Page 21 of A Question of Character

“Peter is your brother?”

“He puts peas in his pockets.”

“Ah.” Darcy looked grave. “Then he must take care in Scotland.”

By the end of the month, Elizabeth had seen Mr. Darcy in settings she never would have imagined upon first meeting him. He attended a dinner in Gracechurch Street and praised Mrs. Gardiner’s cook with enough specificity to win the woman’s devotion for life. He escorted them through a crowded exhibition of antiquities and listened patiently while Mr. Gardiner explained the likely value of a carved ivory box. He obtained invitations for the Gardiners to two evenings where Elizabeth knew perfectly well they would never have been received without him.

The first of these occasions made her uneasy.

“Are you certain your friends will welcome us?” she asked him as they stood near a window at Gracechurch Street, waiting while her aunt finished tying the ribbons of her cap before they departed.

Darcy’s gaze moved across the room to where Mr. Gardiner was fastening his gloves with his usual air of unconcern. “They will be exceedingly welcoming.”

“That is not the same as welcome.”

“No,” he said, and the honesty of it pricked through her amusement. “It is not.”

Elizabeth lowered her fan. “Then why invite us into such society?”

“Because my aunt asked me to attend and permitted me to bring a party. Because Mrs. Gardiner will enjoy the music. Because your uncle is better company than half the room and more intelligent than most of it. Because you will be amused by at least three people present and merciless toward their pretensions afterward.”

“That is an alarming confidence in my character.”

“I have evidence.”

She accepted the answer, though not the whole of his reasoning. “And if they disparage my uncle’s origins when our backs are turned?”

Darcy took up his gloves from the table. “Some may. They would likely disparage mine if Pemberley were less ancient.”

“Yours?”

“My mother was an earl’s daughter. That persuades many people to overlook the fact that other branches of the family have occasionally been practical enough to earn money.”

Elizabeth stared at him until he noticed and became faintly uncomfortable.

“What is it?”

“I am deciding whether that is humility or pride wearing a better coat.”

He gave her one of his rare, unguarded laughs. “I am not certain myself.”

Mr. Gardiner joined them then, saving Darcy from further examination. Darcy greeted him and continued, “In any case, those inclined to look down upon trade may do so in private. In public, they will wish to benefit from the connection if just to gain access to the exceedingly fine wares you keep in your warehouses.”

Mr. Gardiner’s eyes crinkled. “My warehouses have never been so handsomely defended.”

“They require no defense. They contain half the objects my acquaintances pretend to discover through taste alone.”

“Darcy,” Mr. Gardiner said, “you are in danger of becoming my favorite gentleman.”

“Then I must be careful not to abuse the distinction.”

Elizabeth found, in the evenings that followed, that Darcy had judged society accurately. There were people who looked twice when introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, and people who tried, with varying degrees of skill, to determine how a gentleman of trade came to be standing under Lady Matlock’s chandeliers.

One lady, whose diamonds suggested greater fortune than breeding, accepted Mrs. Gardiner’s introduction with impeccable politeness before asking, “And Mr. Gardiner’s business lies... where, precisely?” The slight hesitation before the final word betrayed more than the question itself. Mrs. Gardiner answered without embarrassment, describing Gracechurch Street and the family’s import business with perfect composure. The lady responded warmly enough thereafter, especially after Mr. Gardiner mentioned a recent shipment of French silks and Chinese porcelain. By the end of the evening she had requested his direction, explaining that her daughter had lately taken an interest in furnishing a new drawing room. But there were others who welcomed them sincerely or came near enough to sincerity that good manners supplied the difference. Mr. Gardiner spoke knowledgeably of porcelain with one gentleman, arranged to show a lady’s brother some imported silks, and received, two days later, a note requesting an appointment at his warehouse.

By the next week, two more inquiries had followed.

Mrs. Gardiner accepted this with good sense and a little laughter. “I believe Mr. Darcy has done your uncle more good than he intended.”