purpose. I fear I was mistaken.”

Gardiner regarded him thoughtfully.

“Very well,” he said at length. “I accept your offer… and my sincere thanks.”

Darcy merely inclined his head. Gratitude had never sat comfortably upon him. Without another word, he reached for the map, folded it neatly, and kept it. The gesture required no explanation; the search had become his.

“And Longbourn?” he asked.

The question seemed to surprise Gardiner slightly. “My sister is much as one might expect. She has wept herself into headaches and exhausted every prediction of disaster. Every morning, she is persuaded that the worst is about to occur before breakfast.”

Despite himself, Darcy almost smiled. “And Miss Bennet?”

The singular did not escape Gardiner’s notice. “Jane bears it with remarkable composure. More composure, perhaps, than is entirely natural.”

Darcy nodded slowly. He could easily believe it. “And the others?”

“Kitty alternates between tears and self-reproach. It looks like she was informed of some of the happenings. Unfortunately, she did not think she ought to share with her family. Mary has discovered a great many moral lessons in the affair and is determined to share them. As for Elizabeth…”

Gardiner paused briefly. Darcy’s expression remained unchanged.

Nevertheless, the older gentleman found himself unexpectedly reminded of Derbyshire. Of Pemberley. Of attentions which, at the time, had appeared merely courteous. Then seeing him in Lambton, with Elizabeth, then at the inn.

Perhaps they had been. Perhaps not.

“Elizabeth has suffered more than she admits.” The answer came quietly.

Gardiner watched him carefully. The question had been asked almost casually, but the answer clearly mattered.

Darcy looked up.

“She has no illusions about what all this means.”

For the first time since his arrival, some trace of emotion escaped Darcy’s control.

Only for an instant. Yet Gardiner saw it.

“She blames herself to a degree which is entirely unreasonable,” he continued. “The rest of us have attempted to persuade her otherwise with very little success.”

A silence followed.

When Darcy spoke, his voice was lower than before.

“That does not surprise me.”

“No.” Gardiner’s gaze rested upon him thoughtfully.

“I imagine it would not.”

Neither man spoke. Then Gardiner seemed to reach a decision. “May I ask a question, Mr. Darcy?”