by Jayne Bamber
After everything was said that was right and appropriate for the occasion, Mr. Darcy and his brother-in-law had intended to ride back to Pemberley with Mr. Gardiner, but it had been two days since Mr. Gardiner had seen Madeline, and had heard nothing from the parsonage since she left Pemberley hours before Fanny passed.
The wedding was only two days away, but obviously must be postponed – there was much for him to discuss with his fiancée – not only the postponement of their wedding, but the arrangements that must be made for his nieces. He had hoped to start a family soon, naturally, but beginning their marriage with three young girls in their care was a matter of great delicacy, which he needed to discuss with the companion of his future life.
Mr. Gardiner expressed his intentions to Mr. Fisher, hoping that given the circumstances, he and Madeline might be permitted a prolonged period of private interview when they returned to the parsonage. Mr. Fisher was polite and obliging in this matter, acknowledging all the importance of what Mr. Gardiner must wish to discuss with his betrothed. To Mr. Gardiner’s distress, Madeline was far less willing to speak with him. As her father led her into the front parlor to sit and speak with him, Mr. Gardiner expected some tender greeting from his beloved; he needed nothing so desperately as to fall into her arms and hold her for some time before he could begin to gather his thoughts into some semblance of rationality. Instead, his desolation was met with cold reserve, which even her father seemed to notice; his expression was one of sad concern as he closed the door behind himself and left the two lovers alone.
Mr. Gardiner move to embrace his beloved, but she took a step back and just gestured for him to sit across from her at a little table near the window that looked out on the garden. He leaned forward on one of the two embroidered arm chairs, hoping to take her hands in his across the table, but she withdrew again.
“You needn’t be nervous, my love,” he said. “I have assured your father that, given the circumstances, you and I must have a serious conversation in privacy. I am sure he would permit you to take my hand at such a time, for we have a great many matters to discuss.”
“Indeed we have, sir,” Madeline said softly, her expression inscrutable.
“To begin with, we must present your father with a new wedding date, as we cannot wed two days hence. Although it would be more expedient, regarding our moving to London with my nieces, I think it a right thing to wait a month before we wed. I can arrange for a short-term nanny or the like to look after the girls until then. I know we have only ever talked about starting a family someday, and it is a far different thing to take on the care of three small girls immediately upon marriage, but I have every faith in you, my love, and I know we shall rise to the challenge together.”
Madeline’s face crumpled, but she did not shed any tears. She only shook her head and said, “No, Edward, I cannot do it. I cannot marry you.”
Mr. Gardiner recoiled. “Madeline, what are you saying? Do you wish to wait until I am in half-mourning?”
“No, not even then. Not at all, not ever.”
“I know it is a lot to ask. It is not what I expected when I proposed, but we shall have my sister Phyllis there with us, too, to help with the children. And of course we can still have our own. My career is promising, and I will rise, I promise you that.”
“No, I cannot. The children – I swear it isn’t them. Had one of their parents survived, had they somewhere else to go, even then my answer should be no.”
“But why?” He could feel his head spinning, overpowering his ability to speak. After everything that happened, now this? He could not make sense of it all.
“When I was with your sister – oh, it was too horrible.”
Mr. Gardiner struggled to process what she was saying, and stammered, “No, no, this cannot be happening.” And then it hit him. She had seen Fanny losing her child, and dying from it. He should never have let her in that room. “Dear God,” he gasped, nearly weeping. “I am so sorry, Madeline. But you need never give me children, not if you do not wish it. I would not ask you to put yourself in that danger, if that is what you fear. We shall have the girls, and that will be enough. Of course you would not wish to bear my children after what you have seen.”
She shook her head, not meeting his eye. “It is not what I have seen, but what I have heard – no, I will not speak of it. I cannot marry you, Edward. Not now, not ever. Your sister died, her children were orphaned, all for the sake of coming here, for this wedding – it cannot ever take place. That is all I will say. I must ask you to leave.”
Madeline stood and began to withdraw, when Mr. Gardiner leapt to his feet and grabbed her hand. “Madeline, no. You cannot do this to me. I cannot live without you. I cannot get through this without you. I beg you, I beg you reconsider.”
A look of disdain on her countenance, Madeline pulled her hand away, slowly retreating toward the door as she pressed her eyes shut. “No, Edward. Do not ask me to think about it any further; I am resolute. You must go now, and do not come back again.”
Mr. Gardiner could bear it no longer; finally a sob escaped his lips. And that was it – as soon as he broke down, Madeline fled the room, and a moment later Mr. Fisher entered. He did not appear entirely surprised by what was passing. Mr. Gardiner looked at him with a mounting sense of dread. “She has broken off the engagement,” he said flatly, in a voice not his own.
Mr. Fisher folded his arms behind his back and bowed his head slightly. “I see. I had suspected she might, but I did not wish to burden you until it was absolutely certain. I confess I had hoped your plans for the girls might sway her, however I will own it is a lot to ask.”
“Yes I suppose it is, though she claimed that was not her reason for breaking the engagement. I do not know what to think, or what to do… I do not know how I shall get on at all….” Mr. Gardiner managed a grimace, still feeling dazed, and rather foolish now.
Mr. Fisher looked up, his eyes betraying more sympathy than his stern expression usually allowed. “I think you had better return to Pemberley. I am sure you would find a welcoming ear if you choose to confide in the Darcys. Your hosts are excellent people, and I give you leave to share the details of what has transpired here, if it would give you any comfort. Surely some arrangements must be made for your sister’s recovery, and your nieces. You must prepare to resume your life, with your relations under your care. You are a good man, Gardiner; you will remain in my prayers. However, if my daughter has asked you – and I am sure she has, to keep some distance – I must ask you to respect that. I would not have her burdened if she feels that this is all too much for her.”
Mr. Gardiner nodded absently and slowly moved to the door, scarcely feeling Mr. Fisher clap him on the back as they parted ways. He knew not how he made his way back to Pemberley.
***
Mr. Gardiner was accosted by an elegantly attired woman in her mid-sixties, who waved her cane at him as she exited the manor and approached a very grand carriage in front drive at Pemberley. He tipped his hat. “Good day, madam,” he said, still feeling half mad with grief.
“That is not what I hear,” she quipped with a sympathetic turn of her countenance. “I am Lady Eleanor Fitzwilliam, Dowager Countess of Matlock – Lady Anne’s mother. You must be Mr. Gardiner, I presume. You have my condolences, sir. Indeed, I have just been paying them to your dear sister.”
Mr. Gardiner was in too great a state of bewilderment already to form any rational response to this new, surprising development. The dowager waited a moment before realizing no response would be forthcoming. “Well,” she said, stepping forward to clasp his hand in hers, “I have heard a great deal about you and your dear late sister from Phyllis, and I look forward to coming to know you better through Phyllis, as your sister and I grow better acquainted ourselves.”
“Indeed?” Mr. Gardiner could only gape at the dowager, unable to express that he had not the pleasure of understanding her at all.
“Oh yes, my daughter Catherine sorted it all out
before she left for Kent, a record success even for her. You see, young man, my last companion experienced the most perverse inclination to accept a proposal of marriage! I have not the least intention of moldering away all summer at the dower house by myself, and when your sister is recovered from her injuries, she will take up the position as my new companion. Perhaps we will go to Bath, or to Brighton. She is a lovely girl, and I do hope you are not unwilling to part with her.”
Mr. Gardiner had winced at the word marriage, and scarcely absorbed any of the information that followed it. He nodded anyhow.
“Well,” the dowager continued with a good-humored smile, “I can well understand your being reticent on a day like today, but another time I should like to speak with you further, as I have heard nothing but your praise every time I speak with dear Phyllis. You will call on me before you return to London, at the dower house at Matlock. Then you must visit, of course, once Phyllis is all settled in. How snug we shall be, when we are not traveling about. Oh! And here I am, you poor man, being overpowering, as my daughters would say. I shall leave you in peace now, but I shall be expecting that visit.”
Mr. Gardiner felt as if he was watching through thick fog as the dowager countess was handed into her carriage, which quickly sped down the driveway, and he did not stir until it was long out of sight. Only then did it strike him that somehow, in the last three days, his sister had agreed to become the dowager’s companion, without even mentioning it to him. “What is to become of those poor girls,” he groaned.
And then he saw them. Perhaps fifty yards distant, Lady Anne and her brother the earl were walking on the lawn with his nieces. Lady Anne held Mary in her arms as little Lizzy ambled along at her side, and a boy of ten or eleven was pushing little Jane in the bath chair Lady Anne had procured the previous day. It had been brought to the house for Phyllis’s use, and how tiny Jane looked in it! Mr. Gardiner could not help but give a little smile at the sight of it.
Lady Anne caught sight of Mr. Gardiner, and raised her free hand to wave at him, motioning for him to join them. He hesitated, still overwhelmed by all that had transpired that morning, but just alert enough to be sensible of the fact that he could not possibly hold a rational conversation with his hostess. She waved again, and this time was joined by the earl – Mr. Gardiner sighed, knowing he could not demur.
He took every step towards them with deliberation, struggling to recollect himself. He had buried one sister, lost the other, and had his heart broken all in the space of one morning, and after his encounter with the dowager countess, his capacity to speak with so many noble near-strangers was waning. Attempting to conceal his pain and confusion, he scooped little Lizzy into his arms as he joined their happy grouping.
“Your sister was worried when you did not return with Henry and George, but I am sure the walk must have done you good. I saw you speaking with Mamma,” Lady Anne said. “If I had known you were to cross paths, I would have introduced you properly, and given you some warning.”
“She can be... vocal,” the earl drawled. “She sat with your sister for quite some time; I am sure she was glad of the meeting.”
“Aye, she was very kind,” Mr. Gardiner replied.
“Did she tell you anything in particular,” Lady Anne asked.
“I was most astonished – she means to take my sister as a companion. I am very grateful, I am sure,” Mr. Gardiner said, scarcely knowing what he was about. “I have only now to consider what is to be done with my nieces. They ought to have a mother figure.” He frowned, the sight of little Mary in Lady Anne’s arms tearing at his heart. She looked so maternal, so natural with them, and it was no longer a possibility he might envision of Madeline Fisher.
Lady Anne offered him a gentle smile. “Surely it will not be so long until your mourning is up, and you and Miss Fisher can wed, I am sure. We are at your disposal, should you require any assistance in making arrangements until you and your bride remove to London. Miss Gardiner mentioned you recently purchased a house in Gracechurch Street. I am sure it will be very cozy once you have your family settled in with you.”
Mr. Gardiner looked away. “I believe I must – that is, I will not – we....” He broke off and looked away, drawing Lizzy close to him.
“William,” the earl said, turning to look down at his nephew. “I believe our friends have been exploring with you long enough. They must get some rest. Why don’t you help your Mamma get Miss Jane inside. Anne....” He reached for Lizzy, gently taking her from Mr. Gardiner’s arms and giving her a pat on the head before setting her down on her feet at Lady Anne’s side.
“Yes, of course,” Lady Anne replied, concern in her eyes as she looked from Mr. Gardiner to her brother, and then down at little Lizzy, whose hand she clasped in her own. “Come girls, let us see if your aunt is still awake.”
As Lady Anne and her son led the girls back toward the manor, the earl stood with his hands folded behind his back and watched them go before clearing his throat to address Mr. Gardiner. “You were not long in the village. I suppose you called on your betrothed – I understand she is the parson’s daughter.”
“She is the parson’s daughter, yes, but she is no longer my betrothed,” Mr. Gardiner said evenly.
“I see. If you will permit me the liberty of speaking candidly with you, sir, though we are not well acquainted....”
“Yes, of course.” Mr. Gardiner was past the point of being astonished by anything that transpired anymore. Though he had never been the object of interest to an earl before, the unfortunate circumstances that had thrust him into the Darcys’ lives must be a concern for their relations, to some degree.
“Good, good. You strike me as an honest, respectable man, and I have heard nothing of you that would contradict my impression. My sister feels very deeply toward your family, even a measure of guilt for what has befallen you. It is perhaps more my brother’s place to have this conversation with you, but as he is resolving some tenant matters at present, I believe I am within my rights to speak candidly with you now. Beyond my condolences for your loss, and for the dissolution of your engagement, I should like to offer you a word of advice. You must be weighing your option as regards the future of your nieces, given that they have lost their parents, and now they shall have neither their Aunt Gardiner – for which you might rightly fault my mother and sister – nor your intended bride as a mother.”
“I see you understand me, sir,” Mr. Gardiner replied, still uncertain why the earl should wish to discuss such things with him. “However, I can assure you that I have no intention of trespassing on your sister and her husband’s kindness. My troubles are my own, and I was raised to be my own man.”
The earl nodded. “I do not doubt it. However, if you have any doubts – any uncertainty as to how you are to raise three young girls on your own….”
“I confess I have a great many doubts at present; I have only just learned it is what I must plan for.”
“Indeed. As to that, if you would allow me to hint that the Darcys, as you know, are excellent people – they would be willing to do a great deal for the girls, I believe, by way of assistance, should you be interested.”
“That is very kind, and I am certain you must be right, but I cannot ask that of them. Perhaps Phyllis will reconsider her plans. I dare not hope that Madeline would change her mind.”
“And if neither of them is willing to budge? What then? I am sure your sister is a good sort of girl, who would happily forego the opportunity of becoming my mother’s companion, if you asked it of her; indeed, my mother would not have offered her the position if she were not such a person. However, I hope I am not too bold in saying that you must think carefully before you would ask this of her. My mother’s last companion married far and away beyond what she might ever have imagined. In five years she was able to put by a small fortune of her own, and married a man of some property. Though I have no doubt your sister would gladly return to London with you for the sake of her nieces, taking this pos
ition might be the making of her.”
Mr. Gardiner frowned as he considered this. “I could never ask her to give up anything she truly desired, certainly not after all that she has been through. If this is what she wants, what is best... but it does not answer the question of how I am ever to raise those poor girls on my own. They need a mother, and I cannot imagine that I shall ever marry, if Madeline will not have me. And yet, how could I ask her to shoulder such a responsibility, when it terrifies me?”
“I saw it in your eyes, when you looked at my sister. Those girls need a mother.”
“They need a mother,” Mr. Gardiner repeated sadly. “Well, unless you happen to know how any heiresses that would have a heart-broken tradesman with three young wards, I cannot say I know what I am to do next.”
The earl gave a rueful laugh. “No, I cannot say I have any of those on hand at the moment. But I can tell you, if my sister has not, why she was in her carriage that day. Has she mentioned it to you?”
“I know nothing of her reasons for traveling, other than that she bitterly regrets it.”
“I am sure she does, and I am sure she is afraid to mention it.”
“I understand she must feel awful for her part in the accident, but I do not blame her and her sister. “How could I? How could I want to hear that there is one more heart broken in this tragedy?”
The earl was quiet for a moment, then replied, “She was going to Bath. My sister is a busy woman, you see – Catherine takes great pleasure in making herself useful whenever she can, and in this instance she had convinced Anne that she had found a physician in Bath who could give her what she has wanted these ten years – another child.”
“I see. With all due respect, I am not certain you should be telling me this.”
“I think you need to hear it. Indeed, I think that on some level you must have sensed it yourself, the maternal instinct Anne has already come to feel for your nieces. I have.”