by Jann Rowland
Anne smiled at Mr. Gardiner’s obvious obfuscation. “Oh, well done, sir. But I have understood what you did not say. There is no need to deny it, for I am well aware of the reputation my cousin has gained of his own volition, and I do not deny it is deserved to a certain extent.
“I would also aver that my cousin has changed these past months, for he differs from what I remember when I saw him last.”
“How so?” asked Mr. Gardiner, seeming curious in spite of himself.
“There is a more serious air about him,” replied Anne. She paused and grinned, adding: “Oh, he will never be as grave as his elder brother, but there is something about him which suggests he has left the greater part of his insouciance behind.”
Mr. Gardiner frowned and considered the matter. “This sudden change in him concerns me.”
“Truly?” asked Anne, confused by Mr. Gardiner’s sudden statement. “I cannot imagine why—I should think better behavior is worth celebrating.”
“Yes, that is true,” replied Mr. Gardiner. “Please do not construe my words as censure of your cousin. I am concerned for what has provoked such a change.”
“In truth, I cannot say.” Anne paused and considered the gentleman. “It may be nothing more than the weight of greater experience and maturity that has led him to alter his behavior. It also may be the looming prospect of responsibility—he returned at his father’s bidding and desire that he take on the management of his own estate, as I understand.”
“And yet some who begin as libertines, gamesters, and the like never change their ways.”
“That is true,” agreed Anne. “With such excellent examples as his elder brother and father, however, I would hope he would not forever be beyond the reach of amendment.”
Though the mention of the other Darcys caused a certain tightness about Mr. Gardiner’s eyes, the gentleman did not reply. It seemed he was capable of understanding the goodness in her relations, despite his family’s persistent troubles with them. After a moment more of thought, Mr. Gardiner sighed, then turned his attention back to Anne, a slight smile playing about the corners of his mouth.
“If there were cooler tempers at hand more often,” said he, “it is possible this feud may be settled.”
“Are you referring to your own temper?” asked Anne, amused by his openness.
Mr. Gardiner laughed. “I have not been blessed with the evenest disposition, Miss de Bourgh. It is no secret I am protective of my nieces, and when provoked, my anger tends to burn hot, though it is also extinguished quickly.”
“In that case,” said Anne, “I shall attempt to be available more often, for none have accused me of being quick to anger.”
“But then your mother must also be close by,” said Mr. Gardiner, his amusement plain, “and she most certainly possesses that reputation!”
They laughed together, Anne exclaiming: “You have the right of it, sir.”
When their mirth had run its course, Anne could not help but observe: “If only all our family could get on as well as we do, the troubles between us would come to naught.” Then Anne fixed him with a look of mock sternness. “Of course, by your standards, we should not be speaking with each other, for we are both embroiled in our families’ troubles, are we not?”
“Part of my reason for interjecting with my nieces,” replied Mr. Gardiner, “is because their father has made his wishes known. Part of it is also because Lydia can be headstrong and set on having her own way. With you, Miss de Bourgh, while I sense you can also possess determination to a large degree, you are also a woman, not a young girl. Your last name is not Darcy, and mine is not Bennet—what we do with our time is our own concern.”
Anne looked at him, unable to hide the speculation she felt at his declaration. Mr. Gardiner, she decided, was a good man, one she would like to know better. Anne well knew her mother would not appreciate her defection, as she would see it, but as Anne had no intention of ever marrying her cousin, perhaps there was another who might suit.
“Are you suggesting something further, sir?” asked she, attempting to convey a playful attitude, though the question was far more serious than she let on.
“This is only our second meeting,” said Mr. Gardiner.
“Indeed, it is,” murmured Anne.
“Having said that,” said he, “it has occurred to me that perhaps there are other ways to heal this breach between Bennet and Darcy. Since it is too much to ask that they do it for themselves, it may be best to look to other possibilities. An alliance between close relations would go a long way toward restoring peace.”
As much as she had anticipated what he might say, Anne could not help the surprise which rolled through her. “It . . . This is a little . . . precipitous, is it not?”
“Now then, Miss de Bourgh,” said he, fixing her with a grin, “it is not as if I have proposed, is it? I do not think acknowledging potential future intention is tantamount to a declaration.”
“Then,” said Anne, after thinking on it for a moment, “I believe you may proceed, as long as you do not do so with all speed. Let us become accustomed to this, Mr. Gardiner. Let us ensure our families become accustomed to it.”
Mr. Gardiner nodded and grinned. “Shall your lady mother call me out, do you think?”
The laugh which comprised Anne’s response bubbled up of its own accord. “Do not concern yourself, Mr. Gardiner—should she do so, I shall insist on being your second.”
They laughed together again, and to Anne it felt right, as if warmth was shining on her from above, informing her that all would be well. When she approached Mr. Gardiner that day, she had no notion it would have prompted such a response. But perhaps there was something there, something she had not known was possible. Anne de Bourgh was eager to learn what lay in her future, for Mr. Gardiner, she decided, was a good man.
Chapter XXV
“Damn and blast! What can he be thinking?”
Darcy wished to discover what Alexander was thinking himself, for it was putting needless strain on the relations between the families. That it was like Darcy’s own situation with Elizabeth he dismissed without another thought—Darcy was in love with his Bennet sister, but he doubted Alexander felt such depth of emotion for the youngest. No, it was Alexander’s continued flouting of propriety and his father’s commands at play here.
As his father paced the study where Darcy had informed him of the events in Lambton, he could feel a hint of shame for thinking as he had about his brother. Regardless of whatever Alexander was thinking when he approached the youngest Bennet, he had no notion of his brother having a motive injurious to the young woman. Even at his most dissipative, Darcy had never known his brother to be careless with a woman’s reputation. Would he be so now with the wellbeing of the daughter of a baron?
“Where is your brother now?” asked his father, drawing Darcy’s attention back to him.
“After the confrontation,” replied Darcy, “Alexander rode off. I had assumed he was headed for Pemberley, but it seems I was mistaken.”
The elder man shook his head with disgust. “Your brother has improved of late, I had thought, but his actions speak of a return of his thoughtless attitude. When he returns home, I shall have many things to say to him, for his actions regarding this girl are not what they should be.”
While Darcy could agree with his father’s assessment, he was uncertain, for Alexander’s behavior confounded him. Mr. Darcy paused, considering the matter, then turned to address his son again.
“I cannot say I know anything of Arundel’s daughters, but the youngest girl, Miss . . .”
“Lydia,” supplied Darcy.
“Yes, that is the one. Does she not seem a little . . . flirtatious to you?”
“I will own I do not know her well enough to judge her,” said Darcy, thinking of what Elizabeth had told him of each of her sisters. “There is little harm in her, I think, but I believe she may be a little bold for her age. But I have never seen her behave in a manner I find i
mproper.”
The elder man grunted as if annoyed his son denied an avenue of exonerating his son. “I suppose you are correct. For all that I do not hold with Arundel and his family, I cannot say he does not know how to raise his children.”
“Given some of Alexander’s behavior,” said Darcy, his comment pointed, “I do not think anyone of our family is in a position to cast shade on another. Alexander has improved, but there still remains about him a rash insouciance which cannot be rationalized away. Though I know my brother does not intend to hurt her, Lord Arundel does not have that luxury—he is correct to be concerned. That concern must also extend to Miss Lydia’s uncle, who, as I understand, is protective of the girls.”
“Yes, I well understand my son’s character,” replied his father. “However, I still dislike this Mr. Gardiner’s insinuation about him, and I would not wish the Bennets to spread their vitriol far and wide.”
“Do you think they would?” asked Darcy. “I cannot think they wish to bear tales. It seems to me they would far prefer to ignore us, as much as we wish to avoid thinking of them. There is also the matter of their daughter’s reputation to consider—if they spread tales of Alexander, it would affect Miss Lydia.”
“You may be correct,” acknowledged Mr. Darcy.
As his father continued to think on the matter, Darcy watched him, heartened that his mien was turning from anger to deep thought. While his father was a good man, one thoughtful and sober, Mr. Darcy also tended toward sudden anger toward any perceived slights against the respectability of his family.
“As I recall, you suggested I should send Alexander to Thorndell.”
The mention of their previous conversation caught Darcy by surprise. “I still believe it would be beneficial.”
A slow nod was his father’s response, which he followed by saying: “At present, I still wish him nearby. But you are correct—it would help diffuse the situation if Alexander was not in the neighborhood. I would have you go with him to assist him in taking control of the estate.”
“Yes, I can see where that would be desirable,” said Darcy. Though little wishing to be away from Elizabeth, at present it would be too risky to see her. If he journeyed to Thorndell with his brother, there would be no temptation.
“Then you will go with him?” pressed his father.
“If you wish it, I will go,” said Darcy.
“Thank you, Son,” said his father, clasping his shoulder. “I appreciate that I have always been able to rely on your support.”
“It is no trouble, Father.”
Mr. Darcy nodded and squared his shoulders. “I suppose I should visit Longbourn and speak with Arundel.”
Surprised, Darcy queried: “Go to Longbourn?”
“It would be for the best,” replied his father, though a moue of distaste hovered about his mouth. “Though I have little desire to endure the man’s ill-conceived humor, this business of Alexander and his daughter must be as concerning to him as it is to me. As you suggested, he must wish to protect his daughter’s reputation as much as I do Alexander’s.”
“A sensible plan,” replied Darcy. Though he said nothing, this evidence of his father’s belief in a possible rapprochement heartened him. Only a few months ago, Darcy was certain his father would not even have considered visiting Longbourn.
“Do you wish me to accompany you?”
While he thought about it for a moment his father shook his head. “It is best not to for the present. I expect a civil conversation, but no more than civil. I shall discuss the situation with him and return at once. Should your brother return, keep him at Pemberley. I hope he will not force me to order him to Thorndell, but I shall if I must.”
With a nod, his father walked from the room, leaving Darcy alone with his thoughts. What would come of this meeting? Darcy had some hope it would begin building a bridge between families. What he was not was confident, for they still had much to overcome.
The larger concern in Darcy’s mind at the moment was his impending journey to Thorndell. Darcy did not know how long he would be away, but to go with no word to Elizabeth, leaving her wondering if he was abandoning her could not be contemplated. The question was, how he could inform her of his departure and the reason for it.
A smile crept over Darcy’s face as he thought of a way to let her know. With determination in his step, Darcy moved to his father’s desk and took a sheet of paper from the drawer in which he knew his father kept his stationery, and sitting at the desk, he began to write.
The visit of a Darcy to Longbourn had not taken place within living memory, and the reverse for likely much longer. When the butler appeared in Arundel’s study to inform him of Mr. Darcy’s presence, he was inclined to think it a great joke. Why would a man as stiff-necked and proud as Mr. Robert Darcy come to confront the enemy on his own ground?
Then the thought of what his brother had informed him sobered Arundel and he informed Mr. Hill to lead him hither, for it seemed it was now time to discuss the problem as rational gentlemen. Lydia, he had already confined to her room in anticipation of a discussion he knew would come later. The girl was far too confident for her own good, did not understand the ways of men as she ought. Perhaps it had been a mistake to allow her to attend local events at such a young age. Arundel made a mental note to discuss the matter with Margaret later.
When the elder Darcy appeared in his room, Arundel noted his pinched expression and knew how he must detest this necessity as much as Arundel did. The image of the proud gentleman approaching him with hat in hand welled up in Arundel’s mind, a hint of glee rose within him. This visit served well to remind the arrogant Darcys of their actual place in society, never mind the connections about which they never failed to boast.
“Lord Arundel,” said Mr. Darcy with a slight incline of his head, shattering the image in Arundel’s mind. Though Mr. Darcy might have come to Longbourn, it was clear his pride had not suffered because of the indignity.
“Mr. Darcy,” replied Arundel, noting from the scowl that the gentleman had noted his emphasis on the title. “What may I do for you today?”
“It seems to me we should speak concerning our children,” replied Mr. Darcy, a shortness in his tone Arundel might have expected. “This latest incident in Lambton suggests a greater problem. It would behoove us to resolve it at once.”
“You are correct,” replied Lord Arundel. He motioned his guest to a chair and leaned forward, resting his forearms and elbows on the desk between them. “It seems to me I have often seen and heard of your son mentioned in the same breath as my youngest daughter. To what can I attribute this close . . . proximity?”
“Just what are you insinuating?” demanded Mr. Darcy. Though he had perched himself in the indicated chair, he was ill at ease, sitting on the edge, his gaze focused on Arundel.
“I insinuate nothing, I assure you,” replied Arundel. “I wish to understand what is happening between our children. You must understand your son’s reputation, and I am a concerned father. My daughter is, after all, only sixteen years of age.”
“If I could answer that question, I would be very well pleased,” replied Mr. Darcy.
“Have you not asked your son?” demanded Arundel, feeling more than a little disdain for this man well up within him. Arundel would have thought Robert Darcy better able to control his brood than he was showing himself capable.
“Alexander has not returned home yet,” was Mr. Darcy’s short reply. “When he appears, you may be assured I will require he account for his behavior.”
Arundel snorted. “Yes, that would be for the best. In the meantime, I shall act as any other father of a young daughter and see to her protection.”
“Are you suggesting my son is a danger to her?” spat Mr. Darcy.
“I suggest nothing more than that she is but sixteen years of age and appears to have been importuned repeatedly by a man of five and twenty!”
“Do you not think your flirt of a daughter has attempted to draw him
in?”
An icy chill settled about Arundel’s heart. “If I thought you were suggesting my daughter is a scarlet woman, I would call you out for the insult, sir.”
The two gentlemen glared at each other, neither giving an inch. It was well, Arundel thought with a grim sense of amusement, that the desk lay between them, for his anger was such that he considered throttling the other man where he sat. It was fortunate Mr. Darcy made no more accusations, for Arundel knew he would not be responsible for his actions if he did.
“If it was not already obvious,” said Mr. Darcy, “our distrust for each other runs deep, provoking both of us to say words we would not otherwise think of uttering.”
“In that, you are correct,” grunted Arundel, feeling the oppressive atmosphere in the room ease, if only a little. “For what it is worth, I thank you for your conciliatory words, sir, for I believe we were on the verge of coming to blows.”
Mr. Darcy nodded, though he did not respond to Arundel’s assertion. “Then what do we do to resolve the situation?”
Sitting back in his chair, Arundel regarded the man in his study. The Bennet family, it was true, had disliked and distrusted the Darcy family out of principle, long after the original insult had been forgotten. Though it galled some part of him to allow any good quality in this man, he could confess that this Mr. Darcy seemed to be a man of integrity. In the past, there had been some conflict of an active nature, and Arundel had little interest in returning to such times.
“It seems we must attempt to control our children, sir,” said Arundel at length. He snorted a mirthless laugh and added: “Though I will not presume to judge your son, my daughter, though she is a good girl at heart, is headstrong. Though I see little in her behavior other than thoughtlessness, inducing her to desist will be a difficult endeavor.”
Mr. Darcy barked a laugh. “Stubbornness is a trait, it seems, our families share in abundance.” After a short pause, Mr. Darcy leaned forward and said: “Why do you suppose they have been insistent upon speaking to each other?”