Page 81 of Near Pemberley

“Indeed. Mrs. Gardiner assures me I have mentioned the lost trout at least once a week ever since.” He spread his hands in surrender.

A faint smile appeared at the corner of Darcy’s mouth. “I am very sorry you could not partake in the exercise.”

“Circumstances intervened.” Gardiner shook his head lightly. “Still, I confess I had formed very high expectations of Derbyshire fish.”

The atmosphere eased. Then Darcy said quietly:

“I believe we are engaged in the same pursuit.”

Gardiner’s expression changed at once. “Indeed?”

“Mr. Wickham.”

The effect was immediate. The older gentleman stared at him for several moments without speaking. “Mr. Wickham?” he repeated.

“Yes.”

The humour vanished entirely from his face. “I confess, Mr. Darcy, that I am at a loss.” The words were spoken calmly enough, yet genuine bewilderment lay beneath them. “How can you possibly be acquainted with such a matter?”

Darcy held his gaze. “Because I am acquainted with Mr. Wickham.”

Gardiner frowned. The answer explained very little.

“I have known him for many years.”

Something in Darcy’s tone caused Gardiner to look at him more attentively. There was no hesitation in the statement. No uncertainty. The familiarity appeared genuine.

After a brief silence, Gardiner said carefully, “You know what happened… and you still came.” The older man let out a shaken sigh. He searched his guest’s face.

Darcy inclined his head.

“Then perhaps you know more of him than I do.”

A shadow crossed Darcy’s face. “That is unfortunately very possible.”

The reply carried such quiet conviction that Gardiner found his curiosity increasing rapidly. His niece’s tales at Christmas appeared to him.

“The man did not speak well of you in Hertfordshire.”

Darcy’s expression altered faintly. “No. I would not have expected him to.”

“Yet my niece came to think very differently of him.”

“I am glad of it. Mr. Wickham and I have long differed in our understanding of certain events.”

Gardiner’s eyes widened slightly. He had expected resentment, perhaps, or wounded pride. Such an acknowledgement was something else entirely.

He studied Darcy in silence.

“I must admit,” Gardiner said at last, leaning back slightly, “that I never expected to hear Mr. Wickham’s name mentioned in this room by you.”

“No,” said Darcy. “Nor did I expect to hear it connected with your family.”

For the first time, something very close to understanding stirred in Gardiner’s mind.

Not understanding the facts. Those remained entirely obscure. But understanding that this visit had not been prompted by idle curiosity. Something serious lay beneath it.

“Can you tell me what has been done so far?”