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But no. There was nothing in any of them appropriate for a pretend wife to tell a hired housekeeper of a leased house to the man from whom she fled.
“Tell him…tell him to take good care. To be well.”
The woman appeared even more curious. “Peculiar, you leaving so sudden like this,” she dared.
“Promise you will not forget,” Lizzy admonished forcefully.
Mrs Davis nodded, and Lizzy made herself walk away, her footsteps echoing. Down to the entry, out the front door. Into the carriage. And thus, more quickly than she could have ever imagined, her adventures in Brighton, in nursing, and in falling in love were all finished.
* * *
Do not weep.
It was a mantra she repeated often for the first several miles as she stared silently out the window. Mr Gardiner spoke a few pleasantries and comments upon the scenery, which she believed she answered casually, as though foolish dreams did not lie shattered at her feet. But perhaps not, for he lapsed into silence within a mile and left her alone. Over and over, her memory echoed Mr Darcy’s expression at her refusal. There was anger, yes—but also a hurt, a deep confusion. Had she done wrong? Had her pride betrayed her into a ruinous answer?
But no. He had not really asked a question, had he? He had only attempted to defend a decision that his family would find repulsive and he believed a possible proof of insanity. She could not blame him for it, but it hardly showed overwhelming love. They would believe him grown dependent upon her and that she had taken advantage. They would use it against him. And as he grew ever stronger and more capable of fighting his own battles, he might believe it too.
“What will you do?”
The question startled her, so accustomed to silence she had become. She abruptly met Mr Gardiner’s eyes, finding them filled with a grave sort of kindness.
“Wh-what?”
“Have you reflected upon what you will do when you return to your sister’s home?”
The question seemed almost nonsensical. “The usual things, I suppose,” she answered, brow furrowing.
“I cannot imagine you netting purses, covering screens, or painting tables—the usual occupations of young ladies. Unless you enjoy those pursuits.”
She shrugged, utterly helpless to identify much of interest. “I do enjoy reading. And I have much to improve upon in my playing.”
He appeared thoughtful. “My business connexion with Mr Darcy came about—in a way and in part—due to my banishment from Longbourn,” he said. “I was only five or six years older than you are now, and my father planned to ease into retirement whilst I took over his practice. Vindictively, your father wrote to mine, exclaiming his displeasure over my behaviour to him, threatening to withdraw his patronage. Meryton is a small pond, as you know, and Bennet was—is—a rather large fish within it.”
“Surely not,” Lizzy whispered.
But of course, it was utterly in character. It would not have been simply the loss of a client, although that would be damaging enough to old Mr Gardiner. It would be the public humiliation of it. It might have ruined her grandfather, who had died when she was nine or ten years old. She could just remember him, although he had rarely visited or had a word for her if he did.
“Sadly true,” he nodded. “But Thomas Bennet offered a suggestion by way of penitence. My father should offer the firm to his clerk, Philips, instead of me, if he would marry our eldest sister. Ida seldom in her life made a remark touched by sense, common or otherwise, and hadn’t the looks of her younger sister to compensate. It solved Father’s problem of how to care for her, whilst it was an excellent match for both of them. Bennet’s good will could thus be restored.”
Lizzy briefly closed her eyes. She had often wondered at the union of her uncle Philips, a solemn, pedantic man, to her silly, flighty aunt. “And my father ensured that he would never be called upon to take in my aunt once her father died.”
“That too,” he agreed. “Of course, I parted ways with my father’s firm, as Bennet knew I would. But I then used every connexion I had made in my previous seven years of apprenticeship to gain an introduction to George Saxelby, a well-connected solicitor. I managed to impress him. His most important client was old Mr Darcy.”
Lizzy was listening carefully now; she feared she always would at any mention of a Darcy.
“When his father died five years ago, Mr Darcy was distraught—it was completely unexpected, and he was not prepared. There was some trouble, afterwards, with one of his legacies, and in assisting him with it, we grew to be…friends, after a manner of speaking. I understood him, you see. I, too, had once lost my world. I encouraged him to follow my example: keep on, press on. Not shovelling smoke, so to speak, but purposeful actions, one foot in front of the other. One day at a time.”
Keep on,she thought. Press on. The phrases Mr Darcy had repeated over and over. Looking into his sympathetic eyes, she saw that she had not hidden her sorrow from Mr Gardiner, not at all. He was trying to help. He did care.
“He trusts you,” she said at last. “I knew that because he only shared his exact whereabouts with one other—Mr Saxelby. And I think he has relied upon you as well.” She took a deep breath. “I hope I may rely upon your advice, too, if you would be so kind as to give it.”
“Nothing would make me happier,” he said, and she felt her throat constrict at the kindness in his expression.
“The thing is…” She swallowed around the lump. “The thing is, you know already what my life was like at Longbourn. One of the ways I survived with my happiness intact was to…to cease hoping for things to be any different. I did not dream of the future like other girls do. I thought I would not marry, as my mother decreed it could never happen. Receiving a marriage proposal was such a surprise, and the expectation from my parents that I marry him even more astonishing. The offer was from my cousin, Mr Collins, the heir to Longbourn. I would have become mistress of Longbourn, eventually—which I thought my father would not tolerate.”
Mr Gardiner frowned. “I would guess Bennet’s cousin to be quite elderly. He and Bennet were estranged, as I recall.”
“You must be thinking of the father. I never met him, but his son offered an olive branch, so to speak.” She told him of her ridiculous cousin, his ludicrous behaviour culminating in his absurd proposal of marriage. From there, and with a few promptings, she revealed the whole tale of her journey to Ramsgate, how she had discovered Mr Darcy, meeting Georgiana—even, the desperation of the poor girl at that first meeting, and the earl’s desire to force a marriage to her other guardian upon her.
