Page 25 of The Matchmaker’s Mistake

“And have you succeeded?” Aunt Gardiner asked.

“Not at all. She maintains it is merely cold. I fear my literary skills are not up to the task.”

Miss Darcy shook her head and smiled a little. “You compared the Serpentine to a bowl of blancmange.”

“A striking image.”

“A ridiculous one. The river is not white.”

Wickham laughed outright. “There is no pleasing the Darcy family. They insist upon sense at the expense of simile.”

Miss Darcy was amused. “And yet you continue to associate with us.”

“Madam, loyalty is one of my very few virtues. Besides, the Darcys took me in hand so early that escape is now impossible.”

“Forgive me for the presumption, but you speak as I recall your father did, Mr. Wickham,” said Aunt Gardiner. “I remember him well, a kind man who knew his business. Lambton was very sorry to lose him. Four years now, is it not?”

“Next July, Mrs. Gardiner. You are kind to remember.”

Aunt Gardiner paused to consider Miss Darcy. “And Mr. Darcy was an excellent master and landlord.” She smiled at the girl. “He was also considered to be rather romantic. People always said of your parents that where one of them went, the other could not be far behind.”

Miss Darcy’s hand dropped from Mr. Wickham’s sleeve. “My mother misses my father very much,” she said. “He was very fond of us all, and though I was only eleven when he died, I remember that he and Mr. Wickham’s father were good friends. He used to say,” she said to Aunt Gardiner, “that Mr. Wickham knew every tenant, every horse, every field boundary, and every secret at Pemberley except my mother’s age.”

Wickham laughed. “My father was no more forthcoming about his own. Old Mr. Darcy maintained he subtracted five years whenever it suited him.”

“And did he?” Elizabeth asked.

“Constantly. Particularly after forty. It is one of the privileges of long service. Stewards may alter their ages just as ship’s captains exaggerate storms, I suppose.”

Miss Darcy laughed softly.

“There,” said Wickham. “Darcy would never forgive me if I allowed you to become solemn.”

Miss Darcy smiled; her hand returned to his arm.

“He has been a little out of sorts of late,” Mr. Wickham went on, in the easy tone of family talk. “You must be kind to him, my dear⁠—”

He glanced, only for an instant, at Elizabeth.

“Miss Darcy,” said Elizabeth, “may I trouble you with a question of selfish interest? I have a private grievance against Miss Bingley, who informed us at Netherfield in November that you were the most accomplished young lady of her acquaintance. I have been waiting ever since for an opportunity to dislike you.”

Miss Darcy looked, for the breath of an instant, horrified—and then she laughed with a friendly sort of surprise. “Miss Bingley said that? I suppose I cannot prevent her, though it is very far from the truth.”

“Oh that is very well, then. If you are able to disappoint me, I shall be much obliged. What do you read? What do you neglect to practise? Have you ever been derelict in your studies?”

Miss Darcy paused a moment before she reeled off her answers. “I have read Mrs. Radcliffe when I ought to read something more improving. I still have not finished learning a sonata that I was set to master three months ago. And I have been late more than once, for I forget the time when I am at the pianoforte.” She paused. “Where I am practicing a sonata that I was not set to.”

Elizabeth had not expected such a delightful reply. “This is excellent news. I find I cannot dislike you at all.”

“That is a great pity,” said Miss Darcy gravely, “for I had begun to enjoy the idea.”

The solemn delivery was so like her brother’s that, for one disorienting moment, Elizabeth had almost missed the jest.

Mr. Wickham laughed outright, and even the footman behind them had to hide a smile.

“What a pleasure it has been to meet you again, Mr. Wickham,” said Aunt Gardiner, who had been listening to the exchange between Elizabeth and Miss Darcy with a smile.

“If you would allow me to call on you and your husband, Mrs. Gardiner, I should be happy to spend a little time reminiscing about Lambton and Derbyshire. My engagements are not so heavy that I may not present myself at Mr. Gardiner’s door within the week.”