Fitz winced. “That is what you said?”
Darcy nodded.
“And I presume,” Fitz continued, “that was just the way you said it?”
“Why?” Darcy asked, confused. “What have I said that was untrue?”
“Sometimes,” Mr. Gardiner responded drily, “how you say a thing is just as important as what you say.” He shared a glance with Fitz. “However, in this case, you may have failed on both counts. Insulting both Mr. Howard and his sister might not have been the wisest course.”
“Precisely,” Fitz concurred.
“It was the truth,” Darcy insisted. Fitz and Mr. Gardiner were being obtuse, the pair of them. It had been an affront, and Howard had not been put off by his initial refusal. Darcy did not see any profit in disguise. Was he to make a fool of them both by pretending he was amenable to such a request? That he would welcome a connection to Howard no matter how it was obtained? Howard was a man of honor—he should have understood Darcy’s refusal and not pressed him. Indeed, the question ought never have been asked. No, the situation had required clarity, and he had provided it.
It had been a terrible interview, Howard sitting behind a large mahogany desk in an overly decorated study, Darcy seated before it. Darcy had refused, and then, as he was leaving, he had tried to be compassionate, saying something about them both having sisters for whom they stood guardian . . .
“Oh.” He lifted his face to meet Fitz’s curious gaze. “Oh, good God. Ramsgate . . .”
“What are you saying, Darcy?” Fitz asked sharply.
“I did not mention Ramsgate, I am certain of that, but his sister and mine were part of a group of girls who are preparing together for their come-outs. Miss Howard might easily have known of Georgiana’s travel plans.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Mrs. Younge’s loyalty was easily purchased, and Wickham was in Ramsgate before he appeared in Meryton. We believed Ramsgate was Wickham’s plan, but when has he ever planned anything? He seeks opportunity, but he does not create it.” He dropped his head into his hands. “It is too great a coincidence.”
Fitz’s voice was cold. “You believe Mrs. Younge and Wickham were in Howard’s employ.”
“I believe it is possible. Mrs. Younge attended those gatherings, so she would know of Miss Howard. And as it appears she already knew Wickham, she might easily have introduced him to Howard. Wretched woman.”
Fitz crossed his arms over his chest. “Then it is revenge. A sister for a sister?”
Darcy had not thought of it in quite so stark a manner, but it made a twisted sort of sense. He nodded. “Yet to ruin Georgiana over a perceived slight—I cannot reconcile that with the man I believed him to be.”
“Whatever has happened, Lizzy has been caught up in it.” Mr. Gardiner’s stare was not cold, but it was steady. “I do not wish to pry, Mr. Darcy, but as it has placed my niece in danger, I must know what happened in Ramsgate. Did Mr. Wickham plan to ruin your sister?”
There was a knock at the door, but it opened without pause. “Do excuse us, Mr. Gardiner,” his wife said. “Elizabeth and I are ready to depart. Might you continue your conversation on the way?”
Darcy noted Elizabeth had changed her clothing and done something with her hair that was quite becoming. With chagrin, he realized that in their rush to leave Darcy House, she had not been able to exchange the damaged gown she had been wearing all day for another. He had made quick work of discarding the uniform Fitz had provided, but Mrs. Spencer was not available to help Elizabeth. His intended always appeared lovely to him, but of course she would not feel confident arriving at Matlock House in a wrinkled gown and a repaired pelisse. Yet she had uttered no protest, only asked to travel here first.
“Ah,” Mr. Gardiner said approvingly. “The sarsenet. It does make up rather well, does it not, Lizzy?”
“Are you fishing for compliments, Uncle?” Elizabeth asked pertly.
“It is the only fishing I can do in London,” Mr. Gardiner replied with good humor. He moved towards the door. “Gentlemen, I believe we have been given our marching orders.”