Page 53 of The Matchmaker’s Mistake

Richard lifted a hand. “Do not make a ceremony of it. My motives are entirely selfish. The day my aunt succeeds with you is the day she brings her guns round to bear on me, and I have too much respect for her aim to hasten it. Your secret and my liberty march together.”

Darcy would not force Richard to say it, but they were like brothers. He knew Richard could be counted on to help him. “That is not your reason.”

“It is the primary reason.” Richard crossed his arms. “Wake me at the saddler.” He tipped his hat over his eyes and arranged himself against the squabs. Within a minute he was asleep, or at least pretending to be.

After the saddler in Long Acre, which had, after all, been only an excuse for leaving the house, Darcy directed Anders to drive them to Hyde Park.

Three days ago, Bingley had mentioned, with no idea what he was doing, that Mr. Gardiner had business in this part of town on Tuesday each week, and that when the weather allowed, his wife and nieces often walked in the park until he was finished. It had been said in the middle of a long and happy account of Miss Bennet’s opinion of the park, and Darcy had silently tucked the bit of knowledge away.

“You are very quiet, even for you,” Richard said.

“I am thinking about girths.”

“You are thinking about a girl.”

Darcy said nothing.

Once there, they walked the length of the water and back. Darcy observed every party that came towards them, including nursemaids with their charges, an elderly gentleman with an elderly pug, and two officers having a friendly dispute.

None of them was Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

He had known she would probably not be here. He had told himself so. And still he hoped. It was, he thought, a ridiculous way for a man to spend his Tuesday morning.

He was spared the necessity of walking back to the carriage by a voice from the broad footpath—a young woman’s voice, light and quick, carried clearly in the frosty air.

CHAPTER 14

The morning was cold but fine, and after breakfast Aunt Gardiner announced that since Uncle Gardiner was wanted in Mayfair again, they might as well walk in Hyde Park.

“You have grown fond of the park, Aunt,” Elizabeth observed as she drew on her gloves.

Her aunt nodded as she tossed a woollen cloak over her shoulders. “I admit that I have grown fond of being out and safely home again before my children finish their lessons. This way they need never know I have been enjoying myself without them.”

They had hurried into the carriage with Uncle Gardiner, who helped them down at Grosvenor Gate and promised to return in an hour. The ladies picked their way around the construction of the new gatekeeper’s house and strolled for a short time along the broad path when Elizabeth made out a gentleman she recognised.

Mr. Wickham she knew at once, even at a distance, by his easy carriage and blue coat. The woman with him had a small, neat figure and russet curls that peeked out beneath a bonnet of plum-coloured velvet. She was laughing at something he had said.

There was a way some couples had with one another, Elizabeth thought, that revealed a great deal about how they got on with each other. Aunt and Uncle Gardiner were just the same.

Mr. Wickham and his companion were nearly heedless of anything about them. There was a special sort of affection in the way she tipped her head up to speak to him, and Mr. Wickham, for his part, leaned closer so that he might hear her better.

Then he saw them.

“Mrs. Gardiner!” Mr. Wickham called, brightening. “How delighted I am to see you and your nieces. Em, these are the ladies I told you of. She lived at Buxton Place near Lambton some years ago, and I called upon her recently—do you remember my telling you of it? She knew my father.”

“I knew you as well, Mr. Wickham,” Aunt Gardiner reminded him, when he had finished introducing them all to one another.

Mrs. Wickham made a curtsy to Aunt Gardiner that was so brisk it lost any sense of formality. “I have been waiting for an opportunity to be introduced to you all, for my husband cannot stop speaking of your encounter.”

“I told you twice at most,” said Mr. Wickham.

“You told me once and then related the story to three other people in my hearing. That is more than twice. And you did not tell me Mrs. Gardiner knew you as a boy. I intend to quiz her minutely on the topic, for I have my suspicions that you were not at all well-behaved.”

“My dear,” said Mr. Wickham, all injured innocence, “you wound me. Mrs. Gardiner remembers only my virtues, and it would be the height of cruelty to force her to invent the rest.”

He offered Aunt Gardiner his arm with a bow so polished that Elizabeth smiled and even Jane had to stifle a laugh. Then he held out his other arm to Jane, who stepped up to take it.

“Madam,” he said to Aunt Gardiner, “before my wife seeks any evidence you may have against me, pray allow me the honour of securing your protection—and Miss Bennet’s.”